03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales (20 page)

“She’s the surfing consultant,” Shayla
announced boldly, glaring at her.

“Oh,” her tone changed, and she pulled me
aside to confess, “I’m scared of the water… I need all the advice I
can get.”

The girls all seemed most interested in
Shayla, eyeing her with curious speculation. I could hear them
muttering amongst themselves about how she had been brought to the
island in a specially chartered jet and helicoptered in at the last
minute. They seemed annoyed that they’d had to fly commercial, and
take a long hot bus ride to get here.

If Shayla heard them, she didn’t show it,
“Marina! Come check it out!” I followed her to the edge of a large
indoor pond that was on the other side of the reception desk. As
soon as we reached the water’s edge we attracted the attention of a
school of huge koi fish, mouths gaping and smacking at the air as
they begged for food. We offered them our fingers to gum and were
squealing with laughter when a waiter from the restaurant kindly
brought us out some fish food for them.

I watched them greedily devour the floating
pellets, jostling for position and thrusting themselves out of the
water on top of each other. Their iridescent scales and colorful
flashes of red and gold reminded me of Lorelei twisting and
tumbling in the waves. All at once I missed surfing alongside her
with a hard ache that hit me square in the chest. Images of the
past flashed through my mind; joyful memories of gliding on my
surfboard, laughing as the three mermaids wove in and out of the
waves beneath my feet.

When the shuttle pulled up in front I sprang
to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder, “Let’s get to the
beach!”

We took our seats and bounced along merrily,
grinning broadly whenever our eyes met. The bumpy road we took
pierced the heart of a lush rain forest that vibrated with every
known shade of green. Luscious exotic flowers hung from vines like
colorful jewelry, and giant bamboo stalks soared skyward, towering
over the guava and passionfruit trees that crowded the narrow
passageway. Glimpses of deep blue sea peeked through the foliage,
and bottomless gulches with thundering waterfalls lurked under the
narrow bridges we traversed. We finally pulled off the road and
descended to a beach unlike anything I’d ever seen.

It was a perfect crescent, ringed by craggy
rocks with a graceful arch off to one side. It reminded me of many
of the remote little coves that Lorelei had taken me to, only the
sand was black! Shayla and I looked at each other with excited eyes
and rushed to get out of our seats.

There was already a camera crew milling about
by the shore with giant umbrella light reflectors, and a pop-up
tent was in place for wardrobe and makeup. A variety of colorful
surfboards were leaning up against a food service truck with a
bunch of guys hanging around it. They all stood at attention as the
models piled out of the shuttle.

Shayla took my arm, “C’mon, let’s go get you
a swimsuit!” she said, dragging me into the tent. They were
expecting her, and she repeated her story about me being a surf
coach that had just been specially flown in. To my surprise, no one
in the wardrobe department questioned her, handing me a dozen or so
suits to try.

Shayla winked at me as I headed for the
dressing room screen, whispering, “BS, courtesy of my first
stepdad!”

I picked the suit I deemed most likely to
stay on, wriggling into it. It was barer than I liked, scooping low
in front with peekaboo cutouts and decorative brass rings I could
have lived without. It would have to do. Beggars can’t be choosers,
I reminded myself.

Shayla and the other models were gathered
together for hair and makeup, and I slipped out of the tent to
check out the beach. The black sand was coarse between my toes,
made up entirely of ground up lava rock. You could see tubes where
the lava had flowed down to the shore, and black rocks peeked out
from the creeping green forest that was doing its best to cover
every square inch of earth.

I stood at the water’s edge, delighted by the
warm ocean lapping at my feet. It felt like bathwater, and I
shivered with anticipation. Unfortunately, the waves were not at
all what I’d hoped for. They were small and mushy, breaking
directly onto the shore. Even body surfing was pretty much out of
the question. I sighed heavily, echoing the soft whoosh of the
ocean. Hopefully, there was better surf elsewhere on the
island.

