Lawless

by Ward, Tracey

  “Because she’s a stepmom and she knows it. It’s been seven years and she’s still convinced she’s gotta win us over. She goes crazy over everything.” He points to a faint white scar along his hairline by his temple. “I came home with a little gash on my head and she rushed me to the hospital. They put Bactine and a bandage on it. It was embarrassing. And with what happened to Aaron… she’s fuckin’ manic.”

  “You’re not gonna tell me what happened to him, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Dick.”

  He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer.

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  “Really?” Lawson asks me skeptically. “Because the ache in my shoulder says you’re not.”

  “You puss. I barely touched you.”

  “You have a sledgehammer for a hand.”

  I laugh, reaching for his hand and running my fingertips along the inside of his palm. “You’re a big boy. You can take it.”

  He clenches his hand around mine, pulls it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles softly.

  The gesture is quick but sweet, sending a flourish of butterflies wild inside me.

  “So what about you?” he asks suddenly. “You’ve been playing piano as long as I’ve been surfing. Why’d you wait two years to go to school for it?”

  I gently pull my hand back, my smile fading with the butterflies and the heat of his skin. “I didn’t wait. I applied during our senior year of high school. I didn’t get it.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Rach.”

  “No, it’s okay. It hurt, it was hard, but I decided to take two years to practice, get my Associates Degree, and then last December I applied again.” I give him a weak smile. “This time I got in.”

  “Will your credits transfer to NEC?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not really, but that’s okay. I think it was worth it.”

  “You got your Associates out of it. Definitely not time wasted,” he agrees.

  “If you’re not going pro with surfing do you ever think about going to college?”

  “I did.”

  “What?” I balk. “When?”

  He smiles at my reaction, bringing his beer to his lips. “Same as you. Right out of high school. Two years.”

  “What did you study?”

  “Computers.”

  “Wow,” I mutter. “That is so not what I expected you to say.”

  “Well, they don’t give out degrees in man-whoring and pot smoking,” he tells me sardonically. “I checked.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Is that what you’ve heard?”

  “Alright, alright,” I laugh. “You got a bad rap. I admit it. On behalf of all of Isla Azul, I am sorry we misjudged you.”

  Lawson reaches forward with his beer bottle and taps it to my head and both shoulders. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a small bow. “So why computers? What do you want to do with them?”

  “I’m already doing it. I’m a freelance graphic designer. I do webpages, logos, short videos. I bought an underwater camera that I can mount to my board. I take shots of the ocean when I’m surfing. Only about one in a thousand is really worth anything but I sell them to other websites. I’m earning royalties off printings of a few.”

  “Wow, Lawson, congratulations,” I tell him ardently. “That’s… it’s amazing. Why doesn’t anyone in town know about this?”

  He eyes me seriously, his voice deep and quiet when he speaks. “Because it’s not filler, and I don’t give that town anything but filler.”

  “Then why are you giving it to me?”

  “Because, Rachel Mason,” he says with a cautious smile, “you are quickly becoming my favorite person on the planet.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the Fourth of July Lawson says he has a surprise for me. He asks me to wear my red bikini, the one with the American flag on the right breast, and I wonder again at how well he knows my wardrobe. But I wear it for him and I don’t complain.

  We leave early in the morning because Lawson knows no other time of day than really freakin’ early, and he drives us south down the coast. Katy and Wyatt sit in the back seat, the rest of his boys in Xander’s old blue Jeep Wrangler cruising behind us. It’s only fifteen minutes into the drive when Katy falls asleep in the backseat. When I look back her head is resting on Wyatt’s lap, his long, tan fingers slowly threading through her hair. He smiles at me when I catch him, but he doesn’t stop and I swear I’ve never seen a guy look happier than he does in that moment.

  I wish Katy could see it too. I wish she could see a lot of things about Wyatt, but she doesn’t and that’s not her fault. It’s not Wyatt’s either. I don’t know for sure it’s Aaron’s but I do know he’s not helping.

  “Are you taking me to work?” I ask Lawson when we pull down the main strip Ambrose Surf sits on. “Is that my surprise? Cause it sucks.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “No, store is closed. We’re going somewhere nearby, though. To a house party.”

  “I’m not doing a keg stand.”

  “It’s not that kind of house party.”

  “What kind is it?”

  Lawson only smiles.

  Five minutes later I find out – it’s the swanky kind. He parks us on the street in front of a row of houses sitting on the beach. They’re right up against the water, each one with access out its back door to the surf, and I know for a fact that in Malibu not a single one of these could cost less than a few million dollars.

  “Whose house is this party at?” Katy asks groggily, emerging slowly from the back seat.

  Lawson goes to the back of the car and opens the hatch to pull out our bags. “It’s Don’s place.”

  “My boss Don?” I ask doubtfully.

  “Yep. The Double D himself.”

  I freeze. “Wait.”

  Lawson closes the trunk, smiling at me. “You recognize it now?”

  “Whoa.”

  “Whoa what?” Katy asks, looking between the two of us. She glances at Wyatt to find him smiling as well. “What am I missing?”

