Turtle Bay

by Tiffany King

  "God, Evan, that sucks. At least you have your friends."

  He lifted the flask to his lips to take another sip, obviously forgetting it was empty. He tossed it aside in disgust, staggering to his feet. "Friends, sure," he muttered, heading for my door.

  "Evan, wait. You're in no condition to go out there," I said, jumping to my feet.

  He turned to look at me. "I need more to drink."

  I shook my head, grabbing his wrist with the intent to lead him back to the beanbag chair. "How about I go inside and get you some coffee instead?"

  "I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me," he drawled, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

  He leaned in with his mouth open, trying to kiss me. The alcohol wafted off him and his breath smelled stale and disgusting. Acting on instinct, my knee rose swiftly, thrusting to his nuts as he dropped like a sack of bricks at my feet. I stepped around him as he lay on the floor moaning with his hands between his legs. I knew I should have hated him even more, but I couldn't do it. Evan seemed like someone who needed a friend. It was probably the liquor controlling his actions. He was confused and distraught. Either that or I was a complete idiot.

  I leaned over to make sure he was okay when he reacted by raising his head suddenly, connecting with the right side of my face. The impact made me see stars as a shot of pain radiated across my cheek. Evan jumped to his feet, the action seemingly shocking him into a mild sobriety. "Rain, are you okay? I swear I didn't mean to hurt you," he pleaded.

  He tried grabbing my shoulders, but I shoved him away.

  "It was a reflex move. I only wanted to kiss you. I wouldn't have done anything else. You have to believe me," he said.

  The sound of the back door of my house opening distracted Evan, causing him to panic. "Fuck!" he said, scrambling in circles.

  Butch called out my name as the light from the breezeway came on. "Out here," I replied just as he walked into my open doorway. He took one look at me holding my eye before turning to Evan who stood frozen like a deer in headlights.

  "You son of a bitch!" Butch hollered as he launched toward Evan and tackled him to the ground.

  "Butch, stop," I yelled as he reared back his fist to hit Evan. I pulled on his arm to hold him back even though my head was reeling and I could barely see.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Evan squirmed out of Butch's grasp and fled from my room. I ran to the door to stop him, but he had already faded into the darkness.

  "What the hell is going on?" Butch asked, taking in my face that I could feel swelling with each passing second. "That punk attacked you and you let him go?"

  Attempting to shake off my dizziness, I peered out into the darkness before turning back to Butch to explain. "He didn't attack me. Well, not like you think. We were just talking, but you spooked him when you showed up. He'd been drinking and I was trying to get him to chill enough to maybe get some coffee into him."

  Butch shot me a look of disbelief. "You're telling me you know the guy?"

  "Sort of, yeah." During the scramble, Butch didn't put together that Evan was the same guy he saw at the courthouse who had thrown the party that got me into trouble.

  "Holy Christ, Rain. If he didn't hit you, then why is your face swelling up like a balloon?"

  I raised my hand to my sore cheek, cringing at the wave of pain that moved all the way to the back of my head. "It was an accident. He fell down and I leaned in to help him when he raised his head and POW," I said, telling Butch half the story. "Boy, I never knew you were such a brawler," I added, trying to change the subject as Buttercup appeared at the door and rushed to my side. She almost lost it, taking in my sore cheek. "What happened? I heard Butch holler so I called the cops."

  "No, you didn't," I groaned.

  "Of course I did. I hear a commotion coming from my daughter's detached bedroom, I call the cops," she said, leading me into the house. The bright light in the kitchen seared a path through my head as my rapidly swelling eye throbbed in pain. Buttercup gently helped me into one of the kitchen chairs. In seconds, she was back at my side with a bag of frozen peas, placing it carefully against my eye.

  The cold stung at first, but quickly began to soothe the fire burning across my cheek. The backdoor opened and I pulled the bag of peas away long enough to glare at Butch. "You didn't have to jump on him like that," I chastised him. "Now he's out there somewhere all by himself."

