In The Sunshine (3 page)

Tommy was no different than the street sharks of Chicago she encountered on her forays to the museums and night life of the Windy City. Regan felt a certain kinship with all of them. Not about grubbing a buck, but about being alone in the world. People like Tommy and her had themselves to rely on.

She gave him a slight nod as she passed by and he diverted his gaze from his customers for a split second to shoot her a smile. Regan continued on with the late afternoon sun pressing on her back. She kicked off her sandals and scooped them up in one motion.

Regan edged toward the ocean and the warm, frothy waters tickled her feet. Occasionally, she'd walk over a sharp sea shell, but her soles were tough enough to avoid being cut. Regan continually went barefoot away from work and school.

She rarely looked up at the other beach-goers. After two years of living at Cocoa, they all looked remarkably similar. She edged closer to the pier and noticed a lone figure sitting under an umbrella. He was wearing a stark white tank top and his hair was incredibly short, a buzz cut she thought.

Matt.
 

Regan froze for an instant. Should she just keep walking or explore that thing about him she liked and couldn't quite put her finger on? The ocean breeze kicked up and her hair blew behind her. She started moving again, one foot in front of the other and glanced in his direction.

His head was turned her way, seemingly locked. A few more strides and she was less than thirty feet away from Matt. Her heartbeat quickened when he waved at her.

Regan waved back and smiled, but kept walking.

A WAVE OF GUILT CRASHED INSIDE OF MATT’S HEART. Seeing Regan like this, her hair down framing her face, her attire accentuating a near perfect form, it whisked every other thought from his mind. The twinge of attraction he had felt at the restaurant had turned into a distinct pull.

The fact that she acknowledged him by waving back made him flush like a schoolboy. He couldn't believe himself, his own reaction. Matt could hear Wade's voice inside his head: "Dude, she's righteous, go for it." He stared down at his ring finger. The indentation in his skin where his gold wedding band had rested for so long was still visible.

Matt looked up and saw Regan heading straight for the pier. He wondered if she was meeting friends and then realized how stupid he was. She was going to meet a boyfriend. No way a girl like that would be single. No way.

He had to find out. His attraction and interest in her overpowered any lingering guilt. Matt watched as Regan walked up a ramp onto the pier and into a bar or restaurant, he couldn't tell which.

He unscrewed the umbrella from the sand, gathered his chair and tossed his cell phone in his pocket. He left the tube of sunblock lying in the sand. In less than five minutes, Matt had paid for the rentals and nearly reached the pier.

He didn't have a plan. He was working on adrenalin and impulse. Regan could very well scream for help when she saw him again. Good luck trying to explain that to his boss, a Captain who made the warden from
Shawshank Redemption
seem tame by comparison.

Matt let out a long breath before opening the door to Marlins On the Pier. This was crazy. Crazy right, his heart told him. He stepped inside and looked around a small lobby. No hostess.
 

From where he stood, he couldn't actually see any tables or the bar, just restrooms straight ahead.
 
He took a step forward and his eyes followed along the paneled walls, which were filled with black and white photos, programs for long ago beach concerts and clipped newspaper articles. He spotted an arrow pointing to his right. He followed the sign and a man was sitting in a high chair holding a fist full of money.

"Three dollars to get on the deck," the man said.

"What?"

"Three bucks. You here for the launch?"

"Ah, no, dinner," Matt said. "What do you mean about a launch?"

The man, who wore an unbuttoned, tropical-looking short sleeve shirt and shaggy grey hair down to his shoulders, gave him a sarcastic look. "Up at Canaveral in 45 minutes. A satellite is going up. It's three bucks to watch from the deck."

Matt thought it might be the reason Regan came up to the pier. He fished out a few dollars and the man collected the money and stamped Matt's hand.
 

"Restaurant over here?" he asked, nodding to his left.

"Yep," the man said, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"Thanks."

Thanks for the hospitality, jerk, Matt thought. He made his way into the Marlin and scanned for Regan. He spotted her at the bar with a guy. All of the adrenalin left his body and his spirit vanished along with it. Despite his better judgment, he found an unoccupied table away from the bar and prayed she wouldn't see him. A waitress came buy and he ordered a Corona in Regan's honor.

