by JA Huss
The black eye was the only thing she came back with. There were no supplies—which we didn’t need anyway. It felt like we were island-hopping like the old days instead of making our way to the West Coast of America. We had plenty of supplies. Hell, the actual ocean crossing hadn’t even started yet. But there were no guns, either.
Which means she went to see Matthew on Wallis for information.
Information she didn’t share with me.
I didn’t ask. So it’s not like she’s keeping shit from me on purpose.
I just don’t want to know.
I don’t think I need to know.
Alec is alive. I know that much. And maybe that’s all I need to know?
But as we approach Hilo this detachment I’ve settled into over the past few months begins to make me nervous. Not that something bad will happen—bad shit happens all the fucking time—but that her purpose, like her, is maybe a little bit too reckless and perhaps we need an actual plan.
So when she gives me the slip on Hilo to make her phone call I do the same.
She goes that way, I go this way and it takes me seven calls, actually, to find Russ. But on the pay phone outside a little bar called Alika’s, which I kinda like the sound of, I finally get him.
“Danny Fortnight,” Russell says. It comes out sardonic, but I don’t take it personally. Last time I saw Russell and his crew we’d just stolen a couple hundred thousand dollars from them.
“Hey, Russell. You’re pretty fuckin’ hard to find these days, aren’t ya?”
“You know me,” he says, his British accent clipped. “Always here, never anywhere. Whatcha need, mate?”
“How much have you heard?”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” he drawls out. The world is kinda big, but our world is actually pretty small. “Yup.”
“Which means… everything?” I laugh.
“I heard you three might be back together. Should I be worried?”
“Hmm,” I say.
“What?”
“We’re not quite back together yet. Which means you haven’t heard. Fuck, man, I was really hoping you had some info for me.”
“Info? Well, I can always scrounge something up if you really need it. But it’ll cost you.”
“I got money. But I don’t got time. Russell, I’m sorta in the middle of something.”
“Oh, yeah. I did hear about that.”
“What?”
“Brasil, yeah? Oh, everyone knows about that.”
“No, not Brasil. Not yet, anyway. And I don’t need info on that shit.”
“Then what?”
“Christine.”
He laughs. And it’s not sardonic, either. It’s possibly a little bit sympathetic. “Nothing ever changes with you three.”
“Nothing ever changes with anyone,” I reply back.
“True. But…” He kinda laughs again. It’s clipped and curt. “What about Christine could I know that you don’t?”
“I’m missing the past four years.”
“Oh, right. That.”
“And she’s keeping a secret. Something about Alec. You know anything about that?”
I can almost hear him think for a moment and then shrug. “Not any more than you do, probably.”
“Seriously? I mean… Alec and Eliza—”
“No, mate. Sorry. Can’t tell you anything.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Does it matter? I’m not gonna give anything out about Eliza. So you can just tell Alec, ‘Nice try.’ But—”
“It’s not Alec, it’s me. Alec is… missing.”
There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone.
Eliza is his sister. They’re a crew of five. Eliza, Russell, Theo, and the twins, Brenden and Charlie.
“Why don’t you just ask Christine?”
“I already told you, she’s keeping a secret.”
“Yeah, well… sorry, Fortnight. Can’t help you there.”
I think about that for a moment.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“Alec? No. Been a couple years, actually.” I’m silent again so he says, “What’s going on, mate?”
“I don’t know.”
“I find that highly unlikely, Danny. It’s your lot. You know more than nothing. Tell me and maybe I’ll try a little harder to scrounge up whatever details you’re missing.”
“Is Eliza there?”
“Bru,” he says, mimicking Alec in a way that hurts me. “Already said, not gonna say. But I’ll tell you what. Give me a contact number and I’ll look into Alec’s, uh, whereabouts. With the understanding that if I find anything, the price for the information will be what you stole from us.”
Two hundred and fifty grand. It’s not a lot of money in the grand scheme of things. Not to him, not to me. And it’s not like I didn’t know he was gonna ask for it back when I made this call. But it feels kinda wrong for some reason. Like I’m betraying Alec and Christine by giving it back.
“Done,” I say. Because I really have a bad feeling about this whole thing. What could possibly make Christine turn on Alec the way she did? What?
“Brilliant,” Russell says. “Where can I reach ya?”
“Same way as always,” I say.
“I’ve tried that a few times,” he says. “Never worked out.”
“It’ll work next time, don’t worry.”
“Right then,” he says. “I’ll let you know.”
“Right. I’m gonna be out of touch for the next week or so, but if you miss me, I’ll call you back at this number when we reach port.”
Russell tsks his tongue. “Fuckin’ Triangle. Jesus. Never changes. Just get a bleedin’ jet, mate.”
“Later,” I say, ending the call.
I don’t know if I trust the guy. We did steal money from them. But they’ve stolen from us too. And yeah, to most people this is a big red flag. But stealing on our level is more of a gentleman’s sport than a crime. I mean, everything we stole from each other was already stolen in the first place, so it’s not personal.
