by S. K Munt
*
The owner of the car didn’t show up until Wednesday morning. It had been four long, uncomfortable days in the house since the night of the dual attacks, and when Tristan had seen the man get out of the taxi and turn to the vehicle, a grim smile had immediately come to his face-he was desperate to kill someone.
Everyone else was off on an afternoon swim (they’d taken the boat out again) so it was just him and Joyce in the big-peacefully quiet house. That meant that Tristan had no back-up, but he didn’t give a fig for his safety by that point. Joyce fretted when he opened the front door, but Tristan waved her off and jogged out into the late afternoon sunlight, taking his pistol out of it’s holster as he neared the fence.
‘Yo!’ He yelled out, and the man turned around. ‘I’d like a word with you before you get in that thing, huh?’
The man’s eyes widened, and his hands went up. ‘Whoa!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’ve already had my car stolen this week-now I gotta take a bullet too? I thought this was The Whitsunday’s-not The Bronx!’
‘Stolen?’
‘Saturday night.’ The guy agreed, slowly lowering his hands. ‘Cops only just called me about it being spotted here. I’m sorry if it’s blocking your street but really, I had no idea.’
Tristan reached the gate, and when he saw the man close-up, his eyes widened in recognition. ‘Aren’t you the mariner guy?’
The guy squinted at him. ‘Pretty boy? From the esplanade?’
Tristan bowed. ‘The one and the same.’
The owner of the car eyed him warily. ‘What on earth do you need a gun for?’
‘People keep stuffing too many pamphlets in the letterbox,’ Tristan joked, holstering his weapon and disappointed by the anti-climatic turn of events. Ardhi hadn’t had a partner in crime after all-just some car jack who popped a tyre at an inopportune moment while a psychopath waited in the bushes. ‘And I’m all about the recycling.’
‘Well, that’s reasonable and not at all a sign of psychotic tendencies.’ The guy sighed and held out his hand. ‘I really am sorry. For the car and the flyers. My name is Callum, by the way. Tristan, right?’
‘Right.’ Tristan glanced over at the car. ‘You want a hand changing that tire?’
‘Really?’ Callum’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not going to put a hole in the others?’
Tristan chuckled. ‘No. And I’m bored so it’s your lucky day.’
‘Aces.’ Callum went to the boot, lifted the steel panel and shook his head as he pulled a worn-looking tyre out. ‘They left it unlocked. Aren’t there any considerate thieves left in the world?’
‘Fraid not.’
Callum smiled at him, then squinted up at the house. ‘Nice digs. I saw this place being built-it’s a monster. Yours?’
‘Nah. Just a rental.’
Callum rolled the tyre towards him, and let it rest against the side of the car. He then went back and returned with an old-fashioned jack and wedged it underneath. ‘You wanna jack it up while I get the bolts off?’
‘Sure.’ Tristan knelt and began cranking the jack. When the car was up, Callum went to work on the nuts. He glanced up at Tristan.
‘This may seem like a weird question... but are you famous? Is that why you’ve got the entourage with all of the security?’ He cocked his head. ‘I just feel like I know you from somewhere…’
Tristan smiled with amusement. ‘I’m not famous in the regular sense. Unless you’re into solar panels.’
‘Are solar panels cool now? I’m always behind on the trends.’
‘The coolest.’ Tristan took a nut from his hand. ‘I own a business-LoveSun. I manufacture and market solar panels out of recycled materials, and have been on T.V a bit for the company and some other things lately so maybe you saw me there. I’m Tristan Loveridge, CEO.’
‘Loveridge? Solar panels?’ Callum stood up quickly. ‘You’re the guy! The air crash guy!’
Tristan smiled. ‘So you read the paper?’
‘Paper, news…. you damn near got yourself on a milk carton.’ Callum whistled through his teeth, tapping on the rear window of the car. There was a large crack, which had been roughly bandaged with newspaper. On closer inspection, Tristan saw a shriveled version of his own face peering back at him through webbed glass-an article about the crash.
‘No wonder I recognize you.’ Callum said. ‘You’ve been in my backseat for a month.’
