by Ward, Tracey
I smile at him, my eyes softening. “You’re sweet. You’ve always been sweet.”
“You wanna tell Katy that for me?”
“I’ll try, but you know how she is. She’s still hung up—“
He reaches out and touches my hand, shaking his head. His mouth forms a firm line, his eyes shouting at me to shut up. To not say the name.
That can only mean one thing – Lawson is nearby.
My body responds immediately, my eyes dying to seek him out. The reaction worries me. I want to be strong, but right now I’m so tired and so weak I think I’m transparent. I’m a jellyfish – spineless. Listless.
And the currents keep pulling me toward him.
“I better get going,” I tell Wyatt, standing quickly and gasping as I do.
He instinctively reaches out across the counter to steady me but I smile and wave him away.
I tip my drink toward him. “Thanks for the water. And for listening to me bitch.”
“Take it easy, Sharmalade.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, “you too.”
I run from the Frosty Freeze. Well, okay, I don’t run, but I bolt as fast as my cripple ass will carry me. I put on blinders, I keep my head down.
The heat hits me hard in the face and lungs when I make it out the door. It’s hard to breathe for a second, transitioning from the dry cold of the AC into the humid heat outside. I take a slow, sluggish breath before I start across the blacktop. Heat rises off it in shimmering waves that play with your eyes and mess with your perception. The world roils and rolls around you like you’re walking through invisible fire.
Or you’re headed straight into it.
“Rachel.”
Shit dammit.
He’s in the shade at the side of the building. The long brick wall behind him is painted white but it’s chipping. It’s cracked, the multiple thick coats of color giving way to reveal a crimson fissure running from the sidewalk to the roof. Long and jagged. Like a scar.
Lawson leans against it in a pair of gray cargo shorts, a blue T-shirt, and a black baseball hat pulled down low over his eyes. The shadow cast by the bill makes it impossible to see him clearly, but I can feel his eyes on me.
“What?” I ask him curtly.
He grins with only half his mouth. Sexy and slow. “You having a bad day?”
I point impatiently to my leg. “I’m having a bad summer, Lawson. What do you want?”
“Just sayin’ hey,” he drawls.
“So I can go now?”
“You can do whatever you want, Rachel.”
“Thank you,” I say, turning on my good heel. “I’m going home.”
“Rachel.”
I sigh, looking back at him. “What?”
“Have a good day, Rachel.”
“Why do you keep saying my name?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never really used it before. I get a weird little rush when I say it out loud.” He pauses, watching me intently. “Do you feel that way when you say my name?”
“No.”
He chuckles, dipping his hands into his pockets and leaning his head back against the wall. “That’s a lie. Do you know why I think we get excited about each other?”
“Is this going to be a long speech?” I ask, pointing to the sky. “Because I didn’t bring any sunscreen.”
“It’ll take as long as it takes. Longer if you don’t play along.”
“Or I could go home and it’ll be over before you know it.”
“You could, but you’ll wonder all night.” He takes a long dramatic step to the side, dragging his body across the wall behind him until he’s standing at the base of the fracture, the red erupting from his shoulder up toward the sky. The sight makes me uneasy.
“Come stand in the shade with me,” he offers.
I shake my head, holding my ground. “No, I’m good, but for my skin’s sake tell the story quickly.”
“That’s just it. It’s the story. It’s because we didn’t have one before. I didn’t know you. I knew of you, but I didn’t know you. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Not really.”
“It is. This town is smaller than an ant’s ass and I’ve got a story with every girl in it in one way or another. Even Katy and I have shit in common. But not you. Not until that night.”
“I’m exciting for you because I’m new.”
He smiles at me lazily. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the start of our story. Maybe I want to see what the rest looks like. Don’t you wanna know, Rachel? Don’t you wanna say my name and feel that feeling? That rush?”
I do. I absolutely do because I’m human, it’s been months since a guy has gotten close to me, and dude is hot.
He’s also high.
“How much have you smoked today?” I ask him bluntly.
He laughs, lowering his head until I can’t see his eyes anymore. Until his entire face is hidden by his hat. “Yeah, alright,” he mutters deeply. “I’ll see you later.”
I stand there, doubtful. Waiting, but for what I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I just got the brush off, though, and weird as it was, I take the opportunity to run. I head for my car, fall inside, and leave the Frosty Freeze far behind.
Chapter Six
I have to expand my job search to Santa Barbara and Malibu. The drive will suck and I’m not so sure my leg can take it for the first couple weeks, but I have to try. I can’t just sit in the house on my ass watching the summer tick away as my bank account dwindles with every copay. As I ingest it with every antibiotic and painkiller.
I make the Isla Azul paper again. This time my dad doesn’t frame it. The article goes out as a warning to everyone in the area to stay vigilant, to be careful, and to not do the dumb things I did. They’re trying to be helpful to others but it’s insulting when they’re quick to point out that if I’d been in a group or if I’d avoided the sandbar that I wasn’t even aware I was swimming near, I probably wouldn’t have been bit.