“Danny?” I turn to find Christine looking at me, perplexed. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner reservations. Remember that place we went to last time we were here?”
She crinkles her nose. Yup. She remembers.
“I didn’t make them there.”
She tries to hide a smile.
“I made them at the yacht club. It’s been a while, ya know?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“So what do ya say? Wanna go on a date with me tonight?”
She tilts her head, eyeing me suspiciously. “What’s gotten in to you?”
I shrug. “I dunno. Just… maybe things’ll be OK.”
She nods. Slowly. “They will, Danny.”
“Good,” I say, pulling her close to me. I slip my hands around her hips and lean in for a kiss. She kisses me back immediately. Whatever hesitation she was feeling a few moments ago is gone now. It’s one of those kisses that are filled with longing and sadness. The kind where you can’t quite make eye contact. Where there’s a little bit of Don’t do this but a little bit more of Keep going.
Funny, now that I think about it. Because back at my apartment that first day I was the one doing the Don’t do this, keep going thing, not her.
I feel like that’s just how it is when Alec’s missing. So much push and pull. Too much hesitation. Just enough surrender.
Because we can’t help it.
At least I can’t help it.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand and leading her across the street to some boutiques. “Let’s look the part tonight.”
We shop separately. Her idea. She wants to surprise me.
And that’s OK. Everything seems OK right now.
Not excellent. Not terrible. But OK. And ya know, sometimes OK is OK. You gotta take what you can get, when you can get it.
So that’s what I do.
> I didn’t actually make reservations at the yacht club so I do that while I wait to be fitted for a suit. We’re not members anymore, but we were once and it’s enough to get a table.
Funny how it feels like those missing years never happened. How I didn’t stop going out to dinner because she was missing from my life. How I didn’t morph into someone else while she was away.
And maybe I should feel guilty about that. Taking her out in Alec’s absence. But I don’t. He had her to himself for four years. Four perfect years.
So I rationalize. I deserve one night.
The Holo Moana Yacht Club is small and private. One of the reasons we always liked to stop at this marina. They have a few private bungalows on the south side that they only let out to international members passing through. White sandy beaches in front with tall, sideways-leaning palm trees and enough lush jungle around to make you forget the city is close by. That alone was was worth the yearly dues to Alec. He had places like this all over the world. It’s like the whole planet was his home—and by extension, our home.
It occurs to me in this moment just how many memories we made those years we were together. More than a lifetime’s worth. Several lifetimes, maybe.
For the first time in almost two weeks I let my guard down and think about him. Wonder what he’s doing right now.
Is he still alive?
Christine thinks he is—and that’s why we’re heading back to the West Coast—but she’s been cagy about what she knows and how she knows it.
I trust her. She’s been right about impossible shit before.
But she’s been wrong before too.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my new slacks and stare out at the water. No sunsets on this side of the island, but there’s a reflection of light in the smattering of clouds that kinda tints the whole world orange and pink.
“What are you thinking about?”
I turn to find Christine walking down the dock. Smile on her face. Long, bronze limbs striking against her short white dress. Dark hair catching the reflected sunset, setting off red and gold highlights that only show up in moments like this.
Her body moves seductively and it reminds me that she’s a killer. She prowls through life like a lioness. Stalking, and hunting, and completely at ease with her natural instincts.
I want to twirl her around, lead her back to the yacht, and fuck her brains out on the deck under the light of a half moon and a million stars.
We haven’t done that yet. Not since Alec disappeared. We’ve been too focused on fixing things.
But it’s gonna happen tonight.
“Alec,” I say, replying to her question.
She pouts her lips — which drives me mad with lust — and sighs.
“I just…” I start to say. “I just hope he’s OK.”
She presses her lips together and nods. “He is. I know he is.”
She says this all the time but I can’t make out if it’s wishful thinking, or actual knowledge, or a mantra she recites to keep going.
And I don’t want to ask too many questions right now because I’m not ready for too many answers.
Tomorrow, I decide. When we leave tomorrow I’ll be ready for answers. I just need this one night to draw a line. Some kind of clear boundary between then, and now, and what’s yet to be.
“You look handsome tonight,” she says, taking my hand in hers and swinging it a little. “We should get a picture.”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling out my phone. “We should.”
“Hey!” she calls to a marina staff member. “Excuse me! Do you mind taking a picture?”
The teenager stops and looks at us. Then smiles, takes the phone and the picture.
But what she hands back is more than a phone and much more than a picture. It’s documentation that we really happened. Something that can’t be erased by bullets or forgotten by separation.
This picture might be the only one in existence of just Christine and me.
“We look damn good,” Christine says.
“Yeah, we do,” I mumble, studying the perfect couple we make.
Her, leggy and tan in her short loose dress.
Me, all broad shoulders and big biceps the perfectly-tailored, light gray jacket can’t hide.
