Good Vibrations (Welcome to Paradise) (9 page)

“I’m still on Boulder time. I’ve started coming out here to watch the sunrise when I wake up too early.” I look across the ocean and at the palm trees hugging the coastline. “This place is magical. It really is paradise.”

“I should show you more of the island. What do you think about me taking you to a few of my favorite places? We can start with a beach bonfire this Monday. I’ll be training all weekend. Promised my dad I’d stay home and hang with the fam, so the guys made plans for Monday.”

Our friendship is growing and he looks so genuinely optimistic that it’s hard to say no. “I’d like that.” I try to remember my schedule for the rest of the week. “Monday works.”

“Cool. I should get back before the waves die down.” His fingers graze across my forearm.

“Okay. Bye, Noah.”             

* * *

When I open the door, Sunny is dressed and eating cereal in the kitchen.  I lean against the counter opposite of her. “Good morning, best friend.”

“Whash haz you so chespper?”

“What?”

She chews quickly then asks, “What has you so chipper?”

“I have a date with Noah on Monday.”

“It’s eight in the morning. How’d you get a date before eight in the morning?”

“He was down at the beach surfing. We got to talking. There’s a bonfire on Monday.”

“Please tell me some of your luck is going to rub off on me. I don’t think I can go much longer without some lovins.”

“Sunny, my dear friend, you have every guy drooling after you—”

“Except the one I want—”

“That’s not true. He’s available and happens to be coming into Kehones quite often these days. Connect the dots.”

“Only to get info on you to relay to his friend.”

“Not true. I want you to stand there quietly and listen to my reasoning. This is how I see it. He’s just using ‘
his friend
’ as a cover to be able to talk to you. You aren’t pursuing him and almost seem shy when you’re around him which is un-Sunny like behavior if you ask me. But, maybe, he’s also shy around you.” I throw my hands into the air. “Where’s that gonna get us? I’ll tell you where. No where!” I take her by the hands pulling her from her slouchy position against the counter, and say, “Now stand up straight, stick out those boobs, chin up, and work what your mama gave you. Be the Sunny I know you can be and go get that man.” I lead her to the living room and slap her ass as she passes.

“Owww!” she says, rubbing her bottom with her hands.

“Understand, girlie?”

“I understand, Sergeant Wray. I understand,” she says, marching proudly into the bedroom. “I should change into something cuter just in case Zach stops by again today.”

“Smart thinking. That’s my girl!”

She peeks her head out of the bedroom, and asks, “So, you and Noah on Monday, huh?”

“Yep, seems that way. Me, Noah, and a date on Monday.”

Chapter 9

Evan

Five days have passed since I last saw her, and although I thought not seeing her would bring some relief to this messed up obsession, it hasn
’t. Earlier this evening I hung out with the guys at their house before I needed a Mallory fix, and drove by her place. I’d been better, but a few beers seem to make me want to see her, even if only from a distance. She has a routine, and the lights are usually out when I cruise by. Tonight I’m sticking to the road. I don’t like to admit it, but she’s moved on just fine from all appearances, probably because I’ve left her alone… or was told to leave her alone.

While walking up the path to my house, I notice the corner bedroom light is on in the main house. That only means one thing, my sister
’s back on the island. Like a ninja, I work my way to my sanctuary, locking the door behind me and leaving the lights off because I don’t want her to know I’m home. Tomorrow seems like a much more agreeable day to deal with her.

Stripping down to my briefs—my new favorite briefs—I smile when remembering how Mallory looked when she was wearing them in the pool. Grabbing my last cigarette, I open the back door and stand there trying to find some peace from my troubled thoughts of a girl who refuses to talk to me. The ocean reflects the moon in the distance and my mind begins to calm.

After tossing the butt into a metal bucket full of sand, I go back inside. I brush my teeth and climb into the bed that hasn’t felt right since she left nine days earlier. This girl is driving me insane and after telling me to go away last week, it finally occurs to me that maybe she meant it.
She’s really not interested in me.
It’s an unsettling thought and foreign to me, causing me to shift uncomfortably onto my side and curl up. Eventually I fall asleep to the sounds of the ocean through the open door, but I don’t dream.

The next morning, I make coffee and throw on my board shorts and a t-shirt, feeling more like my old self. I can’t put my sister off forever, but I’m not quite ready to see her. Spying on the main house from my window, I don’t see any movement which is my cue to dash and get the hell out. My escape is swift and clean.