  "Who are we talking about?" Buttercup asked, sounding freaked. "I hope you kicked his ass," she added, which nearly made me pass out in shock. Buttercup, the lover, not a fighter, looked deadly serious. My entire life she had preached a motto of "fight conflict with love, not fists." To hear her asking Butch if he kicked someone's butt was earth-shattering.

  "I tried, but Rainbow stopped me before I could get one fist on him." They turned to me for an explanation.

  "It was Evan," I said, placing the bag of peas back on my eye.

  "Evan? The kid from the party, Evan?" Butch asked.

  I launched into a full explanation rather than sit there answering one question after another.

  "In spite of the whole mess, his father sent him here by himself?" Buttercup asked incredulously.

  "Well, except for a housekeeper apparently. Real winner, right?" I pulled the peas from my face so I could gently probe the damage with my fingertip. It was far too sore to touch.

  Buttercup's facial expression looked as bad as my face felt as she surveyed the damage. "Do you think we should take her to the hospital?"

  "Absolutely not," I stated, standing up abruptly. Call me crazy, but I was not a fan of hospitals. Never had been and never would be. Buttercup claimed it was because of the asinine ER doctor I had when I was three and needed stitches. She said the dummy forgot to numb the entire cut, so I could feel some of the stitches. Whatever the reason, I avoided hospitals at all costs.

  "The bones in your face could be fractured," Butch stated, studying me critically.

  "I have a hard face. Trust me, I'm fine," I said as someone rapped briskly on the front door.

  Butch left to answer the door and Buttercup and I could hear several voices before he returned to the kitchen with two police officers. One of which I recognized as the same female officer from the night of my arrest.

  "Rain, they'd like to ask you a few questions," Butch said. I nodded in agreement. I figured if I at least told them what kind of shape Evan had been in they might go to his house to check on him.

  "First of all, I'm Officer Dunn, but you can call me Karen. This big bear there is Officer Mackey. We call him Tank for good reason," she said, pointing at the burly officer who smiled at me. "We'll take your statement, and then I'd like to talk to you alone, okay?" she asked, smiling reassuringly. I couldn't tell if she recognized me from the party, but her smile helped ease some of my tension.

  "You don't have to talk to me alone, nothing happened." The two officers exchanged a look as if they doubted my statement.

  Their questions were direct and only seemed to focus on how my face became injured rather than why Evan had been there in the first place.

  "You don't have to cover up for him," the burly cop stated gruffly.

  "I'm not. You have to believe me. Evan is just in a bad place. His parents are total douches. You have to at least go check on him. He's all alone." Sudden tears filled my eyes. I hardly knew Evan and didn't owe him anything, but the way he acted out reminded me of myself in Huntsville. Our reasons for looking for trouble may have been different, but maybe we both needed to be heard.

  "So you're telling us that you invited an intoxicated gentleman into your room willingly?" asked Karen, the female officer. Her tone was harsh, but I knew she was trying to press a point.

  I nodded. "I know what you're saying, but I was just trying to get him to stay put. I was going to go inside and get coffee to sober him up. Maybe it wasn't the safest thing, but I felt safe."

  "Then why did you leave your door open?" she drilled.

  "I'm not th
at stupid," I said with an edge in my voice. I felt like we were revisiting the party mess once again. I did nothing wrong and yet they were trying to drag me across the coals.

  "We'll check things out. See if the perp's story matches yours," Tank said.

  "And from now on I'd think twice about inviting someone who is intoxicated into your room," Karen advised, snapping her notepad closed.

  Butch cleared his throat. "We'll be setting some new rules around here."

  I rolled my eyes, or more accurately, the one that wasn't swollen shut.

  "You folks evacuating for the storm?" Tank asked as he and Karen stood up to head for the front door.

  "We plan on helping out at the beach patrol station," Butch answered. "Rain was doing some work there, and we've been helping out with storm prep all week."

  "We could use more civilians like you," Tank said, clapping Butch on the back so hard it caused him to stumble. I smiled, forgetting that my face resembled a boxer's who'd gone ten rounds. Gulping back my pain, I tentatively touched my swollen cheek.

