He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Nelson and me, we’re learning some new songs, and there’s this band that we’re gonna meet with, and I was wondering if maybe you could give us a ride later this week?”
I looked at his sweet face, so trusting. “Of course, I will. Now, get your butt in bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Night, mom.” Leo trailed after him as he headed for his room.
I put my face in my hands and took a deep breath. I had to keep things together for Eugene.
As I dozed off, the sound of the waves crashed on the shore and the sea breeze gently wafted through my open window. My phone alerted me to a text. It was from Jax.
What’s your brilliant plan? I can’t wait to hear it.
Jax
After I left Rosalyn, I went straight to The Old Princeton Landing. The OPL, as it’s known to the locals, is a rock and roll sports bar in the El Granada area of Half Moon Bay, only a stone’s throw from Mavericks.
A gust of cold wind blew through the door as I entered and sat at the bar where a burly teddy bear of a bartender stood washing beer glasses.
“Cold out there,” I said.
“So’s the world, man, so’s the world.” He put the beer glasses on the drain board, wiped his hands on his white apron, spun a cardboard Coors Lite coaster in front of me. “What’ll it be?”
“Whatever you got on tap. And make it a double.”
“Got myself a comedian here. World’s finest OPL beer on tap, coming up. A double for my surfer friend,” he said with a wink. He set the chilled beer mug in front of me. “How you doin’ Jax?”
“Seen better days.”
“I hear ya. Fuckin’ unreal what happened to Butch. Heard he came that close.”
“Comes with the territory, I guess.”
He leaned forward, both beefy arms on the bar, looked me in the eye with his bloodshot gaze, and said, “If I had a son, no fuckin’ way would I let him out there in those waves.”
“Yeah well, it’s an obsession.”
“Not that healthy an obsession.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his apron. “I don’t mean to be a bummer. Enjoy your beer.”
The OPL was electric with energy that night, a live band playing, a few surfers milling around. Many of them came to talk to me about what’d happened to Butch, the unspoken words being that it could’ve been any one of us and that death for a big wave surfer was always only a breath away.
I drank my second beer and thought about Rosalyn. I was still seething with anger over the nerve of her taking over thirteen years to contact me. But now that I wasn’t in her presence, I could think. Rosalyn was still fucking beautiful. Despite the fact that she’d lost weight, despite the fact that several years had passed in which it sounded like she’d had her share of bad luck, the woman was still gorgeous. And I don’t mean just physically. Rosalyn had that same charisma I remembered, but it was tempered with a deep sadness. I looked into my beer mug, lifted it slightly, rolling it over the condensation ring on the counter. Six months to live? Was that really true, or was she exaggerating?
I took a deep swallow of my beer and felt the alcohol flowing pleasantly into my system, my neck muscles relaxing for the first time all day.
A son.
I had a son named Eugene. I sat up straight, smiling slightly. If that was really true, he’d be about thirteen. What was he like? Did he look like me? What were his hobbies? Did he surf? What was his favorite color? Favorite foods? Who were his friends? In the mirror over the bar, I caught a glimpse of myself, and there was a gleam in my eye.
I shook my head. I still wasn’t sure if I believed Rosalyn, but why would she make this up? I was going to find out, wasn’t I?
I took another sip of my beer trying to quell the anger of Rosalyn shutting me out of her life. Did she think she could just phone me up and I’d come running to take over the mess she’d made? I had a life of my own, dammit. As soon as that thought came out of my head, I almost laughed. A life. Yeah, right. Let’s take a look at exactly what I had. I had Blue-ee and a job teaching surf lessons at the Mysto Spot Surf Shop. I had a quasi-girlfriend in Holly, a woman who I thought I cared about. And oh yeah, I had a steady following of six women who were waiting right this second, cash in hand, for me to come home and fuck their brains out. And I had surfing.
