The West Wind (3 page)

Xander flipped his hand in a slight hook away from them and Hero
twirled back toward him. His fingertips found the small of her back and his arm
wrapped around her waist as she spun three hundred and sixty degrees. His arm
wound around her as she turned, drawing her close and supporting her as he
began to lower her into a dip. She threw her right arm around his neck and
willingly put her trust in his strength without a second thought. After
following his lead for the course of the song, she knew him better than someone
who hadn’t danced with him ever would. As the spinning woman turned in his
arms, Xander slid out of the way and let her plunge in one fluid motion toward
the floor.

Breath came heavily as the scene resolved, a whistle from someone
in their audience barely noticed. Xander rested on one knee, and Hero, straight
as a board, floated scarcely four inches from the floor. His knuckles were
closer still. She let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and met
his eyes. He stared back into hers and her lips parted slightly, the remaining
gravity of their motion still drawing them together. Xander leaned in, inches
away, then stopped. He shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s too easy,” he said without thinking.

She slapped him.

He dropped her.

Hero hit the ground with a gentle thud. Their surroundings
transitioned from surreal to real abruptly, startled from the fantastic
universe they had created. No one in the room moved a muscle. It was as if the
almost instant change from passion to anger had turned them all to statues.
Xander met Carolyn’s eyes. She shook her head softly, full of pity, and he
flushed red. On the ground, Hero glared around. She was embarrassed to have an
audience in the first place. Embarrassed to have an audience for her rejection.
Embarrassed to have been dropped in the first place, and the fall, while
admittedly short, just made her feel worse.

Xander stood up and offered Hero his hand, “Look, I’m sorry, I
didn’t. . .” he began.

Hero slapped his hand away and scrambled to her feet as Jaimie and
Leana rushed over.

“You’re an asshole,” Hero said as she shoved Xander, hard. He
stumbled back without a word as the girls cut through the crowd and pushed out
the door. The three boys followed after them, crossing the dance floor in front
of the off balance young man.

“Nice moves,” Evan sneered as he went by.

“Classic ending, wish I had popcorn,” Jeremy said with a smirk.

“Sucks, dude. That was pretty intense. Too bad you blew it,” Brian
said, almost supportively.

One they were gone, Carolyn picked up the pace with ‘Zoot Suit
Riot,’ and the dance went on, the event not quite forgotten, but left to
conversations off the dance floor that were impossible to hear over the music.
Xander sighed and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably at the stares and furtive
glances directed his way. He took a deep breath and waved goodbye to Carolyn,
who blew him a kiss. Then he left.

Xander opened the door to the Brighton House and stepped inside.
Water ran down his face and his clothes were soaked from a summer rainstorm
that had snuck in while he was walking home. Light crept into the dark foyer
from a hallway and he headed toward it. His dad was in the library. From the
smell of it, he was re-staining the built-in oak bookshelves. Small puddles of
water trailed behind in Xander’s path.

“Hey, Dad,” Xander said as he stepped into the room dripping. Zach
was leaning over the top of a ladder, using a brush to smooth the stain into
the corners of the shelves. A paperback copy of Shelley’s poems lay open face
down on top of an unused bucket. “Going to fix the whole place in one night?”

His father turned to greet him, but wrinkled his eyebrows when he
saw his clothes and the puddle forming at his feet.  “I see you got caught
in the storm. I distinctly remember someone promising me it barely ever rains
here.”
“I said there were three hundred and fifteen days of sun. No one told me we
were moving to Camelot.”

“The rain may never fall til after sundown?”

“Apparently.”

“Why didn’t you give me a call? I could have picked you up. Speak
of which, what time is it? I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. Was the
dance slow?”

“Ah, no. It was great. At least for a moment. Hep Catz Alive was
there.”

“Really? Here? Did you say hi to Carolyn for me?”

“Sure,” Xander said noncommittally. “We danced once, then I danced
with this absolutely incredible girl.”

“So you needed a cold shower?”

Xander threw the Shelley at his dad. It missed and bounced off the
ladder to the floor.

“Hey now, have some respect for a dead poet.”

“Wouldn’t Shakespeare have said he was immortal?”

“Not for long, if callous children are so careless with his
words.”

An unused paint stirrer followed the book, missing by a much wider
margin as its flimsy shape spun to the floor. Zach laughed.

“So tell me about this girl. What happened?”

“I dropped her.”

Zach’s eyes widened. Xander wasn’t a wild, thoughtless dancer who
made a habit of putting his partners in danger of being dropped. Zach himself
had never been as interested in dancing as his wife and son, but had learned
enough that he could spend an evening on the floor if Sara dragged him out.

