Turtle Bay

by Tiffany King

  The afternoon ended when Paris and Leslie claimed they needed to go home to get ready for the party. Farrah and I left also since I wanted to take a quick shower to wash away the chlorine from the pool.

  My shower turned into a marathon affair as I took the time to shave my legs with care before dipping my fingers into Buttercup's homemade hair conditioning cream. As I waited to rinse the concoction from my head, I sorted through the many thoughts floating through my mind. It felt good to have a job and some new friends. If Butch and Buttercup could stay off the town's radar, things might actually work out in Turtle Bay.

  I left the bathroom surrounded by a billow of steam and made a pit stop in the kitchen to get a glass of iced tea before heading to my room. Player greeted me with a meow as he trotted toward me on his slightly bowed legs. Smoothing a hand down his back, I scooped him up and skirted around the supplies the plumber had left stacked in the middle of my floor. I was thrilled with the progress he was making on my bathroom. A toilet, still in the box, sat to the side of the small construction zone, but everything was nearly finished. Before long I would no longer need to trek into the main house every time I needed the bathroom, which was a plus.

  Player batted around a small piece of PVC pipe that had been discarded while I got ready for Evan's party. Selecting an outfit was simple enough since my wardrobe was limited at best. Working at Tasty Freeze a couple days a week would help supplement that eventually.

  Since my hair was the most time-consuming part about getting ready, I did that first. I had been blessed, or cursed depending on your point of view, with stick-straight hair. I didn't need to spend hours every night straight ironing like some girls, but if I wanted any kind of waves or body, I had to work at it.

  Once my hair had as much life as I could coax into it, I pulled my dress off the clothing rod Butch had suspended from the rafters and eyed it critically. I had a sneaking suspicion this crowd was at a different level when it came to fashion than anyone back in Kansas, which was why I selected the simple white sundress. It had a timeless, vintage look.

  After slipping on the dress, I glanced in the mirror, pleased with my appearance. Even with my limited resources, I felt I would pass any judgment tests.

  "Well, what do you think?" I twirled around for Player who responded by flopping over and swiping at the strap of my sandal. I was beginning to think he was a bit self-centered.

  Leaving my rambunctious kitten behind, I headed out for Evan's party an hour after it started, figuring fashionably late would be better than arriving early. Butch and Buttercup sat on the front porch, sharing a jug of their homemade wine.

  "Do you want to take a jug with you?" Butch asked.

  Coming from any other teenager's parents, this question would have been a test or joke, but from Butch, the question was genuine. The thought of showing up with a jug of our family wine concoction didn't seem like the cool thing to do. "That's okay. I'm sure they'll have enough liquor to float a small boat."

  "Just be smart. Don't drink anything that you didn't see being poured with your own eyes," Buttercup advised.

  "Sound advice. Trust me, I know," Butch agreed. Clearly, he had personal experience in that category. "And don't set your drink down," he added for good measure.

  "Got it," I said, waving to them as I made my way down the short path toward the busier street that separated our houses from the ones that sat directly on the beach. I could still hear Butch bellowing out advice as I waited for a break in traffic that would allow me to cross the road. Evan's party was in full gear by the time I circled around to the backside of his house. A sudden case of nerves stalled my steps as I took in the crowded deck. Not knowing the proper protocol or party etiquette, I debated if I should circle back around and ring the doorbell.

  "Hey, Rain," Farrah called out, peering down at me over the railing. I could tell by the way she was slightly swaying she was already well on her way to enjoying the party too much.

  "Hey," I answered.

  "Come up and dance with me. Paris and Leslie are too busy texting to enjoy the party," she slurred before turning back to the party when someone behind her called her name.

  "Going to the party?" a soft voice asked from the darkness, making me jump. It took less than a half a second to realize it was Turtle Boy.

  "Stalk much?" I asked, placing a hand on my heart. The sudden rapid beating had as much to do with seeing him again as it did with being startled. "What do you do, work twenty-four seven?"

