Rock the Boat (13 page)

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they’re my favorite,” she admits while staring at the walkway in front of her instead of at me like she was. Shy Lark has made a reappearance.

“Yours make me think of Cookie Monster.”

“What?” she says with a laugh. “I compare you to the beautiful water and you compare me to a Muppet?”

“It could be worse. If they were brown, I could have said the shit emoji on my phone.” She turns away from me, her expression a mixture of shock and humor. Consider this a test of sorts, if she’s the real deal, she’ll have a sense of humor. I can’t take uptight chicks who worry more about acting genuine than being genuine. Some qualities you can’t fake. A sense of humor is one of them. “It’s not so bad.”

“Are we really talking about Muppets and poop on our first date? And if we are, then I’ll have to stop complimenting you so much and throw some digs instead.”

“Darlin’ it wouldn’t be a date without a little fun.”

“Speaking of fun, where are you taking me? Are we even allowed back here?” Lark questions, as I walk behind one of the small food tents on the back side of the island. “Everyone else is staying near the docks.”

“Do you always play by the rules?”

“Usually, I like to stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll get you in all kinds of trouble.” She squeals when I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, her bag falling in the sand next to the walking path. I leave it because we’re near the palm trees I was taking her to.

Setting her down in the sand, I pick up the long stick resting against the tree, poking at the coconuts overhead. “Wait! Let me move before you knock me out.”

“Good thinking, I usually do this solo.” I poke at the first one I can reach, it easily falling onto the ground. “Hang on a second,” I tell Lark, as I pick up the coconut and take it to the hut on the other side of the path. Once inside, I crack it open the way Aki taught me before putting two straws into the milk.

Lark spots me as soon as I walk out of the hut, her eyes lighting up when she sees the straws inside the coconut. “Is it safe to drink?”

“Yeah, I do it every week. Pretend we’re in
Castaway
. Tom Hanks would have died on that island without the coconuts.”

“That was a movie. I don’t think it counts. He would have lived regardless.”

“Touché. If this were real life right now, you’d be thankful for this thing.”

“This is real life,” she reminds me, cautiously. Her mood slightly dampened by my thoughtless comment. Even my subconscious isn’t sure about what I’m doing.

“Right, what I meant was, soon you’ll see the staff walking around with expensive frozen alcohol in a coconut shell, but this is as real as it gets.” She may or may not buy my lame ass cover-up, but if it doesn’t put the smile back on her face, I’ll have to figure out another way.

She stays quiet as she drinks, poking her straw at the thick band of white pulp inside the shell. “You mentioned rules, have you ever been arrested? Or is that a rocker myth—that you’re all in and out of jail at one point or another.”

Her question wasn’t what I was expecting, and I have to think about how honestly I want to answer her. “I’ve been arrested three times in my life. The first was a drunken night on tour in Paris. I was out of hand, the bar exploded into a fight, and the next thing I knew, I was being hauled into the back of a cop car with the most obnoxious siren on the planet. They’re not the same as they are in the states. The second arrest was during spring break for open-container violations. The violations resulted in another fight because I was wasted from said open-container. The last was a little more recently.” The last arrest revolved around Shay, and since I’m not ready to tell Lark about the biggest part of my life, I leave out the reason I was locked up. Even though a good portion of that day is still fuzzy, the beginning and the end are times I’ll never forget.

Dom’s punching my arm in the back of the funeral home, begging me to settle down. But all I see are the faces of people I’m supposed to love scattered around the room—very few having seen Shay through her final days. Where were they when she was struggling to breathe in the middle of the night? Where were they when she sat in the hospital begging me to take her back home so they wouldn’t stick her with another needle? They skipped out when she needed the support, only showing up when it was all said and done. Like their presence is somehow going to make up for all the shit we’ve gone through. “I never should have come here with all these assholes.”

“You have to say goodbye to her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I said everything I needed to say to her when she was alive.” I reach inside my suit jacket, pulling out the flask I made sure I filled before I left the house this morning. It’s the only thing keeping me from running straight to the parking lot to grab the full bottle of whiskey in my trunk.

