Riptides (Lengths) (9 page)

Even though it’s not a world class barrel, I let it bend around me, riding inside as it splits off into another section, and then another. The barrels are more intense with each split, and it feels never ending in the best way. It’s me, out here on the ocean alone, and it’s so damn perfect I don’t want it to end.

When I finally paddle back into shore, Deo and Cohen are waiting for me on the sand.

“Money Trees,” Cohen says, staring out at the waves, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

“Huh?” I ask, plunging my board into the wet sand and peeling off my wetsuit.

“That swell you were in. Dad used to call that Money Trees. How it split off into at least three different sections. Unbelievable. I wish I could have caught that one.”

“I should have given it to you,” I say, guilt washing over me. “It’s your bachelor party.”

“Nah, I’m glad you caught it. That feeling you have out there on the wave, that total fulfillment that borders addiction? I get that every damn time I look at Maren. I’m good,” Cohen says. He looks happy.

But he also looks at me with a twinge of pity.

Fuck.

              “Same,” Deo pipes in, pulling his board out of the sand.

And suddenly the rush from that incredible wave is pulled under by a riptide of jealousy over the fact that these two assholes have something I want so damn badly.

Something I can’t yet call mine, because I have yet to crack the code to Jess’s heart.

TEN

I stop by to pick Jess up at the bakery. As soon as I open the glass door, I can feel something is off. The place has a low buzz, like I can feel the swirl of anger and argument before I hear it.

Or overhear it.

I recognize the other voice, the woman’s voice that isn’t Jess’s, but I can’t immediately place where I’ve heard it before. I stand still in the hall.

“…think what? You can run away? Dump an old life and start a new one fresh? Sorry, sweetie, but it just doesn’t work like that.” The other woman’s voice has the flat, nasal tang of the Midwest, and her words shoot out fast around the piece of gum she’s chewing.

“No. Not at all. Who’s running, Des? Here I am. Right here where I’ve been, sitting like a bump on a damn log, waiting. Jesus, running sounds like a nice change.” Jess’s voice drags, like she’s bone-tired.

Her business has rocketed in a huge way. I’m proud of her, even if it’s irritating to have to share her with all these new clients latching onto her for her crazy skills. I want to let her know that I’m here, but Jess has been jumpy about me showing up at her work. If this wasn’t for Maren, I wouldn’t have bothered. But I have to drop something off for the wedding. Also, obviously, I want to know what’s going on with her, even if it’s none of my damn business.

“Running won’t do a thing. You have to face this. And you can’t do it alone.” She takes a long breath. “I know it’s a surprise——”

“It would have been great to get a head’s up,” she says wryly. “What happened with her? What’s her name? Daisy? Sadie?” I can hear the fury in Jess’s voice, and it knocks me back. She’s generally pretty calm, even a little sad. I don’t think of her as being a fireball.

“She’s not in the picture.” Her friend says something too low for me to hear, then she adds, “I get it. It sucks. It hurts. But think before you throw away years.”

“Wasted years,” Jess snaps. “Maybe the best option really is to run. Otherwise how do I know I won’t get knocked on my ass again?”

“That’s the part where you trust. That’s the part where you allow the slates to be wiped clean.”

What the hell are they talking about? I wonder if it’s a business thing? A friend thing? Whatever it is, Jess sounds pissed as hell.

“Yeah, that’s fine if your slate is full of shit you want to forget. What happens when there’s some really good stuff mixed in? Some really amazing stuff you don’t want to wipe away?”

“That’s a choice you need to make for yourself, Jess.”

I stand up and try to look like I just came in when they walk out to the front.

“Enzo!” Jess squeaks, her eyes wide.

The girl with her has a sharp blonde bob and a little mole over her lip like Marilyn Monroe. She’s got the hard body of a girl who likes to kick it at the gym and the soft look of a friend who actually gives a shit. I wonder why I’ve never met her. Or heard of her from Jess.

“Hey, doll. I was in town and had the color swatch for the cake. Maren was nervous the color wouldn’t come through in a picture.” I hand over a swath of fabric and smile at her friend. “I’m Enzo, by the way.”

“Enzo?” She looks back at Jess and smirks. “I’d have a hard time wiping that slate clean, too.” She turns her attention to me, looks me up and down, whistles, and gives me a cute wink. “Enzo, I’m Destiny, Jess’s best friend since we were cutting class to sip wine coolers behind the bleachers in high school.”

I smile at this girl with the saucy mouth, loving the image of her and Jess being so badass as teens.