“How?” he asked.

Xander paused, embarrassed, and dripped on the floor for a moment
before answering. “She slapped me.”

His father’s eyebrows raised. There was definitely something
different going on tonight.

“Did you deserve it?”

“Ah, I understand why she did it, but no.” He told his dad what he
had said.

Zach laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s not really funny.” He laughed
again. “You were trying to do the right thing. To be a gentleman. I think that
was one of those moments when actions would have spoken louder than words,
son.”

“Yeah. I know. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I hear that happens to teenage men.”

“I’m running out of things to throw at you, Dad.”

“You should probably go dry off, then. There’s probably enough
mildew in this house without you contributing to it,” his father said
playfully.

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Xander.”

Xander hauled himself up the stairs to the cupola room after
stripping down to his boxers and drying off in the bathroom. Towel wrapped
around his waist, he flipped on the light as he entered. He gritted his teeth
as it flickered before coming on. Replacing all the old cloth wrapped wiring in
the house was not one of the projects he was excited about. He stood for a
moment looking out the window at all the lights of the town. The city looked
like someone had taken a mirror out to reflect the night sky. Out to sea in the
dark, the green and red lights of a passing cargo ship flashed. On the island
in the bay, directly across from the Brighton House, one house was lit like a
palace. Emotionally drained and exhausted from a long day, Xander shrugged at
the opulence and threw the towel over the back of the lone chair in his room.
After digging his iPod and one of his favorite books, C.S. Lewis’
A Horse
and His Boy
, out of his suitcase, he climbed into bed and opened up its
familiar pages. Live, his mother’s favorite band, blasted into his ears.

The six friends sat and stood spread out around Jaimie’s living
room. Hero couldn’t drive home until the next low tide. It was inconvenient,
but those who owned homes on the island enjoyed the privacy and display of
wealth it took just to make it to and from the town proper. Hero often stayed
with Jaimie on nights when the boat wasn’t available and the tide was in.

Jeremy poured himself a glass of whiskey from Jaimie’s parent’s
liquor cabinet in spite of her half-hearted protests. Evan, Jaimie, and Leana
all sat at the dining table while Brian whirled on a stool at the breakfast
bar. Hero stood by a window staring out at the bay. She was still livid, though
her emotions churned constantly. Her thoughts went back to the first time she met
the strange boy’s eyes, then to the dance itself and her heart raced. Then she
remembered how close she came to kissing a complete stranger, who turned out to
be a complete asshole, and wanted to slap him all over again. It did not help
that her friends would not stop talking about it.

“That was so hot, though,” Leana gushed.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I didn’t
even know you could have sex with your clothes on before tonight.”

“Shut up, Jer,” Jaimie commanded. He made a gesture of confused
innocence with both hands, ice sloshing in his glass.

“Do we even know his name?” Brian asked.

“Adonis?” Jaimie offered. Evan glared at her. “What’s it matter,
anyway?” she asked. “He was with the band, so we’ll probably never see him
again anyway.”

“God, I hope so,” Hero interjected without turning around. She
wasn’t certain it was true.

“Nah,” Evan returned, “I don’t think they were expecting him to be
there. The singer looked surprised to see him.”

“Do you think he’ll come to Hellespont again?” Leana asked a
little too hopefully.

“A dancer like that? I bet he can’t stay away. We can’t stay away
and none of us are anywhere near as good,” Brian said.

“Are you sure you don’t wish you’d been the one dancing with him,
Brian?” Jeremy asked.

“Are you sure you want to keep pushing, Jeremy? I’ll kick your
ass,” he said playfully.

“Oh, ho. Bring it, girly-boy. You should learn to follow. You and
Adonis could do the Brokeback ballet.” Jeremy put his glass down and opened his
arms wide. Brian charged across the room and tackled him. Jaimie rolled her
eyes and walked over to take Hero’s hand.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Hero?” she asked for umpteenth time.

“I’m fine,” Hero said coldly.

“You don’t sound okay.”

Hero turned on her friend angrily. “You’re right. I’m not. I got
whisked onto the dance floor, had the best dance of my life, almost kissed
someone whose name I don’t even know, got
rejected
, and dropped. He said
I was easy. I am
hardly
ok.”

The boys wrestling on the floor stopped. The silence became a tangible
thing. It grew heavier, then awkward. Four of them squirmed beneath the weight
of it. Finally, Evan stood up. “Ah, I think it’s time to go. Guys?” he asked.
They nodded and disentangled themselves. “Leana, you need a ride?”