Through the crack in the door, I can see Shay’s parents standing at the end of the receiving line, their eyes glassy, and their smiles as fake as they come. This whole day is one big act—pretending we’re all okay when we’re not. Like we didn’t just lose the best thing to ever happen to us.

“Please put the alcohol away, East. You’ll end up regretting it.”

I shake the flask in my hand, the absence of my new best friend pissing me off. “It’s empty.”

“Good. That shit’s going to kill you if you don’t slow down.”

For a minute, the thought of dying isn’t so bad—at least I’d be with Shay again. It’s the last semi-coherent thought I remember having before waking up on the cold floor downtown. In jail where they think I belonged.

The lawyer I didn’t know I had, sits next to me holding a police report listing my infractions—public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and intent to drive while under the influence. “Am I going away for this?”

“You’re already there, but I pulled some strings given the circumstances. Shay’s parents also spoke with the authorities and made this mess you’re in sound like one, big misunderstanding. You have them to thank for that. The judge was ready to toss you in—the whole three strikes and you’re out rule.”

“I can go home?”

“You can go as soon as you’re sober enough to get there.”

I should be pissed I’m in jail, but I’m more upset by the fact that I owe Shay’s parents an apology—that I managed to fuck up the same day they had to bury their daughter.

I wouldn’t want this to be Shay’s final gift to me, bailing my ass out before she leaves me completely on my own, but it probably is. Only I could manage to let her down on the day of her funeral.

Regardless of the free pass I was given, it doesn’t take much convincing from Dom on the way home to persuade me that I need a change of scenery. Unless I want to end up in prison for something a hell of a lot worse than a drunken tirade at a funeral, I need to leave New York.

Where I’m heading, I don’t know yet. But it will be someplace I can get my head on straight—even if it seems impossible without my girlfriend.

“Do you have a record?”

“Citations, but nothing permanent. I’ve never served time other than a night waiting for a lawyer to show up. Though if I make one more wrong move, there’s a good chance my ass is going to be locked up for a very long time.”

I expect her to shy away from me, maybe even get up and walk away, but she doesn’t. She sits in the sand next to me, patiently. “Well, I’m sure they were all valid reasons. You live and learn, right? It’s not like you stole an edible thong from Walmart and got busted for it.”

“Please, tell me that happened to someone you know.”

Lark smiles, laughing to herself. “No, but I heard about it from a friend. Some kinky people in this world.”

My eyes land on Lark’s long legs, suddenly wishing they were wrapped around me again now that I know what they’re capable of. “Hot, it’s really hot,” I mumble, tripping over my own tongue.

She stands up, still only half dressed. “You coming in the water?”

Standing on my own two feet, I move closer to her until I’m standing so close I can feel the rise and fall of her chest. My hand reaches down and easily unbuttons her shorts. I hook my thumbs inside the denim, pulling them over her hips, and letting them fall to the sand beneath us. It takes everything I have not to undress her completely, right here, right now.

Her long hair sticks to her neck as a bead of sweat trails down her skin, landing on her chest between her breasts. I lean forward, licking it with the tip of my tongue. “Are you ready to get wet, Lark?”

She walks by me toward the edge of the water, glancing over her shoulder when she’s halfway there, tempting me and teasing me. With one toe barely in the water, I take her hand and pull her in with me. She follows, staying close with her hand on my back.

We’re only waist deep when she yanks her hand out of mine. She shrieks and spins around in a circle so fast I think she’s playing. So, I grab her around the waist, ready to toss her until she digs her nails into my arm, painfully. “Stop!” she yells.

I loosen my grip, turning her around in my arms. When I do, her expression is anything but the playful one I was envisioning. She’s panicking, so I hold her face in my hands, waiting for her to look at me. When she does, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

Her chin quivers, pure terror overwhelming her. “I-I can’t be out here.”