‘It made the paper here?’
‘Please-you were en-route from River-City to L.A. That means that any region within a four hour radius can now claim you as their own. Well, they will on a slow news week, anyhow.’ Callum grinned. ‘I have to ask-how did you do it? I mean, survive? They’ve got man eaters in those waters the size of elephants! I’ve surfed Hawaii before, so I know what it’s like.’
‘It’s not one of my fondest memories. I thought I was a goner a few times... when I was able to think, that is…’
‘Is it true that they’re making it a movie?’
Tristan snorted. ‘No. This biographer approached me, but I declined. Money I have-the reenactment I can live without.’
‘I can imagine.’ Callum seemed to have completely forgotten about his car. ‘But seriously though... what got you through it?’
Tristan smiled. ‘A girl.’
‘Ahh….’
‘Yeah. I know, it’s completely corny. But it’s true-the idea of never seeing her again was a lot worse than the idea of shark wrestling. So I put my head down and swam until I hit dry land.’
‘Must have been some girl.’
‘The only one.’
‘I had one of those once.’ Callum smiled. ‘Brigitte. Six two, long black hair... killer smile... she was the love of my life.’ He went back to work. ‘I would have crossed the Pacific for her, so I get it.’
‘And how did that go?’
Callum’s face hardened. ‘Not good man...not good.’
‘She left you?’
‘She left the world.’
Tristan went cold all over. ‘Oh….’
Callum nodded, a grimace on his face. ‘It was a gang attack-in Cairns. We were on holiday-she went to the service station to fill the car with fuel, and she never came back.’ He paused for a moment, then continued with his work. ‘I haven’t gotten close to anybody since.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Tristan said emphatically. ‘That’s basically the worst thing that can happen to anybody. I’d sooner nose dive into the ocean from ten thousand feet again, than live through that.’
‘It’s the same thing…. only you never touch down. It’s just... falling... forever. I’d never wish that on anybody.’ Callum looked at him. ‘So the girl... is she the one you were leasing that restaurant for?’
Tristan was surprised. It seemed as though Callum had been watching him closely that day. ‘No. That was just a friend who’s had a rough time recently-I’m trying to cheer her up.’
‘That’s nice of you.’ Callum said quickly. ‘So are you and the one together?’
Tristan glared at the tyre. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Ivyanne since Saturday night-she was avoiding him and he was so afraid of causing a scene that he was avoiding her right back. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what approach to take. ‘No.’
‘Why not? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who has uh, a problem getting the girl.’
‘Let’s just say she doesn’t know how far she’s willing to swim for me.’ Tristan took another nut, then rolled the tyre over as Callum lifted off the other one.
‘Another guy?’
‘Yup.’ Tristan said flatly.
‘Is she going to choose him?’
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘What are you willing to do, to ensure that?’
Tristan thought it over. ‘Basically, whatever she asks.’
‘That’s... patient.’ Callum said quietly.
‘Being marooned taught me a thing or two about patience,’ Tristan said wryly. ‘Besides-she’
s worth it.’
‘I hope so.’ Callum lifted the wheel onto the axle and motioned for one of the bolts. ‘Thanks for this by the way. I can do it myself, but it’s nice to have a hand.’
‘It’s the least I can do for pulling a weapon on you. But a big ’ol place like this can attracted unwanted attention.’
‘As can a beautiful girl.’
‘Amen.’ Together, they screwed the wheel back into place. When they were done, Callum stood and smiled at him.
‘Well I guess I’ll get out of your hair now.’
Tristan stood up. For some reason, he liked this man-a lot. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and sifted through it until he found one of his business cards. ‘Give me a call sometime. Maybe we can get together for a beer or something. I don’t know how long I’m in town for and I’m headed back to Sydney for the weekend, but my cell number is on here.’
Callum took the card. ‘Oh you’ll definitely hear from me.’ He grinned. ‘And really... thanks again.’
‘No problem.’ Tristan shook Callum’s hand once more and backed towards the house, smiling and waving as Callum took off, wondering if he’d just seen a vision of himself from the future-a lonely old fisherman trying to get over the love of his life.