  “Double D was huge in the eighties,” I tell her. “They show his old footage in every surfing highlight reel. They made an entire documentary about him that Dad made me watch about a million times. No one could ride like him.”

  “They still can’t,” Lawson agrees.

  I look at him impatiently. “Some people definitely can.”

  “Don’t tell him that.”

  “My dad will die when I tell him I work for Double D.” My shoulders slump unhappily. “Wait, it’s not a secret is it?”

  “He’s not Superman,” Wyatt says with a chuckle. “Why would it be a secret?”

  “Because Lawson is a dick.”

  Lawson laughs. He slings his arm over my shoulders and leads us toward the house. “No, it’s not a secret. You can tell your dad. Bring him into the shop, Don would love to talk to him if he’s a surfing fan. He likes when the older crowd comes in.”

  “I thought I was there to help draw in the young guys.”

  “You are. Young guys are the ones doing most of the buying. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Don likes to do a lot of talking. The old guys like to talk, not buy.”

  “They also like to look.”

  “At you or the boards?”

  I reach over and pinch his side. He yelps, jumping away from me.

  “What was that for?”

  I roll my eyes. “Give me some credit, Lawson. I’m not exactly a super model but I like to think I’m more interesting to a man than a surfboard.”

  “Depends on the board.”

  I lunge at him, ready to pinch him again but he’s too fast. He rushes away from me toward the front door and bursts inside to safety. And I would keep after him, but when I step inside I’m floored.

  The view is amazing. Floor to ceiling windows span the entire western side of the house. A big open living room with slouching couches covered i
n overstuffed cushions stare out over the water. A gleaming stainless steel kitchen is nestled in the corner to the right, a long black bar stretching out beside it. People mill around everywhere, bare feet tracking sand all over the rich dark wood flooring that covers every square inch of this level, continuing up the stairs and probably across the second floor as well.

  And the air. Oh the sweet, savory feel of air conditioning swirling around my legs and up over my bare arms. It gets in my hair and makes me sigh as I stare out the massive windows to the waves rolling in white and foaming.

  “Holy shit,” I mumble, walking numbly to stand next to Lawson. “Don is Iron Man.”

  “You mean Tony Stark?”

  “I mean shut up, this house is insane.” I turn to Lawson, my mouth still hanging open in amazement. I can’t control it. I’ve lost all bodily control. “How can he afford this? Can you make that much money as a pro surfer?” I whisper.

  Lawson laughs. “Not often. Most of this is paid for by the shop.”

  “The shop. The surf shop that I work in? The one with only one bathroom marked neither women’s or men’s but simply ‘Hang Loose’ and a toilet you have to manually refill the tank on? That surf shop?”

  “He’s selective on what he’ll spend his money on.” He points to the front row seat to the ocean. “The water he cares about. His boards, his store, his merchandise, his employees – they all matter. Plumbing doesn’t do it for him.”

  “He’s loaded though, isn’t he?”

  “Oh yeah. Massively. He does custom work for a lot of people, a lot of pros. He got in early with a guy back in the nineties making board wax and that blew up big. It’s everywhere now.”

  “Dee’s Wax?” I ask, picturing the small tin circle with the sunshine yellow writing sitting by the register.

  “That’s it. He has other shops too. Florida, Hawaii, Tahiti. He’s opening one in Australia next year. Wherever the pros go, Don goes.”

  “I had no idea. I thought it was just another surf shop.”

  “Nope. It’s the surf shop.” He nudges me with a smile. “You probably met a pro or two, you just didn’t know it.”

  “Have you met pros in there?”

  “Yeah, I know a few.”

  “You know them? As in you talk to them outside the store?”

  “Sure. I have Rob Machado on speed dial.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “See, I don’t know if you’re kidding or not.”

  He grins but he doesn’t answer.

  ***

  We spend the majority of the day by the water. I even spend some of it in the water. I never get in so far that I can’t touch the bottom, but it feels good to do it. To body surf with Katy. To wade in the surf with Lawson.

  He isn’t shy about me, and I’m amazed by how much that amazes me. There are other surfers here, a lot of other women, but Lawson makes it very clear from the moment we get here that I’m with him. His arm is around my shoulders or his hand is holding mine. He’s standing behind me with his hand resting possessively on my hip. He’s in the water with his lips against mine, his tongue taking control. The more the day goes on, the more beers he has, the more brazen he is. His hands linger longer, they drift higher. He pulls me to him closer. Harder. He whispers in my ear things both sweet and sultry. He tells me I’m beautiful. He tells me he loves being with me. He tells me all the things he wishes he could do to me if we were alone.

  “He is so into you,” Katy tells me as we sit on our towels watching the boys surf.

  I sigh. “Don’t,” I warn her. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what? Do you see the way he looks at you? And he can’t keep his hands off you.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me again how you guys haven’t slept together. I love that one. It’s hilarious.”

  “Yes, fine, we slept together.”

  She looks at me sideways, waiting silently.

  “A couple of times,” I admit.

  “Was it good?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that boy is crazy about you.”

