Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three Read online

  I stared straight ahead in a trance, the foghorn a despairing bleat.

  What did Rosalyn want with me after all this time? My mind raced with the possibilities. She was in trouble with the law, she needed money, her parents were dead, she wanted to proclaim her undying love for me. That last thought made me laugh bitterly at the unfairness of life.

  I turned the key in the ignition to make the forty-minute drive to Palo Alto.

  Eugene

  Once we were in my room, I picked up my guitar. “Let’s practice.”

  I’m pretty good at playing the guitar. When I was a kid, my mom used to dance around the living room while she cleaned house and blast her music. Mom told me that as far back as she could remember, I used to dance right along with her. My mom liked some pretty radical bands. Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix could shred it like nobody’s business. I liked to lie on the living room floor while my mom danced around. I always felt the vibrations of the music moving through the floor and through my body. Some people said they couldn’t feel music. To me it seemed pretty normal.

  When I was little I begged my mom for a guitar ’cause I wanted to be like the bands on YouTube. Usually, when I got home from school, Mom made me peanut butter and honey sandwiches (if she was home from work), and after I finished my homework, she’d let me watch YouTube. Finally my mom said that if I got really good grades, did all my homework, and quit bugging her about learning how to surf, she’d buy me a guitar for Christmas. And she did. The Christmas I turned eight, mom got me a totally sick Fender Telecaster. It’s my best friend. Along with Nelson, of course.

  When I was old enough, which I guess was around five, my mom sat me down and said, “Eugene, honey, you’re my special boy. You know that don’t you?” Of course I knew that, but all I wanted that day was a helping of ice cream.

  Mom put a big bowl of strawberry ice cream in front of me, tucked a napkin under my chin, handed me a spoon and said, “You know baby, the Universe brought you to me in a very special way.” I looked into her big, brown eyes and slurped up a spoonful of ice cream. “Some kids have a mother and a father, but you’re lucky because I wanted you so much that I meditated, asking for guidance, and the Universe told me that I was going to be your mommy and that’s all you would ever need.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but she told me that there were doctors who helped people like her who wanted to have babies, and that she met with some of those doctors who helped her get pregnant with me. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Do you want some more ice cream?”

  Over the next few years I’d asked questions, and she told me more about the “sperm donor laboratory” that’d helped her. “I was able to pick the physical characteristics, oh honey, I’m so happy that you’re my son,” she would say, and then give me a big smooch. These conversations usually ended with more ice cream.

  Nelson said, “After we practice, let’s look at that sperm donor site. We’re gonna figure out a way to find your dad.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Whatever.”

  Nelson plays bass guitar. And he likes to screw around on the computer.

  After we’d played three of the new songs we’d been practicing, Nelson set his guitar on my bed, swiveled around twice in my desk chair, and said, “Come on, let’s check out those sites again.”

  Nelson flipped open my laptop. He giggled when he got to the site called Fertility Warehouse. “Look, there’s that hot babe again.” I leaned over Nelson’s shoulder. There was the lady doctor in a lab coat who looked like a lingerie model. She had a hot body, big boobs pushing up against the lab coat, and long, dark hair that looked like she’d used one of those curling irons or whatever on her hair, making it all wavy and glossy. Somebody must’ve told her, “Hey, put this white coat on, and you can make a hundred bucks.” Nelson played the video. Snappy music filled the room, and the underwear model told us all about how many thousands of people they helped to have babies. Then, just like in science class, she showed slides of sperm and eggs and fallopian tubes. “If I get to meet her,” Nelson said, “Maybe I’ll make a donation.” My face felt hot. I wanted to run out of the room.

  “Let’s practice some more,” I said, turning my back on Nelson.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I’m just getting to the good part.” I turned around. He clicked on the section that showed sample photos of men. I guess one of those guys could’ve been my dad.

  “Dude! You think that one’s your dad?” Nelson pointed at a guy who looked like a fireman. I studied the photos. One looked like he worked in an office. Another looked like the surfers I’d seen all my life growing up in Santa Cruz. Guys with blond hair, chests with lots of muscles, and straight teeth. “You know what this means, don’t you?” Nelson said.

  “What?”

  “See those guys? They all jerked off into a jar. Probably in a room where they watched dirty movies.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because, freak show, that’s how babies are born.”

  “I know that.” The whole thing was gross.

  “See, it says right here,” he pointed to an image that showed how a sperm and an egg came together. “They put the sperm in this vial thing and mail it to the mom. Nelson clapped his hands together. “And then what? Think she went in the bathroom and—”

  My fists clenched. “Shut up, Nelson.”