“Destiny, I’m making Enzo’s sister’s wedding cake, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to know about my teenage drinking habits, thank you,” Jess says. “Thanks, Enzo. I’ll have the detailing done by tonight, and I’ll deliver the cake tomorrow morning to the synagogue. Okay, scoot both of you.”

I’m making Enzo’s sister’s wedding cake.

It’s been weeks of the two of us, wrapped around each other, sucking the air out of each other’s lungs and licking each other’s bodies, telling every damn secret big and small and
that’s
the way she introduces me to her best friend? I had other shit to talk to her about, shit that had to do with a need so deep and fierce, I couldn’t muzzle it…shit that demanded face time.

But all I get is a boot to the ass and my sad self on the curb, not so much as a kiss or even a loving look to remind me that she’s the one. The only one.

“Enzo.” I hear my name rolled on Destiny’s tongue and turn to give her a distracted smile.

“Destiny. She’s super busy,” I say, like I’m explaining why I was introduced that way, why I’m out here while she’s in there.

“Have you known Jess long?” Destiny asks in this high, faux-innocent voice that makes it clear this isn’t really a question. She knows the answer, and it irritates me that she’s pretending she doesn’t.

“A few weeks. We met at a bar.” I grimace. How much shadier can I make this sound? This is the girl I’ve picked, the one, the person who grabs me by the fucking heart and shakes more life into me every time I see her…why does it sound like she and I are some fling?

“Ah.” Destiny nods. “Was she drinking scotch?”

I nod.

“She gets so damn crazy when she drinks scotch.” She laughs and claps me on the shoulder, pushing her bottom lip out. “It’s a shame really,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “It was nice meeting you. I hope your sister’s wedding is beautiful.”

“Thank you. Nice meeting you,” I manage, but she’s already walking away, her ridiculously high boot heels clicking on the pavement. She throws me what can only barely count as a wave over her slim shoulder before she slides into her car.

***

I feel like I’m swimming too deep. Getting caught in a damn riptide. I need to stop wasting energy and get back to shore or hold out right where I am. Anything but this mad fight against the current that’s out of my control.

I need to talk to someone, but my go-to guy is my brother and now isn’t the right time to dump on Cohen. He’s got bigger worries than his little brother’s slippery relationship status.

Going home is like asking for a fucking pile of trouble. I’d never even consider spilling to my parents, because they’d have a job offer at the furniture store and an arranged date with an ‘acceptable’ girl from the synagogue before I finished telling my story.

My sisters might have some decent advice, but I’d have to wade through all three of them hitting me with it all at once. Plus that, my sisters can hold a nasty grudge against a girl they think hurt me or Cohen, and I don’t need them giving Jess shit.

So I head the one place where I know I’ll be welcomed like family, no matter what.

I head to Marigold’s.

Deo’s mom is kind of a guru for my siblings, and I know they’ve gone to her before and gotten sound advice. I pull up, worried about bugging her so late, but I realize her little bungalow is full and buzzing, gold light spilling out and music shaking the windows a little. Man, I love this place like a second home.

I’m glad to see it rocking, and I know one more won’t make a difference. I’m in the mood for people who have their shit figured out. Maybe some of their good vibes will rub off on me. I knock on the back door, and Hattie swings it open, her arms raised over her head, wineglass in one hand, her hips twitching to something funky, with a gritty, 60s throwback feel. I like it immediately and dance her into the house.

“
Woo hoo!” she yells, clearly heading to the drunken side of tipsy. “Enzo’s here and he’s ready to
dance
!”

Grandpa has Whit in his arms and is spinning her around the room as she squeals, cheeks red. Marigold has her hands on Ryan’s hips and is, I think, trying to help him find rhythm. It’s such a sad, pointless exercise I can’t help staring the way you rubberneck a horrific accident. Rocko smiles from his place next to the refreshments and hands me a beer.

“Thanks, Rocko.”

“You’re not with the rest of the gang tonight? Getting ready for the big day?” he asks.

I snort. “I’m staying as far away from those damn loonies as humanly possible!” I grab Hattie’s hand and spin her neatly, tucking her close to my side and taking a long pull of my beer with my free hand just to show off. It works. Hattie giggles like mad and claps. “Hattie assigned me to lift and haul duty at sunrise, so I figure they can do without me tonight.”

“Ah, right. I got that memo too.” Rocko raises his eyebrows behind his Buddy Holly glasses. “I’m on flower duty.”