  “No. That’s just how he is. It’s how he acts with girls.”

  “I’ve never seen him with a girl the way he is with you. And we’ve all seen him with a lot of girls.” She pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Trust me,” she says softly, “I know what I’m talking about. I know what a Daniel boy in love looks like.”

  And there it is. There he is. Always. The man who loved her, made her love him, and left her high and dry without a word. Without a hope. With nothing but a scar on her heart and a pain that won’t go away. It’s not what I want. It’s not where I want to be and if I’m not very careful it’s exactly where I’ll land.

  “I just… I like him,” I admit on an exhale. “I really, really like him, Katy. He’s smart and funny and talented. He’s sweet, too, and seriously, would you look at him? He’s so gorgeous it’s scary. It should be against the law to be that good looking.”

  “Okay, so you like him and he likes you, and the problem is…”

  “I’m trying to make it out of this alive. He doesn’t do relationships and I’m leaving at the end of the summer. He’s definitely not going to do a long distance one. And we’ve never even talked about what we’re doing. We’re just kind of doing it and that’s part of the beauty of it. There are no rules, no expectations. We’re… floating, and I like it that way.”

  “You like dodging decisions,” Katy muses dryly. “Shocking.”

  I scowl at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. This is smart. You’re right.” She stands, swiping sand off her butt. “Let it run its course. I’m sure it won’t end badly for anyone.”

  “Are you mad at me for something?”

  “Nope. I love you. I love everything about you, but I need a beer. You want one?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I reply cautiously.

  “What kind?”

  “Whatever you can find.”

  She shakes her head, obviously frustrated. “That’s exactly my point,” she mutters before disappearing up into the house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lawson towers over me, his shadow casting long and dark over the golden sand set fire by the fading sun.

  “I want you on the water,” he tells me seriously.

  I blink up at him. “Sorry, what?”

  “You and me. On the water for the fireworks. It’s happening.”

  “No, it’s not,” I laugh.

  He kneels down until we’re eye to eye, his body dripping water on the end of my towel. “Yes, it is. You need to do it, but mostly I need you to do it. With me. Right now.”

  I hesitate, my heart slowing dangerously. “What exactly are we talking?”

  “Getting on my surfboard and getting out there on the water. Past the break.”

  “In the dark?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lawson, it’s not—“

  He leans in until we’re nose to nose. Until he’s all I can see – sea green eyes and the darkest, longest lashes imaginable. His breath smells like beer but his eyes are sharp. Focused. “Do you trust me?” he asks quietly.

  I take a thin, painful breath. “Yes.”

  “Then do this with me.”

  “No.”

  “Do it for me.”

  I purse my lips nervously. “N—“

  He sits back abruptly, standing and offering me his hand. “Before you say no, come with me. You still need your surprise.”

  I reluctantly reach for him. His hand is strong around mine. Reassuring and terrifying at the same time. He leads me down the beach to the side of the house. There’s a shed there with grey barn doors and chipped white trim. Lawson pulls one door open, then pulls me inside.

  It’s dark. There’s not much day left and it’s lost entirely inside these walls. I hold Lawson’s hand harder, following him deeper inside the dark and praying I don’t trip on something sharp. He mutters s
omething about the light, about never being able to find it, and suddenly there’s a click overhead and the room starts to glow. The bulb hanging from the ceiling takes its time to get going. It illuminates the room by degrees and I start to realize we’re not alone.

  Carefully stacked against every wall, standing sentinel like soldiers waiting to go to war, are surf boards of all different sizes and colors. Longboards and body boards in a rainbow array of hues. And each one has the same logo on it. The same seventies style wave sectioned into three different shades of blue with a big, bold ‘A’ positioned in the tube. It’s the same logo on the front of Ambrose Surf.

  “These are all Don’s?” I ask Lawson quietly.

  I keep my voice hushed because I can feel it – this is a sanctuary. This is a place of reverence for these men. These athletes and artists. These boards are family, friends that they’ve spent countless hours with. Every one of them has a story. Has a personality. Each of them has meaning.

  Even to me.

  She stands out against the rest. She’s not upright, not standing tall and waiting for the chance to run to action. She’s laying down and hanging high, white as snow. A sleeping beauty unable to wake.

  “Layla,” I whisper in shock.

  Lawson takes a step toward her. He uses two hands to carefully lift her from the hooks holding her up and brings her down for me to see. For me to touch if I want to.

  “After what happened I knew I’d never ride her again,” Lawson explains. “Like I told you, her vibe changed after that day. I’d never be able to be out on her without thinking of you and what happened. I didn’t want it to scare me off. I didn’t want to get cautious.”

  “Why is she at Don’s?”

  “Because he wouldn’t let me get rid of her for good. He said things change. People heal.” Lawson stands her up next to him, his hand running down the surface and a smile playing on his lips in the low glow of the room. “He knew that this was my board. He promised to keep her for me until I was ready to ride her again.”

  “And you think you’re ready?”

  “No.” He looks at me seriously, his eyes imploring. He’s not telling. He’s asking. He’s nearly pleading. “I think we’re ready.”