  "Just passing by to make sure you and your friends don't use the beach as your own personal trash can."

  "Just because we like to have fun doesn't mean we're all asshats who litter," I countered. "Are you always such a dick, or is that just for my benefit?"

  Even in the dark I could see his eyes narrow. He didn't answer right away, and I was beginning to think he really was a tool. He surprised me by shooting me a rueful smile a moment later.

  "I guess I am being a dick, huh?" he replied, running a hand over the top of his head. "I'm not usually this way."

  "Great, so it is for my benefit."

  He actually shocked me when a small smile split across his face, making my breath catch in my throat. If I thought he was cute before with a scowl, then a smile made him downright hot. It was the kind of smile that accentuated every other feature of his face. He stepped from the shadows and his eyes sparkled slightly from the dim light of the streetlamp. I was tempted to ask him if he was wearing contacts. Surely no one had eyes as brilliant as his looked.

  "I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to be such a jerk yesterday. I'm a little overprotective where the turtles are concerned. I guess you could say they're my passion," he added. "Truce?" he asked, holding out his hand. "I'm Josh."

  I eyed him for a moment before shaking his hand. "Rain," I said, liking the way his fingers wrapped around my hand. It didn't surprise me that his skin felt rough to the touch. It was obvious Josh wasn't some pretty boy afraid of a little work. "I get it. I should have been more careful," I added.

  We stood awkwardly for a moment as each of us waited for the other to say something more. "So are you going to the party?" I asked, my hand still engulfed in his.

  He snorted. "No. Evan and I don't exactly run in the same circles," he answered, releasing his grip. My hand suddenly felt bereft, which was ridiculous considering we didn't know each other.

  "Oh. Well, I should probably go," I said after another long moment of silence.

  "Right. Me too. Maybe I'll see you around," he said.

  We had both said our goodbyes and yet neither of us moved. Strangely, the stretches of silence that seemed awkward at first suddenly felt comfortable. We did nothing but stand and stare at each other and yet, I had no desire to leave. "You sure you want to..." His voice trailed off when someone spoke behind me.

  "Hey, Farrah said she saw you. What are you doing down here?" Evan asked, making me jump for the second time in less than five minutes. His tone changed abruptly when he spotted Josh.

  "I was just talking to Josh," I answered, wishing Evan would have waited another couple of minutes to look for me. I was curious to know what Josh had been about to say.

  Evan stepped up with his chest puffed out, sliding an arm around my waist to claim instant ownership.

  "Passing out more citations, sheriff? Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Lifeguard." His voice dripped with sarcasm as thick as syrup.

  Josh held firm in his stance as his smile turned brittle. "Like that would do any good. Your daddy would just buy off another judge," he said, shooting me a look of disgust before walking away and fading into the dark shadows.

  "I didn't realize you knew Needle Dick," Evan said, eyeing me critically.

  For some reason I felt like I should defend Josh. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them as Evan handed me the ice-cold beer he was holding as he guided me toward his house. I had no idea what the history was between Evan and Josh, but considering I barely knew either of them, I felt it
wasn't my place to get in the middle of it.

  I shrugged, accepting the beer. "I don't really know him. We met briefly the other day when I almost stepped on some turtle eggs. He wasn't all that happy about it," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Evan snorted. "I bet. I'm surprised he didn't call the Coast Guard. He's a fucking pain in the ass around here. One of these days I'm going to sink my fist in his jaw just to knock him down a few pegs."

  I almost laughed out loud at his statement. I didn't know how to break it to Evan, but Josh looked like he would slaughter him. He easily had a good six inches in height on Evan and was a whole lot broader in the chest and shoulders. Evan was pretty, but that was about it. I took a long deep swallow of my beer to keep from laughing.