I took another sip of beer, put my elbows on the bar, my head in my hands. I’d always wanted a family. For years I tried to convince myself that sex partners and my relationship with Tyler were all I needed. But more recently I was working on opening my mind to other possibilities. Admittedly, my relationship with Holly was mostly because she reminded me of Rosalyn, but I’d been doing my best to give a real relationship with her a try. On paper, she had everything I loved in a woman: confidence, playfulness, and she loved sex. But was I in love with her? No. If I were in love, would I have taken on my side job?
The band finished playing an Eagles song then the lead singer counted the band down. A Rolling Stones’ song, “Satisfaction” came to life amidst whoops and hollers of the very drunk crowd.
A particularly sexy brunette who wore a short skirt and a tight-fitting tank top with no bra hopped up from the table she shared with friends and began dancing. She slithered and gyrated and found her way to a wooden post where she danced like a professional stripper miming sex with the pole. One leg snaked up around the post, and she made eye contact with me, licking her red lips in a suggestive manner before she blew me a kiss. I smiled, gave her a wink, and thought, You can’t afford me, sweetheart.
Later, when I was in my room at the Oceano Hotel down the street, I scrolled through text messages from Sandy, who wanted to know when we could fuck, Cassandra, who had a few days off and wanted an extended session, Olivia, who had some new nipple clamps to try out, and a message from Holly telling me she missed me.
I texted my adoring clients, told them I was in Santa Cruz for a few days, and asked for their patience. Weirdly, it made me feel better to sink into my routine. It calmed me. Then I called Gary.
“Dude,” he said, by way of greeting. “You okay?”
“Hey buddy, can you feed Blue-ee a few more days?”
He said he would, and then I called Butch to make sure he was tucked in for the night. He sounded energized, telling me all about how nice the people at the hospital were, what great care he was getting, and how attentive Dr. Bryant was. I told him I’d see him the following morning and take him out to breakfast once he was released. After that, I planned to drop him off at San Francisco International Airport for the flight back to San Diego. I knew I had to tell him what’d happened with Rosalyn. Heck, after all those years, I had to tell somebody, and Butch always had great advice. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and the unreality of it all.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, seeing Rosalyn that day brought up feelings of how things used to be between us when they were good. I was worried about Rosalyn and wildly curious about Eugene, but still angry about how she’d shut me out of her life. Strangely, the anger mixed with a heat of passion surging through my body. God, I missed her.
That night, I surrendered to an exquisite sexual fantasy of Rosalyn as I lay there listening to the fog horn softly blowing from the open window. I thought of Rosalyn giving me a blow job with her warm mouth, her hands expertly working up and down the shaft of my cock. I imagined my mouth on Rosalyn’s sweet saltiness, feeling her swell and grow in my mouth as I nibbled her wet womanhood. The way she’d spread her legs wider, allowing me access to her slippery softness. I’d listen for the change in her breathing as I watched her throw her head to the side, calling my name, whimpering with delight, her breath coming in tiny pants, her body trembling. Finally, her pussy would clench around my fingers, those delicious contractions squeezing my wet fingers as she rode waves of pleasure. Giving myself over to the fantasy, I thought of Rosalyn on top of me while I stimulated her sweet spot with my thumb until she came again and feeling her strong contractions
around my hard cock. I could never hold back at that point.
When I was done, I smiled, endorphins happily surging through my body.
Before I fell asleep, two thoughts went through my mind.
I had a son.
And …
I was still in love with Rosalyn.
I grabbed my phone and texted her before I lost the nerve.
What’s your brilliant plan? I can’t wait to hear it.
There was a hesitation then I saw that she was typing.
How about you come over my house tomorrow afternoon? We can talk.
What time?
Around two?
What’s your address?
She gave me the address, and when I looked it up on my phone, it was right across the street from the Pleasure Point surf break.
Rosalyn and I were going to talk. Whatever that meant.
* * *
When I arrived at Stanford Hospital the following morning, Butch was being released.
