Carissa said, “Surfers. When are we going to learn?”
We sat under the hot California sun chatting. Only fifteen minutes had passed before Dominick reemerged from the ocean.
I stood up. “What’s he doing?” Dominick threw his board on the sand. In his arms, he cradled what appeared to be an animal. He walked toward us at a fast clip, his eyes flared with panic.
He yelled, “Get a towel. Quick.”
Carissa and I raced to Dominick’s side. In his grasp was a baby sea lion. The baby was calm, gazing up at us with large, pleading eyes. A length of fishing line had wrapped itself around the pup’s body and a sharp, gleaming fishing hook protruded from his mouth.
My breath was a sharp intake, and I covered my mouth. “Oh, my God. No!”
Dominick’s voice was frantic. “I was sitting on my board, and he swam up to me. He jumped right onto the front of my board. He wanted me to help him.”
Carissa said, “The Marine Institute’s only fifteen minutes away. Think they’ll take him?”
Dominick said, “Let’s go.”
We bundled the baby into a towel, Dominick retrieved his board off the sand and we made for Dominick’s car. He shoved the board into the backseat and not bothering to strap himself in, he slammed the car into gear and floored it. My head hit the headrest as I clutched the sweet little sea lion to my chest. I glanced at Dominick. As he wove in and out of traffic, he muttered what sounded like prayers in Portuguese; his body bent forward over the steering wheel.
Tears burned my eyes as I gazed at the sea lion. His adorable, dark eyes looked up at me, his body a heavy weight.
As we drove, Carissa screamed out directions. “The next light turn left, go straight and a right at the stop sign.” Finally, the facility loomed into view. “Park up front!”
Dominick slotted the car into a spot with a screech that sent our heads lurching forward. “Let’s go!”
I thought my heart was going to burst from anxiety as we ran into the reception area where a woman sat at the desk reading a magazine. She stood up quickly. “What’ve you got there?”
The three of us spoke at the same time.
“He’s hurt,” I said.
“He needs help,” Dominick said. “He was just trying to get some food, and he must have …” He choked back a sob, his hand covering his mouth.
“Help him!” Carissa said.
I held the baby to my breast and softly swayed. “It’s going to be all right sweetie.”
The receptionist spoke into the phone. Within a minute a tall man who looked like a professional basketball player appeared. His eyebrows rose. “Oh no, he got himself mixed up by the pier.” I transferred the sea lion to him, his large hands accepting the baby in his embrace. The man expelled a breath. “This happens a lot to sea animals. They’re just trying to get some dinner is all.” He gave us a smile. “You brought him to the right place. We’ll get him all fixed up.” The technician pulled himself to his full height. “Leave your number. We’ll update you on how he does.” He gave us a broad smile. “He’ll be okay. Promise.”
Dominick pulled the necklace out of his wetsuit and fingered the cross. “You’ll take care of him?”
The man squeezed Dominick’s shoulder. “‘Course we will. Thank you guys for bringing him in.”
The sea lion was carried away, his dark liquid eyes gazing at us until he was out of sight.
The three of us were silent as Dominick drove Carissa home. Then we went to my house. He put the car in park out front. He still wore his wetsuit, and his hands rubbed his pant legs rapidly while he looked down, his hair hanging in his face. I reached out and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He slowly lifted his head to look at me. Tears leaked from his eyes. “That poor animal would’ve died if I hadn’t found him.”
I stroked his arm. “It’s okay. They’ll take care of him.”
He punched the steering wheel. “God damn it! Why do people have to be so cruel?” He pulled his fist away and stroked it. “Son of a …” A few drops of blood trickled onto his lap.
“Nobody meant to hurt him.”
Dominick’s breathing accelerated so much it looked like he was going to hyperventilate. Both hands gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white. “He could’ve died. He’s so young. So innocent.” He inhaled one long ragged breath and let out a sob. “Filho da puta!” His hands covered his face and tears leaked between his fingers as his shoulders shook with sobs.
