CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (17 page)

I study her happy face. “Did you plan the whole Dani thing out? Manipulate it all to get me to marry you?”

She laughs. “I’m not that smart. But I am in the way for Alex and Gabriel. We don’t have much choice.”

“We can’t get married.”

She kisses me, gets my tongue.

“Stop it, babe.” I cover her lips with my fingers, tip my forehead so it touches hers. “I promised your dad I’d take you home before we get married.”

The smile drains out of her face. “You what?” She releases me, turns her back, squats down and stares into the dark water.

I hunker down beside her. “When we talked on the phone—I promised him.”

She turns her glare on me. “I’m never going home. You know why. I’ll die if my mom finds out Phil and I were fighting before the crash.”

“I won’t tell her anything.” I can’t figure out why Leesie thinks that was such a big deal. “Who cares anyway? You guys always fought. What was it about this time? The radio station?”

She turns pale. “I’m not going home.”

I lean over and catch her lips. “If you want to marry me, you will.”

She moves fast—lies back, jerks me down on top of her. “We can shack up together. I don’t care.” Her legs wrap around me.

I push up off her. “Nope.” I get on my feet and offer her my hand.

She won’t take it, lies there looking up at me. “Then what are we going to do?”

“Go back up to the apartment and disappoint Alex and Gabriel.”

The clock reads 1:52 AM when I usher Leesie in through the apartment door. All the guys—including Gabriel—mill around the kitchen and living room drinking beer, waiting for Dani and Seth.

“Shhh!” Gabriel puts a finger up to his lips. “Alex is asleep.”

Cooper chucks a pillow at him. “Worn out, eh?”

Gabriel catches the pillow, frowns. “She was distressed.”

Brock sets his beer down. “And you took her mind off her troubles?”

Ethan looks up from soccer reruns on TV. “She does not need another rascal breaking her wee heart.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Gabriel lets the pillow drop from his hands.

Cooper stands. “Then what the hell are you doing?”

Gabriel rifles his fingers through his black play-boy hair. “She wants me.” He rotates, gathers everyone’s eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Turn her down? Humiliate her?”

“You’re taking advantage of her.” Cooper gets right in Gabriel’s face. “Not cool, dude.”

Gabriel puts his hand flat on Cooper’s chest and pushes him back. “I’m trying to make her happy.” He sits down on the couch.

Brock cocks his head. “You care if she’s happy?”

Gabriel’s face softens. “I do. I care.” He see’s Alex’s face peeking from a crack in her and Leesie’s bedroom door, turns, and addresses her. “I care very much.”

Alex slips through the door, crosses the room to Gabriel, climbs on his lap, and hides her face against his neck. Gabriel’s arms go around her, protecting, a hand strokes her head, and he kisses her forehead.

Leesie smiles, goes to the fridge and takes out butter and eggs. “I need brownies. Anybody want to help?”

I crack the eggs. Leesie melts the butter and chocolate on the stove. Brock turns on the oven. And Cooper and Ethan measure flour and sugar.

A half hour later, we’re crowded around the table, eating hot, gooey brownies—same recipe that she made when I met those jerk missionaries back at BYU. The guys traded their beer for milk. The apartment door opens and a half-drunk Seth leads in a very drunk blonde girl spilling out of her fuchsia halter top and matching mini skirt. Dani.

Alex gives her a brutal, loathing glare and stalks into her and Leesie’s bedroom.

Gabriel stands up. “Hello, Dani.” He speaks in a solemn voice and goes after Alex.

Dani giggles and punches Seth in the arm. “You’re right, Sethie. They all want me back. “ She stumbles. Seth catches her—stumbles, too.

Cooper and Ethan leap to help them. “It’s cool, Dani,” Cooper says. “We’re glad you’re back.”

“Liars.” The giggle dissolves to tears. “She should be mad at Kai—not me. It’s his fault.”

Brock pats her arm. “If you promise to make this pathetic bloke happy again, we’ll all be thrilled with your return.”

She beams at Seth. “So it’s true? He can’t live without me?”

Seth plants a loud smack on the side of her face. “You’re never getting away from me again.”

She kisses him, and Brock and Cooper hustle them into their room and shut the door.

Leesie leaves the table with the dirty plates balanced on her broken left hand.

I gather up the dirty glasses and join her.

She dumps her sling on the counter and whispers so only I can hear. “Dyed hair. Long, though. Pretty.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And those”—she rolls her eyes dramatically—“weren’t real.”

“I didn’t look.” I concentrate on scrubbing the plate in my hand.

Leesie elbows me. “Yes, you did.”

“They weren’t so big.”

“So you admit it?” She pulls the sprayer gadget out and rinses the plates I washed.

I nuzzle the side of her head. “Sorry. I won’t ever look at those again.”

“Or any other girl’s frontal zone.” She turns to me holding the sprayer like a weapon.

I hold up my hands. “For the rest of my life?”

“Yes. This is all you get.” She drops her hands to I can assess my fate.

I put my hands on her waist and whisper, “You know I’m a small breast guy.”

“There’s no such thing.” She glances down at her white T-shirt. “Should I get them fixed? Look like that?”

“No way, babe.” I hug her. “I want ‘em real.”

Leesie still has the sprayer in her hand, and somehow it gets pressed and soaks my back. I wrestle it away from her, making sure I douse her front.

She hides against my chest and whispers, “Do you want to go back out to the beach?”

“Yeah.” It’s too late, we’re too tired, too turned on, and feeling her up is a huge sin, but we’ll just roll around in the sand—make out some more—that’s it.

