Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  As I put a teapot on the stove, I heard a knock at the door. I took a deep breath and, my heart pounding, opened the door. Leo mewed at my heels, his tail straight up in the air.

  Jax stood in the doorway, his tall athletic frame filling the space. He wasn’t smiling.

  “Hi, Rosalyn. Can I come in?”

  I moved aside, and he brushed past me. When he saw Leo, his face broke into a grin. “You still have Leo!” He bent down to pet the little guy. “He must be—”

  “Fourteen,” I said. “And never had a sick day in his life.”

  Leo purred loudly, making figure eights in and out of Jax’s legs.

  I swallowed hard. “Come in the kitchen. I put water on for tea.”

  “Nice place you got here,” he said, scanning the room. “Right across from Pleasure Point? Lucky.”

  I fidgeted with the hem of my blouse. “The landlord kind of felt sorry for me when I was pregnant, so he gave me a good deal. I’ve been here ever since I left Point Loma. And Eugene, he was born right here,” I said, indicating the living room. Jax looked at me with wide eyes, and I felt ashamed about everything he’d missed out on. “Sit down,” I said, pulling out a chair. I busied myself with herbal tea then sat opposite Jax at our small kitchen table.

  I set a locally made pottery mug full of tea, in front of him. He took a sip, set the mug down, and said, “So, Roz, haven’t seen you in thirteen years. Think we can cover what’s happened over one cup of tea, or do you have plenty of tea and cookies for our little meeting?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “Thanks for coming today. I know this is hard … but I want to tell you how happy I am you’re here.”

  “I’m listening,” he said as Leo jumped in his lap, purring and curling up into a ball.

  “Jax, I know what I did was wrong.”

  “What part of it, Rosalyn?”

  “Please don’t make this more difficult,” I said. “The whole thing.”

  “Do you regret what happened between us?”

  “No, because the Universe—”

  “Cut the Universe bullshit, Rosalyn. You and I, we both made choices.”

  I reached out my hand to touch his but he moved away. “You were young when we started—”

  “Screwing?”

  “And I should’ve known better. But dammit Jax.” I inspected him, trying not to get caught up in the mesmerizing blue of his eyes. “We both went into our relationship with eyes wide open. No matter. We’re here now.”

  He shifted in his chair, crossed one foot over his knee, and jostled Leo a bit. “I’ll tell you what I want to know,” he said. “I want to know why you never got in touch with me in all this time. Think I couldn’t have handled the truth?”

  I took a sip of tea and looked away. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Jax, I didn’t want to burden you. You were so young. And then when Eugene was born … I needed to protect him. I couldn’t tell him his dad was—that I’d taken advantage of my friend’s son.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. And then when I made up that story about the sperm donor clinic—”

  “That was a brainstorm, gotta give you credit for that one. Did you really think the kid would never question you?”

  “The kid’s name is Eugene,” I said. “When I went online and checked out those sites, it was kind of funny—”

  “Oh, I’m getting one big laugh out of it.”

  “Will you let me finish please?” I said. “They’re like dating sites. I found out that pretty much anybody who’s got the money can order up sperm based on the physical and educational characteristics they want. The places even deliver the sperm right to your front door. UPS.”

  “You gotta be kidding me.” He leaned forward, those blue eyes boring a hole through me.

  “And I figured it’d be something Eugene could never prove one way or the other. Once the lie was out there—”

  “How many more lies you got up your sleeve?”

  “Jax, I’m trying really hard here. The years just flew by. Then I found that lump, and then I tried all this stupid stuff to heal myself, and then I finally had surgery, and then—” I was talking too fast. I took a sip of tea. “Jax, I want you to get to know Eugene.”

  He stood up and stalked over to the living room window. I could practically see the anger radiating from him. “When my mom and dad died, I was just a kid! You were my best friend. More than that. I loved you and you left me without even talking to me first. How could you do that to me?” He turned away from me, looking out the window and his shoulders shook.