He gave a little wave as I sauntered toward him. “Just giving them my John Hancock,” he said. “About a million times.” He winked. “Told you my autograph would be famous one day.”
He signed the last of the medical documents, and the administrative assistant took his paperwork then spoke into the phone to order a wheelchair.
“I can walk,” Butch said.
“Of course you can. Standard operating procedure.”
When the wheelchair arrived, instead of the usual orderly, Dr. Bryant pushed it. Butch’s eyes lit up.
“Well, hello there,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. His face turned deep crimson. “I couldn’t let my favorite patient leave without a goodbye.”
Dr. Bryant instructed me to pull my truck to the front of the hospital. By the time I retrieved the truck, set the parking brake, and jogged to his side, Butch was making jokes and chatting it up with the Doctor like they were old friends. She threw her head back and laughed at one of his dumb jokes. “Hey, Dr. Bryant, did you hear about the patient who lost the entire left side of his body?”
“Why no. What happened to him?”
“He’s all right now.”
She practically doubled over in laughter. “Oh Butch, you are a comedian. I’m going to miss you.”
“Jax, take a picture.” Butch handed me his phone, and I snapped a photo of their two smiling faces, Dr. Bryant bent over with her arms around him. She told me to take good care of my friend, and I loaded him into the truck and headed for breakfast. Butch waved to Dr. Bryant until he couldn’t see her anymore.
We found a bistro close to the airport, and after the server brought coffee and warm croissants, I took a deep breath preparing to launch into my story about Rosalyn and Eugene. “Remember how I told you I was meeting with Rosalyn yesterday?”
He buttered his croissant and said, “Who?”
“You know, the friend of the family who called.”
“Oh yeah, how’s she doing?”
“Well, are you ready for the story of the century?”
“Dude, I thought you gave me the story of the century when you told me about your stable of women.”
“This story’s better.” I leaned back in my chair. My hands shook when I picked up my mug and took a sip of cappuccino. I set the cup down and told him the whole story, starting with when I was seventeen and ending with our meeting the previous day. I told him about how we started, about Rosalyn’s “tutoring sessions,” about how I’d fallen in love with her, and even how we’d been caught by my mom. I didn’t leave anything out. As I told the story, Butch’s eyes got wider and his eyebrows crept up his forehead. He sipped more coffee and homed in on my eyes.
His voice was halting when he said, “You mean to tell me you were a virgin?”
I folded my arms. “Yep.”
“And she actually popped your cherry?”
I shoved him in the chest. “I prefer the term ‘deflowered’.”
“Well that sure explains a hell of a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Like why all those women pay you all that money. Seems like this Rosalyn person taught you a thing or two.”
My face grew hot. “Guess she did.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. That totally sucks that your mom caught you guys.” When he said that, all the air in the room vanished, and I struggled for breath. Butch said, “And you never told anybody else?”
“Tyler was the only other person who knew.”
“Didn’t you try to get in touch with her all these years?”
“‘Course I did. But she didn’t want to be found. Even made up that crazy sperm donor story so her kid wouldn’t ask questions.”
“You mean your kid.” He sat up straight, his face serious. “Jax, you’ve got a son.”
“Jesus, Butch, I don’t even know if he’s mine.”
“But you’re going to find out, right?” I nodded. “You’re still in love with her aren’t you?”
I combed my hair back with one hand and averted my gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, what the hell? She screwed me bad, leaving me like that all those years ago. Not telling me I had a son. I honestly don’t know if I can ever forgive her.”
Butch leaned forward and put his hand on my arm. “Jax, I want you to listen to me. When I was lying on the beach and in the helicopter and then getting all those tests, you want to know what I thought about?”
“What?”
“When I was afraid I might die, I started thinking about my life.”
“And?”