He couldn't help but glance in her direction. The guy with her was tall, tanned, and muscular. Matt thought they looked like a nice couple, like they
should
be together. Something about Regan's body language was off, though.

While the guy was leaning in toward her and smiling, she appeared to be holding back. Matt could see her facial expression and she looked annoyed. Perhaps it was just a lover's spat.

The waitress returned with his beer and he ordered a burger and fries. He took a long pull from the Corona and looked to his right, out at the ocean. Windows circled the back half of Marlins and he imagined it was part of the restaurant's charm. He could picture himself watching the sun set over several rounds of Bass Ale. Matt managed a small laugh at himself, remembering what Regan had said about English pubs and Florida. He glanced her way again.

Her date had his right hand under her arm trying to pull her away from the bar. Regan was resisting. She used her free arm to elbow the guy. The disturbance had caught the attention of the bar tender, who moved toward the couple and yelled out for him to stop. Matt pushed away from the table and raced toward the fracas.

“ LET ME GO,” REGAN DEMANDED.
 

Eddie Levan ignored her request and kept pulling. He actually lifted her off her seat. Regan elbowed him in the ribs and then kicked at him wildly, missing the mark. Restaurant patrons were watching the fight, but did nothing to help.
 

Once away from the bar, Eddie pushed Regan forward. He was trying to force her out the door. The bartender, Ray, a slender man appearing to be in his late forties, grabbed Eddie’s shoulder.

“She said let her –-”

Eddie released his grip on Regan, turned to his left and flattened Ray with a roundhouse right. She used the distraction to try to get away, but he regained his hold on her by yanking a clump of her hair.

Regan howled in pain, but kept fighting. Eddie had her left arm pulled behind her. She reached behind her with her right and clawed his face with her nails. A few feet from the door, a man stepped in front of them. Regan looked and his face didn't register. Then it hit her, it was the guy from the Sandbar and the beach: Matt.

Eddie flung Regan into a nearby table with his left hand and then grabbed a fist full of Matt's tank top with his right.

“Get the hell out of my way,” Eddie yelled, “if you know what’s good for you.”

“Not happening,” Matt said.

He towered over Matt and Regan knew what was coming next. If Eddie couldn't intimidate, he would pummel Matt. He liked to fight and she had witnessed him drop a pair of college guys at a keg party when one of them got too friendly with her. To her surprise, Matt didn't move an inch after Eddie's threat.
 

Eddie shot his left fist into the side of Matt's face. The blow snapped his head backward, but Matt held his ground. A quick right from Eddie grazed his chin. Matt regained his footing and seemed to dare his opponent to swing again.

Eddie obliged and tried a straight right. Matt pushed it away with his left hand and into his raised right arm. In one motion, Matt secured Eddie's hand with his left and used his bodyweight to roll Eddie's caught arm over. Matt then leaned forward and down, pushing Eddie arm back at an awkward angle.

"You're going to break my wrist," he yelped.

Matt took Eddie to the floor and then quickly moved behind him, pinching his arm backward. Matt putt a knee in Eddie's lower back then grabbed his left arm and applied some type of hold on his left thumb. Eddie tried to buck Matt off, but it was useless. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Eddie turned his head to face Regan. He smiled and then let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You think this is over, bitch?” he said. “It ain’t. I’ll get --”

Matt slammed Eddie’s face into the floor and then a second time for good measure. He leaned down to whisper into Eddie’s ear.

"Shut the fuck up,” Matt said, “if you know what’s good for you.”

Regan wanted to stomp Eddie’s skull, but knew getting anywhere near him might cause Matt to lose his grip. Her entire relationship with Eddie flashed before her eyes. She couldn't believe it had come to this. He had been so much fun at first and even seemed like a good guy.

How could she have been so wrong?

A couple of minutes elapsed before two Cocoa Beach officers arrived. Matt took his knee off of Eddie’s back and allowed him to rise off the floor, but with his wrists still tightly in his grip. One of the officers cuffed Eddie and Matt reached into his back pocket.

