Indecent Cravings: Part Three Page 4

  I head toward the water.

  I’m amazed at how many people are out here. Lanterns glow on little blankets all around me, not that you really need them. The multi-colored neon spectacle of Ocean Drive casts a glow all the way to the sand’s edge. Not to mention the lights from the rows of hotels to my left, strung as far as the eye can see. If I squint, they look like glowing Lego blocks.

  I know it’s unsafe to walk out here at this time of night, but I’m testing my theory. I’m convinced all this might just be a dream. If it is, then if anything happens I’ll just wake up.

  I take off my flats as I pause at the edge of the water.

  It’s mostly darkness ahead of me, although there are enough spots of boats and cruise ships to give a sense of the horizon.

  The water is warm as it splashes over my feet. Funny, back home it’s always cold even at this time of year. Seems like nothing is cold here.

  Except Lukas Thorn.

  Is Lorena right? Did he drop me from the school because he fell in love with me at first sight?

  I laugh again, the water moving up to my ankles. The squishy sand beneath my feet loses its solidity the further I move forward.

  Shit, it feels real. This is a really detailed dream.

  And if this is a dream, then Miami must not even look like this in real life because I’ve never been there. So did I fabricate all this in my mind? The names of the streets and everything? Is there really a Collins Ave? A James Ave?

  I need to go out further.

  It must be a dream. There is no way a man like Lukas Thorn would fall for me. He’s a man who dates supermodels like Clarissa Stock, after all.

  That alone is proof this is all a dream. I press forward.

  The water is up to my knees. I feel a sideways rush of water.

  That’s the undertow. It’s all over the news, warning swimmers to be careful. A boy drowned just last week, swept out to sea by a rough current that picked him up and threw him away.

  If I go further, I’ll be tempting it.

  But this is all a dream, right?

  So it shouldn’t matter, right?

  “Is this real?” I say out loud to nobody.

  I turn and look back at the beach. The lovers and beach bums on their blankets don’t seem to notice me.

  “Is this real?” I scream louder.

  No answer.

  I take another step forward.

  Now I’m feeling it. The sense of the ocean is powerful as it swallows me up to my waist. I raise my purse up to my shoulder to keep it from getting wet.

  I have a purse. If this is a dream, I wouldn’t have a purse, right? What would I be doing with a purse in a dream?

  Hm, now I’m having doubts.

  I’ve got admit, this feels fucking real. My heart beats faster and my skin crawls with fear.

  If this is real, I’m tempting fate.

  I turn and look back at the neon glow again.

  I need to know.

  I really need to know!

  “Is this real?” I shout one more time as I’m about to take another step forward.

  “Yes!” says a voice from behind me.

  I turn and look.

  Oh my God! It’s Zander!

  At that moment, a water current hits my right foot and pulls me under.

  Holy fuck, I’m drowning!

  I’m in a swirl of water, sucked inside of it, and spinning in circles. I inhale a mouthful of ocean as I try to right myself.

  I try to swim, but it’s no use. The ocean has complete control over me. I can’t even tell where up is.

  Fuck!

  Well, looks like I’m going to die.

  Walking out into the deep water was a stupid move, wasn’t it?

  I guess it was all real.

  Now I’ll never know.

  Damn.

  I’ll never find out if Lukas Thorn really loves me. I’ll break Trevor’s heart because he’ll think I killed myself over him. My dad will think it’s because of him and Karissa. I’m not sure what Karissa will think, because she kept so much of herself hidden from me. I don’t care what my mom or sisters will think.

  Oh, well. It was fun.

  I take a deep breath and inhale another lungful of water, accepting my stupid fate.

  Then I feel hands on my shoulders, carrying me.

  No, it can’t be.

  Whatever.

  I just let myself drift and fall into the vortex.

  Chapter 7

  A mouth is on mine.

  Oh God!

  A rush of water flows out of my lungs and I cough furiously, sitting up on my side.

  I’m in serious pain as a final purge of water flows out of me and onto the sand, mixed with vomit.

  I go into another coughing fit. Hands pat my back. Wait, what hands?

  I turn and look. It’s a boy. Seventeen, maybe.

  “You’re okay,” he says. “You’re going to be all right.”

  There is a young girl next to him, the same age. They must have been on one of those blankets I saw.

  After a couple of minutes, I finally get my breathing under control.

  Yep, this is real.

  No dream.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “No problem,” says the boy. “I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

  “No! I’m fine.”

  He looks at his girlfriend with a quizzical expression. “I don’t know. I think I’d better call an ambulance.”

  “Look at me!” I say in my best Lukas Thorn impression. “Don’t call an ambulance!”

  They both freeze in position, staring at me.

  “Here’s your purse,” says the girl. “It washed up beside you.”

  “Thanks. Washed up?”

  “Yeah,” says the girl. “It was weird. It was like you were carried by something and just plopped down onto the sand. Troy and I just ran over and brought you here to our blanket.”

  I close my eyes for a long second. “So it wasn’t you that carried me into shore? I felt hands lifting me.”