I lightly touched his arm. “Hey. It’s okay.”
The look on his face when he turned toward me was one of desperation, his green eyes flashing. He yanked my head toward him with such force that I let out a yelp. He kissed me long and hard, his fingers grasping my hair and pulling, his lips pressed against mine with urgency. His mouth ground against mine with such fervor that my teeth bit into my top lip. He kissed me roughly, his wet tongue forcing itself into my mouth. He pulled away for a moment, then tugged on my hair and brought my mouth to his again. The heat of his kiss lit a fire in my depths, and I squeezed my legs together. He broke our kiss, ran his fingers through my hair pulling my head back so that my neck was exposed. He kissed and softly bit my neck, and I let out a whimper. He let out a shuddering breath, and his gaze fell to my lap. “I’m sorry Rosalyn. A man should never cry. It’s not right. A real man shouldn’t do that.”
I had never met anyone like Dominick. He had an intensity. A passion. A heart that one moment was light and free, then dark and haunted. “Yes. A man should cry. I love that about you.” I had almost said I love you.
He gave me a nervous smile and glanced at the clock on the dash. “It’s getting late. So, I’ll see you tomorrow? We can work on the painting in class?”
My heart expanded with happiness. “That would be beautiful.”
He walked me to my front door, kissed the top of my head and made sure I was safely inside.
When I landed on my bed, I hugged myself, a euphoria filling my body. I lifted my shirt and breathed in Dominick’s scent. Sun streamed through my open window. A hummingbird lighted on a branch outside, and I couldn’t believe that I’d never noticed the vibrant purple of its throat. I stood up and opened the window further. Everything looked alive. I was falling hard.
Chapter Six
The following day after school, I accompanied Dominick to the beach for his surf session. I smiled in appreciation watching his rugged body bent over his board, his powerful hands making criss-cross motions with surf wax. “Is there anything you love more than surfing?” I asked.
He smiled. “Is there anything better?”
“I can think of a few things.”
He winked at me. “Kissing you is right up there.” He zipped up his wetsuit. “See you in a bit.” He jogged toward the sea.
After his session, he sauntered over to me and said, “Let me put my board away. Do you want to walk the beach?”
It was another gorgeous Southern California day, the sun shining down, making everything happy and bright. “Sure.”
He strapped his board to the top of the car and performed a towel change, switching into only a pair of board shorts. The back of my neck felt warm, and a tingle ran up my spine when I saw his rock-hard bronzed chest. The bright sun glinted off the silver crucifix which hung around his neck from a long leather band. He smiled and held my hand. “Let’s go.”
We strolled along the beach, the sand a soft, never ending carpet under our bare feet. The brisk seawater tickled our toes as a flock of pelicans flew in a perfect V overhead.
When we came to a quiet spot, he said, “Let’s sit.”
We sat side by side, our legs touching. Dominick pulled his knees into his chest, his arms hugged into himself, and gazed at the ocean. “I spoke to my sponsor yesterday.” His words hung between us, the only sound the ocean crashing on the shore. “He’s trying to get my suspension lifted.” His piercing green eyes locked with mine. “If he can get the ASP members to agree, I’ll
be on the tour again.”
A lump formed in my throat. “What about school?”
He held both my hands. “They send my schoolwork with me while I’m touring. School’s almost over anyway.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’ll be gone a lot? Will you be coming back?”
He let go of my hands and gazed at the ocean. “That’s only if I get back on the tour. And even if I do, it’ll be probationary.” He chuckled. “They don’t like us surfers beating each other up.”
“If you’re on the tour, doesn’t that mean you’re gone half the year?”
He picked up a stick and made circles in the sand. “We compete twice a month.”
Oh, no. Dominick was leaving me. “When will you know?”