One thing I
could
do was swim, so I
picked my way around a few sections of jagged lava, wading through
the foam to get into deeper water. The warm saltwater felt great,
surrounding me like a soft blanket, and I wished Ethan was beside
me to feel it too. I dove under, opening my eyes to see the blurry
outlines of a jagged reef below. The seafloor dropped off rapidly,
disappearing completely into a black void.

I swam out further, and once I cleared the
edge of the crescent, powerful ocean currents started pulling me
away, making it difficult for me to stay even with the mouth of the
cove. I was a little alarmed, and I started to tread water,
catching my breath for the swim back in.

“
I can hear her,
” a voice rang
out.

I froze in the water, looking around. I was
alone, and rapidly being swept further out to sea.

“
No, it can’t be
,” another voice said.
This time I put my head under the surface, looking around for
mermaids. I couldn’t see anything but a deep bottomless sea.

“
Listen to her!
”

A shiver of fear ran through me. Was I losing
my mind? A surge of adrenaline set my pulse racing, and I put my
head down and swam as hard as I could, barely making any progress.
I stopped, gasping for breath.

“
Try it now
,” an urgent voice called
out. I put my head down and swam again until I managed to get out
of the current. Once I got back into the cove I bobbed in the
swells, resting and deciding how to maneuver into shore. I closed
my eyes and concentrated, listening for the voices to return, but
they were gone. I finally looked up to see a crowd had gathered on
the beach. I rode in on a large swell, avoiding the jagged lava to
catch my footing on the pebbly rocks. I was wringing out my
ponytail as I waded in, surprised to find Shayla running up to me
with a panicked look on her face.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she cried. There
were three big guys behind her with their boards, and a group of
models stood off to the side watching them. I recognized Gabe, a
friend of Kimo’s I hadn’t seen since we’d surfed together in
California. He had the same scared look on his face as Shayla. I
noticed his arm was in a cast.

“I’m fine,” I told her, “Hey Gabe! How are
you? I smiled, a little embarrassed about my revealing suit. I
remembered the fun times we’d spent surfing together, and I was
genuinely happy to see him.

“I’m good,” he said scratching his head,
looking a bit bemused, “We were just about to come and rescue
you.”

“Oh… thanks anyway,” I nodded, looking out of
the cove, “It is kind of scary out there.”

“You can say that again!” he said, looking at
me like I was crazy.

“Marina, this beach is dangerous!” Shayla
said, “They just warned us to stay out of the water! I guess we’re
only here for black sand shots.” She handed me a towel, “They said
some tourist chick got swept out and drowned two days ago!”

“Didn’t you see the warning?” Gabe pointed at
a sign posted at the beach entrance, a swimmer in a circle with a
slash through it. I’d been so focused on getting to the water I’d
completely missed it.

I shrugged and shook my head no, sorry I’d
worried everyone, “What happened to your arm?”

“Skateboarding,” he said sheepishly, “Gotta
have something to do when it’s dumping.”

I turned to look back out at the sea that had
nearly pulled me away, and remembered the voices echoing inside my
head. I got a sudden chill despite the warm tropical sun.

Shayla was apologetic, “I’m sooo sorry! I
totally
didn’t see it either. We’re gonna do the surfing
shots at the next beach!”

“It’s not your fault.” I blotted my face and
arms with the towel, “I’m alright.” The crowd dispersed, wandering
back to watch the photo shoot that was taking place further up the
beach.

“I don’t know what
they
were all
worried about,” I overheard one model say to another, “She’s like,
the surfing consultant.”

When we pulled up to the next beach Shayla
peered out the window and smiled wide, “Way, way, better… check out
that gnarly break!”

I looked out across a long stretch of salt
and pepper sand to see the beautiful line of a surfable wave, a
perfect right hander.

This time, Shayla went to wardrobe while I
went straight for the prop surfboards, picking through the pile to
see if I could find a couple of suitable ones. The production crew
had spared no expense, and it looked as though they’d cleaned out a
surf shop. Gabe came over to talk with me, introducing me to his
friends, who were all local surfers that had been hired to provide
“atmosphere” in the form of backdrops for the bikini clad
models.

“Marina shredded in Santa Cruz with me and
Kimo,” he told his friends, and I could see them raise a few
eyebrows skeptically. Apparently I didn’t look like I was capable
of much in the way of surfing.