  Evan's eyes focused on my mouth as I took another pull from my bottle. It reminded me of the way he looked at me at the pool earlier. Between that and some of his comments, I was beginning to think his only goal was to get in my pants.

  Disappointment washed over me. I was trying hard to give him the benefit of the doubt and hope his interest was genuine. After spending the afternoon together, I'd gotten a glimpse of two sides of Evan. He had a gentle, sweet side and was actually much more insightful than he let on. Then there was the apparent hormone-driven Evan that, unfortunately, had a way of negatively eclipsing the other.

  Chapter 5

  "So, how's the party going?" I asked, once again hoping this tiger might change his stripes.

  "Same ole. I did hear there's some kick-ass weed floating around that'll make you forget your name. Come on, I'll see if we can hook you up," he said, throwing his arm over my shoulders.

  "Can't. I have borderline asthma that acts up around smoke," I answered truthfully. My parents and I discovered my ailment when I was three years old and Butch lit up his bong with me in the room. According to Buttercup, I started hacking and wheezing almost immediately and totally freaked Butch out. After a trip to County Hospital he gave up pot that very day. At least with me around, he did. I sometimes wondered if he still blazed up when he was alone.

  "What a drag. You sure? Once you start inhaling you don't even notice the smoke," he offered ignorantly.

  "I appreciate it, but it's more the part of sucking something down into my lungs."

  "No biggie. I'm sure we can score you something else. You can never tell what someone will show up with. I guarantee there's some Adderall or Vicodin here somewhere."

  "That's fine. I'm not much into the whole drug scene."

  I didn't see any point in sharing that I'd pretty much tried everything, but none of it really appealed to me. I never minded the way alcohol muted my senses when I needed to mellow out, but drugs had a way of changing who you were as a person.

  "It's cool. I like to de-stress, that's all," Evan said, leading me toward the wooden stairs that led to the pool deck. Once again his statement made me want to chuckle. I wondered what someone who seemingly had everything could possibly need to de-stress about. Which house to stay at? Which one of his dozen or so cars to drive? If only I had those types of decisions to stress over. My sudden disparaging thoughts toward Evan surprised me. I had never been like that with any of my friends. Truthfully, I liked Evan and certainly had no reason to pick at him other than hoping he turned out to be genuine in his interest toward me.

  He placed his hand on the small of my back as we reached the last step. His touch felt warm and comforting through the thin material of my summer dress. I decided to push the bitchy critical thoughts from my mind, determined to enjoy my first party in Turtle Bay. Evan was a gracious host, introducing me to everyone, though I forgot most of their names almost the instant we walked away from them. I was relieved to see the dancing that Farrah had hinted at earlier consisted of a two-by-two-foot space that only she had designated as the dance floor. She was standing alone, swaying her hips when Evan and I stepped onto the deck, but after our lap around to meet everyone, Farrah seemed to have given up dancing and was now sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs. Leslie and Paris, who looked more bored than anything, barely glanced up from their phones to acknowledge me.

  With the exception of the large beach house, Evan's bash turned out to be much like the parties I attended in Huntsville with loud music, drinking games, and couples making out. There was a whole lot more booze flowing freely here and just like Evan said, the drugs were more plentiful, but the rest was the same.

  "So, what did you think?" Evan asked, lacing his fingers through mine as the party began to wind down a few hours later. We sat outside on two lounge chairs while a few other partygoers leisurely swam in his pool. I noticed a couple disappearing back into the shadows, looking for privacy. Maybe it was too much drinking or the weed that had been passed around, but the mood of the party guests that still hung around had changed from high octane to a mellow chill.

  "It was cool. You throw a good party," I answered, looking down at our hands. I liked the way his fingers felt, wrapped possessively around mine. Maybe my assessment of Evan had been wrong. Maybe he was interested in a relationship and not just trying to score.

  "Yeah, but was it fun?" he persisted.

  "Sure, why?" I asked, wondering what he meant.