Leanna nodded as well. “Yeah, let me grab my purse.”

They all said goodnight in turn and left. Hero turned back to the
window, not wanting to look Jaimie in the eye. Jaimie put a hand on her
shoulder.

“Hero, I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”

“Yeah. Jeremy’s stupid comment didn’t help any. Now I just feel
dirtier.”

“That’s just Jeremy, you know how he is. He’d have your back if
you needed him.”

“That doesn’t help me now,” Hero said, emphasizing now.

Jaimie pulled her around into a hug. Hero hugged her back,
tightly. She sobbed a little, more from the exhaustive emotions than any one
thing in particular. Jaimie stiffened suddenly and Hero pulled away from her.

“What is it?”

“No one lives at the Brighton House, right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are the lights on?” Jaimie pointed.

“What?” Hero turned to look. There, at the top of the cupola,
light beamed out of every window like a beacon, almost as if someone had
intended it to function as a lighthouse. “But that’s,” she paused as a chill
trickled down her back. “Impossible.”

“Not anymore,” Jaimie said.

The next morning Hero met her mother, Anna DiBenedetto, for coffee
at Ambrosia, a local coffee shop on the boardwalk. In spite of the Starbucks
located almost right across the way, the café was filled with customers, both
locals and tourists. Hero spent a lot of time there, especially during the
school year. It was her favorite place to study. This morning she was trading
her mother her car keys for the boat keys and indulging in the comfort of a soy
Mayan mocha. She was already seated, sipping slowly on her drink and savoring
its warmth when her mother arrived.

“Hi, Mom.” Hero stood and hugged her mother lightly. Anyone
watching would have noticed that it was cursory at best.

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun last night?”

“Oh, sure,” Hero said half-heartedly, trying not to remember the
events of the night before. “Did you want coffee?”

“No. No thank you, dear. I have to meet Victoria Landon for brunch
soon and I don’t want to ruin my appetite. Oh! Speaking of Victoria Landon,”
Anna said, obviously excited about the latest gossip, as always. Hero knew her
mother would be here for a while. She sat back down and Anna slid into the
chair across from her almost in unison, talking the whole time.

“Victoria was telling me that she
finally
sold that
terrible old Brighton House you loved so much as a child. I’ll never understand
what you liked about it. Ancient ruin, if you ask me. Should have been torn
down years ago.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hero breathed.

“Anyway,” Anna DiBenedetto continued as if she hadn’t heard.
“Victoria says that the handsomest man and his gorgeous son bought the place.
Apparently they want to restore it themselves. He used to be some kind of big
time contractor in Seattle until his wife died. It was terribly tragic. Cancer,
I think. Or maybe MS. I can’t remember.”

Hero’s face darkened a little.

“I know, I know,” Anna said without stopping for a breath. “It’s
terribly sad. Can you imagine, two single men living in that giant wreck by
themselves? And wanting to fix up the whole place, without help? Especially
since it has to be done perfectly according to those simply infuriating plans
that National Registery place is so attached to. It’s awfully strange, but I
guess that is what that kind of loss will do to a man.”

“Yeah, I think I met the son last night at the dance,” Hero
finally had a chance to say.

“Oh really? What did you think?” Anna practically pounced on her
daughter’s words. “Was he as gorgeous as Victoria says? Was he nice? You’ve
been single for far too long, Hero. You should see if he’s looking for a
girlfriend.”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that.” Hero’s tone matched her expression.

Her mother looked crestfallen. “Oh why not dear? You’re young, but
I was dating long before I turned 17 and you’re almost 18 now. I know the local
boys aren’t good enough for you, but if this one is really that good looking
and has money, it can’t hurt to try.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with that,” Hero said, anger
creeping into her voice.

Anna stood up. “Don’t get huffy with me, young lady. I’m just
trying to look out for my only daughter and the light of my life. You can’t
blame me for wanting good things for you.”

“Mom,” Hero moaned. “It’s not you. Look. Don’t worry about it.
I’ll be fine. I’ll find the right guy someday. I just don’t think it will be
him.”

“Fine, fine.” Her mother switched tones as quickly as race car
driver switches gears, suddenly companionable again. “If you don’t want to talk
about it, you don’t have to. I won’t have anyone say I’m one of those pushy
mothers who won’t let their daughters have any privacy. Just know you can talk
to me if you need to.”

Hero tried not to let her mother see exactly what she thought of
THAT idea. “Thanks, Mom. Hey, aren’t you going to be late for brunch?”

