A familiar voice, pitched low, sounded behind him.
“Hey, LC. Scoot over.”
Dressed in black jeans and a ratty Foo Fighters shirt, Damon slithered onto the hard bench and peered around the corner.
Gage groaned. “Let me guess,” he spoke quietly. “Your visit has something to do with Sophia.”
“Right on target, as always.” Damon took a swig of beer from Gage’s bottle and immediately zeroed his attention on the gregarious table of females.
“Nice place.”
“It was until you got here.”
Damon glanced around at memorabilia collected from over three decades of commercial fishing and logging.
“Hey, LC. I recognize that blue fender. It came off a catamaran that capsized last year.”
Gage looked up and nodded. “The Egret.”
“That’s the one. Didn’t the owner get slapped with some heavy maritime fines?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The courts claimed Egret wasn’t the burdened vessel.”
Damon frowned. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“The Egret was owned by the Governor’s son.”
Damon shook his head. “LC, you remember everything, don’t you? Like, total recall or something.”
Gage gave him a look.
The smell of grease wafted out from the kitchen as a waitress swept by hefting a tray of burgers. Damon’s attention diverted to her backside.
“Did I miss any good gossip at the Sisterhood’s table?”
“Not much,” Gage said casually. “Sophia commented on how much she’s looking forward to riding you like a pony.”
“Really?”
“Says she can hardly wait for her turn in the saddle and after Claire’s testimonial on your abilities, even Lauren is thinking about making the switch.”
Damon’s boyish face brightened at the suggestion.
“Lauren? You’re kidding. Do you think I could convert her?”
Gage threw his hands up in disgust.
“I’ll take that as no.” Damon scratched his day-old growth of beard. “I came here hoping to get a handle on Sophia,” he continued. “You know, try to get closer to her and find out what makes her tick. Something about the girl has me stumped.”
“How about ‘good taste’?”
“What about you,” Damon continued, ignoring the insult. “Frankie still got you tied in knots?”
“Go to hell, kid.”
He craned his neck, “You know, if you ever want to talk about women and what it takes to make them happy, I’m here for ya, dude. I was trained by the best.”
Gage stared incredulously. He could think of only two things he’d rather do less. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll pass.”
“Seriously, LC. I’m a chick-magnet. I might even be able to help you.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially yours.”
Damon looked offended but didn’t back off. “You’re not exactly scoring big points on the home front. Somebody needs to lend you a hand and I happen to know a lot about women. They’re my specialty.”
“Don’t get me started, kid. I’ll just get pissed off all over again.”
“Okay, okay. But don’t say I never offered. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” Damon grinned widely and launched into another tirade. “So, I was talking to some of my bros yesterday and we came up with a great idea.”
Gage braced himself.
“How about you and I go diving on Zena this week?”
Let’s go diving on Zena.
Damon made it sound so simple. Just strap on a tank and start paddling. Gage arched a dark eyebrow. The truth was, exactly that thought had crossed his mind several times since the accident. Somehow, Gage found it irksome that the kid was first to openly make the suggestion. He glanced at Frankie across the room. Her petulant lower lip jutted out while she stirred her margarita with a finger.
“You know how much sentimental value TB puts on those dog tags,” Damon continued. “Why don’t we grab our scuba gear, take your boat and go get them for her? I got the coordinates from Sakajawea’s logs. It’ll be a quick grab-and-go.”
Gage clutched his beer. Plenty of chores waited at home. He hadn’t swept the floors or dusted since Christmas. The grass in the back pasture was high enough to hide a velociraptor and he was still having plumbing problems, this time the kitchen.
He heaved a deep sigh.
Who was he kidding? He hadn’t done a thing since thoughts of seducing Frankie started filling his brain. She consumed him. House chores were on indefinite hold. He had to straighten this mess out with her first.
Let’s go diving on Zena.
Gage smiled inwardly and pondered how it might play out. He could show up on her doorstep, the precious dog tags wrapped in a velvet box. She would be speechless with shock and grateful. After she writhed in ecstasy underneath him, her defenses down, maybe he could hammer some sense into her post-orgasmic head and flush all those other crazy misconceptions down the toilet. Gage considered all the possibilities while Damon yammered on about the dive, oblivious to the furor of emotions seated beside him.
“Zena’s on stable ocean floor at about a hundred and thirty feet. The helmsman on Sakajawea did a sonar sounding and plotted her exact location after she went down.”
Gage quietly sipped his beer.
“It’s a straightforward dive. We can make it on one tank of air.”
Gage thought a few moments longer then nodded. “Meet me at the marina on Thursday morning with the coordinates.”
“Outstanding.” Damon high-fived him. “I’ve got a new BC vest I want to try out.”
A battle of wooden chair legs versus tile floor reverberated across the bar. Both men looked up in time to see Frankie bolt to her feet in a feculent huff. They dipped low in the booth, stayed in the shadows. Her spotting them now would ruin everything.
“Sssh,” Damon whispered. “Here she comes.”
Edgar suddenly moved to block her line of sight, keeping his considerable bulk in front of the small booth. Frankie stumbled past him on her way to the bathroom, dodging a barstool and dart throwers. She muttered loudly, “I’m just a pity-fuck to him,” she groused. “That’s all I am to him. Nothing more. Damned pretty boy.”