She takes my hand, walks backward to the door so I get a good view of her wet T-shirt, pulls me forward.

Gabriel opens the bedroom door. “Leesie?” he calls. “Alex needs you.”

The teasing excitement drains out of her face. “Sure. I’m coming.” She kisses me goodnight and disappears.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #88, GOOD THING?

Alex sobs curled in a fetal
ball on the bathroom floor.
Gabriel picks her up,
tucks her in bed,
wipes her face
with tissues. “Come on,
now, my treasure,
enough.”

I relieve him of the box
of tissues. “Let her cry.”
His handsome face
shows doubt. “Are you sure?”
I nod and sniff, blinking
back my own tears that threaten
to break through the stone
I’ve buried my heart under.
Gabriel bends over and kisses
her forehead. “Goodnight, my Alex.”
He retreats elegantly, looking every bit
the millionaire playboy caught
in caring that’s morphing to love
with every tear Alex sheds.

Once he’s gone, she groans, hiccups.
“I can’t stop. I keep trying.
Gabriel saw me like this.
How hideous am I?”
I give her a fresh wad of
soft whiteness to staunch
the hot snot dripping down
her chin. “He loves you like this.”
“I wish.” She buries her face
in the tissues.

“Cry, Alex. Don’t stop.
Even I still believe
in the power of tears.”
She sobs and sobs,
mourning her hurt, her loss,
melting into new found
tenderness that tinges her pain
with promises of joy,
flutters of hope,
and the dawn of love.

In the morning, she meets
Dani with coolness, but doesn’t
tear all the hair out of her head
or stab her with the knife Alex
wears strapped to her leg when she dives.
Gabriel whisks her away
for a day off in the sun, lazing
on beaches and sipping icy fruit froth.

Dani’s got double shifts
until hell freezes over
to make up for leaving
everybody high and dry.
Seth’s working with her.
The boys have the other boat—
which leaves me my Michael
to dote on all day long.
Bonus.

We leave the dishes undone
and the place a wreck,
drive down to the blow holes,
buy spicy grilled chicken
from a roadside stand,
eat it, sitting side by side
on the bare coral shore
as waves crash against the cliffs
and force water in the cracks
and up through the spouts
to spray white and pure
high into the air.

He picks up a drumstick.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
He bites and chews. “Good thing
Alex needed you.”
Good thing?
Bad thing?
It used to be so easy
to spot which was which.
I’ve opened the door
to bad thing.
Crave it more and more
every day. Would it
be so bad? Or would
it be the best thing
that ever happened to me?

I lean my head against
his shoulder. “If we would
have gone down to
the beach—?”

His eyes move away
from the intensity of mine
and gather the spectacle
of the ocean’s purity.
“I don’t know, babe.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”

Chapter 18

I KNOW

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie
Date:
06/08
Dive #:
last time here
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
Rehab Center
Weather Condition:
sunshine
Water Condition:
2’ swells
Depth:
on the surface
Visibility:
100+
Water Temp:
fine
Bottom Time:
the rest of the day
Comments:

Diving this morning. Seth and Dani. She ran the show. Whatever else you say about her, she knows her stuff. Great with the people on the boat. Not just the drooling guys. Even the kids and their moms.

I’m off this afternoon to take Leesie to her appointment at the rehab place. She got all dolled up for the nurses. Pretty white dress and the hip white scarf twisted around her head—I hadn’t noticed the silver and white beads tied onto the fringe. Lots of makeup. The only color she’s got on is the bead and shell necklace she thought was Suki’s. I love that she wears it.

“Ah, Sugar, look at you!” Her favorite nurse greets her with a hug. “So pretty! Better, no?”

Leesie blinks, getting emotional. “No more pills.” She’s refused to even take over-the-counter pain pills since that night she flushed her drugs down the toilet at Rum Point.

“Good for you.” Sugar pats her back.

We wait for the doctor in a treatment room. Leesie’s nervous. “What if it’s not fixed right?” She holds up her hand, twists it trying to see under cast and inside to the bones.

I take her hand. “Don’t worry.”

“What if he says I have to keep wearing the cast?”

“Then my plans for tomorrow are wrecked.” I want to get her in the water so bad.

“Here, take my ring. I don’t want cast-dust on it.”

I take her hand and slide the ring off her finger and put it in my pocket.

“Do you think they’re fat now? My fingers?”

I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. “Your fingers are fine.”

She tips her head to rest against my cheek. “I love you.”

“I know.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, and the doctor walks in. Leesie gets cherry red and flustered, but the dude has his nose in Leesie’s chart.

“Let’s see what we’ve got now.” He directs Leesie to perch on one of those doctor’s office exam tables. He checks how the wound on her head is healing. “Any headaches?”

“Only him.” Her eyebrows rise in my direction.

The doctor laughs. “How’s your nose?” His expert fingers press along the ridge of her nose, stop at the slight bump from the break. “Is it still tender here?”

“Not very.”

“Any nosebleeds?”

“No.”

“Good.” He unlatches her sling and pulls it off.

The dress is bare on top, shows how tan she’s getting.

The doctor runs his fingers all along her collarbone—spends extra time around the break. “This has healed nicely. Have you been using your arm?”

“Some.” She looks down at the white skirt of her dress draped over her knees.

“A lot.” I fold my arms across my chest.

She glares.

“Good.” The doctor helps her put the sling back on. “Wear the sling as needed for another two weeks. But you can take it off for exercise. Swimming would be good. Are you doing your exercises?”