Thirty minutes later, I’m scanning the surf lessons appointments chart left in my cabana on the beach. Giving surf lessons was the only thing I considered when I needed to fill my time. Working for a large hotel on the beach just made it easy for me to show up, do my job, and clock out at the end of the day. The access to honeys is just a perk of the job.

I do my usual inspection of gender, age, and names. Names are the least important to me. I don’t need to know them after today and if I score with one of the clients then I can memorize it long enough to get by. I spot two opportunities listed on the roster today: females, both twenty-one, Ginger and Tiffany. Using fake names for their vacation means they want to party and I can bet money those aren’t their real names.

I set the clipboard down on the counter, unlock the surfboards, and set them up neatly on the beach. I may seem like a total fuck-up, but I take my job at this hotel seriously, at least the teaching portion of it. By nine o’clock, my first clients show up.  They sign the release waiver then I set each up with a board. Once I have their attention on the sand, I show them the basic strategy to surfing. The thirty minute lesson in the sand flies by and soon I’m in the water pushing them on the board towards the shore and encouraging them to hang ten.

Five hours and eight clients later, the end of my day looks very promising. Two girls bounce through the sand straight for me. “Hi, we’re here for our lesson,” the bleached blonde says, giggling with her friend.

“You’re at the right place, ladies. I’m Evan.” I offer my hand.

“I’m Tiffany,
Evan
,” she says, drawing out my name and insinuating everything I want to hear.

I direct my attention to her friend, who quite honestly fits more of my standard pick-up from work—strawberry blonde, light eyes, tan, big breasts. “Hi, I’m Ginger.”

Our hands linger a beat longer than appropriate, but I can already tell this lesson won’t be just about surfing. I need to get Mallory off my mind and the best way to beat a habit is to break it. I flash my brightest and widest smile at them and watch as they become putty in my hands.

Our lesson consists of lots of hands-on assistance. These girls are either extremely dense or, by the way they act, horny as fuck. By the time we’re in the water, they’ve completely lost interest in surfing and are whining it’s too hard. But by the end of the lesson, Tiffany says, “I’m hungry.” She laughs, giving Ginger a look as if that is code for something other than food.

I’m not sure how I’m feeling towards them anymore. I like hot, but I don’t like dumb, and Mallory hasn’t left my mind like I hoped. I know these girls will be a poor substitute for her. But I’m also not a quitter, okay, I’m kind of a quitter, but I won’t let Mallory win. She made herself clear the other night when she shut the door on me.

Fuck that!
 

I’ve got nothing to lose and lots of fun to gain. “You girls want to grab some nosh and a movie? Are you staying here at the hotel?” Please let them be staying somewhere else.

“How about we just go back to our room?” Ginger asks, pointing to the hotel and then adjusting her too-tiny bikini top.

“I can’t fraternize with the hotel guests on property. I’ll take you to a nearby restaurant and we’ll go from there.” I don’t bring girls back to my place either, so I might have to take them to Zach and Murphs to make this happen.

“I don’t want to fraternize, whatever that means. I just want to have fun and mess around.” Tiffany turns to her friend, and says, “I want him. He’s hot!”

There’s a silent debate exchanged between them, but it doesn’t take them long to figure out what they want to do. Ginger takes the lead, and says, “Sounds like a plan, but we want to shower and change clothes first.”

“I have to close up the shack anyway.” I hand them a twenty dollar bill for a cab and say, “Meet me at Kailua’s restaurant in an hour. I’ll buy you dinner—”

“I’m not hungry for food,” Tiffany whines.

“Honey, trust me, you’re going to need the energy tonight.” I play up the whole lothario act for them, but they’re so easy it takes no effort.

They begin to giggle again and the sound starts to grate on my nerves. Ginger steps forward and runs her finger across my chest. “We’ll see you there.”

I put all the boards in the cabana, lock up, then stride into the employee locker room to take a shower. A quick change into clean clothes, kept in my locker for just these sorts of occasions, and I’m out the door.

I beat the girls to the restaurant just as I suspected I would. I never worry if they’re going to show up because they always do. Ten minutes late, they walk in, in full clubbing fashion—wearing sky high heels and skirts that invite every man in the room to stare. Ginger’s white shirt gives a sneak peek of what’s to come through the sheer material. Tiffany’s cropped top is too small and too tight, highlighting her surgically enhanced breasts. I’m not really into the fake ones that much, but have never been known to turn them down either.