  “Just messing with you, dude.” When he saw my face he said, “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  I put my head down. I felt like crying. “C’mon, this is boring. Let’s practice.”

  He punched me in the arm. “You’re one lucky freak. My old man, he’s always yelling at me to make my bed or quit cutting class or telling me to never smoke cigarettes while he lights up and smokes a whole pack in one day. You never have to deal with that shit. Lucky.”

  I didn’t feel lucky.

  Even though my mom told me that she was okay, with the cancer and all, and that she was gonna be fine, I worried. My mom was totally cool, and I loved her.

  But still. I wondered what it would be like to have a real dad.

  Jax

  “We can’t permit you to see Mr. Wolf right now.”

  I stood in the admitting room of Stanford Hospital still wearing my wetsuit.

  “I need to see him! Now.”

  “I am sorry, sir, but it’s going to be several hours before we allow visitors.”

  The pretty redhead with the form-fitting uniform was just doing her job. I didn’t say anything for ten long seconds, just gazed at her. Finally, I gave her my most enamoring smile. “Thanks. I’ll wait in my truck. And if you need me to get you anything from the vending machine …” She smiled and promised to update me.

  I walked to my truck, performing a towel change in the parking lot, peeling off my wetsuit and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt.

  The day had started out so epic; everyone took turns enjoying the monstrous waves at Mavericks, and then it had turned nightmarish. Seeing Butch’s limp body reminded me of the very real fact that it’s a dangerous sport and any one of us could be seriously injured or die at any time.

  And then, Rosalyn had called. What did she want from me after all these years? I wanted to see her, but was not prepared. Would I ever be? Over thirteen years of wondering what’d happened, and she’d called now? My teeth clenched when I thought about how I’d spent that first year pathetically searching for her, convinced she’d return. Finally, I’d pretty much given up and got on with life. Rosalyn obviously didn’t want me.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her, but my protective shield came up, surrounding me with what felt like a glass isolation booth that I was determined Rosalyn was not going to penetrate. I’d deeply loved her. But she had hurt me bad. Still, I was curious. What did she look like now? What was she doing?

  After two hours of checking in every twenty minutes with the receptionist and getting her snacks from the vending machine, I was finally allowed to see Butch.

&nbs
p; I practically ran into the room, and when I saw my friend, who was one of the strongest athletes I knew, looking pathetic and pale, my heart almost broke. His eyes fluttered open.

  “Where’s your leg?” I said, patting him on the knee.

  “Think one of those nurses stole it,” he quipped.

  I sat down in the chair opposite him. “Man, you’ll do anything to get attention. I knew I shouldn’t have given you that wave. You okay, buddy?”

  “Seen better days. Just happy to be alive.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “So, what happened?”

  “Don’t you want to hear about the cute nurses?”

  I grinned. “Think any of them can afford me?”

  His eyes drooped then he smiled. “Think they pay them pretty well.”

  I bit back tears. “So, what happened?”

  “Don’t you want to hear how fun the helicopter ride was?”

  “Butch—”

  “Always wanted to ride in one of those things.”

  I knew the only way to get through to Butch was humor. “Did you join the mile high club?” I said.

  He smiled. “Don’t I wish.”

  I touched his leg. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  He exhaled. “Sure, I do. Pretty gnarly ride.”

  Butch looked like he was woozy from whatever they’d given him. He took a deep breath, readjusted his position in the hospital bed, and told me the story. “Dropped in too deep. Made it to the bottom before the whitewater pushed me down.”

  I already knew the answer, but asked, “Weren’t wearing your flotation vest?”

  “Nope.”

  We’d surfed plenty without flotation vests, but in recent years, as technology advanced, most big wave surfers didn’t go without them. “Go on.”

  “The hold-down on the first wave was so long. Jesus, it was brutal. I thought about staying down because I knew there was a good chance I wouldn’t get to the surface for air before the next wave in the set rolled over.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I decided to swim for the surface anyway. Big mistake. I kicked hard, and that’s when I felt the next wave coming.”

  Jesus Christ, that may have been the wave I was riding.

  “Next thing I knew, all the air was forced out of me, and I was back down. Did my best to relax. That’s when the convulsions started. I wanted to inhale, but I didn’t. Just tried to stay calm.” He took a deep breath as though he was still desperate for air, and exhaled audibly. Butch looked exhausted.