  “Honey, your mom was one of my best friends—”

  “I’m not your honey. Stop treating me like what happened between us was yesterday. Why did you leave me?”

  “I was trying to do the right thing.”

  “You want to know what happened after you left? I waited. And waited. And waited like some lovesick school kid who had a crush on his teacher. I kept thinking you’d come back. But you didn’t, did you?”

  There was a dullness in my chest, and I remained silent.

  “I tried to find you. Every day for that first year, I woke up thinking today is the day Rosalyn’s going to come back. But you never did. How could you be so selfish? I cried myself to sleep every night, and finally I got mad.

  “One day, I woke up, brushed myself off and decided I didn’t need you anymore. Jesus, Roz, if I’d have known I had a son …” He turned to face me, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. “And what about when Tyler was killed, Rosalyn? Why didn’t you contact me then?”

  I inhaled sharply at Tyler’s name, walked over to Jax, then put my hand on his arm. He jerked away.

  “I thought I had it bad before. I didn’t know what bad was. When my brother died, I could barely move. I lay in bed for hours staring at the ceiling, wondering how things went so bad so fast.” When he looked at me again, his eyes had turned to ice. “I had no one! No family. Nobody to cry with. Think you could’ve gotten past your selfishness for five minutes and picked up the phone? Don’t answer because I know the answer to that one.”

  “I was hurting too,” I said softly. “You weren’t the only one who lay in bed staring at the ceiling. But by then, I was pretty heavily into chemo. I thought about calling you, but what was I supposed to do? Call you and say what? Hey, guess what, let’s make things even worse in your life with cancer and a son you didn’t know you had.”

  He blinked. “I needed you.”

  “Well, here I am,” I said, spreading my arms wide.

  He collapsed on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms clasped over his stomach, and he finally seemed to soften. “Sounds like you’ve been through hell yourself. What’s happening with your health?”

  I sat in the chair opposite him, tucking my legs underneath me, and told him all about what had happened with the lump, the surgery, the chemo, and the six-month prognosis. And then I told him about the Trinity program. He didn’t interrupt me, just sat unmoving, those blue eyes unwavering. “I can’t give up. I’ve got Eugene to think about.” And for the first time since I’d reconnected with Jax, I saw that look of compassion in his eyes.

  He gave me a small smile and said, “Of course you can’t give up. How much is this Trinity program?”

  “Twenty-thousand. Cash.”

  He let out a low whistle. “You got the money?”

  “Part of it.”

  “And the rest?”

  “I’m thinking of getting a loan.”

  “From?”

  “From my boss at work.” I told him all about my job as a physical therapist. “I’m still working part time in between all my health issues. I’ve been planning on asking the owner of the company to loan me the money.” I hid my face in my hands and peeked out at Jax. “But that’s a long shot.” I dropped my hands into my lap. “Otherwise, I could go to the bank but I don’t know if they’d loan to a person who may not be around to collect from in six months.”

  “And if your boss w
on’t loan you the money?”

  “Then I’ll figure something out.”

  Jax just stared at me, unblinking. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s get some fresh air. I need to check out the waves.”

  We walked across the street to Pleasure Point, and as I stood on the cliff overlooking the ocean, the sheer drop of the beige boulders, with the multitude of surfers in the lineup, Jax standing next to me, it almost felt like old times, and I was filled with nostalgia at what was and what could never be.

  “Damn. You’ve got it made,” he said as he scanned the horizon, probably looking for the next set of waves. We watched as a head-high wave rolled through. Five surfers jockeyed for position, two paddling harder than the rest, one riding the wave right, one riding the wave left. “Pleasure Point. Know how many times I’ve been in Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay over the past decade?”

  As we walked, Jax told me about the Big Wave World Tour. I’d been following everything he’d been doing, but I didn’t want to sound like a stalker, so I let him talk. “I’m one of twelve regulars on the tour.”

