Rough Waters

by Nikki Godwin

  Construction equipment sits around among the wreckage, waiting to take down something else with no compassion for those who once loved this place. The old game booths and popcorn stands sit in piles of wood, strewn across the ground haphazardly.

  The entrance to the house of mirrors has been barricaded with wooden posts. Do Not Enter signs fill the cloudy windows. One is propped up against the barricaded door. I wonder if the construction crew has heard the story of Lickety Split.

  A backhoe sits near the now-demolished pirate ship. Metal poles and the seating both rest on the ground behind the huge wooden dragon. It’s even more massive on land than it was on the side of the pirate ship. A.J. holds his arm up, admiring the inked dragon on his arm. Turquoise with orange eyes, just like the one from the ride.

  “I wonder what they’ll tear apart next,” he says.

  I glance around for the one thing I loved about this place – the carousel. It remains, fully intact, for now anyway. I make a beeline toward it and A.J. follows. He knows exactly where I’m headed – to the life-sized version of Solomon.

  I wish I could unhinge him right now and take him back to the house just to hang around in my bedroom. I’d touch up his paint job and give him a new sparkle. He’d be the prettiest blue seahorse the ocean has ever seen.

  A.J. straddles the orange octopus on the carousel, and I swear, this is exactly where we were last summer. He rests his forehead against a metal tentacle.

  “Is it just me or is everything falling apart?” he asks.

  “Everything is definitely falling apart,” I say. I hate admitting that.

  “First, Colby’s parents show up and ruin his life, and that in turn ruins my life because now Colby doesn’t need us to hide him. I’m going to have to get a real job or something, and there’s not a damn person around here who’d hire me,” A.J. says.

  I don’t mean to laugh, but I can’t stop it from escaping my mouth. You’d think keeping Colby’s secret would’ve been a lot tougher than a day job, but I guess you get the perks of sleeping in, making your own schedule, and hanging out at the beach all day. Who needs health insurance and a 401K anyhow?

  “Don’t worry. I know it’s selfish,” he says. “But that’s what I’ve done for three years now. I’m a high school dropout with no chance in hell of making something of myself. He’s been my cash flow. Now I’m fucked like the rest of society.”

  Watching his sacred grounds get demolished probably doesn’t help any. The city would’ve torn this place down eventually anyway, but I wish they could’ve waited until after this whole Colby Taylor/Drenaline Surf issue was resolved for the better.

  “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” I say, turning away from the carousel seahorse and looking directly at A.J. “I haven’t told Vin about the lawsuit yet. I haven’t really talked to him about anything really.”

  A.J. nods. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says. He pushes himself up from the octopus. “Are you okay? I know he’s basically shut everyone out. Topher’s been bitching about it for the past two months.”

  I shrug. I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Yes, it bothers me, and at times it completely pisses me off, but I’m sort of numb to it all. It’s almost like a dream that I woke up from long ago and have put behind me. I make excuses for him, just as he feeds me excuses and lies, but I do it so people will stop asking questions. Vin does it because…he doesn’t know how to walk away? I’d take a break up speech over silence any day. I just wish he’d communicate.

  “So I take it he’s not going tonight?” A.J. asks, hopping off of the carousel.

  I follow him and take his hand to jump down. “Jace’s band’s gig? No, he said he probably wouldn’t make it, so that’s a definite no,” I say.

  “You’re still going, right?” A.J. asks.

  “At this point, I don’t even know,” I tell him. And that’s the honest truth.

  I fall back onto my bed as Topher begs through my cell phone yet again. I understand that he doesn’t want to be a third wheel to Emily and Miles. I get that it’s boring if you don’t have someone to hang out with. I completely grasp that his life sucks because his brother’s being an ass and he isn’t sponsored by Drenaline Surf. But that still doesn’t make me want to go tonight.

  Staying right here in bed sounds like the best plan. I could sleep away the worries of what will happen once Colby’s parents file a lawsuit. I could dream about the life I wanted in Crescent Cove rather than thinking about my absent boyfriend and my best friend’s destroyed sacred ground. Yeah, sleep is the better option.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Topher asks.