“Speak of the Devil,” said one of them,
nodding towards the gravel lot.

A screamingly bright yellow Lamborghini
pulled up with a cloud of dust and two men stepped out. I
recognized the passenger immediately.

“Kimo!” Gabe waved to him, pointing at me. He
lowered his head as if to draw a bead on me and I saw the white
flash of his smile as he came sprinting across the sand. Uh-oh, I
thought, Ethan will never believe I didn’t set this up.

“Marina!” before I could say anything he
grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off my feet and shaking me to
and fro. “Whachu doin’ here?” he cried, squeezing me again before
putting me down.

“Getting crushed to death, apparently!” I
scolded him, catching my breath.

He threw his head back and laughed, and I
couldn’t help but join in. The driver of the gaudy sports car
sauntered his way across the sand, approaching us with a
self-assured walk. He had longish streaked brown hair and like
Kimo, wore board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. His eyes were
concealed behind mirrored sunglasses. He approached our group and
all the other surfers rushed to welcome him with fist bumps and
back slaps.

When he made his way through the gauntlet of
greetings he approached us, scanning the beach like he owned
it.

Kimo gestured to him, “Marina, ya know Matt
Stone.”

I held out my hand politely, “I’m sorry, but
I don’t think we’ve met.”

His face registered puzzlement, and the crowd
of surfers burst into laughter. Now I was confused.

“You know… Matt Stone… the
actor
,”
Gabe prompted me.

“Oh,” I said, “What kind of acting do you
do?”

Now the crowd around us really started
cracking up, and I looked around self-consciously. All the models
seemed to be watching us, no doubt riveted by the appearance of the
taxi yellow sports car. Matt didn’t look too happy, and I reeled
back a little, not in on the joke.

Kimo wiped his eyes, full of mirth at his
friend’s discomfort, “Don’t take it personal brah– Marina’s not
your everyday kine surfer girl.”

Matt flashed a perfect smile and lifted his
glasses, twinkling his baby blues at me as though I’d suddenly know
him. I looked around in desperation.

“Didn’t you see ‘Tropical Thunderbolt’?”
asked Gabe. I shook my head no.

“It was like, the biggest movie last year!”
another surfer blurted out.

“Oh, I see,” I smiled with relief, “I was in
India most of last year… I guess I missed it.”

They all seemed perplexed, and I was starting
to feel a little odd, but I shrugged it off. I turned to Kimo,
“What are you doing here?”

Now Kimo looked at me like I was crazy, “Dis
my home! What are
you
doin here? Are you a swimsuit model
now?”

I blushed, tightening the towel around my
waist, “Not me! I’m here to surf. Do you remember Shayla?” I turned
around to wave her over. She came scurrying up nervously, sporting
a miniscule tiger print bikini; by the look on her face it was
clear
she
knew who Matt Stone was.

“Hey Kimo,” she said, unable to keep her eyes
from darting over to Matt, “Are you modeling in the photo
shoot?”

“Naw, me an Matt come to spark the view.”

“Do what?” I asked.

He smiled down at me with amusement, laughing
his hearty laugh again, dark eyes lit with sparkling humor.

“Uhm, Shayla, this is Matt,” I said. She
looked too awestruck to speak, and he cocked his head at me, as if
to let me know this was the expected response to his
wonderfulness.

A photographer came trotting up, “Shayla!
Let’s get some shots of you on the board now!” This was the moment
we’d been waiting for. We looked at each other and squealed. I
handed her a board and untied the towel, laying it alongside my
bag. We hit the water before the guys even had the chance to kick
off their flip flops.

The waves weren’t massive, but they were
beautifully formed, and just what the doctor ordered. The
photographer took up a position on the beach with a long lens on
his camera and started shooting away as we took wave after wave. I
did end up coaching Shayla, pointing out which ones to take to give
her the best possible photo ops. It felt like we had the whole
ocean to ourselves and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. We
rested on our boards between sets, perfectly content.

“
She’s a wave rider! She must be the
one!
”