Go ahead and educate others on how to avoid an attack – I’m a huge advocate for that – but maybe don’t print my picture next to it like I’m the author of the Complete Idiot’s Guide on How to be Bitten by a Damn Shark.
Not only does the entire town know about the attack, they also know Lawson Daniel saved my life. Twice. That’s in the paper too, along with a not so subtle insinuation that we’re dating.
The same night the article comes out, my phone beeps with a new message from an unknown number.
did you know we’re dating?
I glare at my phone, stunned and confused. Lawson?
most people call me Law, you know that right?
How did you get my number?
wyatt. you applied for a job at the FF. it was on your resume.
“I hate living in a small town,” I grumble.
Dad looks over at me from where he’s lying on the couch watching TV. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Who’s texting you?”
“Katy.”
He snorts, turning back to the TV. “Try again. Katy is at the movies.”
“How do you know that?”
“We’re buddies online. I saw her post it twenty minutes ago.”
“Unreal.”
“I told her to bring me back popcorn.”
“You get mad at the microwave and yet you’re socially networking?”
He shakes his head in disgust. “That thing. Why have a potato button dedicated entirely to undercooking my potato?”
“It’s a conspiracy,” I reply absently as my phone beeps again.
“So who is it?” Dad asks.
if you still need a job I know of one.
“It’s Lawson,” I mutter to my dad.
Are you serious? I text Lawson.
“He’s trouble. Please tell me you know that.”
completely. its out of town tho.
“Everyone knows that, Dad. I’ve known that since Kindergarten.”
How far out of
town?
“Try and remember it when you’re about to sleep with him.”
malibu
“Ugh,” I groan, imagining the hour long drive. Then I frown, glancing at my dad. “Wait, what did you say?”
you interested?
I look down at Lawson’s message, my frown deepening. “Dad, what did you say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, flipping through channels. “A person’s got to make their own mistakes in life.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
My phone beeps.
rachel?
Dad sighs as he turns off the TV and hoists himself off the couch. “It means you better answer him. That boy is relentless.”
you with me?
I watch my dad leave the room, heading for the kitchen, probably toward a cold beer, and I let my phone sit heavy and silent in my hand. Malibu is a long drive. It’s a lot of miles, a lot of gas. It will be a lot of pain. By the end of the summer will it be worth it? Will it have been enough to get me back on track?
I’ll never know unless I try.
Yeah, I finally text back, a sinking feeling in my stomach, I’m with you, Lawson.
***
Katy goes with me a week later when I drive to Santa Barbara to get my stiches removed. I insist on driving, and even though my leg is aching when we get there twenty minutes later, I’m proud of myself. I’ve been off my crutches all week, pushing myself to the edge trying to get back to normal. Back to fighting form where I can live my life, get a job, and pretend this all never happened to me. Not the attack, not the injury, and definitely not Lawson Daniel.
“He got you a job in a surf shop in Malibu,” Katy reminds me, sitting on a spinning stool at my feet and rotating back and forth. “One he goes to all the time. It’s gonna be hard to pretend he doesn’t exist when you see him every other day.”
I purse my lips in annoyance. “I know. He’s a hard one to ignore.”
“Well, he’s Lawson,” she says, as though she’s reminding me he’s some mythical creature. Like a unicorn or a leprechaun. A different species all together, enchanted and strange.
Sad thing is she’s not wrong.
He got me the interview at Ambrose Surf within an hour of telling me about it. He even offered to drive me down and go in with me. I told him thanks, but no thanks and that was the end of that conversation. Katy drove me instead. It didn’t matter, though. The second I walked in and told them my name, I was ushered to the back with the manager who called me ‘Law’s friend’, never referring me to me by my actual name. I had the job before I even showed up, and even though that bothered me I wasn’t in any position to be choosy. Indignant, sure, but not choosy. When they asked me if I could start the next week, I said I could start that day if they wanted me to.
I texted Lawson to thank him, but I didn’t get a reply.
“How are you going to get down there four days a week?” Katy asks. “I have day shift at the grocery store. I can’t drive you.”
“I know. I’ll drive myself.”
“An hour each way?”
“Yeah.”
“You can’t do that.”
I laugh, scooting back on the long exam table to give my leg some relief, the paper crinkling loudly under my hands. “Why not?”
“Because you barely got us here and it’s not even half that distance. You’re still in a lot of pain, Rach. You keep trying to act like you’re not, but you totally are.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her lightly, waving away her concerns.
“Yeah, that right there,” she says seriously, not dissuaded by my indifference. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
The door to the exam room opens, letting in a familiar face. Dr. Shinn was there when I was brought into the hospital. He was called in to perform my surgery. To make sure my artery was fully closed and I didn’t bleed out in the night from a slow leak.
He’s tall and wire thin, of Asian descent with short black hair and almond eyes that show wrinkles at the edges when he smiles. So basically never.
“Rachel,” he greets me with a curt nod. His eyes fall on Katy for a brief second before he ignores her entirely. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” I answer quickly.
Katy glares at me.
