Dray

by Tess Oliver

  I reached my car and realized the shock of the broken bone had worn off and my hand was throbbing painfully again. I slid into the seat, pulled out my phone and dialed.

  “Hello, Dray?”

  “Hey Mom.”

  “Sweetheart, it is very late here. Did you forget the time difference?” The bitchiness in her tone nearly made me hang up.

  “Yeah, I know. Didn’t mean to wake you but I needed to let you know—” Once again the words caught in my throat.

  “What is it Dray? Are you all right?”

  “Dad died.”

  The silence was long enough that I looked at my phone to see if was still connected.

  A tiny sound came through the speaker. “Sorry to just blurt it out, Mom. I didn’t know how else to say it. The doctor thinks it was his heart.”

  She sniffled through the phone. “How are you doing, Sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. I’m O.K. I guess.” My words broke. “He called me earlier to tell me he didn’t feel well, but I didn’t hear the message until it was too late.” Even in death, the man had succeeded in fucking with my head.

  “Dray, Sweetheart, I’ll be on the first available flight home.”

  The weight of the day felt like a lead blanket on my chest, and my hand hurt so badly I wanted to smack it against something to deaden the pain again. “See you when you get home, Mom.”

  The drive home seemed endless, and the hypnotic rhythm of the brake lights on the traffic jammed freeway nearly put me to sleep. It felt as if I’d lived three lives in the past forty eight hours, three long-ass, shitty lives.

  Aside from the rattling of ropes and pulleys, the boat marina was quiet beneath the moonless sky. I held my hand against my stomach as I plodded along the wood planks of the dock. I’d been in such a daze, I hadn’t noticed that the lights were on in the cabin of the houseboat.

  I stepped onto the deck and opened the door. Nix stood up from the couch with a six pack of beer in each hand. “Figured you might need some of this.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. He put the beer on the table, walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Looking at your face and the way that hand is wrapped, I’d guess it’s been a pretty fucked up day.”

  An unexpected laugh spurted from my mouth. “Let’s just put it this way, after the last two days, I’m going to need both of those six packs.” I held up my wrapped hand. “And when I’m drunk enough, I want you to get a knife and cut off this hand. It hurts like fucking hell.”

  We plopped down on the couch, and we each picked up a can. I dropped my head back and drank until the ache in my throat had been replaced by the smoothing sensation of beer. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and lifted up the can. “Here’s to my old man, worst fucking father a kid could ask for.”

  Nix clanged his beer can against mine. “Here’s to the shit-fest we call life.” He took a swig and then lifted it again. “Oh, and here’s to my first experience as a surgeon.” He looked at my wrapped hand. “I don’t think there’s anything sharper than a butter knife in that galley.”

  I shrugged and took another drink. “As I told you, I’m going to be really drunk, so you can just hack away.”

  We sat in silence for awhile and then I lifted my can again. “Here’s to the people in my life who matter.” I looked over at him, and he pressed his can against mine. “Thanks for coming, Nix.”

  Chapter 7

  Dray

  A California rainstorm was about as rare as people saying nice things about my dad, but both happened on the same August day. Dark, ominous clouds, heavy with warm summer rain, hung low over the gravesite. And even though there was no sunlight beaming down, the world seemed to brighten some as they lowered my dad into his eternal resting spot. There were no tears or squares of tissue being passed around, but people, casual acquaintances and two of my dad’s brothers, stood around bracing themselves against the occasional gust of wind and digging deep to come up with fond memories. Mom stood under her umbrella looking almost ashamed that she’d had nothing to say. I was sure I’d heard her breathe a sigh of relief as they lowered the coffin into the ground.

  My friends, my only real family, stood huddled together under two big umbrellas. Scotlyn held Nix’s arm tightly, and Clutch had his massive arm draped around Taylor’s shoulder. Barrett stood nearby, away from the shelter of the umbrella. Raindrops rolled down his coat.

  A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb several hundred feet from where we stood, and a blue and white umbrella popped open in front of the tiny person who held it. Cassie trudged up the hill to the gravesite trying hard not to slip on the wet grass and trying even harder not to be lifted away by the wind under her umbrella.