  “I hear you,” I say. No offense to Jace or his band Sapphires and Sunsets. I just don’t have any desire to go. “I’ll be there,” I tell Topher.

  A.J. laughs from the end of my bed once I end the call. He leans back on his elbows and watches as I make my way to my semi-full closet. I still have so much to unpack.

  “I thought you were determined not to go,” he says. “What did Topher say that was so convincing?”

  I grab a pair of dark jeans and a pink tank top. Then I change my mind and grab the blue tank instead. If I have to go to this thing, I don’t plan on looking glamorous. It’s Jace’s band’s gig at some restaurant-slash-bar. It’s not an orchestra.

  “It’s easier to just suck it up and go than it is to listen to Topher whine about it all night,” I say, which is the truth.

  And I might just want the distraction. I’m sure Jace’s band can drown out my stresses better than sleep can. Reality can seep into your brain and result in nightmares. A band gig can just make your head pound. Luckily I’ve heard Sapphires and Sunsets before, and they don’t suck.

  “Too casual?” I ask, holding up the tank top. I should drag Alston in here. A.J. knows nothing about fashion.

  “I don’t know,” A.J. says, confirming the thought that I need to get Alston. “I mean, I guess it’s fine, you know?”

  No, A.J., I don’t know. I stick both articles of clothing into the closet. I wish I’d been to Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge before. It doesn’t matter if you’re only there for the band. I don’t want to look like I’m going to Taco Bell when it’s really a five-star restaurant.

  “What’s the vibe like there?” I ask. “Is it a sit-down sort of place? More casual? Is it more beer and loud music or a Sex and The City kind of bar?”

  “Fuck,” A.J. says. “I’ve never been there. Does it even matter? I’m wearing what I have on.”

  If A.J. wants to rock cargo shorts and a T-shirt, that’s perfectly fine. I grab my cell phone and text in reinforcements. Alston makes it from his bedroom in the condo and into the guest house in under two minutes.

  “I wondered how long it’d take for a fashion emergency now that we have a chick in the house,” Alston says. “So, what’s the crisis?”

  A.J. makes himself comfortable on my bed, stretching out and most likely filling my bed with sand from his flip flops. He ignores Alston’s question and busies himself with snooping through my cell phone.

  “I don’t know what to wear tonight,” I say. “I’ve never been to Toledo’s, and I don’t know how dressy or casual to go.”

  Alston pushes both arms through the air, making sure to clear the space around him. “Step aside,” he says. “Leave this to a professional.”

  With that, the diva steps into my closet, digs through my clothes, and pulls out a little black dress with shimmers of silver. I bought it the day after the Drenaline Surf sale at Lorelei’s Second Stop, the thrift store just outside of the cove.

  “This,” Alston says, holding up the dress. “It’s sexy, flirty, the whole deal. It’s the kind of dress that says you’re there to have fun.”

  I shake my head, grab the dress, and hang it back in the closet. “No, not this one. I’m saving it for something else,” I say.

  “And what exactly are you saving too short and too sparkly for?” Alston asks.

  Wasn�
��t he the one who was just advocating for this dress? I ignore his question and walk over to the nightstand. I pull out the small drawer and take the envelope from inside.

  “This was with the dress when I bought it,” I say, motioning Alston over.

  A.J. eases over so I can sit next to him on the bed. He squeezes in close so he can read over my shoulder. Alston comes over to the bedside and leans in.

  The note actually freaked me out at first. I was determined not to buy a typical little black dress when I walked into the thrift store, but it was a perfect fit. I don’t care what Alston says. It’s not too short, and you can never have too many sparkles. It’s the kind of dress you celebrate in, which is exactly what I bought it for.

  “This came with the dress?” Alston asks, as if it wasn’t clear enough.

  I nod my head. “Yep. When I went to pay for it, the girl who owns the place – Lorelei – said she had to give me a note from the previous owner.”