“No fever symptoms? Inflammation? Swelling? Tenderness?”
“Nope.”
“Yes,” Katy argues.
“I’m sorry?” Dr. Shinn asks her. He looks down his nose at her, not because he’s an asshole but because he’s that tall. He looks down at pretty much everyone.
Katy glances quickly between him and me. No one is exactly looking at her warmly. “She’s still in pain when she walks,” she tells Dr. Shinn, her voice quiet but resolved. “She has tenderness.”
“Some amount of discomfort is to be expected. She’s still healing.”
I swat Katy on the shoulder. “See? It’s normal.”
Katy ignores me. “She bumped it on a chair back yesterday and couldn’t breathe for three seconds.”
“Jesus, are you counting my breaths?” I demand.
“No, I’m counting the seconds when you don’t breathe,” she replies hotly. “Like when you went under, I was counting and I was freaking out because I was sure you were never coming back up again and I would be counting for the rest of my life.”
“Katy,” I say weakly. “I made it. I’m okay.”
Dr. Shinn sighs. “Let’s try again. Any signs of infection? Tenderness?”
Katy looks at me hard, her mouth tight at the corners.
“Yes,” I reply reluctantly.
“Fever?”
“No. I mean, I’m always hot but who isn’t? This summer is a killer.”
“Are you hot now?’
“Yeah.”
“Have you been taking your temperature?”
“No.”
He reaches into a cupboard behind him and pulls out a thermometer. He slips a plastic cover over it, then gestures for me to open up so he can put it under my tongue.
We’re all oddly silent as we wait. Dr. Shinn touches my forehead at one point, frowning at the feel of my sweat slicked skin. When the time is up he pulls the thermometer out, reads it without reaction, and promptly scribbles a series of notes on my chart.
When he’s done writing he looks at me seriously. “You’re running a mild fever. Your skin is clammy. I’m going to remove the bandages and take a look at the incision but I’m fairly certain that from what you’re both telling me that you have an infection.”
“What will that mean?”
He pulls on a pair of gloves. “If the infection was severe you’d know it. Your fever would be through the roof, you’d be faint, and you’d be able to smell it through the bandage. Have you noticed an odd smell?”
“No.”
“Good.” He cuts the tape holding my bandages in place and methodically begins to unroll them. “Let’s see what you have going on.”
It’s red and puffy, the stitches nearly engulfed in my skin. Dr. Shinn breaks his veneer when he sees it, clicking his tongue and shaking his head slightly.
“Have you been taking your antibiotics?” he asks me when he finishes his examination.
“Yeah, of course. Exactly as it says to on the bottle.”
“I’ll write you a prescription for something stronger. If that doesn’t help we might need to reopen the wounds. There could be more debris inside.”
“More debris?” Katy asks, her eyes wide. “What was in there to start with?”
“Shark’s mouths are filthy places. A bite can transfer sand, shell, and gore.”
“Gore?”
“It’s nothing we can’t manage, but we need to be careful until the infection is gone. I wish I hadn’t had to put stitches in the wounds. It opened you up further to infection, but several of the bite wounds were too large to heal on their own. They’d never granulate.” He clicks his pen sharply, pulling out a prescription pad. “Get t
his filled immediately. I’m going to send in a nurse with a shot of a strong antibiotic to get you going now and I want you to continue taking this prescription until they’re gone completely. We’ll reschedule an exam for a week from today.”
“What about the stitches?”
“I’m going to remove them now. With the irritation on the skin it’s going to hurt.”
“Fun,” I say drolly.
“I can prescribe you more Percocet if you’re afraid of the pain.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Good. Afterward you need to take it easy. The wounds aren’t totally healed but the sutures have brought them close enough to finish the process on their own. Be careful, rest, stay off that leg. You don’t want to reopen them and undo all of the healing you’ve managed to do. Keep your thigh covered in clean bandages. Give your body time to right itself.”
“Isn’t that what the drugs are for?” I ask glumly.
“No.” He rips the top slip off the pad and hands it to me. “That’s what you’re for. Be good to your body and it will be good to you. Push it past its limits and it will shit all over you.”
My jaw goes slack in surprise as he swears.
I almost pass out when he smiles.
Chapter Seven
I think about texting Lawson. It seems like the easy way out of what I’ve gotta say but he’s ignored me the last two times I sent him a message and I have no idea what that means, but I know it bugs me. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s one of his things that he does with women. Gives radio silence to make you come to him.
If it’s a tactic, it totally works. I’m at the beach the same day I get my stitches out, waiting in the parking lot next to his car, and as I stand there watching him walk out of the sea at sunset like a god descending to the earth, I think Lawson Daniel is smarter than anyone gives him credit for.
When he sees me he stops, a slow smile forming on his lips. He nods his head toward the beach where his boys are drinking beer and starting a fire. Wyatt and Xavier. Baker with a brunette from the hair salon at the end of the strip.
The sight gives me so much déjà vu that it starts me shivering, my head shaking with the convulsions.
Unfazed, Lawson carries his board up the beach to the parking lot.