Ginger slides into the booth next to me and Tiffany pouts because she has to sit across from us. Dinner with these girls is interesting. They’re pretty enough, overtly sexual, and horny; a combination that usually works well for me. “So ladies, you want me to call a friend over… to
watch the movie
with us?” I throw this out just in case I’ve been reading their blatant signs all wrong. While waiting for their response, I finish my second beer, needing it to calm the anxiety building inside even though I don’t know why I’m anxious.

Ginger, who’s hand hasn’t left my thigh since she sat down, whispers in my ear, “No, baby, just us three tonight.”

I pay the check.

In the parking lot, Ginger and Tiffany’s hand tightens on my arm when they see my car. They are like all girls, all girls except Mallory, and get wet at the sight of my expensive automobile because it means I have money. I’m not stupid. Women like these have an extra sense to sniff out men with money.

Ginger slips into the backseat and Tiffany slides into the front. I’m disappointed. She’s hot, but the airhead act doesn’t turn me on.

Walking into the movie store, I nod to the desk clerk while leading the girls to the back curtained-off section of the store. Mallory remains at the forefront of my mind, so I take action to rid myself of her once and for all. I’m not messing around anymore. I’m gonna bump this party to the extreme if that’s what it will take to forget her.

As they run their fingers along the large pornographic boxes lining the shelves, I psyche myself up for tonight’s adventure. I don’t normally do porn or maybe I should say that porn doesn’t normally do it for me. But my feelings have been all over the place with these girls and I’m feeling a bit insecure about my performance since being rejected by Mallory. It’s really starting to drag me down. They each pick a movie and take to each side of me, rubbing up and down.

As Tiffany licks and nips at my neck, Ginger nibbles my earlobe while copping a feel of my bulge. Knowing we’re bordering on our own porn, I need to get these girls out of the store before we get thrown out. Moving forward with an arm around each of them, we stumble out from behind the curtain and towards the front check-out desk. I’m finally starting to feel like my old self again and breathe easier knowing this where I shine. I’ve got my mojo back.

Rounding the last aisle, we run straight into Mallory. She drops her movie as the girls drop theirs. Instinctively, I bend down, catching her arm and trying to help her, but she yanks it out of my hand. Her face is pale, paler than her usual Mainland shade of pale.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, warning me while eyeing the girls.

Still squatting, we both look down at the movies lying on the ground. She’s quiet, probably processing the information. The girls behind me giggle, and I see Mallory’s eyes look up and over my shoulder. Her cheeks flush with the sweetest shade of pink, reminding me of our first day together. I gulp, too humiliated for words.

Apparently, she’s not. “You’re disgusting, Evan!” Her voice is low. Her words are for my ears alone.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach and I want to tell her this is all because of her.
I need to forget you and these girls are going to get me over you.
But I can’t, and it’s better that I don’t. She’s too smart to believe that bullshit and too beautiful to have to listen to it.

She stands up with her movie in hand, still pink-cheeked and embarrassed, even though I should be the one embarrassed. While she fumbles for her wallet, the girls reach down to pick up their movies. I stand, silent, unable to say what I really want, and watch Mallory completely shut down in front of me. All the emotions that she so readily wore on her sleeve before are gone. There are no witty, smart-assed comments to accompany this awkward situation.

My heart breaks even more watching her tell the clerk that she can’t find her money in her purse. She’s frantic as she glances back at us, digging in her bag. Looking at the girls caught up in their own world and oblivious to what’s happening right in front of them, Mallory says, “Just forget it. I’ll come back.”

“Take the movie. I’ll pay for it on my account,” I offer with a shaky voice.

“No.” She starts to walk off holding her head high, but I can tell she’s struggling.

I grab the movie and run to her before she exits. “Take the movie, please.”

“She owes a late fee to be able to rent that,” the clerk shouts at us.

I look back at him, and snap, “I’ll cover the damn late fee. Just put it on my account.”

When I turn back, Mallory is leaving the store, movie in hand. She doesn’t know I’m watching as she runs to the car, gets in, and leans her head against the steering wheel. I stand there stunned to the spot and watch as she cries. I want to go to her, but I know it’s better if I don’t.

I have royally fucked this up and the only thought that crosses my mind is that I lost her before I even had her.