Edgar turned and placed drinks on the table. He laid a heavy hand on Gage’s shoulder. “You look like a desperate man on a hopeless mission, son.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Edgar,” Gage replied.
“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Lieutenant,” he commiserated. “Can’t say I envy you the prospect. That’s one tough little lady and she’s got some mighty strange ideas in that pretty head of hers.” Edgar stared at him. “Wonder why she’d have her wires so crossed?”
“Because he’s such a gnarly electrician,” Damon interjected with a wicked grin.
Gage grumbled an unintelligible response and threw his wallet on the table. Damon grabbed it and thumbed out a hundred.
“Thanks for the beer, LC.”
“I sure hope you can work things out with her.” Edgar took the bill and made change from a wad of smaller notes in his vest pocket. “You know,” he began, his heavy jowls quivering. “I’ve been watching women, looking out for them, listening to them laugh and cry for most of my life. I still ain’t figured them out. They don’t think the way we do. Not that I mean that in a disrespectful way. It’s just a fact.”
“Absolutely,” Damon concurred.
“They’re a challenge,” Edgar spoke. “But our lives sure would be dull without them.”
“Amen,” Damon cheered.
Edgar gave Damon a disdainful look and turned back to Gage. “You’re not someone who backs down from a challenge, Lieutenant. Everyone here wants to see you find some happiness. We’re all pulling for you to make a go of it with the little redhead.”
“I wouldn’t bet any money on me if I were you,” Gage said s
oftly.
“Don’t give up, son. My wife thinks you’ve got a lot of love to give. I agree with her.”
Gage glanced away as Edgar wandered off to serve another customer. He stared straight ahead, running frustrated hands through his hair. How the hell did things go so bad between him and Frankie? What did he say wrong? Why was it so damned difficult for him to have what normal guys had?
A wife?
Kids?
Loving family to rush home to after a long week at work?
He glanced over at Damon. The kid’s mouth had slowed to a steady stream of one-way conversation as he scrutinized Sophia from across the room. Gage cocked an eyebrow at him. Did he ever stop? Would he still be yapping a hundred feet beneath the ocean with a scuba regulator in his mouth? He envisioned a cauldron of bubbles boiling up around him. Gage shook his head to clear it and scanned the other occupants of the Brewpub.
The licentious brunette was there, wearing roughly the same button-popping blouse she was in the month before. She gave him a blatantly sexual look. Gage held her gaze a moment before moving on. She was not what he needed. Damon prattled on about the joys of group sex. Gage tuned him out. He was too preoccupied. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that the situation between he and Frankie was going to get worse before it got better, no matter what he tried to say. He upended another pint of ale and scratched his head.
* * * *
The local band was warming up when Frankie stumbled back to her table. She had a raging pre-hangover headache and her stomach was growling so loudly she could hear it over the noise in the bar. She stood behind her vacant chair and swayed side to side like a reed in a stiff breeze. The Sisterhood was now venting its animosity on the hospital’s new surgeon.
“Physician and sperm,” Claire compared, “I think they both have a one-in-a-million chance of becoming a human being.”
Frankie winced, slanted a quick glance at Andie and staggered off in the direction of the stage as a microphone-enhanced voice boomed across the bar.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the guitar-playing singer announced. “Our first tune tonight is dedicated to all the single ladies in the audience.”
The grubby bandleader winked at Frankie.
Screeching metallic noise flooded the room from enormous freestanding speakers. Frankie was blown an involuntary step backwards. Half a dozen anorexic girls dressed in Goth black and spiked dog collars materialized out of nowhere. Edgar’s youngest daughter Mia was among them. Frankie blinked. Where had all these funky kids come from? “Now I know I’m getting old,” she mumbled.
She felt, rather than saw, someone sidle up next to her.
Andie bent down to her ear and spoke above the jarring din. “One of my brothers had a garage band when he was a teenager. He told me that his secret to success was making enough noise with his guitar that nobody could tell how awful his voice really was.”
Andie gave the bandleader a sly smile.
“What does your brother do now?”
“He owns a record company.”
Both women laughed.
“You know,” Andie said, “For years I was a veritable queen at bullshitting myself. You’ve heard the lines — I’m happy being single. I don’t need a man to make me whole. I’m much too busy for a relationship. I can’t get over the last asshole that did me wrong. You get the idea.” She stopped to clear her throat. “I was so good at fooling myself that when the real thing finally came along I didn’t even recognize its worth.” Andie grimaced. “I was so certain that love would never happen to me, I kept pushing it away. Being stubborn isn’t always a virtue, Frankie. I was such an ass that it nearly cost me the love of my life.”
Frankie blinked. She could feel Andie’s hot breath in her ear.
“There’s no reason for you to give in to the Sisterhood’s curiosity. You don’t owe us a damned thing. It’s none of our business. We’re all a well-meaning bunch of gossip-hounds.” She paused. “At least be honest with yourself, girlfriend. You owe yourself that much.”