“You guys will be relieved when we’re all married off, huh?” I shake my head. Wedding fever has been blazing through this place, and it seems like everyone gravitates towards Rocko and Marigold for help, probably without asking.

Hattie glances over like she’s waiting for the answer and Rocko reaches out to muss her hair. “Nah. Mari and I love it. It’s like a romantic excuse to dance and drink too much with everyone we care about. Plus that, we still have you, your sisters, and this one. Though she thinks she’s going to be a bachelorette forever.”

“Just till I get my PhD.” Hattie flicks her gold eyes over at Ryan, who is doing something pretty fucking alarming with his hips that makes him look like a cross between the Tin Man and an evil robot. He was always tall, but he’s filled out since last summer, and it’s almost like he doesn’t know how to maneuver the new Hulk-like dimensions of his body. Hattie bites her lip, but looks like she’d prefer to take a bite out of Ryan. “If I can fend him off until then,” she says breezily, like the desire in her eyes isn’t crystal clear to anyone who isn’t blind.

“He’s a smart guy.” Rocko does an admirable job of not pointing and laughing as Ryan almost knocks over a bookshelf with his gangly moves. I am not as nice as Rocko, and fail to hold back. Deo catches my eye and joins me cracking up over the fiasco. Rocko looks at Hattie and winks. “He knows he’s got someone amazing, and he’s not gonna let go.”

Hattie blushes and drinks deeply from her wineglass. “Stop with the mushy stuff, you!” She points at Rocko and shakes her head. “Next thing you know, I’ll be asking you to tattoo Ryan as a merman on my neck.”

“Are you making fun of my tat again?” Deo calls to her.

“No!” she calls back, shrieking as I grab her around the waist, then twirl and dip her, wine sloshing all over. “Maybe! I don’t mean to! It’s actually really romantic!”

“You don’t have to lie.” Whit laughs and leans on Grandpa’s shoulder to catch her breath, her eyes shining and her dark hair falling in curls around her neck…I get why Deo wanted a tattoo of her. She’s gorgeous as hell in this sexy, pin-up way. “No sane man would get me as a merman on his back.”

Deo strides over and tugs her out of Grandpa’s arm, bending her low and kissing her hard. “Damn straight. I was fucking crazy! I should have gotten it on my
chest
, so I could look at it every morning when I brush my teeth.” Whit giggles and curls against his body. Deo turns to Rocko. “Rocko, dude, how do you feel about a tattoo of Whit, but as one of those half-horse girls? Right here?” He spreads his hand over the center of his chest.

“A centauride?” Hattie giggles and holds her wineglass up to Ryan. “Do you ever want to get a crazy tattoo of me?”

“Yep.” He moves her way, swiveling his hips like a geriatric Elvis who’s about to need a double hip replacement. “I want the Sphinx, but with your face. On my ass.”

He grabs her into his arm arms and kisses her neck while she screams with laughter. “It’s too hairy! No one will see me!” she cries.

“Centauride? Is that the real word for a half-girl, half-horse?” Deo asks, his eyebrows pressed low.

“I wouldn’t doubt your egghead sister,” I say, watching the happy couples with something hard and ugly digging low inside me.

“Enzo,” Marigold says suddenly, like she’s just remembered something. “I want to read your cards.”

“Mom,” Deo groans, only he makes the word sound like it has fifty syllables. Funny, he’s been whining to his mom the same exact way since we were kids.

“That would be great, Mrs. Beckett.” I think it’s a bunch of hocus pocus, but I also believe Marigold is mad smart. And I think a lot of people underestimate her, think she’s flaky or whatever. I know better. I know she’s a really intuitive, smart woman, and I feel like the whole card reading thing is kind of fated.

I did come here with a big problem I don’t have an answer to.

And I believe in luck. I guess her freaky Tarot cards are like luck. In a way.

Unless, of course, bad luck is in my cards.

She leads me out of the bright, crazy living room where everyone is dancing and drinking and sits me at the worn dining room table where I’ve tried to avoid so much food she cooked so lovingly——but
so damn badly
. The light in here is dim, and there’s a faint smell of herbs and smoke, like someone was burning parsley or something. She goes to an old sideboard and takes a green silk bag out, untying the string and holding a stack of cards in her hands.

She sits across from me and smiles. She looks so much like Deo, with her big, sweet smile and her wild wavy hair. They both seem like kids who never really grew up, which kind of makes sense to the way I think of her and this place. I always thought she was like a lady version of Peter Pan and her house was like Neverland. When we were here as kids, it felt like none of us were ever going to grow up. Like we’d stay Lost Boys forever.