  She pushed her bangs out of her eyes as she looked over at me and lifted her hand in greeting.

  The moment the last prayer had been read, the handful of attendees dispersed. My uncles walked my mom down to the car, and I walked over to Cassie and ducked beneath her umbrella. Water dripped down from my hair and my coat was soaked.

  “You came without an umbrella?” she asked with that light tone that had always sounded like a smile to me.

  “Umbrellas are for sissies.” I inclined my head toward my friends behind me. “Like those guys.”

  She stared down at my wrapped hand. “Did you get hurt in a fight?”

  “Something like that.”

  She reached up with her gloved finger and wiped a long drip of rain from the side of my face. The unexpected gesture caught me off guard, and it took me a second to recover. I’d never really shown Cassie my other side, the vulnerable side that would prove I was human somewhere under the hard ass attitude. I’d never wanted her to see that side of me and now it seemed that had been a mistake.

  “I’m truly sorry, Dray. I know he wasn’t a good father, still—”

  “Nana always said it best— he was a monster. It’s weird knowing he’s no longer here, and it seemed that as each year passed, he’d gained a bit of decency. But I always figured at the rate he was trying to improve, he would have to hit the age of one hundred to wipe out all the bad. I won’t miss him, Cass.” Before I knew I was doing it, I reached over and trailed my fingers down her cheek. “Not like I’m going to miss you.”

  She pressed her hand against her mouth but I hadn’t meant to make her cry. A million times I’d told myself that I needed to beg. I needed to get down on my knees and tell her not to go. I wanted to tell her that a piece of my soul was leaving with her, but I couldn’t be the one to stand in the way of her dream. She wanted this career and she deserved it.

  A gust of wind shot across the cemetery, and I reached for the handle of her umbrella. “You’re about to float away with that thing, Mary Poppins.”

  A short laugh burst from her lips and her smile returned.

  “You know, Cass, I’ve always been one of those guys who no one expects much from.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head. “I’m not under any illusion about it. My high school named me most likely to have a police record, and for awhile I was living up to that prediction. The man that they just lowered into that grave made me feel worthless, and my mom wasn’t much help either. If it weren’t for Nix and Clutch, I would have ended up in jail for sure. But they weren’t the only ones who kept me from going over the edge.”

  She bit her bottom lip, a habit I knew too well and seeing it now under the secluded shade of the umbrella made my chest tighten.

  “I always thought that if someone as unfuckingbelieveable as Cassie could care for me then maybe I wasn’t such a loser after all.”

  Her shoulders jerked with a sob.

  “I’m not saying this to get sympathy or make you feel bad for leaving, Cass. I’m happy for you. I just wanted to let you know that it mattered to me that you cared for me. And I always cared for you. I just had an asinine way of showing it.”

  She sniffled and tightened her coat around her. “There isn’t one worthless hair on your head, Dray. And t
he sooner you believe that the better. You are a fighter in every sense of the word. You grew up in a cold, brutal house, but it didn’t strip away your heart. I know no matter where I end up, I’ll never feel as safe and as loved as I did with you.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek, and I closed my eyes with the feel of her lips on my skin.

  She blotted away her tears with her gloved fingers. “The taxi is taking me to the airport. It’s a really great opportunity for me, Dray.”

  “I know, and you’ll be great at it because you’re awesome at everything you do.” I shoved my hands deep into my coat pocket to resist the urge to touch her. The cold, damp air made my broken hand ache, but the pain in my chest was worse. She walked over and hugged everyone goodbye and then glanced back at me once more before heading back to the cab. I climbed back up to the grave site and watched as the small tractor shoveled up the dirt and tossed it into the grave. I stood there and waited until the coffin disappeared completely.

  Nix’s hand landed on my shoulder and I looked back at him. “We were all thinking about heading down to the Lucy. Clutch and Barrett are going to stop and get pizza and beer. You up for our company?”

  “Always.”

