Captain

by Lauren Rowe

  If ever there was the perfect place to try to pull myself together and calm myself down, this would be it. Jesus. The last couple hours have been an emotional and physical roller coaster like nothing I’ve experienced before. How the hell did Samantha turn out to be T-Rod? And how the motherfuck did things with T-Rod veer in a matter of minutes from her banging me like a mad monkey to her screaming at me with tears in her eyes that she wanted me to leave her the fuck alone?

  Fuck! My head is spinning. What I need is an impromptu session with my lifelong therapist to figure my shit out. I search the beach and quickly find him, all by his lonesome, reclined on a lounge chair in bright blue swim trunks, a bucket of beers next to him and a book in his hand.

  “Hey, Bee,” I say as I take the lounge chair next to my big brother.

  Colby looks up from his book. “What took you so long? Mom said she texted you to come to the beach over an hour ago.”

  “I took a nap.” I indicate the bucket of beers next to him. “Hand me one of those, would you? Whatcha reading?”

  Colby shows me the cover of his book: Hillbilly Elegy.

  “Dad was reading that on the plane. Is it good?”

  “So far, yeah. Interesting.”

  The unmistakable sound of our sister squealing with glee wafts through the air, and we both look toward the sound in time to catch Josh bounding into the ocean with a bikini-clad Kat in his arms.

  “Looks like Kat’s feeling a whole lot better these days,” I say. “For a while there, I thought the poor girl was gonna barf up a baby.”

  “Look at her belly in her bathing suit,” Colby says. “So damned cute.”

  “Yup, she’s a cutie patootie, you might even say,” I reply, doing my best Keane impression, and we both chuckle. “You gonna go in?” I ask, motioning toward the aquamarine ocean.

  “Nah.” Colby indicates his left leg and I glance at it, taking note of the long, angry scars running down his thigh and shin—and, just that fast, my mind flashes back to the horrible night mere months ago when my big brother lay unconscious in a hospital bed with my family huddled around him, all of us praying he’d make it through the night.

  “I thought swimming was supposed to be good for the leg?” I say.

  “In a swimming pool. My physical therapist said she doesn’t want me battling waves and the uneven ocean floor just yet.”

  “Ah.” I stare out at the ocean for a moment. I didn’t come over here to make small talk with Colby, but I can’t seem to figure out how to go about telling Colby about the life-changing series of events that happened to me today. I’m not even sure I understand them myself.

  “Okay, let’s hear it,” Colby says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I look at him.

  “You look like a madman again, Ry. I assume you got some news about your Argentinian whale?”

  I laugh. Fucking Colby. “Yeah.” I exhale. “You’re not gonna believe this, but she’s here.”

  “In Maui?”

  “No, here—literally—at this resort.”

  Colby makes a truly comedic face. “But Josh rented out the whole... She works here?”

  I bite my lip, forcing myself not to smile. “She’s T-Rod.”

  Colby makes another hilarious face. “What?”

  “The Whale is T-Rod.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I laugh. “It seems ‘Samantha’ gave me a fake name and occupation at the bar. I found out when I walked into the lobby.”

  “But what about the flight attendant uniform?”

  “Her friend’s a flight attendant. I guess it was a ‘girl’s night out’ kind of thing.”

  Colby pauses briefly, apparently processing everything I’ve just said, and then he throws his head back and bursts into booming, hysterical laughter—a ten out of ten on the Colby-Morgan-laughter scale—and, even in my state of complete mind-fuckedness, I can’t help smiling at the sound of his uproarious laughter.

  “So that’s why you were such a dick to T-Rod when we first got here?” Colby asks, wiping his eyes.

  “I was pissed,” I say. “She sent me on a wild goose chase, man.”

  “Bullshit. T-Rod didn’t send you on a wild goose chase—you sent you on a wild goose chase. All that girl did was yank your chain in a bar, the same way girls have been yanking guys’ chains since bars were invented.”

  “That’s exactly what she said.”

  “Oh, so you’ve talked to her about it? Did she know about you being Kat’s brother before you got here or was it a mutual mind-fuck when you walked into the lobby?”