I let go of her face, wrapping my arms around her instead. She wraps her legs around my waist, and suddenly I become her own personal life preserver. Her heart beats so hard, I can feel it the second our skin touches. “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

“I’m trying,” she whispers.

I rub her back, holding onto her tightly as her body trembles in my arms. “What happened?”

“I was really trying, but something touched my foot,” she says in a rush.

“It was probably seaweed or a shell. There’s nothing out here but us—and maybe some fish.”

The mention of fish only makes her latch on tighter. “I should have told you when we got on the boat, but I thought that maybe, just this once, my fear would be overshadowed by you.”

“What exactly are you afraid of?”

“Sharks,” she says, as seriously as her next breath. I try not to laugh, but her face is so cute when she’s all serious, that one accidently sneaks out before I can stop it. “I’m glad you find me amusing.”

She unwraps her arms and legs, diving under the water to get back to the beach. When she pops up, I’m right beside her, reaching for her waist and pulling her back where she belongs. She doesn’t try to get away, but she doesn’t cling to me the way she was, either.

“I’m sorry.” With my thumbs, I brush away the droplets of water that fall off her lashes. She seems surprised by the gesture, narrowing her eyes, yet letting me touch her. “Your fears aren’t funny, Lark. It just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to be afraid of being eaten by sharks because when you want to be, you’re so sure of yourself. But when you let yourself be vulnerable, like you are right now, it helps me see how real you are. You make me want to find out more of your story.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

We’re only in water up my thighs, a little higher on her, but I don’t want her to be afraid—especially when she’s with me. “Are you okay standing here?”

She nods her head, her lips catching a few more falling water droplets. A single swipe of my thumb gets rid of those, too. She leans into my palm that’s cupping her cheek, blinking slowly like she might be seeing me for the first time all over again. “I’m not scared anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Grant’s parents had a house by the bay. Our group of friends would go the beach a lot over the summer—it was every high school kid’s dream. I was never afraid until I slipped and fell off the dock behind the house. Earlier in the week, there had been a couple shark sightings not far from there. As soon as I hit the water, I thought I was going to die. If Grant hadn’t jumped in after me, I don’t know what would have happened because I was so panicked, I forgot how to swim. I just kicked and flailed around, making myself an even bigger target. The next day, the shark was spotted near the dock.”

“Jesus, I’d say you have every right to be freaked the fuck out. Is Grant your ex?”

“As of two months ago—and counting.”

“I’d thank him, but from the look on your face, it didn’t end well.”

She looks away from me, staring out into the water like she might miss him. “Do breakups ever end well?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.” Mostly because I never broke up with Shay—she passed away. The other relationships I had weren’t serious enough to amount to any drama. You have to be invested for it to matter enough to fight, and I wasn’t invested.

“It’s okay, I don’t need an answer. Not after I lived it.”

“Two months isn’t a lot of time. From the looks of it, you’re still living it.” I’m still processing shit from a year ago, I can’t even imagine what she’s still dealing with.

“Some days it feels like an eternity has passed. Others it’s like it was yesterday.” The tone of her voice is my first clue that she loved him. But what I can’t figure out is why he was stupid enough to let her go.

I realize we’re drifting as we talk, the water up around her waist again. Her eyes dart around behind me, so I dip down in the water, bringing myself to her eye level. I rest my hands on her hips in case she wants to hold onto me. “Do you want to get out of the water?”

Her hands find my shoulders as she stares at my face and then my chest at the water line. “I’m okay if you don’t mind me clinging to you a little bit.”

“Baby, just take what you want.”

Even under the heat of the tropical sun, she blushes. “I think that’s your motto—take what you want.”

“How’s it been working so far?”

Her lips gently brush against mine, “I’ve been very satisfied.”

I slide my hand over her stomach and play with the edge of her bikini bottoms, teasing her through the material. “I don’t want you to think about where
he’s
been. All I want you to do is think about how good
we
feel—about where
I’ve
been.”