Anna looked at the gold and diamond watch on her delicate wrist.
“Oh, my. Look at the time. Are you sure you don’t want to talk, honey? Victoria
won’t mind if I cancel.”

Her daughter could tell from her voice that that was the last
thing she wanted to do. She sighed and told her mother, “No, it’s ok, really.
You go ahead. I’m going to go home and spend some time tanning. Let it all sink
out of me.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t tan so much. It’s terrible for your skin. I’m
amazed you don’t burn terribly, you know. I mean, look at me. I’d look like a
boiled lobster in a second out in that sun.” She slid her porcelain-toned hand
onto Hero’s for comparison. “Too much, I tell you. You be careful. You don’t
want skin cancer.”

“Thanks, Mom. You should go.” Hero tried to sound cheerful.

“Oh, you’re right, of course you are. That’s my angel. Have a
wonderful day, cherub.” Anna kissed her daughter on the top of her head and
wafted her way out the door. Hero collapsed back into her chair, determined to
enjoy as much of her coffee as she could before it got cold. It was too late.
Today was not looking much better than the night before.

Xander wandered through Sears while his dad talked to a salesman
about refrigerators. In his head he made an attempt to calculate how much money
the store was wasting on power using fluorescent lighting. It was made harder
by his uncertainty about how much electricity cost per kilowatt hour in the
area and the pleasantly obnoxious hope that every time he saw a woman that she
might turn out to be the girl from last night. He could still feel her against
him, feel how she moved with him, and he swore his cheek still stung a little
where she slapped him.

“Hey, can I help you find something?” one of the store’s employees
asked for the second time. She was tall, but not as tall as his 6’5”. 5’ 10”,
perhaps. Her red hair cascaded wildly down her shoulder, as though she had just
been thoroughly mussed and understood that it improved her appeal rather than
lessened it. Blue eyes smiled up at him from a pale face with soft, red lips.
His first thought was that she could give Jessica Rabbit a run for her money.
Then he saw her name tag. Jessica. How apt.

“Other than me, I meant,” she said, laughing and twirling her hair
around one finger. Then she paused. “Hey, aren’t you that guy from Hellespont?
The one who dropped Hero DiBenedetto on her stuck up, snobby ass?”

Xander sighed. It wasn’t exactly the first impression he wanted to
be remember for. May as well make the most of it. “Yeah. If you’d rather, I’m
the one she slapped around,” he joked.

Jessica shook her head. “I like my version better. Makes you the
hero instead of her.”

Her name is Hero?
Xander thought. “Whoever loved
that loved not at first sight?” he said under his breath.

“What was that?” the girl asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just a line from a poem you reminded me of.”

“I remind you of a poem?” she asked, stepping closer and filling
Xander’s nose with the scent of her. Clean and rich, without perfume. It
reminded him of his mother, though something was missing.

“Ah, sort of,” he said to appease her. “Anyway, your name is
Jessica?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot we hadn’t met. Yeah, I’m Jessica. You
are?”

“Xander. It’s nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and lingered as
they let go.

“You too,” she said. “Umm. . . hey, I’ve got to get back to work.
But I get off at 5. Buy me coffee?”

Xander laughed. He liked her confidence. “Sure, I’d like that. I
don’t really know anyone here. Do you want to give me your number?”

Jessica winked at him. “No. If you show up, I will,” she said in a
coy voice.

“Where should I meet you?”

“There’s a coffee shop on the boardwalk called Ambrosia. Think you
can find it?”

“Easy enough to remember. I’ll see you there.”

“See you!” she said as she turned away down an aisle.

Zach walked up as she left. “You done shopping, son?” he asked
with a grin. “I don’t think that one would be much good for keeping anything
cold.”

“Dad, stick to poetry.” Xander said. “You’re a better poet than
jester,” he joked.

“I have gesture for you, rapscallion!”

“Yeah,” Xander said blandly, letting the banter fall away as he
changed the subject. “Did you get the fridge?”

“Indeed. They’ll deliver it later. Unless you wanted to do that
yourself, too.”

“No, I’m good. Let’s go finish your library so we can sleep in
bedrooms with double-paned windows before summer is over.”

“Alas, books are wonderful companions, but not so good at keeping
you warm.”

“Unless we’re talking Fahrenheit 451.”

“Speak not such vulgarity, my child!”

“Oh, forgive me, Father, if I have sinned.”

“Speaking of sin, that young lady. . .”

Xander interrupted him. “We were leaving, right?”

Zach laughed. “Yes, let’s.”