He flashed a badge to the officer and suddenly, it all made sense to Regan. The crew cut. The aura of safety that drifted off Matt in waves. His even demeanor in the fight. He was a cop, and apparently, a good one.

Regan moved closer to Matt. He was describing the incident to the officer, who took notes on a small pad. The officer finished interviewing Matt and closed his notepad. Seconds later, Eddie was led away.
 

Regan’s defenses dropped. Pain started rushing in from various parts of her body and she trembled. She would not, however, allow herself to cry.
 

"Do you have someone you can call?” Matt asked, turning to her.

She shook her head no. "Just my roommate and she's working."

"Where do you live?"

Regan hesitated for a moment. She normally relied on her instincts. They had served her well over the years, at least until Eddie. Should she tell him? Hadn't he just rescued her from who knows what?

"A block up from here."

"I can walk you or call you a cab?"

Regan reached for his right hand. It was thick and strong. She looked at his eyes again. "Walk me."

Many of the Marlin's patrons were still glaring at them. Holding an ice pack to the side of his face, Ray came up to them and asked Regan if she was okay.

She nodded. "Yeah. I’m so sorry about this. Are you alright?”

“I’m from Jersey, honey,” Ray said. “Camden. Course I’m alright. That rich bastard’s gonna pay. Knocked my filling out. I’ll sue him and his daddy.”

He turned his attention to Matt and extended his hand. The two men shook. "Come back tomorrow. Dinner and drinks on me."

"Not necessary," Matt said.

"I insist."

Matt smiled. "Okay, then."

Ray looked at Regan. "You, too, hun. You'll never have to worry about that bastard bothering you here again. You're safe."

She didn't reply, but pulled on Matt's hand for them to leave. He nodded at Ray and they left Marlin's.

Out on Ocean Beach Boulevard, Regan noticed that some of the heat of the day had waned. With just a few clouds accenting the sky, it would be a gorgeous sunset, something she felt she needed.

To her own surprise, she didn't let Matt's hand go as they crossed the street. He hadn't said a word. It was if he sensed her desire for peace. The moment didn't feel awkward despite all that had just happened.

In less than ten minutes they were in front of her sun-colored, three-story apartment building. Palm trees dotted the landscape, but didn't obscure the ocean view. It was so different than the elm and maple trees that lined the street of her suburban Chicago home where her aunt and uncle had raised her.

"This is it?" Matt asked.

"Yeah," Regan said. She released his hand.

"Can I walk you to your door?"

She nodded at Matt and they made their way up to the third floor and her door.

"Thank you," Regan said.

"Glad I was there to help," he said.

The statement made her think of the obvious. Why had he been at the Marlin? Was it a coincidence or had he followed her? She felt a split second of fear and then looked at his face. His right eye was bruised and getting puffy. She reached up and touched it with her left hand.

"He caught you pretty good," Regan said.

"I've taken worse," Matt said.
 

"Better get some ice on it."

"I'm fine, really. Are you? Is there anything I can get for you? Something to eat? A coffee?"

Her fear vanished. She considered his words for a beat. "No, just your phone number."

Matt looked surprised.

"We're going to take Ray up on his offer tomorrow night," Regan said. "You're going to call me and I'm going to tell you what time to pick me up."

The brief scuffle had done little to raise Matt's blood pressure. Regan asking for his phone number? Different story. He hadn't been on a date within anyone but Jen in seven years. How was he supposed to act? What were they going to do after dinner?

A thousand questions had rolled around in his head all night. It made for fitful sleep, not that it seemed to matter. Matt felt like his iPhone on a full charge: ready for action. He tried to shake some of the excess energy with a round of early morning exercise.

No weights. Just push-ups and sit-ups. Despite a thin layer of flab around his mid-section, Matt was able to grunt out one hundred fifty sit-ups in a pair of sets. He did push-ups in groups of fifty. On his fifth set, he collapsed onto the floor and laughed.

"You're an idiot, Fischer," he said out loud as he rolled over onto his back and continued laughing. "What a dumbass you are. She's sure to notice your pumped up pecs and suddenly toned abs."