  “No,” says the boy. “We were just lying here on this blanket.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see someone? I swear I felt hands.”

  The boy and girl look at each other again. “Yeah, we’re sure. There was nobody out there besides you.”

  I look around. I’m still here. I’m alive. A little waterlogged, but okay. The girl stares at me with big eyes.

  “Maybe it was a spirit,” she says.

  A chill passes through me.

  Zander! I remember now. I saw Zander!

  I grab the boy’s arm and squeeze. “Did you see anyone walking around here? A boy about my age? Twenty-one. Tall and skinny with black bushy hair?”

  They look at each other yet again. Both shake their heads and say “no” at the same time.

  Okay, this is weird.

  Gotta get the fuck out of here and back to the Redmond Apts.

  “Well, thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much. It’s nice to meet you.”

  They both smile and nod. “I’m Troy,” says the boy, “and this is my girlfriend Sherry.”

  “Hi, Troy and Sherry, I’m Abigail.” I stand up. I’m a little wobbly, but I’m okay. “Thanks for saving my life. Look, I owe you. I’d take your number, but I think my phone must be dead after that. Where was my purse, by the way?”

  “Right next to you,” says Sherry. “It just washed up and landed beside you, right over there.”

  I look over at the spot to which she points. Nothing there now. “Okay, well, I’m on Facebook. Abigail Trowbridge. It says Concord, Massachusetts even though I kinda sorta live here now. Maybe. Friend me, okay? I’d like to be friends, seeing as you saved my life and all.”

  “Yeah,” they both say at the same time.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” says Troy.

  I look around one more time, scanning for any sign of Zander.

  “Yes,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

  As I wal
k off the beach back onto 15th Street toward Collins, I notice that the world appears much more solid. The pavement beneath my feet is hard. If one of these pavers were removed from its place in the sidewalk, its sharp edges would indeed cut me.

  Hm.

  This is real after all, isn’t it?

  Chapter 8

  It’s eleven o’clock the following morning. I’m sitting at an outdoor table under an umbrella outside of Starbucks at the Lincoln Road Mall waiting for my dad.

  For a girl who nearly drowned the night before, I woke up surprisingly early and refreshed at seven.

  First mission was to dry out the contents of my purse and get the sand out. Second mission was to get a new phone.

  I’ve been meaning to upgrade to an iPhone anyway, so I walked over to the Apple store and bought one using Zander’s debit card, which wasn’t affected by the salt water apparently.

  As soon as it was activated, it exploded with new texts and calls.

  Shit.

  Okay, gotta face some of this.

  First up, my dad. He’s been calling nonstop. Good ol’ Trevor must not have told him where I’m staying, which I appreciate.

  Which reminds me, where is Trevor? He didn’t come back last night, not that I expected him to after the previous night. He said he had a mission to accomplish while he was here. I wonder what that was.

  So I called my dad and agreed to meet him for lunch.

  I was all upset over him and Karissa before, but now I’m kind of numb.

  This morning, sipping my Frappuccino under the green umbrella as I watch the people go by, I’m oddly unfazed about anything.

  Maybe that’s what a near-death experience does to you. Maybe everything will seem NBD to me from now on.

  There he is. I see him walking toward me.

  Oh shit, Trevor is with him.

  Well, of course, Abigail! Trevor is his chauffeur slash bodyguard slash hooker provider.

  My dad looks ridiculous next to Trevor. He’s all soft and pudgy, kind of roly-poly. Mostly bald, with what’s left gray going white. The mustache is back. It seems to take every other year off.

  He’s dressed like he thinks all rich tourists should dress in Miami. Yellow Polo shirt, plaid shorts, and Sperry Top-siders.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love my dad. He’s always been good to me. But I always got the sense that he wanted to be somewhere else.

  Sucking cock, maybe.

  I laugh to myself again as they near the table, Trevor resplendent in his usual black suit. Our eyes meet for a second of pure passion, almost nabbing my pussy again with an intense lightning bolt.

  “Hello, Abigail,” says my dad sheepishly with his head down.

  I stand up, move toward him, and hug him. “Hi, Dad. Sit.”

  “I’m going to shop a bit,” says Trevor.

  “No, you stay too.”

  Trevor gives me a look like he’d rather have his balls chopped off. “No, I want to check out a store over here. You two talk.”

  I give him a yeah right look. Trevor hates stores. He throws me a panty-melting smile and saunters off.

  Deep breath.

  And . . .

  Back to dad.

  I sit.

  “Want a coffee?” I say.

  I’ve never seen my dad this nervous. He’s fidgeting something furious, not to mention sweating buckets. “No, thanks. So . . . um . . . hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Hot, isn’t it?”

  “Welcome to Florida in August.”

  He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his mostly bald head. “Ha ha. Yeah.”

  I take a loud long sip from my nearly-empty Frappuccino. “Yeah.”

  He smiles and says, “So.”

  “So.”

  “Um . . . ”

  “Well, this is fun.”

  “Abigail, I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “Dad, it’s okay. Believe it or not . . . I get it. I think I actually get it.”

  “Your friend is nice.”

  “I noticed you like her.”