  "Lots of ice," Karen said, seeing the flicker of pain cross my face. She turned to address Butch and Buttercup. "We'll be checking up, but if you need anything else, you can call us. You all stay safe. This storm's going to be a doozy," she said as they headed out the door. "We'll let you know when we talk to Evan Walker," she said, glancing back at her notebook before closing the door.

  I ran their words through my head, especially the part where they referred to Evan as a perp. I could tell they hadn't bought my entire story, but I didn't know what else to say to convince them. Considering my short but detrimental history with Evan, I could see how it might be hard to understand why I would attempt to help him. Still, that should be for me to decide. I was sure if they checked Evan's head the evidence to back up my story would be glaringly obvious.

  Butch yawned heavily. "Now that Rain is done with her drama, I'm going to hit the sack."

  "Hardy-har. You're so funny. I need to shower first," I said, heading toward my room.

  "Um, Rain? Where do you think you're going?" Buttercup asked.

  "To my room, no?" I asked. I should have known. Truthfully, with the hurricane picking up, I had expected them to insist that I sleep in the house anyway.

  "You can shower in here while I set you up in the spare room," Buttercup said, leaving no room for argument.

  Butch followed me to my room and helped me gather my favorite blanket and pillow while I grabbed a pair of PJs, my toothbrush, and a change of clothes for the morning. When we returned, Buttercup had already laid out a fresh towel in the bathroom for my shower.

  I couldn't help swearing over my reflection in the mirror. My face was a complete and utter mess. My left eye was already a brilliant shade of deep purple and black and had swollen completely shut. My cheekbone, on the other hand, was bright red and sported a small cut under my eye. Seriously, Evan's head was lethal. Considering how my parents and the two officers had reacted, I had no idea how I would explain it to Josh without him losing it.

  I woke the next morning to the wind whipping with gusto against the plywood boarded over the bedroom window. Sitting up in bed, I could barely see out of my swollen eye, and my face felt like an elephant had spent the night standing on my head. I would need an entire bottle of ibuprofen to make it through the day, but I wanted to go to the patrol office. I managed to drag myself out of bed and detoured into the bathroom to survey the damage. I wouldn't say that my eye and cheek looked worse than the night before, but they definitely didn't look any better. I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back into a ponytail before going back to my room to get dressed.

  "I hope his head is as sore as your face looks," Butch said as I walked into the kitchen.

  "Right back at you," I said, noting the sour expression on his face. I tried laughing with him, but my face protested the movement. "Please don't make me laugh. Who knew facial expressions could be so painful?"

  He walked over and carefully slung his arm around my neck, giving me a gentle sideways hug. "That's what you get for rolling around with boys in your room."

  I elbowed him in the gut, making him grunt. "Zip it." The last thing I wanted was for him to say something to that effect when we saw Josh.

  Buttercup joined us before Butch could tease me any further. "Ouch, that looks painful," she said, cautiously probing my face. I winced in pain. "I hope he didn't break anything. Maybe we really should go to the hospital, just in case."

  "I think it's your run-of-the-mill black eye," Butch assured her. "If it was broken, Rainbow wouldn't be able to tolerate even the slightest touch. She's just going to have a shiner for a couple weeks."

  "A couple weeks?" I gasped. "You're telling me I'm going to look like a hideous monster for two weeks?"

  "At least," Butch said. "You want something to eat before we head out?"

  "No, thanks. I'll just take some coffee to go," I answered.

  I grabbed an insulated cup with a lid for my wake-up juice while Butch shouldered the duffle bags we'd packed the night before. We didn't know what to expect from the storm, but we figured we should be ready in case we needed to evacuate.

  Climbing into the van, I glanced down the block toward Evan's house, hoping he had made it home, or at the very least was somewhere safe. A menacing wall of clouds from the east bore down on Turtle Bay, hinting at the impending storm. Butch remained unusually quiet as he maneuvered our van slowly down the road. Palm fronds and dead tree branches already littered the street thanks to the whipping gusts of wind that pushed against the side of our van.