18.
Lincoln was having a terrific week. Grace had kept her word-and her distance-the other mers were treating him like a hero, he hadn’t seen Ivyanne and Tristan exchange more than an awkward: ‘Good morning’ in six days, and his arm was healing nicely. He’d been swimming and sleeping a lot, his dad was so grateful that he was alive after his encounter that he didn’t care about the resort being closed for such an extended period of time, and Ivyanne still looked at him with that relieved and slightly reverent gaze that made his toes tingle. He hadn’t had as much time alone with her now that he was off the guard, but she’d definitely become more relaxed in his company.
It was Friday afternoon and some of them had gathered around the pool to play scrabble after a swim out behind Hook island. Ivyanne was leaning against the balcony and staring pensively down at a book in her hands, looking ethereal in a long, floaty dress that was transparent around her legs. The breeze sifted through her hair and though everyone was talking loudly, Lincoln could hear her gently singing along to the final strains of a Sixpence None The Richer song that was playing on the iPod dock just inside the door.
How he wished she’d look at him just once in accordance to the words. They must have been fourteen when that song had been released, and he still associated it with love, summer, and Ivanna. Hearing it now that they’d graduated from hand-holding to all or nothing had his heart hammering wildly in his chest-especially with her husky, thrumming voice rolling like waves over the melody and calling to him.
But the song ended too soon for him to act, and so he remained rooted to the spot. Ivyanne’s gaze lifted from the journal to the ocean which was the palest, most brilliant shade of blue Lincoln had ever seen before, barely distinguishable from the sky and flat as glass. Lincoln had sensed that she was in her own world, but when she frowned and whispered: ‘I don’t get it Ardhi...’ he realized that she was lost in her own world. What was she thinking about?
A hot hand rested on his, causing him to startle. ‘Your turn Link.’
Lincoln looked down to see Grace’s sparkling fingernails resting against his larger, bar-worn hands-and for the first time he saw that like him, Grace also had long, elegant fingers. They were pretty and...warm. Too warm! It was like she carried her crush in her skill cells and could press them to him when she saw fit.
‘Umm..’
A new song started and suddenly, the faces studying tiles studiously began to life as the mer-the established mer-exchanged grins. Grace’s hand broke from his to clap in delight, Dalton and Marcus exchanged an amused look and Bane made Lincoln jump by half-lifting from his chair and pumping his fist as he hooted:
‘Oh YES!’
Lincoln’s eyes met Adele’s, who looked as clueless as he. But then a second later the flinty instrumental gave way to the opening melody and Lincoln felt the familiar tune resonate with his memory-hard. A stupid smile stretched his own lips.
‘The little freaking mermaid!’ Adele said, shaking her head and laughing. ‘Should have known. You have this on your iPod Grace?’
‘Hey don’t look at me! That’s my uncle’s iPod.’ Grace grinned. ‘I asked him to put it on before he went to into the security room.’
‘He has the whole soundtrack,’ Saraya said, moving her shoulders to the opening beat while examining the board. ‘I was going through it when he took me down to the grocery store a few days ago. He has all of Disney ones and possibly every other movie made.’
‘So do I!’ Bane exclaimed. His volume and pitch control seemed broken, but his excitement as contagious.
‘You don’t say?’ Marcus drawled. ‘Never would have guessed.’
Bane launched into the opening lyrics, his beautifully deep baritone caught Lincoln off-guard, but not as much as his dramatically comic expression as he made Lincoln the focus of his serenade.
‘You can’t siren me over to your camp Bane,’ Lincoln quipped.
Bane sang on, smacking Lincoln playfully over the back of the head. His eyes slid to Grace, and Lincoln’s heart skipped a beat as he caught the subtle hint: ‘Kiss my sister.’
Marcus chimed in, his own voice slipping effortlessly over the melody.
Oh hell no! Lincoln thought, seeing Grace blush and duck her head.
Just then Saraya bounced to her feet and crooned in a purposefully un-pretty Jamaican accent, waving her arms towards Ivyanne with a flourish, redirecting the focus.