“Not sure. Right now all I can do is keep training and wait.” He clutched the crucifix and kissed it. “I made a promise to my dad a long time ago that I would make him proud. I haven’t done so good at that.”
“Oh honey, I’m sure you have.”
He let out a heavy sigh. The look he gave me was so sad I wanted to reach out and hug him. “Can I tell you something?”
My eyebrows knit in concern. “Of course.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “When I was a kid I was the scrawny one in class. All the bullies at school picked on me. There was this one kid who loved to wait for me after the bell rang. He’d hide and wait for me to walk past him, then he’d spit on me and knock my books out of my hands and beat the hell out of me. After coming home bloody and having my mom go into hysterics, I finally told my dad what was happening. He taught me how to fight back.” He gave me a shaky smile. “I don’t think he realized how much I’d take to fighting.” He pointed at himself. “I turned into the one who picked fights. So he taught me to surf. Said I needed to channel my energy. Dad did his best to get me on track. But there was no way I was going to let those bullies beat me up ever again.”
I had the urge to mother him, to cradle him to my breast and make the hurt of the world disappear. “You poor thing.”
“All my dad ever wanted was to take care of his family and to be a great surfer. He was good too. So good. The best. He coached me, and we surfed together until our arms practically fell off.” He gazed at the ocean. “Dad wanted a better life for me than he had.” Dominick turned and faced me. His long hair caught in the breeze. I stared at his handsome face. The man looked just like a God. “My dad actually qualified for the pro tour, but he put that life aside to work. He got up every morning before the sun rose to work his fishing boat, never taking a vacation, never taking a break, hardly even surfing anymore. But he saw something in me. Something I didn’t see in myself. Told me I was a better surfer than him, better than anyone in the lineup. He had contacts in the sport, and he found me sponsors, free surfboards, coaches, anything I needed. We didn’t have much. It was just him, my mom, and me. But I had everything I ever wanted because I learned to love surfing. I loved surfing, and I loved my dad. But then … then.” Dominick looked at my lap and blinked back tears. “He was diagnosed with leukemia.”
I inhaled sharply. “Oh, no.”
He stood up abruptly, his breath coming in short gasps. “I hope I never have to see the inside of another hospital as long as I live. Dad was gone in a year. That was two years ago.” He sunk to his knees and a sob caught in his throat. He pulled the crucifix out of his shirt and clutched it in both hands. “He’s gone … he’s really gone. I’ll never see him again.” Dominick’s long hair hung in his face, as he gazed at the sand. His shoulders shook and his chin trembled. A few tears landed on my foot. “It’s not right. He was my father, my best friend, my teacher. I loved him so much.” He dropped the crucifix and raised his fists. In an earsplitting voice he said, “God damn it! Why’d you have to take him from me?”
He let out a shuddering breath. When he looked at me, his expression was dull, his eyes wet. “I’m sorry Rosalyn. I can’t help how I feel when I think about my dad.” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand and frowned. “It’s just that I miss him so much.”
He placed both hands on my lap, his eyes wild. “I have to do this. For my dad. For me. You have no idea how much it would mean to my mother, to my aunt.” He looked down. “Don’t laugh at me, but I have a vision in my head.”
I gripped his hands. “Of what?”
His head slowly lifted, and he looked me in the eye with a smile. “Of winning the pro tour. And when I do, I’m putting the trophy on my dad’s grave.”
My hand covered my mouth. “Oh.” That seemed morbid to me, but maybe they had different customs in Brazil. “That’s lovely.” I bowed my head and peered up at him. “Does that mean you’ll be gone? Permanently? Would you even live here anymore?”
“I don’t even know if they’ll take me back. But if they do, the travel’s pretty gnarly. We pack up and go somewhere new every couple weeks.” A look of excitement crossed his face. “It’s insane, especially when the waves are good.”
Dominick couldn’t leave. I knew it was selfish of me to think that way because it meant so much to him. But I wanted him here with me. “When will you know?”