  “A total and complete mutual mind-fuck. And, yeah, we talked, but only briefly. I was too shocked and pissed at her to say any of the bleeding-heart shit I’d planned to say to ‘Samantha,’ so I basically grilled her about the uniform-thing and then she had to go.”

  “So you didn’t tell her about your crazy quest?”

  I shake my head.

  “Thank God. What’d she say about the uniform—just that she was having fun?”

  “Yeah.”

  I tell Colby everything T-Rod told me about why she wore a uniform that night (opting not to mention that said conversation happened in my hotel room right after we’d fucked each other’s brains out), and when I’m finished talking, Colby says, “Women are hilarious. Remember how Kat used to go to bars and say she was ‘Matilda Blackburn from Australia’?”

  “I forgot about that,” I say. “I sure wish I’d remembered that little nugget before I let Henn loose on the entire airline industry.”

  Colby chuckles. “How any guy ever believed Kat was Australian with that ridiculous Crocodile-Dundee accent of hers, I’ll never know.”

  “Nobody ever believed Kat,” I say. “Guys just played along, hoping to get laid by the hot girl with the fake Australian accent.”

  Colby laughs. “Probably.”

  “So you’re not thinking T-Rod’s a closet psycho for wearing the uniform?” I ask.

  “Naw,” Colby says. “She said it was a one-time thing, right? Kat must have done that kind of thing fifty times and she’s moderately sane. Sounds to me like T-Rod’s got a party-girl-friend like Kat, that’s all. Plus, T-Rod’s worked for Josh for years, right? And he obviously trusts her with his life.”

  “Good point.”

  “I mean, I only saw the woman for fifteen minutes in the lobby, so I could be wrong, but my initial impression of her was thumbs-up. If I get a closet-psycho vibe from her as the week goes on, I’ll let you know, but I doubt it.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “And, in the meantime, just do yourself a favor and take things slow,” Colby cautions. “You got lucky as hell you didn’t need to tell T-Rod the whole crazy story of your Search for Samantha. Now you’ve got the luxury of taking your time.” He pauses, thinking for a beat. “I do recommend you tell her about Olivia being batshit crazy, though—and definitely clear up what really happened in the restaurant with that other woman. You certainly don’t want Theresa thinking you’re a complete douche. Oh, and one more thing: you’d better make damned sure she’s not off-limits as far as Josh is concerned before you dabble with this one. She might very well be ‘honorary little sister’ territory for Josh, and you certainly don’t wanna... What?”

  I cringe, my stomach clenching.

  “Why do you look like that, Ryan?” Colby asks.

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Guilty as hell.”

  “Because... I already fucked her.”

  “What?” He pauses, his mouth hanging open. “When? Ryan, we’ve been here for an hour and a half!”

  “I fucked her ten minutes after we got here. I lied, sorry: I wasn’t taking a nap when our dear mother texted about the beach—I was boning the fuck outta T-Rod.”

  Colby bursts out laughing again, and he keeps right on laughing for what seems like several minutes. Finally, when his laughter has subsided enough for him to speak coherently, he sighs happily, rubs his eyes, an
d says, “Captain Morgan, you’re my fucking hero.”

  Chapter 30

  Ryan

  “How the hell did you pull that off?” Colby asks, sitting up in his lounge chair.

  “It was very easy to do, strangely enough,” I say. “When T-Rod was done giving her speech about the itinerary, I walked over to her and whispered in her ear, ‘My room in ten.’”

  “And...?”

  “And she showed up ten minutes later and I fucked her.”

  We both laugh.

  I look out at the ocean for a beat, shaking my head. “I wasn’t even trying to be James Bond. I was pissed about the uniform thing and wanted to read her the riot act in private. So, she knocked on my door, obviously pissed as hell about the whole Olivia thing, and I opened my door and said something really dicky to her, and she took a swing at me (sort of—clearly, the girl’s never thrown a punch in her life), and then we immediately started fucking the hell out of each other.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that. Craziest damned thing that’s ever happened to me.” A wide smile spreads across my face. “And the best.”