  Chapter 8

  Dray

  The rain had stopped but it had left behind an ugly gray sky and a small storm surge. The boats along the marina rocked from bow to stern and back again. Water lapped up over the edge of the dock and across my shoes as I walked back toward the Lucy.

  I’d had just enough time to wash a few dishes and pick up my dirty socks before Nix arrived with Scotlyn and Taylor.

  Nix followed the girls inside. “I hadn’t thought about the deck being too wet to use.”

  Scotlyn stripped off her gloves but seemed to think better about taking off her coat. After two weeks of triple digit temperatures, the cabin actually felt cold and damp. “It’ll be cozy, but I think we can all fit. Even Clutch.” She looked around. “Maybe.”

  “I miss living on the water, but I don’t miss this tiny space,” Nix said.

  The storm surge wasn’t really a surge but more of swell. Still, the cabin rocked enough to move the kitchen chairs back and forth. Taylor stretched her long legs out in front of her as she plopped onto the couch with her arm pressed against her stomach. “Not completely sure how long I’m going to be able to stay here. I’m already feeling yucky.”

  “You are definitely starting to take on that familiar green pallor,” Scotlyn said.

  The Lucy dipped down on its side. “I think the human anchor has arrived with the pizza.” Nix opened the door. Clutch had to bend over to fit through. He had the beer, and Barrett came in behind with the pizzas. I’d hardly eaten since my last day at the beach when Cassie had told me she was leaving. So much shit had happened since then I hadn’t really had time to think about my stomach, unusual for me.

  Barrett lowered the boxes of pizza onto the table, and Clutch and I pulled out chairs and sat. I was a third his weight but I could definitely keep up with Clutch in an eating match, and, at this point, I was ready to devour the cardboard box.

  Clutch picked up the biggest piece. “I noticed you were looking kind of runty. If you lose any more weight, Tank is going to start a new miniature division just for you.”

  I smacked Barrett’s hand away from the slice with the most sausage and grabbed it for myself. “Don’t ever call me mini. That’s what an asshole down at the docks calls me, and he made me lose my hours this week.” I lifted my wrapped hand. “And he started what turned out to be a very long day for me and my poor hand.”

  With Clutch and Barrett in the kitchen, Nix had to slide along the wall to get to the sink for some glasses. “What happened out there?” Nix asked. “You never said.”

  “There is this dickwad named Bill, calls himself Blackbeard, who carries a casual card and thinks he’s a big shot because of it. Careless sonavabitch nearly pitched headlong over the side of a container and we were a good thirty feet up. But I grabbed him. Next time I think my reflexes might be a little slower. My lashing bar flew over the side, and I ended up losing my hours.”

  “Calls himself Blackbeard?” Barrett asked.

  “Really?” Clutch asked. “That’s what you got out of it, Rett?” Clutch turned back to me. “So you save the guy’s life and because of his union status, you have to take the blame for his stupidity?”

  “Yeah, it sucks.” I dove in for another slice.

  “Wow, that seems terribly unfair.” Scotlyn peered longingly over Barrett’s shoulder at the pizza that Clutch and I were vacuuming up at lightning speed.

  “Don’t be shy,” Clutch said over a mouthful. “Just reach in and grab a slice, Scottie.”

  She lifted her hand cautiously. “To be honest, I’m sort of afraid to put my hand in there.”

  I nearly spit out my pizza with laughter. It felt so good to be around everyone again. It was definitely what I needed.

  Nix reached in, picked up a piece, and handed it to her. Then he held up his hand and made a show of counting his fingers.

  Scotlyn smiled. “My hero. The brave things you do for me. Hey, isn’t the street fair happening along the marina this Saturday? We should all go.”

  Clutch and I exchanged glances assuring me that he felt the same way about a street fair.

  Scotlyn caught the looks. “Oh, come on, it’s the last one of summer. There will be lots of cool stuff and music.” She looked at Clutch and then at me. “And the flyer said there would be twelve food trucks.”

  Clutch twisted his mouth in consideration. “You know, maybe we rushed to judgment, Dray.” He leaned back in his chair and looked toward the living room. “Hey, Taylor, aren’t you going to have some pizza?”