Now that’s more like it! Lincoln conceded. Nerves made his limbs go numb. Could he pull it off? Could he kiss his girl, like the song said to?
Even as he thought it, Ivyanne’s head slowly began to turn with a half-smile on her face, amused to discover a group-sing playing out on the deck behind her. But that smile faltered when Lincoln rose to his feet, and her eyes widened.
‘Lincoln…..’ She lifted her hands and backed up a step. ‘Think this through…’
But Lincoln had and the decision had been made. ‘Sing with me mermaids!’ he declared to the others who were already giggling and getting to their feet.
Lincoln led whoever was following in chorus towards the object of his affection who was shaking her head and proclaiming: ‘Opt for dignity Link!’ though her flushed face was radiant. Lincoln was presently surprised by how well his own voice came through.
‘Whoa whoa!’ Pintang and Saraya punctuated in perfect unison.
Lincoln closed the distance between himself and Ivyanne and pulled her firmly up against him. Her eyes were still wide, but they sparkled in delight.
‘I’ve really missed the girl…’ Lincoln finished softly, inclining his head to hers. Never had he felt so light, and never had she looked more lovely. Ivyanne giggled, the sound self-conscious, probably due to the crowd of people around them, and yet her chin tilted fractionally towards his, causing his pulse to accelerate. He wet his lips and closed his eyes and moved in.
But before their lips could meet, the spell was broken by sudden silence.
Ivyanne’s face moved first, her gaze sliding around Lincoln’s arm, and Lincoln turned, scowling when he saw Tristan standing by the iPod dock, rifle slung over his shoulder, watching the movements of his own hand as he scrolled down the phone.
Security room duty. Lincoln thought, wild. He saw it coming and rushed out to stop it!
‘Whoops..’ Tristan drawled. ‘I accidentally hit a button-five times. Sorry!’ He didn’t sound sorry at all, and he didn’t look up.
The energy that had been swirling around the mer seemed to deflate. Lincoln looked down at Ivyanne, annoyed with her for having been the first to break eye-contact. Why did she always play into Loveridge’s hands? Why couldn’t she have kissed him anyway? Why wasn’t she the one doing the singing? His chest was aching and she
was apparently too stunned to notice that he was even still there!
‘Tristan! You’re like the eel who flipped the boat,’ Saraya complained, making her way back to the table where Grace and Adele still sat.
‘Yeah well he wants to be part of Ivyanne’s world too,’ Grace drawled, not looking up from her tiles, earning a share in his aggravation. But she wasn’t the source or to blame and he knew it. Neither was Tristan. Loveridge could act out all he wanted-but it was Ivyanne’s reactions that mattered, and she kept letting Lincoln down!
‘Ivyanne-’
But music blared from the iPod dock anew, cutting him off: ‘Can’t wait to be king,’ from The Lion King dousing the Jamaican flames. Tristan finally looked over at them, winked, and then sauntered back into the house, a bounce in his step echoing the perkiness of the african beat. A few titters erupted from the poker table. A ghost of a smile pulled at Ivyanne’s lips before she could duck her head and hide it, and Lincoln felt himself go cold.
Marcus patted Lincoln’s shoulder. ‘Good try man. He’s just jealous.’
‘Aint that a tail as old as time?’ Bane bemoaned. ‘Which is why you should have kissed G-’
Lincoln pushed him over the railing and into the pool before he could finish that sentence. Cries and laughter and gasps followed this but Lincoln tuned them out and spun to the queen, not in the mood to bask in any part of that moment, however vindicating it may have been.
‘Ivyanne Court-’
But Ivyanne flung herself at him and melded her lips to his, stealing every word he’d been about to say and whispering: ‘God you’re amazing,’ into the void left behind, filling him completely.
‘Reserved Lincoln Grey singing publicly and pushing his gay fan-base into the pool?’ Dalton’s deeper, huskier voice asked, only just penetrating the ringing bells in Lincoln’s ears.
‘It’s a whole freaking new world,’ joked someone, possibly Pintang.
Everybody laughed. Below them, Bane splashed and cussed.