  “Out of all the surfers in the world they only pick twelve? That’s no small feat,” I said.

  He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

  I shook my head. “Yes it is. Most people who don’t know much about surfing always think of Laird Hamilton and those big waves. I’ll bet they think, ‘Yeah, it’s extreme, but that’s just what surfers do.’”

  He smiled. “It’s what this surfer does. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I knew a little bit about big wave surfing from all the times I’d stalked Jax in cyberspace. Big wave surfing is a sport that requires a rare combination of top physical conditioning, laser beam mental focus, planning, dedication, and yes, maybe a bit of crazy. I had the utmost respect for what Jax did.

  “I worry about you sometimes,” I said. “Those waves are dangerous.”

  He glanced at me then looked at the ocean again. “I’m okay. I train and prepare.” His eyes were warm when he looked at me. “So, why don’t you tell me what you have in mind with Eugene?”

  I’d been preparing my speech for days and crossed my fingers that he would be receptive.

  Jax touched my arm and ushered me to a bench. “Sit. Life’s always better when you’re sitting down overlooking the ocean.”

  We sat side by side on the bench. “Well, what I was thinking is this: I’ll talk to Eugene and tell him that an old friend is visiting from Point Loma—”

  “Encinitas. I live in Encinitas now.”

  “Encinitas,” I said. “I’ll tell him that you were the son of my friend Lydia, and I was hoping that maybe you’d stay with us. I’ll make up the sofa for you, and you’ll get to know Eugene.” I studied Jax for a reaction. His mouth formed a firm line.

  “And then what?” he said. “When are you going to break the news about who his dad is?” He leaned forward, put both elbows on his knees and said, “How do I even know that I’m his dad?”

  “When you meet him, you’ll know.” I left it at that. “And you can do the math yourself. Eugene’s thirteen. Think I would’ve gotten laid the second I got here?”

  “Your sex drive’s pretty high, if memory serves.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it is,” I said. “Are you in, or are you out?”

  And at that phrase he laughed. “Jesus, I haven’t heard the famous Rosalyn Richards ‘are you in or are you out’ in years.”

  “You have to let me break it to him in my own way,” I said. “He’s really sensitive.”

  “Kid’s probably tougher than you think. So, that’s it? You want me to stay with you guys and then what?”

  “And then we’ll figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Are we just going to do another ‘Rosalyn flies by the seat of her pants’ routine?”

  “Please, Jax. Help me with this, okay?”

  He looked at me for what seemed like hours, both of us waiting for the other to say something, and he finally said, “Okay, I’ll meet Eugene and stay with you two for a few days. That’s all I can promise right now.”

  When he left me, he said he’d call that night. “Can’t believe you still have Leo,” he said before he put his truck in gear and drove away.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I prayed that he and Eugene would get along. After he left, I went into my bedroom and picked up one of my favorite crystals to perform a healing meditation for the union of father and son. Then, after a few deep breaths, I set the crystal aside because I wasn’t sure I believed in the healing power of crystals anymore.

  Jax

  After I left Rosalyn’s house, I drove to Shark’s Cove in Santa Cruz, waxed up my board, and paddled out into solid six-foot hollow lefts. Then I went back to the Oceano Hotel. Surfing usually calmed me, but even those gorgeous waves couldn’t keep my emotions at bay.

  I was worried about Rosalyn. When I was with her, I had tried to keep a calm demeanor, and hell, I was still mad about the fact that she’d lied all these years, but when she told me all about her cancer and how serious it was and then told me about this Trinity program … well, the whole thing seemed like a long shot.

  I had agreed to stay at her house, but for how long? And what the hell did I know about raising kids? But if it was true that I was Eugene’s dad, then I had to help however I could.

  Rosalyn didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t think she’d be too thrilled to find out how I made my living. I smiled wryly, thinking about how it came to be that I was so good at pleasing women.