  “Yes, she’s . . . unique. So, Abigail, let’s just try to keep this quiet, huh?”

  I smile a little. “So, Dad, you want to keep quiet about my staying here and I keep quiet about the fact you were deep-throating my friend’s cock. Is this a negotiation?”

  He looks around nervously and crouches into his hands. “Please don’t talk so loud!”

  “That wasn’t loud.”

  “Abigail, the thing is . . . I’m a failed husband.”

  “Dad, no you’re not. Look at what you married.”

  “Do you know, Abigail, how beautiful your mother was when I first saw her?”

  “I’ve seen the pictures a few thousand times, Dad.”

  “I was blinded. I couldn’t see anything else. It was like the entire world organized itself around her. Everything disappeared when she was around.”

  I think about Lukas Thorn. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

  “I’ve been living a lie for many years now. With Trevor’s help.”

  “He’s good that way.”

  “Very good.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “You keep quiet about me, let me go back to my life in Concord with your mother like nothing happened. She never knows . . . I mean she never knows . . . and I’ll support you here. How much do you need?”

  “I don’t want money, Dad.”

  “Seriously, how much do you need?”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “Abigail, you didn’t fall under the spell of Karissa, did you?”

  A stab of irritation hits me. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, she’s a lowlife hooker.”

  The stab of irritation flares up into a ringlet of anger. “How can you talk about her like that?”

  “Abigail,” he says as he puts his hand on mine. “She’s a prostitute. She’s not worth having as a friend. I hope that’s not how you’re making your money down here. Let me open up a special account for you.”

  “Dad, how can you talk about her like that? The last time I saw you, you seemed to like her quite a bit.”

  “That was just sex, dear. I paid her for that.”

  The anger rises up and out. “Don’t talk about her like that! And I don’t need your money! And no, I’m not a prostitute!”

  “Abigail, please keep your voice down.”

  “You know Dad? I’ve always been on your side. But right now, you sound a little like Mom.”

  “All right, let’s move past this. Where are you staying?”

  “The Redmond Apts,” I say.

  His eyebrows raise. “Apts?”

  “Apartments. I say Apts because that’s what the sign says.”

  “Oh. Is that one of Trevor’s family’s places?”

  My heart skips a beat. “Trevor’s family?”

  “Yes, I thought you knew. He’s from here. His family owns a lot of real estate properties, but I probably shouldn’t divulge that. He doesn’t like anyone to know. I just thought that since the two of you have always been so close . . . well, never mind. As long as you’re safe here and don’t say anything about that hooker.”

  “Stop calling her that! Dad, she is a good person! She was only doing what she knows.” I stand up and grab my Frappuccino. “And right now I’d just like you to get on a plane back to Boston!”

  “Okay, fine. One more thing. I just want you to know . . . I’m not gay!”

  “Why would I even think that?”

  “Uh . . . ub . . . well, what you saw!”

  “Karissa is a girl, Dad!”

  He laughs. “No, dear, that’s not a girl.”

  “I’m done talking to you, Dad!”

  I get up and storm away.

  Chapter 9

  “He is an ass!” I say to Trevor, who I find sitting on a low, multi-colored wall watching a group of five girls my age in short-shorts walking by while eating an ice-cream cone.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, but he’s an easy ass, not like your mother. I’ll take him over her any day.”

  “True. Hey, how do you eat McDonald’s and ice cream and never gain an ounce of fat, by the way?”

  “I work out a lot.”

  “I’ve never seen you work out.”

  “I do it in private.”

  “Uh huh. So, did you get your task done?”

  “Yes. It was surprisingly easier than I thought.”

  “Well, good.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “I may have found a new place. I’m meeting the . . . um . . . real estate person at two.”

  “Where?”

  “Not too far. Over on West Ave.”

  “No shit, really?”

  “Yeah, really. Trevor, about last night–”

  “Don’t, Smudge. Just don’t. It’s all my fault. I apologize. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I promised myself for years I would never dump it all on you, and I did. I ruined everything.”

  “You didn’t dump anything on me! I needed to know. And nothing is ruined.”

  He finishes his ice cream and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Your dad and I are flying back to Boston in two hours.”

  “Hurry before he melts.”

  Trevor laughs, puts me into a wrestling hold, and scratches my head again. I play-scream while he laughs.

  He stands up. “So, I’ll see you around.”

  I stand up, and turn him so he’s facing me. “Trevor, I’m glad you told me what you did. It’s who you are. And I do love you. You must know that.”

  “I do, and that makes it all worth while.” He clasps my hands in his and kisses me. “Whatever you do in life, do it for you. Don’t come back unless you’re sure. One thing I’ll say, there’s a spark behind your eyes that I haven’t seen since you were little. Something down here has set you on fire, made you alive. Whatever it is, grab hold of it with full force. Live your life! If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

  “Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life, right?”

  He laughs out loud. “God, you kill me.” He pretends to straighten an imaginary hat, then removes an imaginary cigarette from his lips. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

  I laugh. “Now that’s a Humphrey Bogart impression!” He hugs me. “You know, Trevor, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”