“For now, I just sit and wait.” He gazed at me intently. “I have to go back. Surfing is my life.”
My voice was gentle. “Of course, you do.”
Dominick smiled. He stroked my cheek and leaned in to kiss me. He gently lowered me onto the sand and we had a good old fashioned make out session as the waves pounded the shore. I got lost in his kisses, but the whole time I felt like crying. I wanted to hug him to me, force him to become part of me, convince him that his life could be here with me. The crucifix ground into my breasts and I pushed it aside, sending a small prayer to the universe that Dominick’s sponsors wouldn’t take him away from me.
* * *
When I got home that afternoon, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table working on a buzz.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
My face grew hot, and I swallowed over a lump in my throat. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
She set her bong down. “Don’t lie to me, sugar. I can tell you like this guy. A lot.” She smiled. “It’s okay. He seems like a great guy. Real polite. Better than a lot of these surf bums around town.” She stood up and moved to the fridge. “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
Great. Another one of Mom’s well-meaning lectures. It was difficult for me to take my folks seriously. All they wanted to do was party; what they called their “healing rituals” with pot and sometimes even hallucinogenics. I tapped my foot while mom poured us drinks.
She fell into her chair and took a sip of her drink. Her hand covered mine. “I’m not blind. I know you and Carissa have been sleeping around.”
“Mom, we haven’t—”
She held up a hand. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you two hang out at the beach and carouse around with all those surfers. I’ve seen you kissing them and when you come home …” She took a sip of her drink. “Let’s just say I know what it smells like when a girl has sex.”
My body trembled. I set my glass down so it wouldn’t crash to the floor. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Carissa’s mother told me she found condoms in her room. Honey, I know you think it’s cool to be popular with the boys, but they’re going to use you. You’re eighteen. School’s almost over and you need to start thinking about your future because your dad and I won’t be around to take care of you. And if that future doesn’t include school, if you’ve got some crazy idea about becoming an artist …” She looked heavenward. “I just hope you don’t go doing something stupid like your friend Lydia down the street. Pregnant at sixteen.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to have more than one mouth to feed? Not to mention all those guys taking advantage of you for sex.”
I sat on the edge of my chair, ready to flee the room, glancing around to avoid meeting my mother’s eyes. I swallowed hard over the truth, trying to push down the hurt. Heat tingled my
face as I thought of all the guys I’d slept with. Luckily mom had never walked in on me the times I’d had sex right here on the kitchen counter, my legs curled around some hot surfer’s gorgeous ass as he rammed into me. My heart pounded in my chest as I bit back tears. Then, my shame turned to righteousness. Who was she to preach to me?
I stood up so fast that my chair scooted out from under me and toppled to the ground. “What would you know about it? You and dad sit around here getting high every chance you get. I’ve seen your photo albums of when you two were in all those protests in Berkeley, burning your bra and stuff. I’ll bet you and dad were even part of those stupid wife swapping things I’ve heard about.”
She stood up and jabbed a finger in my face. “Don’t say something you’ll regret young lady. You will do as I say, not as I do. Whatever your dad and I did is none of your damn business.”
My heart went wild. How dare Mom talk to me like this? “I can’t wait until I’m out of here and never have to listen to your voice again. You’re such a hypocrite!”
She placed her hands on hips and glared at me. “You are nothing but an ungrateful brat! The minute school’s over, your dad and I are moving to Oregon.”
“To do what? Start that pot farm you’ve always dreamed about? Maybe have some orgies?” The look on her face was priceless. Her skin turned white. Her body trembled and for a second I thought she was going to slap me. Hot tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re in love. Dominick seems like a good guy now but—”
My body shook. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Dominick’s leaving! He’s going on the pro tour. I’ll never see him again.” I turned and fled to my room and slammed the door behind me.
From the kitchen, I heard my mother yell, “Rosalyn! This conversation is not over.”
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 4