  Dear Awesome Girl Who Brought This Dress,

  I assume you have to be awesome since you bought it, right? I loved this dress. I only wore it once. I actually bought it right here at this same store. But then I went out with my boyfriend and his friend and some random girl the friend picked up, and we crashed a yacht club party. My boyfriend’s sort of well-known, and luckily, we were able to avoid anyone catching our act on camera. So it’s with my deepest regrets that I had to return this dress. I didn’t want it to be the one thing that gave us away after getting by with such an awesome stunt. So here’s what I ask of you, awesome new dress owner – whatever you do in this dress, DO IT BIG. Because, you know, the dress sort of expects it. I’m counting on you!

  Love, A

  “That’s one hell of a cryptic note,” A.J. says as I tuck it back into the envelope. “So are you saving the dress for when something big happens? So you can do it big for A?”

  “Something like that,” I say, getting up and making my way back to the closet because I’ve yet to secure an outfit to wear to Toledo’s.

  I grab the dark jeans and a black tank top that shimmers. It’s close enough to the dress without being overly dressed. With my relationship with Vin on the rocks, I don’t want anyone asking questions. I’d rather keep a casual vibe than “flirty and sexy” as Alston said.

  After forcing the boys out of my room so I can get ready, I question my decision to go. I promised Topher. I wouldn’t mind seeing Sapphires and Sunsets play again. I’ve never been to Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge, and I might as well get to know the local spots if I’m officially a Crescent Cove resident.

  Still, I know the Hooligans will be there. Jace will have a perfect view of me from the stage. And everyone will question why I’m there hanging out with Topher instead of his older brother aka my boyfriend. I feel nauseated that the little black dress of A’s is what I plan to wear when we celebrate Topher’s future sponsorship. Whoever “A” is just handed me a scarlet letter because there’s no way tonight can end well.

  Chapter Ten

  Crescent Cove is bigger than I ever realized. Apparently, there is life beyond Drenaline Surf, The Strip, and Colby’s pier. Topher drives, but we’re in my car because it has more room than his truck. And A.J.’s vehicle just isn’t reliable in any way whatsoever.

  We pass the purple sign that reads Azalea Living Center. A.J. mumbles something from the backseat. I’m not sure what he said, but my guess is that it’s regarding Lickety Split. I wonder what his real name is. I wish A.J. could go visit him. Maybe if he went in armed with a classic carnival funnel cake, it’d help him ease in. If nothing else, he could say goodbye.

  The further we drive away from the tourist attractions, the more I want to just take a week to explore this city. With every new street, it’s like finding a hidden passageway or uncovering another buried treasure chest. I want to breathe in Crescent Cove entirely.

  The city lights up around us in a downtown-like area. Topher says the college campus is a few blocks over. This is where the night life happens. The streetlights cast orange glows on the sidewalks, but the deep orange sunset paints the entire street. I love this time of the day – dark enough for all the lights to come on but still light enough to see everything clearly.

  A.J. points out a tattoo shop with the outside walls painted in zebra stripes. He says he got his dragon tattoo there. A cupcake shop is next door to the tattoo parlor, a bit out of sequence, and a Mexican restaurant sits on the corner.

  “And that’s Café Jezza,” Topher says, pointing to a fancy sleek building with decorative sconces. A crowd of people wait outside. “It’s a super expensive Italian place. Best food in the Cove. You pretty much have to have reservations ahead of time.”

  “You’ve been?” I ask. Then I regret it. I hope he doesn’t assume anything by it.

  Topher nods. “Joe took us out there to celebrate when Shark built Drenaline Surf. We went the night of the groundbreaking. Shark, Joe, Vin, me, Jace, Theo, and Reed.”

  “Reed?” I question. I thought Reed’s friendship with Topher was a recent development. Maybe he went because of Vin, although I can’t imagine why Reed would’ve hung out with Vin back in those days.

  “Yeah,” Topher says, looking away. “It was a long time ago. Things changed.”

  A.J. changes the subject before the awkwardness has too long to linger and contaminate the air. He says he never comes into this part of town, that everyone thinks they’re better because they’re rich or actually in college, and then he says something about ice cubes…?

  Topher pulls into a parking lot and says we’ll have to walk the rest of the way. I’m amazed we even found a parking place. Everyone is out on the town tonight.

