by Cherry Kay
I’ll explore the island, she told herself. Maybe the billionaire who bought it has a secret house somewhere here. How can people miss out on this place? I’m sure Mr. Pierce’s estate is huge. It seemed like he was the master of escape. In fact, he had been labeled a coward because he didn’t show his face anymore. Was he, really? The look on his face didn’t scream coward, it screamed resilience, and it subtly implied that he was a man with a plan.
A plan to do what? Wait until this all dies out? Wait until he loses everything? He hadn’t helmed a company in the years since he had left California. How could he still have all that money? When his company blew everyone’s minds out, he had been worth a cool $30 billion. What was he worth now? She didn’t believe in what the other news reports had to say, that he had lost all that in the blink of an eye.
There were rumors that he had been proven mentally unstable, which caused the corporate takeover. Other rumors included drug addiction, and anger issues. Well, if that guy’s an addict, I’m going to need the drugs he’s taking, she thought wryly.
If David Pierce lost the $30 billion, he wasn’t going to end up destitute. His parents were worth millions, even if that didn’t match his own income, he was never going to starve to death. What story did she plan to get out of this? Proof that any of the rumors were true? Just the truth, she had thought before. Meeting him personally last night changed a few things.
Caryn knew she needed to be truthful about writing, lest she wanted to be sued or lose her credibility. His presence shouldn’t have affected her, but it did. Caryn rarely allowed that, and he was someone she had just met. Maybe he was the archetypical CEO, manipulative and exploitative… she shook her head. She was making judgements already.
The first thing she did after taking a bath was to make brunch. Brunch consisted of peanut butter on toast. An hour later, she found herself walking down the same beach where she had carelessly stripped down. The seas were calm, and everywhere was quiet. Caryn resisted the urge to invade his home, even if it was just a short walk away. His part of the beach was secluded enough to go unnoticed, and she leisurely strolled about, observing his property. The stairs from his home leading to the beach were made better than hers.
Was he awake now? Her approach was wrong. She had tried to play it friendly, when she should have played it cool. The platform where his family had lounged in was still there, along with the pillows and the comfortable looking beach bed. David enjoyed his family’s company. Perhaps, she could use that card later…
“What are you doing here?” a voice interrupted her.
Her head snapped up, startled by the intrusion. It was David. Was this going to happen frequently? She realized she could never make it as a cop, seeing how frazzled her nerves got, and how careless she was with investigating. She couldn’t force a smile out.
“I was just taking a walk,” she replied, downplaying her nervousness.
“Were you?” he continued, his eyes narrowing.
She nodded. “I like your lounge area. I don’t have much space at my place.”
He nodded, still not taking his eyes off of her. It made her want to swallow a lot of saliva, just so she could talk. “There’s going to be a storm tonight, if you’ve heard the city broadcast,” he told her.
“Oh.” Oh, was an understatement. She hadn’t heard about the city broadcast, didn’t even know the city had a TV network. “I don’t have television at home,” she added.
He shook his head. “It’s not on TV. It’s on the island radio.”
Did she miss on something? She hadn’t known that she needed an old-school style radio to keep up with the current events in the island. “Is it going to be a big one?”
He shrugged. “Might be. We are in the Pacific, after all. You’d better stock up on your emergency supplies.”
She took a breath, overwhelmed with the sudden information. She wasn’t scared of thunder, or lightning, but the thought that she was alone in a sparsely populated island with a storm coming in… it made her feel anxious. “Thanks for the info.”
He nodded. “I have to leave.”
“Off for storm prep?” she quipped, forgetting how she was supposed to play it cool.
“Yeah, and you should be too,” he said. He spun around, without bothering to tell her he was leaving.
He casually waved a hand in the air as he did. Should she have considered that his way of saying goodbye? Or see you later? Or take care? He looked stressed out, tired, unhappy, unwelcoming. It seemed like it was a force of habit, that he said a few kind things, even he wasn’t as kind as he had been earlier.
What he had said changed her mind about wanting to get to know him better. Her mind was now concentrated on getting supplies. How bad was the storm going to be? People here were used to storms, and she start getting used to it, too. She sighed, not wanting to go back into town, but she found herself in the same grocery store, stocking up on canned food and instant noodles, a far cry from the healthy meals she had wanted to have.
Why did this place have canned food and instant noodles, anyway? I’m a frickin’ tourist, she thought. She passed by the wine section, and then decided to go back after mulling it over for a few seconds. Caryn grabbed three bottles. If the storm was going to be that bad, at least this would make her sleep through it.
“Having a party, huh?” the cashier wasn’t the same, it was a young woman with a big grin on her face.
“Yeah,” Caryn replied, “A party.”
“Well, enjoy the island,” the cashier quipped, placing her goods inside a recyclable grocery bag. “There’s a storm coming up tonight, if you didn’t know.”
“I know,” Caryn told her. “How bad is it going to be?”
“Bad enough to make you drink 3 bottles of wine,” the cashier said with a laugh. “It’s nothing I’d be worried about, if you’re used to storms.”