  Rosalyn.

  I felt myself falling under Rosalyn’s spell, and I tried to stop it. When we’d walked through the park at Pleasure Point, I felt her warmth and inhaled that wonderful sandalwood scent that made me delirious with desire. Being with her at the beach that day reminded me of all those times we’d strolled along Sunset Cliffs together, just being. Just walking and enjoying each other’s company. At the time, it seemed both of us were always thinking about what was only four blocks away—Rosalyn’s apartment with the comfy bed and the sex toys and the warm coconut oil that she liked to slather all over me, her sensuous mouth kissing as she stroked and teased. I had to stop thinking those thoughts because things were different now.

  Rosalyn was dying.

  I couldn’t believe that after all these years—wasted years when we could have been together—I had finally found her just to lose her again.

  All those years we’d been separated I tried to convince myself that I was okay. I lived the dream of surfing big waves all over the world, and I had a bevy of beauties who were more than happy to be my hot sex partners. I took care of those women. I romanced them with flowers, wine, and long, slow, passionate sex deep into the night. One of my specialties was bringing these gorgeous women to the romantic coves in the Southern California beaches. There, after a bonfire for two under a star-studded sky, including plenty of heated kissing and caressing, I would put my arm around them and gently usher them to the rocky areas where the tide rushed in and out. I had my favorite spot, one with flat rocks where I knew we’d be safe, and I would slowly undress them, gaze into their eyes, and make love to them pinned up against the cliffs as the waves pounded on the rocks.

  But it was never the same as it was with Rosalyn because I never allowed myself to fall in love. I used my extensive travel with surfing as an excuse, and most of the women seemed to relent to the fact that a pro-surfer just didn’t have time for a relationship. We didn’t, right? Well, maybe we did for the right woman.

  Rosalyn.

  If all went according to plan, I’d be checking out of the Oceano Hotel the following day. Meanwhile, I took advantage of the minibar and cracked open a cold Heineken, settled in on the bed, fired up my laptop, and googled Trinity. I took a sip of beer and read. The Trinity Institute was a nonprofit organization in San Diego, but the clinic was located in Tijuana. I spent the next hour reading testimonials, blogs, and even a writ
e-up from the American Cancer Society which said mostly good things about the treatment but didn’t take a stand one way or another.

  I finally snapped my laptop shut, finished off my beer, and sank back into the pillows of my bed. I felt a bit selfish for the harsh way I’d treated Rosalyn. The poor woman was fighting for her life. Yes, I had suffered after Rosalyn left and after Tyler was killed, and I was still mad at Rosalyn for lying to me, but I felt chagrined. My body was healthy, and when it came right down to it, what did I really have going on in my life that was so terrible? Thinking about Butch, whose life could’ve easily been cut short, the fact that any one of us—especially big wave surfers—could suffer the same fate, and then thinking about Rosalyn having to go through all she’d been through without anyone to help made me more than sad.

  The phone rang, waking me out of my reverie. It was Rosalyn.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey, yourself. So, I talked to Eugene tonight.”

  “And?”

  “You have to understand, he’s not used to having people stay with us.”

  “Don’t you guys have friends or family?” During our time together before, Rosalyn had told me she wasn’t close to her hippy parents.

  “Of course. I’ve got friends at work, and Eugene has friends from school. But as far as family—”

  I thought about how Rosalyn, Eugene, and I, like it or not, were a family. “We’ve kind of been on our own as adults, haven’t we?”

  “Guess we’ve had to make our own, families, right?” she said.

  “Right.”

  “So, Eugene was kind of surprised when I told him we’d be having a house guest.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Just that we hadn’t seen each other in a lot of years, that we were close when I lived in Point Loma because I was such good friends with your mom, and that you were a pro-surfer who was visiting the area. He’s pretty excited about the surfer part because he’s been bugging me to let him surf for years,” she said. “He’s kind of mad at me because I won’t let him.”