  “Not unless it’s covered in Tums,” Taylor called back weakly.

  “Poor baby,” Clutch muttered to himself and then leaned back again, “in that case, can I have your piece?”

  There was no answer, so, naturally, he took it as a yes.

  Nix popped open a beer. “I heard that that new pie truck was going to be down there. Nothing but personal pies.”

  “I think we could probably endure the street fair if pie eating was a possibility,” I said.

  “Dude, that reminds me,” Barrett looked my direction, “some friends of mine are going down to Mexico to surf next month.” He leaned forward with enthusiasm, and the wobbly table tilted onto two legs for a second. “We should go. After the week at the beach, I’m really into surfing again.”

  Clutch pointed to his chin to let Barrett know there was a long string of cheese hanging from his. “First of all, little brother, you don’t have a dime to your name so you can’t afford it. Second of all, you hardly had time to surf last week because you were so damn busy fu—” Clutch paused, looked up at Scotlyn and obviously decided to change his phrasing, “with other activities. And third, and most importantly, I’m not flying down to Mexico to get your sorry ass out of jail after you get caught doing one of the many stupid things I know you’ll do.”

  Barrett continued to chew as he stared at Clutch with a bored look. “Are you done? Cause I was talking to Dray. And I will be making money soon enough.”

  “Great and then you can get a place of your own,” Clutch said tersely.

  “I will.” Barrett looked over at me. “So, what do you say, Dray?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll have to rob a bank but we’ll see.”

  Taylor’s weak groan sailed in from the couch. She crossed the small living room in three long strides and burst out onto deck. We all turned our attention to Clutch who was searching for his next slice, seemingly more aware of his stomach then of the fact that his girlfriend was hanging over the railing tossing her breakfast into the churning Pacific.

  It took him a second to notice that all eyes were on him. He dropped the slice of pizza with a sad sigh. “I guess I should get her off the boat.” He stood and his head just grazed the ceiling. I should get back to work anyhow. He eyed the slice again.

 
; “There is no way Taylor is going want to see you eating a slice of pizza,” Scotlyn said.

  “Yeah, I guess not.” Clutch looked down at me. He’d hardly said a word to me about losing my dad because he knew there’d been no strong connection between Dad and me. Clutch’s dad was not abusive but there had never been much connection for them either. He’d sort of taken over with Barrett where his parents had been lacking. Barrett was like me. Trouble attracted him too easily, and while Nix and Clutch had been in their share of trouble growing up, they’d always made sure Barrett and I never stepped too far over the line. “Later, Bro. If you need anything—”

  I nodded.

  Clutch walked over to the couch and picked up Taylor’s coat. He looked back into the kitchen. “Hey, Rett, you walking home or what?”

  Barrett stood and snatched up two more slices. He pointed at me. “Call me. Tully’s is having ladies night next Thursday, and we don’t want to disappoint the ladies by not showing up.”

  Nix laughed.

  Barrett grabbed a beer. “What, do you see a problem with my thinking?”

  Nix shook his head. “Not at all. I think you two are a perfect match for ladies night.”

  We watched through the small galley window as Clutch walked out on deck and swept Taylor up into his arms. She rested her head against him, and he carried her up to the dock. Barrett followed with pizza in one hand and beer in the other.

  One strong ray of sunlight had found its way through the cloud cover and it heated the small kitchen. “There’s that August sun,” Nix said as he and Scotlyn joined me at the table.

  “How long is your mom going to be in town?” Nix asked.

  “I think she’s leaving in a few days.” I ran my finger along the condensation on the beer can. “We’ve hardly spoken ten words since she got here. She wants to the sell the house right away. She said she was going to give me some money, but I’ll believe that when it happens. At first I was thinking I should move in there, but it’s not really a place I want to hang out. Just like my mom said this morning— ‘no good memories’.” I stared down at my fingers. They were wrapped around a can of beer just like my dad’s had been. I was never going to make the mistakes he had made. He’d learned from his dad, and I planned to do everything the opposite. No matter what my future held, it was destined to be better than the pathetic, grim life my dad had led.