  “Is it always this busy around here on week nights?” I ask as we get out of the car.

  A.J. laughs. “What did I tell you last summer? You’re in California. The party never stops on the west coast.”

  Topher checks his phone and says we’re going to meet up with Miles and Emily before we head over to Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge. We walk a short block downtown and pass a graffiti painted wall that says Never Apologize For Your Art. Another tattoo shop is around the corner from the painting. I think A.J. should memorize that phrase. People look down on his tats, but I think they give him character. They fit him.

  Emily and Miles wait outside of Ace’s, an expensive steakhouse that A.J. says he’s never seen the inside of. The outside wall has a constant waterfall flowing down the side. Neon blue light-up barracudas serve as décor, popping out away from the water.

  As we follow Drenaline Surf’s favorite couple around the building, I see the pelican statues perched over the entrance of Ace’s. Guilt fills me inside. I brought my metal pelican from the attic with me. He’s still buried in the trunk of my car. This is the first time I’ve even thought about him being in there. I make a mental note to take him out and put him somewhere special when we get home tonight.

  “That’s Toledo’s,” Topher says, pointing across the highway.

  A huge wooden building sits across five lanes of traffic. It reminds me of the rustic beach house that I met Topher and Miles in. Wooden, in the sand, just like an old surf shack but much, much bigger. That’s what a fancy beach restaurant should look like. I don’t know Toledo, but he was on to something awesome.

  “Why didn’t we just take the highway?” A.J. asks. “You’re an idiot, Brooks.”

  “I forgot,” Topher says. He sounds unconvincing.

  A.J. sighs and Topher says we’ll just make a run for it when traffic clears. A.J. mutters about jaywalking, and Emily complains that she’s in a dress. But neither Hooligan cares. The very moment traffic slows, Topher yells, “Run!”

  My eyes focus on the cars stopped at a red light too close for comfort, but Topher grabs my arm and I move as quickly as my flip flops will let me. I don’t even know if A.J. is with us until we’re on the other side of the highway.

  “Thrilling,” Topher says. “How many times in your life do you get to run a
cross five lanes of traffic with cars on both sides?”

  Tiki torches and twinkle lights decorate the outside of Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge. I can’t deny that Colby’s beach mansion is nice, and our condo is awesome, but I wish I could live in a place like this restaurant. I love the wooden ramp covered in sand and the tiki carvings. The entire atmosphere just screams vintage beach. And we’re not even inside yet.

  We ascend the ramp, and Topher asks the waitress for a booth for five, “somewhere near the band because my friend is the lead singer.” He turns back to A.J. and me and promises we’ll have the best seat in the house.

  The waitress sits us in a rounded corner booth, which gives us plenty of room and a perfect view of the stage. Jace has a guitar pick in his mouth, focusing on tuning his strings. Summer Snow Alex waves to Emily and shouts something about her dress.

  “You look like a fish,” Topher says. “Well, you know, your dress does. It makes you look like a fish. But like a beta fish…or tropical fish…a good fish?”

  Miles shakes his head. “Dude, shut up while you’re ahead. She doesn’t look like a fish.”

  “I could’ve said she looked like a piranha,” Topher informs him.

  If tonight’s highlight is a discussion over which fish most resembles the flow and colors of Emily’s dress, I will absolutely regret leaving the condo. Topher orders appetizers, and A.J. orders another one after that since Topher is paying with Vin’s Drenaline Surf credit card. I guess that’s Vin’s way of trying to show Topher he cares. I don’t know if I’d trust him with a company credit card. I take that back – I wish Topher would go buy all the expensive clothes he wanted and charge them to Drenaline.

  Emily points out the blue and purple chandeliers. She and A.J. discuss in depth how they look like jellyfish, with the dangling swirls and electric glow. Why in the hell is everyone talking about fish tonight? I bet the old people in the Azalea Living Center are having more fun with Bingo night than we are here. Somewhere between the waitress delivering appetizers and Topher and Miles arguing about the best Hurley surfer, a guitar strums, and I pray it’ll block out the argument next to me.