I look massive and strong next to her wraith-like frame. And she looks fragile.
How easy it is to believe this lie.
We always counted on that, of course. Our marks never saw Christine coming back then. Just a gum-cracking teenage girl. Sometimes she even had pigtails.
But there was always a gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Always.
“Oh, I love it,” Christine whispers. “Send it to me.”
I grin down at the screen, fingers tapping keys and buttons until that little whoosh sound happens. Her phone chimes the incoming photo and just like that, we’re connected again.
Not that we’ve ever been untethered, because there is no way to break that link. But we’ve been apart and tonight feels like the night we’re bonded again. This picture feels like the beginning of us.
Not we. Not three.
But just us.
The way it used to be.
And even though I miss Alec and there’s nothing that will keep me from finding him, I like this. I like how Christine and I make the perfect pair.
Time does that, I decide. It really does change things.
“Ahh,” Christine sighs. “I love it so much.”
I lean in and kiss her neck, allowing myself to enjoy her scent and her softness. She’s not often soft. Not anymore. So this is another sign that we’ve both gone back in time as we’ve moved forward over the past several months.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s go inside.”
She smiles the whole night. The entire night is nothing but grins, and easy laughs, and a comfortable settling in to the newness of the next step in our journey.
We order the prettiest sushi. Dozens of rolls wrapped in seaweed, and cucumber, and filled with rice, and avocado, and tuna, and salmon. Some of them are works of art, almost too pretty to eat.
We laugh, and drink a little, and talk about the trip. Not the destination, just the journey. We talk about sails, and wind, and storms, and waves. We reminisce about other ocean crossings over wine and dessert, which is a pink guava mousse encased in a tiny, dark-chocolate cup.
I feel like we’re normal. Just two people in love.
And I don’t think I’ve ever had that feeling before. I didn’t think it’d ever be possible to feel normal.
Still, it’s just an illusion. I know this. The whole thing is a dream and tomorrow, when the salty mist of the sea hits us and the sun bakes the deck until it’s too hot to walk barefoot, we’ll have to put on shoes. We’ll have to put on sunglasses and hats. We’ll have to get out practical things like Chapstick and a few days from now we’ll be straining our eyes looking for land. Wishing for a real shower, and the stillness that comes from a bed not rocked by the motion of waves.
We’ll be over it.
We’ll be ready.
But we’re not there yet.
We still have tonight.
“Thank you,” Christine says as we slowly walk the length of the dock back to the boat. “I needed this more than I realized.”
“Which part?” I ask through a smile.
“All the parts. The new dress, the photo, the dinner, the drinks, the dessert…” She sighs. “I’d forgotten we used to live like this.”
I parse that last statement as I help her onto the yacht, totally getting her point but wanting to know more at the same time.
“Lived like this… as in you and me? Or lived like this with Alec?”
She turns her back to me, the wind picking up her hair as she stares out at the ocean. “Both, I guess.” She faces me again, soft smile on her serene face. “We’re gonna get him back.”
“I know,” I lie. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. Not really. The answers she
came back with when she left me back in the Cook Islands weren’t definitive.
“But it’s OK to enjoy tonight, ya know?”
Oh.
I mean, that was my plan, but I didn’t know if she was thinking the same thing or if this was just a nice distraction.
She reaches for my tie, fingertips nimbly climbing the length of it until she gets to the knot and begins to loosen it away from my neck. She gazes up at me as she pulls it through my collar and drops it onto the nearby chair. She drags the jacket down my shoulders and drops that onto the chair as well.
It wasn’t that long ago that I’d have stopped her. I’d have insisted that this wasn’t what we are.
But it is what we are. This is who we are. A couple connected.
And I am gonna fuck her tonight.
It will take me two seconds to get her naked. Two more to sit her down on the overstuffed deck chair and spread her legs open. One second after that my tongue will lick her pussy and the whole thing will begin.
But I don’t want to rush it.
She must not either because she pulls my white shirt out of my pants and begins to slowly unbutton it from the bottom, her eyes locked on mine as her fingers open me up and the warm wind blows across my bare chest.
She unbuttons the shirt cuffs next. My diamond cufflinks disappearing. Some secret pocket of hers, or maybe she drops them onto a cushion. Doesn’t matter. They mean nothing to me. Diamonds have no value in our world. They are things we use, and steal, and trade for favors. And they don’t belong here in this moment. Because time is the only thing with value right now. Time is the only thing we can’t use, or steal, or trade. And I don’t want to waste any of it thinking about diamonds.
I close my eyes when she drags her nails over my shoulders, pulling the shirt down my arms. She lets it hang there, billowing out behind me in the tropical breeze as she begins to kiss my chest. I picture her lips on my tattoos. And when I open my eyes again she’s dragging her mouth across a red skull with black eyes.
“There’s something dark about you, Danny,” she says.
I nod. Because there is. There are lots of really dark things about me. Things she probably thinks she knows, but doesn’t.