  Colby raises an eyebrow. “So did the reality of harpooning your Argentinian whale live up to the fantasy?”

  “Smashed it to smithereens, brother.”

  Colby smiles. “Awesome.”

  “Best I ever had,” I say. “For her, too. She didn’t even try to deny it. Damn, Bee, I thought I knew what good sex was—I’ve had some good sex, as you know—but I had no idea it could be that fucking amazing.”

  “Holy shit, Ry. Enough. I haven’t gotten laid in months. I’m happy for you and all, but don’t wave a juicy hamburger in front of a starving man.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it: I’ve had crazier; I’ve had kinkier; but I’ve never, ever had better. Not even close.”

  Colby chuckles. “You wanna hear something funny? When I saw you drooling over T-Rod in the lobby, I was kind of pissed at you.”

  “Why?”

  “I was like, ‘Jesus, dude, for three months you’ve been going full-on Ahab over this Argentinian whale of yours, and then you take one look at this T-Rod woman and the whale’s instantly a distant memory?’”

  I laugh my ass off. “Oh my God. That’s so Colby of you to defend the whale’s honor. You’re so you, no matter the situation.”

  Colby shrugs and sips his beer.

  “Funny thing is, if the whale had been someone other than T-Rod, I would have kicked her to the curb in two seconds flat, exactly the way you thought I did at first sight of T-Rod. Jesus God, did you see T-Rod in that dress today? I’m only human.”

  “She’s smokin’ hot, I must say,” Colby agrees. “But like I said, I’d prefer we not dwell on your good fortune.”

  We both laugh. Colby’s full of shit, of course: this is what we do—what we’ve always done. We talk about girls, no holding back, whether it’s feast or famine for the other guy.

  “As hot as she is, though,” I continue, “my attraction to her isn’t about that. I mean, it doesn’t hurt she looks like a wet dream, not gonna lie, but my pull toward her is based on something way beyond that. It’s something... I dunno... reflexive?”

  “Yeah, it’s called a boner.”

  “No, no, I meant ‘reflexive’ in a spiritual way. A pre-ordained kind of way. She’s triggered some reflex for my soul.”

  “Oh, Jesus. She’s turned you into Dax.”

  “I know—pummel me for it later.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  I consider for a minute. “You know when the doctor bangs on your knee with the little hammer and your leg kicks?”

  Colby nods.

  “When you were a kid, did you ever try not to kick your leg, just to see if you could do it?”

  Colby laughs. “Every time.”

  “Me, too. But I’ll be damned, I always kicked.” I shrug. “Well, best way I can describe it, that woman is a hammer to my knee, only my ‘knee’ is my mind, body, and soul. She looks at me and, I’ll be damned...” I kick my leg. “Kick.”

  Colby laughs. “How do you fool everyone into thinking you’re so normal all the time?”

  “It’s quite easy, actually. I just think, ‘What would Colby do?’ And that’s what I do.”

  Colby grins at me. “I’m not quite as normal as you think.”

  “Oh, yes you are. The sanest of the bunch. Hey, can I tell you something crazy?”

  “You mean everything you just told me isn’t already ‘something crazy’?”

  I ignore his jab. “The minute I met Samantha—or T-Rod or Tessa, whatever the fuck her name is—I felt like she and I used to be passionately in love in some past life—you know, like completely obsessed with each other. And then we died and our souls got recycled (or whatever happens to souls) and we popped out as two totally new people without any memories of our past life together... and then, we stumbled upon each other in that bar, and our souls instantly remembered everything, even though our brains didn’t; and now that we’ve kissed and touched and fucked, my soul’s like, ‘Fuck you, motherfucker, if you think I’m ever gonna be separated from that woman again.’” I press my lips together, shocked at what just spewed from my mouth. “God, that was some crazy-ass shit, huh?”

  But Colby looks unfazed. He’s sipping his beer quietly, looking out at the ocean, nodding like what I’ve said makes perfect sense.

  I wait, but he doesn’t say anything. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m a loon,” I say.

  “Naw.” He looks at me, his blue eyes full of warmth. “To tell you the truth, Ry, that little speech is exactly why I love you the most.”