You mean my childhood didn’t count as one, she thought wryly. She forced a smile. “I’ll live through it.”
By the time she had gotten back to her place, thick, dark clouds had begun to gather across the horizon, and the wind picked up. It was a far cry from this morning’s walk, where the stillness had no idea of the tempest that was to come.
She had bought candles, and was glad that the tenant had an emergency lamp hidden in the broom closet. Looks like I might have an intimate, candle-lit dinner, she told herself. She set about eating a late lunch first, with what vegetables remained in her fridge. She had stocked up on water, too. There was something about David Pierce’s tone that made her want to be prepared. Perhaps he had awakened that sense of competitiveness in her, and she wanted to show to him she wasn’t as helpless as he had assumed her to be.
Staring at the darkening skies made her want to write, and she began to do so, remembering the first moment she had met him. Had it only been two days ago? As the seas began to crash onto shore, Caryn began to write.
*
David had dismissed his maids, gardener and driver a few hours before the storm was set to arrive on the island. He had wanted them to go home to their families safe and sound. He knew that was what they liked about him. No matter his aloofness and his seemingly often callous manner of speaking, he was a family man. They respected his need for quiet and privacy, and David knew their loyalty was in check.
He was standing on the deck, overlooking the ocean, when he noticed the woman named Caryn, partially obscured by a post. She was sitting alone on her porch, writing. Her legs were elevated, resting on a table. There was a book underneath the paper she was writing on. It looked quite picturesque, David had to admit this. He hadn’t even noticed her legs were that shapely earlier. He was too distracted with the thought that someone was invading his space, someone he didn’t know that was too close to his home.
So she was a writer, and it sent warning bells into his head the moment she had said that- but looking at her now, writing on her porch… it relaxed him somehow. It seemed like they were both in the island on exodus, esca
ping something they either didn’t want to confront, or to tide things over until they were ready.
She bit onto her pen, and he found himself leaning forward, contemplating whether or not he should invite her over, until the storm had passed. The old house looked like it needed a lot of repairs… He shook his head. There were better things to do than to invite a complete stranger over.
*
She had begun to realize she was wrong about being able to survive the night. The storm howled outside of the house, and the rains battered her windows. The roof creaked as wind and water crashed against it. She held her breath, sometimes glancing at the candles that surrounded her. They flickered, and she knew there were holes in the walls somewhere. There was some leaking in the kitchen area, she noticed, and she dutifully placed a bucket underneath the water that trickled down from the roof.
She couldn’t write, not after peeking through one screen. She could barely see anything outside, it seemed like the island had gone on total blackout. The ocean was loud, angry, instilling a sense of anxiety in her, an anxiety she fought to control. She wasn’t afraid of the storm, she was afraid of the house crumbling around her.
She heard a crash outside, and knew a tree had been uprooted. A candle flickered out, one after the other, and the roof by the kitchen gave way. Caryn stood up, quickly, hiding her write-up, her eyes widening in horror. How could she fix this now? She grabbed the emergency light and held it towards the kitchen. A large branch had landed smack dab in the middle of her kitchen.
Caryn looked up and saw the shadows of trees looming over her, about to fall down. She took a breath, grabbed the rest of the candles and a box of matches and headed for her bedroom. She would wait this out, and she hoped it would be over soon. As soon as she took a step towards her room, another branch fell, and she dove, avoiding a direct hit.
She felt a sharp pain on her leg, and she struggled to stand up. Suddenly, a light shone directly on her face, and she held a hand up to shield herself against the glare.
“Are you alright?” someone shouted over the din of the wind. The person lowered the flashlight, and she saw David.
She couldn’t say anything at first, then she nodded. Without another word, David walked over to her, gently helping her up. He was surprisingly strong, she noticed. He steered her towards a chair, and she limped a little.
He bent down to check on her leg, and with the light, she saw it bruising fast, there was also a two-inch gash on it.
“We have to get out of here,” he told her, not waiting for her to say anything. “Can you walk?”
She nodded.
With his aid, she limped out of the cottage and into his Hummer.
*
He saw her shivering as soon as they got into his house. With the bright emergency lights strategically placed everywhere, David saw that they both looked like wet rats by the time he helped her to a chair. David quickly walked for a cabinet and grabbed a first aid kit, pouring alcohol into his hands. He looked down and saw the leg was bleeding, although it wasn’t profusely flowing.
He washed it down with water from a pitcher, splashing all over his living room tiles.
“That made a mess,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I’ll clean that up later,” he told her, not looking at her. He disliked looking at blood, it was why he couldn’t be a doctor in the first place- even though his mother had told him he had the brains for it. He had the brains, not the guts, Charlotte had once teased.
She almost didn’t breathe. He was quick with the first aid, dousing it in betadine and quickly patching it up with a palm-sized Band-Aid. He looked at her, still shivering.
“Wait here,” he told her, walking for the laundry room, where a stack of freshly laundered towels were placed inside a cabinet. He wondered if Charlotte or Daphne had left any clothing, just so she could change into something dry and warm.