“I can’t hang onto something that’s not there,” Frankie answered. “Gage has never given me any reason to believe that I’m anything other than some needy friend he’s obligated to take care of.”
Andie cringed. “Frankie, I love you. But I still think you’re full of shit.”
Frankie shrugged.
“Gage doesn’t strike me as the type to make sex an obligation.”
“Are you implying our agreement is foolish?”
“Not foolish, perplexing. You and Gage need to have a long talk and get on the same page. I think there’s more to your relationship than you’re letting yourself comprehend.”
Frankie stared at her friend for a moment then gazed back to the band. A few seconds of blaring music passed while neither woman attempted to speak.
Andie bent close again. “The girls are ready to leave. We’ve consumed all the tequila in the bar and Edgar has officially cut us off.”
“All the tequila?” Frankie squealed. “Again? No wonder my head is swirling. Let’s get out of here before I embarrass myself.”
* * * *
Gage and Damon watched as the Sisterhood left a generous tip on the table and staggered, single-file, to the rippled sidewalk outside the pub. Last in line was Sophia. Trailing behind the others, her wavy dark hair swayed with each step. She was almost out the front entrance when she stopped abruptly, turned and made a frantic dash for the bathroom, bowling over chairs and dancers in a clumsy sprint. The other women continued up the street unaware of her fate.
“Whaddya think, LC? Is she going to make it there in time?”
“I think you need to go check on her.”
Damon was already on his feet, more than happy for any excuse to enter the hallowed porcelain domain of the women’s bathroom. So much the better, Gage thought. He could use a few moments alone to figure things out.
“What did I say to make her think she’s only my plaything?” he whispered to himself.
He chewed his lip and tried to remember every argument. There were plenty of them to consider. Hurtful words had been flung back and forth for what seemed an eternity yet nothing specific came to mind.
Couldn’t she tell by the way he treated her when they were together that she was more than a fuck-buddy?
He was brooding when Andie came stomping back into the pub looking for Sophia. She gave a cursory, no-nonsense glance at the patrons of the cramped establishment and proceeded directly to where Sophia and her high-octane tummy had gone.
“Damn it,” he whispered.
Gage glanced over and met Edgar’s amused smirk.
* * * *
“Swordsman!”
Damon spun to face the voice calling him by nickname, ready to defend his actions. “Andie?” Damon quickly lowered his defensive stance and went immediately to the offense. “Hey lady, how are ya doing? It’s been a long time. You’re looking great. Are you still married?”
Andie surged forward through the heavily perfumed lavatory, dodging unidentifiable wet spots puddling the floor.
“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.
“Me? Oh, I’m helping Sophia get cleaned up,” he answered sheepishly and pointed toward an open stall. “She had a little accident.”
Sophia swayed precariously. Damon was there in a flash to catch her before she fell. Andie scurried over. Sophia’s eyes were wide with the blatant look of surprise coming from sudden, uncontrollable regurgitation. She let out a violent belch.
Andie met Damon’s wary look.
“I’m sure she’s finished,” he said. “There can’t be much left in her stomach.”
Andie nodded. “She’s never had much tolerance for alcohol. Let’s get her washed up and I’ll take her home.”
Together they dragged her from the bathroom stall.
“After all these years of drinking, she still can’t hold her liquor? Why does she go out drinking with you girls?”
Andie g
lanced at him impatiently. “I assume she enjoys our company.”
Sophia let out another burp and blurted, “Why don’t you just ask me? I’m standing right here?”
Damon veered them toward the sink. “You hang out with a pretty rowdy bunch, Sophia. What’s the attraction?”
The faucet cranked on with a gush.
“Admiration,” Sophia stuttered.
“Really? Why’s that?”
Damon rinsed her hands. There was a long pause while Sophia’s murky thoughts coalesced into something verbal.
“Because they’re everything I’m not.”
“And what would that be?” he asked with a bit too much interest.
“Naughty.”
Andie coughed.
“Sexy,” Sophia continued. “Confident.”
The pulse in Damon’s neck raced like a greyhound after a rabbit. Sophia looked up into his face. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” she mumbled. “It is true that they change color and sparkle like sapphires before you come?”
“Well, I’ve never watched myself come. I could try next time and let you know how it turns out.”
“So, Damon,” Andie interrupted, “Why are you here?”
“Here? Right here?” His eyes narrowed. It was time for some creative half-truths. “Gage and I were in town for dinner and stopped by to have a drink. I happened to notice Sophia making a run for the lavatory. She was looking distressed so I thought I’d see if I could help out.”
Andie splashed cool water over Sophia’s face. “Gage is here?” she asked.
Damon mumbled something intelligible, suddenly realizing that not only was he caught, but he’d handed over Gage as well. Sophia stared at him with a dreamy look that signaled she either wanted to be kissed or was on the verge of passing out. The odds were fifty-fifty.
“How long have you and Gage been here?”
“Oh, about —”
Sophia interrupted by pulling on his sleeve. “Did you need antibiotics for those scratch marks Claire says are on your back?”
Andie groaned. Damon grinned, grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the corners of Sophia’s damp mouth. “Better?” He thought it best to ignore her question.
Guarding the Coast Page 17