  Looking out the window with my one good eye, I felt hypnotized watching even the largest and tallest trees sway back and forth. At any moment, I expected them to snap in half.

  "Look at that," Buttercup said, commenting on the way the traffic lights bobbed up and down on the wires they hung from.

  As we turned down Beachside Drive, we got a clear look at the ocean. The waves looked angry and imposing, like they were daring anyone brave enough to take their chances to enter the water. I saw no one that stupid, but there were people standing on the beach who seemed to be taking in the sights.

  I could only remember Butch being this stressed one other time, and that was when Buttercup got pneumonia. Initially, she had refused to see a doctor, relying instead on the homemade remedies she claimed had never let her down before. Eventually, Butch intervened. He loaded her up in the van in the middle of the night and drove to a doctor's house. How Butch had the doctor's address, or why he even allowed Butch to show up with Buttercup in the middle of the night, I never learned. Logic told me Butch had to know him somehow or maybe the doctor sensed his desperation, but I never asked.

  It took us twice as long to get there even though the roads were eerily empty, but just as Josh had predicted, the station was bursting with activity. In my anticipation to see Josh, I forgot about my face until Vanessa gasped when she saw me. Coming around from her desk like her feet were on fire, she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, demanding to know what had happened.

  "I was stung by a bee," I joked, trying to make light of my mangled appearance.

  "Really, you allergic or something?" she stuttered, mystified.

  I laughed, although I paid the price when my face vehemently rejected the movement.

  Vanessa's exuberant reaction caused a crowd to form around me, so I launched into a brief replay of what had happened. It was an uncomfortable story to retell since even I could hear how ridiculous it sounded. The only part I changed for the benefit of the people at the station was how Evan had ended up on the floor. I lied that he had lost his balance because of his drunken condition. Josh walked into the reception area, immediately zeroing in on my eye. My words dried in my throat as his eyes swept across my face. His features tightened and from the way he tenderly stroked my arms, it was clear our relationship was no longer a secret.

  Chapter 12

  "Did I hear you say Evan did this?" he asked
in a deadly serious voice. "When?" he inquired when I stepped away from the crowd.

  "After you left," I answered. "He came by wasted off his ass.

  "Damn it. I knew I should have walked you to your door and made sure you got in your room safely. What kind of chump drops a girl off and drives away?"

  I shook my head. "This was an accident. Sure, it was enhanced by an abundance of liquid dumbness, but Evan didn't mean to hurt me. He was hurting, and I was just trying to be his friend."

  He snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure that's all he wanted. The Evan I know has all the friends he needs."

  A mixture of emotions coursed through me as I categorized his short statement. If I were in Josh's position I would be skeptical of anything Evan did. Truthfully, I felt the same way, but in spite of the differences in our economic standings, I honestly felt I understood where Evan was coming from. Strangely, Josh would discover that considering their parents, he and Evan had a lot in common if they ever got to know each other. I never saw that happening in anyone's lifetime though.

  "You're not disgusted by this monstrosity?" I asked, lightly changing the subject to make a joke.

  Josh frowned, not appreciating my lame humor. "The only disgust I feel is at the asshole who did this. I seriously want to pound his face in. I don't care how it happened. He should be sporting his own black eye."

  I sighed. "It was an accident," I muttered for what felt like the millionth time. Reaching for Josh's hand, I squeezed it gently, silently appealing for him to let it go. With the heavy winds battering against the building, we had bigger worries on our plates. Judging by Vanessa's nonstop ringing phone, things were a little more intense than what everyone had originally thought.

  As if to prove my point, Mitch appeared at our side. "Rain, your face?" He sympathetically grimaced like everyone else had. "I could really use your help today. We got a solid category two hurricane and its path shifted slightly to the west, meaning it's going to hit us harder than we anticipated, but I'm thinking in light of your injury, you and your parents should evacuate."