He handed her a towel. “Can you stand up?”
She nodded, and he noticed she seemed shaken. The storm hadn’t treated her well, nor was it kind to the house she rented.
“Let’s head for the living room,” he said, “It’s warmer.”
She walked without his assistance, her eyes trailing all over his house. He didn’t quite like it, but it was her first time inside this place after all. She sat on a wicker chair, and he quietly approved of her sensitivity, to sit down on a chair without any cushion. She wrapped the towel around her tightly.
“You want something to drink?” he asked her.
“Whisky,” she told him.
She wasn’t joking, was she? He nodded. “I have a few bottles,” he told her, noticing a smile play on her lips. She was jokingly serious, he presumed. He walked for the bar across the living room, grabbed two glasses, and a bottle of Scottish Whisky. He disliked whisky, but his father enjoyed it, so he kept a good stock here.
He poured her a glass first, and then he poured a shot into his. “I’ll look for some clothes,” he told her.
He felt her eyes on his back, and he disliked it. He disliked the feeling of inviting a stranger, a neighbor. But what could he do? There was a storm, and the storm had battered her house down. It was by pure chance that he had seen it happen. He had recently acquired a telescope with night vision a few days ago, and had decided to test it tonight, out of all the nights he could have tried it.
I wasn’t being creepy, he thought, shaking his head in irritation. His sisters shared a room in the five-bedroom villa his place had, and sure enough, they had left behind a few pieces of clothing, from pajamas to beach wear. He grabbed a set of pajamas and walked down the steps, quietly observing Caryn as she drank the whisky down with a single gulp. So, she liked her liquor, or maybe she just wanted to calm her frazzled nerves.
“You okay?” he found himself asking her, as he set down the pajamas on a chair beside her.
She nodded, looking up to him. Her eyes were a startling green against her butterscotch skin. She smelled of flowers, jasmine to be exact. He sat back, not wanting to breathe in that smell. It made him feel lightheaded. He poured her another shot, and she nodded gratefully.
“There’s a guestroom there,” he pointed. “You might want to change before you take another shot. You can hang your clothes in the bathroom.”
He watched her as she hobbled for the guestroom, leaving a slight gap open as she entered. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest, trying to come into terms with his sudden generosity with privacy. He hadn’t invited people into his house in years, everyone was either family or trusted staff, or the very few acquaintances he still trusted, like the man who had sold him this lot.
She came out moments later, and he saw that the pajamas fit her perfectly. She shyly walked back, choosing the couch with cushioning this time. He cleared his throat, knowing the silence had made things awkward. And that was why he preferred being alone. He disliked small talk, like how he disliked strangers.
“Thank you,” she suddenly spoke up.
“Uh, you’re welcome,” he replied. “The important thing is, you weren’t crushed by those trees. The old man who lived there didn’t bother with repairs in the last year.”
“You knew him?”
“Just saw him twice, since I moved here.”
“Where are you from?” she asked him.
His eyes almost narrowed. “Honolulu.”
“Is your family asleep?” she asked him, “I don’t want to intrude on--”
“They’ve gone back to Honolulu,” David told her, detesting where the conversation was heading. He didn’t want her sleeping in his place, but he didn’t want her sleeping back in her storm-damaged abode, either. Blame it on conscience, he thought, annoyed. She was getting too curious, wasn’t she? A background check should be in order soon enough. Perhaps tomorrow, he thought.
“You should get some sleep,” he told her. “There’s toiletries in the bathroom should you need any.”
She nodded. “Thank you, David.”
He watched her quietly as she walked for the guestroom, carefully shutting the door behind her. David didn’t move from his seat for a few minutes, wondering if she would start spying on him the moment he left the living room.
She didn’t open the door anymore, which satisfied him. He stood up and walked for the kitchen, making sure that the back door was locked. It was something he did every night, out of habit. The storm continued to rage on outside, and a few of his emergency lamps flickered. These would last until morning, he thought. He had invested in a few solar lamps, apart from the electricity charged ones.
The storm would do some damage to the locale, he knew this, but they had gone through worse. This was Caryn’s first storm, and it had already been a memorable experience. He decided to sleep on the couch, just in case. Just in case what? Just in case she woke up and needed his help?
He forced himself to close his eyes, and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter4
She woke up with a start, awakening from some strange dream where she had been left alone by someone who had meant much to her. Her heart raced a bit, and then she realized she was in David’s guestroom. She gingerly stepped on the floor, knowing it would be cold, even if it was made out of lumber. She shivered a little as she placed both feet on the floor. Had the storm passed?
Caryn walked towards the window, opening the wooden shutters. It was as if a storm had never happened. The world was as bright as it had been early in the morning yesterday. She saw an alarm clock on a side table. It was ten in the morning. She had slept pretty well last night, surprisingly. Perhaps, she was far more tired than she figured out to be, or those two shots of liquor did the tricks.
She hobbled a little as she exited the room. She found David standing beside a post, looking out onto the veranda that was filled with debris.