“And I wasn’t thinking about Butch Wolf the surfer or Butch Wolf the business owner or my retirement accounts or my surfboards or the next surf session or my house in Encinitas.” He leaned in further. “I thought about who I was as a person. Was I a good person? Did my life have a purpose? Was I making a difference? Did I take things for granted?” Butch’s eyes glazed over with tears. “Could I have given more? Did I appreciate this crazy thing we call life as much as possible? And if I had died that day, would my family and friends know how much they meant to me?” Tears welled up in Butch’s eyes. I handed him a napkin, and he dabbed his eyes.
“Jeez, you’re going to start writing for Hallmark,” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Seriously, buddy, I was scared to death you weren’t going to make it.” At that moment I realized how lucky I was to have a best friend, my health, and what could be one heck of an exciting life if I changed my attitude. But I still wasn’t sure how to frame what was happening with Rosalyn.
“Jax, you’ve got a son. You know how crazy lucky you are?”
I peered down at my hands. “I guess.”
“Did they really give her six months?
“That’s what she said.”
He exhaled. “That sucks.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “But she can’t give up. And you know what I think? You’ve got to help her. I say you talk to her, meet the boy, keep an open mind. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” Butch collapsed back in his chair. “I know I encouraged you to go for it with Holly. But none of us knew about your son. Do you know how amped I’d be if I found out I had a kid? I say you go for it.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, Jax, I do.” He stared at me for what seemed like minutes, neither one of us saying anything. Butch broke the silence with a smile. “Now, what’re you going to do about all those ladies who are begging for your services?”
“Think I should send them your way?” I said with a grin.
“Who’s going to want to pay to have sex with a peg-leg?”
I thought of Olivia and her peculiar tastes. “You never know.”
“And what about Holly?”
I fidgeted with my silverware, lining the fork, knife and spoon up in a perfect line. I glanced at Butch. “I thought we could’ve had something.”
He barked out a laugh. “I didn’t want to be the one to break this to you buddy, but if you had been in love, you never would
’ve started screwing those chicks at the Ritz.”
“Do you have to make me feel worse?”
He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You, my man, have got it made. You’re healthy, you’ve got friends, and as it turns out, you’ve got a family. Wish I could say the same.”
“But … this kid’s a stranger to me.”
“And you are to him. But your DNA runs through his veins.” He picked up his coffee cup and smiled. “I’m going to ask Summer out.”
“Who?”
“Summer from the hospital.”
“Holy shit, you mean your doctor?”
His face was split open in a wide grin. “Yep. I like her.”
“Dude, she’s too smart for you.”
“That’s okay. Maybe she can teach me a few things.”
“Plus, isn’t she geographically undesirable?”
“I could use a few trips here. And she could use a romantic getaway to Encinitas. It’s only an hour and a half flight. I like her. A lot. And I’m not afraid to tell anybody that’ll listen.”
I smiled at my friend, and in that moment it felt like maybe everything really would be okay. “Let’s order a real breakfast. These fancy croissants are okay for those model types on anorexic diets, but we need real food.”
Butch picked up his menu, frowned and said, “What’s less fattening than a sandwich?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What?”
He gave me a deadpan stare. “Half a sandwich.”
I lightly punched his arm. “Let’s order.”
We dove into the menu and ordered eggs, bacon, hash browns and pancakes with warm syrup. Then I dropped Butch off at the airport. We hugged and his body felt strong and alive. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and said, “You make sure to keep an open mind today, okay?”
I told him I would, but I still wasn’t sure how this whole thing with Rosalyn was going to turn out. My protective shield was not ready to come down, not yet.
Rosalyn
After Eugene left for school, I raced around the house throwing dirty clothes into the hamper, watering plants, brushing crumbs off of the sofa, making my bed, washing dishes, sweeping up the dry cat food that had spilled out of Leo’s bowl, and cleaning the cat box. When I got to Eugene’s room, it was the usual disaster of clothes on the floor, the overflowing wastebasket, and his Guitar Player, Kerrang! and Total Guitar magazines strewn everywhere. I just said, “Screw it,” and then gently closed the door.
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 44