  His eyes looked glassy and bored into mine with a burning intensity. "I like my guests to have a good time," he replied, boldly stroking a hand up my bare arm. "Maybe you want the fun to continue," he added, stroking my arm in wide circles before slipping his finger under the thin strap of my dress.

  My heart began to thump heavily in my chest while goose bumps formed on my arms. He pulled me closer, his eyes holding mine as his hand moved from my arm to the nape of my neck, anchoring me in place. "Awfully cocky with your skills," I lightly teased. I could have pulled away, put some distance between us, but I was more than a little curious to see how kissing him would measure up to the boys back home.

  "When you're good, you're good. What can I say," he moaned moments before crushing his mouth to mine.

  His lips were warm and insistent as they set out to devour me. Evan definitely knew how to kiss. I had to hand it to him. He possessed a confident sensuality that boys back home lacked. The only problem was the kiss didn't have the effect on me I was hoping for. Not that I was expecting fireworks or something cliché like that, but some kind of spark would have been nice. His breath tasted slightly like beer and smoke, but I was used to that. Let's just say a girl knows when the connection is there with a guy, and with Evan it wasn't there.

  He must have felt differently because his hands began roaming my body like he was given a free pass. I allowed his exploration because it wasn't totally unpleasant, even though I knew a relationship between us was unlikely to happen. Only when his hand slid up my dress and between my legs did I put an abrupt halt to our make-out session.

  "Not so fast, surfer boy. You're going to have to work for those privileges," I said, trying to sound playful as I attempted to squirm out of his arms. He held me firm without budging an inch. I pressed my elbow into his gut, no longer in the mood to be cute.

  "Just as long as my work pays off," he said, making his point abundantly clear as he tightened his arms around me.

  "No, thanks," I said, glaring at him. I tried to remain calm in spite of the anger bubbling up inside me. He finally released his hold when I applied more pressure against his ribs. Surging to my feet, I took a giant step backward to put some distance between us. What an asshole. I was so sick of guys being douche hounds. Was this all I was ever destined to attract? Grabby, feely guys who felt they had a free ride on the Rain Train.

  "Hey, no reason to get all prickly. I just thought you were looking for a good time," Evan said, climbing to his feet.

  "And screwing you would be considered a good time?"

  "I've never had any complaints," he said in a mocking tone. I could tell by his body language that Evan wasn't used to rejection.

  I snorted. "Give me a break." He was probably right though. I knew plenty of girls back home wh
o would have gladly spread their legs for him.

  I was so mad, I didn't notice everyone had gathered around the railing of the deck and erupted into loud cheering. "What's going on?" I asked, thankful for the interruption.

  Evan relaxed and grinned devilishly at me. A few minutes ago his smile might have pulled at the invisible string in my gut, but I had a clearer picture of who he was now. "Party ritual," he said, tugging me toward the railing. I intended to pull away and leave, but I was curious about what this party ritual was that had everyone so excited.

  I peered out into the darkness, barely able to see the ocean waves rolling in, but nothing more. I had no idea what we were all supposed to be looking at until I heard the sound of glass breaking below. Looking down the line of people standing against the rail, it seemed everyone was taking turns lobbing bottles over the side. The bottles shattered against the large rocks that made up a type of bulkhead between the beach and Evan's house.

  My thoughts immediately shifted to my first encounter with Josh and I recalled how he mentioned the trash and debris getting taken out to sea by the tide. I shook my head with disgust. I had even defended these freaking people when it now appeared Josh had been right all along. Looking to my left, I spotted Paris and Leslie laughing hysterically as they lobbed two bottles each over the railing. They were so smashed their bottles barely made it over the side. The acid in my stomach churned as bile began to rise in my throat. Buttercup would break out in hives if she knew I was standing here doing nothing to fix the situation. She was the kind of person who would walk ten extra steps to pick up a piece of trash. She and Butch concerned themselves with things like our carbon footprint and the shape of the environment for future generations.