  I can’t help blushing. “Thanks, Bee.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of stuff Dad always says about Mom. I’m used to it.”

  “Dad says stuff like that? He’s never said it to me.”

  “Go fishing with him alone some time and he’ll surprise you. He doesn’t express things quite the way you just did—I mean, that was pretty intense, Captain Ahab, not gonna lie—but, yeah, in his own way, Dad says exactly the same stuff about Mom. He often says he was ‘born to love her.’”

  I suddenly feel overcome with an intense urge to find T-Rod and drop to my knees and make her understand I’m not some manwhore looking to get laid—that I’ve moved mountains to find her because I’ve known from the first moment I saw her that she was meant to be mine. But I can’t do it. I know I can’t. She won’t believe me. And, in fact, she’ll probably tell me to fuck off. “So what should I do about this girl, Bee? I want her, man—in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before—and, for once in my life, I’m not sure how to get what I want.”

  “Well, shit, man, it sounds like you’ve already got her,” Colby says. “You said, ‘My room in ten,’ and she came running.”

  “No, you don’t understand. She made it clear what we did was ‘meaningless’ to her—which is understandable, given that, thanks to the whole Olivia situation, she absolutely hates my guts.”

  “Yeah, I’m kinda confused about that. She screwed you, even though she hates you?”

  “Correct. She fucked me, thinking I’m a lying, cheating scumbag. I tried to clear up the Olivia stuff, but she didn’t believe me, so I dropped it. Plus, I was way too focused on the uniform thing to care too much about anything else.”

  Colby looks incredulous. “But...” He shakes his head like I’ve mind-fucked him. “This is crazy.”

  “I know. This is the very thing I wanted to talk to you about. This girl is a total mind-fucker, I swear to God. Back at The Pine Box three months ago, when she thought I could potentially be her Prince Charming, she made a big thing about needing to ‘take it slow,’ and, I swear to God, she wasn’t gaming me. And now that she thinks I’m a total douche-player, she’s jumping my bones within ten minutes.”

  Colby sips his beer and looks thoughtful.

  “What are you thinking, Dr. Colby? I can see your wheels turning.”

  “You think she’s got major trust issues, this one?”
r />   “Definitely.” I tell Colby everything I know about T-Rod’s break-up with Mr. Soccer Douche.

  “Okay, so here’s what I think,” Colby says. “Fucking a known scumbag isn’t a risky activity for her. She’s fully aware of your douchebaggery (or so she thinks), and therefore can’t get blindsided by it. So she figures she can have some meaningless fun with you without any chance of getting hurt. It’s not true, of course—people like her don’t know how to separate sex and emotion, but she doesn’t know that because she’s never tried it before. I mean, she might be able to keep herself from feeling something for you after one sesh, but, I guarantee you, if you have sex with her all week long, she’ll fall for you, whether she wants to or not. My advice? Fuck her like a rock star by night and hang out with her by day and be your awesome self and let things happen organically. If thinking you’re an asshole is what got her into your bed in the first place, let her keep thinking it until it seems like she’s open and receptive and trusting enough to really hear you out.”

  “So your gut says I shouldn’t tell her about the Search for Samantha right away?”

  “Hell no. Of course, she deserves to know about all that, just not right off the bat. At first, just give her what she thinks she wants—no-strings sex. Tell her this week is about fun and feeling good, no attachments, and that no one will ever know, blah, blah, blah. Make sure she feels safe with you and that you’ll never, ever tell anyone about—oh, wait, no, even better: beg her not to tell anyone. Ha! Tell her you don’t want Josh to find out and get pissed at you for dabbling with his honorary little sister. If she thinks she’s in a position of power, she’ll feel extra safe with you and trust will easily follow.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “At some point, she’ll realize she’s not capable of no-strings sex and that’s when you’ll tell her about the quest and all the other crazy-ass ‘souls reuniting’ shit you just told me and she’ll be thrilled to find out you’re not the manwhoring-cheater she thought you were.”

  “Damn, Bee. You’re a fucking genius.”

  “Just keep your cards close to your vest this whole week and tell her—”