  My body was rigid listening to his story. “And then what happened?”

  “I needed air bad, started climbing my leash, but then the cramping, numbness, and convulsions started again. That’s when I passed out.”

  I sucked in my breath, almost like I was reliving the nightmare with my friend. “And that’s when the rescue sled found you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  We looked at each other, the silence in the room emotionally charged.

  At that point, the doctor, a petite brunette, walked in and said, “How are you feeling? You gave us a scare.”

  I stood up. “Jax Priest,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m the boy’s best friend.”

  She consulted her clipboard, glanced at me, and said, “Dr. Bryant. Summer Bryant.” She bent over to examine Butch—temperature, blood pressure—and as she fussed over him, I noticed Butch checking out her cute figure. Why was she taking his vitals? Didn’t nurses usually perform that task? The slight smile on her face told me something more was going on. “You know you came within seconds of not being here.” She straightened and launched into presentation mode. “It’s a good thing Butch didn’t take a breath. He must have some pretty well trained lungs. His laryngospasm reflex kicked in.”

  “His what?”

  “Laryngospasm reflex. Do you train yourself to hold your breath?”

  Butch gazed at Dr. Bryant and nodded.

  “Well, that’s what saved you. The laryngospasm reflex is a natural mammalian survival reflex that happens during drowning or blacking out in water in which your throat and face muscles constrict, shutting off the airway to keep water from entering your lungs. In the process, the last oxygen left with the body is drawn to the brain to preserve it for as long as possible. When the final oxygen is used up, the muscles will release and the body will naturally try and breathe. But you didn’t take a breath, did you?”

  Butch, who seemed tongue-tied, shook his head.

  “Well, if you had, your lungs would’ve flooded.”

  Butch eyed Dr. Bryant like he was under hypnosis, not saying a word.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “We’ll keep him to monitor for secondary drowning, and he did dislocate his shoulder. We were able to reset it, so that’s good. Some of the surfers I get in here are not so lucky. What are you guys doing down there at Mavericks? Not safe.” She checked the ice pack that was on Butch’s shoulder. “I need to get a new ice pack for you. If you need anything else, just press this button right here, and one of the nurses will help you.”

  “How long will you keep him?” I asked.

  “You’re one strong man, Mr. Wolf. As much as I know you want to be a guest at Stanford, I think you should be released in a day or two. And no surfing until that shoulder heals.”

  “Which will be how long?” I said.

  “A few weeks on ice and anti-inflammatories.”

  She pointed a finger at Butch. “I probably can’t rein you in, but when you do get back in the ocean, I want you to stay on the smaller waves. At least for a while.” Her smile lit up her face.

  Dr. Bryant moved across the room, and Butch’s gaze followed. She pulled the drawstring on the drapes. “Sunsets here are gorgeous.” She turned and smiled at Butch, and I swear to God, it looked like the poor man was going to drool. She patted him on his good leg. “Rest up, and I’ll be back.”

  When she left the room, Butch stared at the empty doorway. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Butch. Hey, you okay, buddy?”

  He jerked to attention. “What? Um, yeah.”

  We sat and talked. I didn’t want things to be serious, so we kidded around mostly. I wanted to tell my best friend about Rosalyn. No one knew about us. The only person I’d told was Tyler. The one thing I had done right was to honor the vow Rosalyn had made me take. “You can never tell anyone what’s happened between us.” So instead, I told Butch, “I got the weirdest call today.”

  “Yeah? From who?”

  “Old friend of the family. Her name’s Rosalyn. She’s in Santa Cruz.”

  “What’d she want?”

  “Search me. Haven’t talked to her in over thirteen years.”

  “And?”

  “She wants to see me tomorrow.”

  “Well, that sounds cool.”

  Butch stared at me, expecting me to go on, but I didn’t.

  Several other surfers came and went, each expressing their relief that Butch was still with us.

  Butch and I watched dumb TV shows, ate bad food from the dinner tray the orderly delivered, and finally, I told him I was going back to the hotel. “You need me to bring you anything tomorrow?”

  “Don’t have any of my legs, so yeah, bring my walking leg and don’t forget my shaving kit. I need to shave and put on cologne and a fresh shirt, one of the nicer ones in my bag, okay?”

  “Cologne?”

  “Just shut up and get out of here, Priest. I need my beauty sleep.”

  I walked out of the hospital with a smile on my face. Butch had one heck of a crush on Dr. Bryant.

  Holly

  “Hey, Holly,” Jax said when I picked up the phone. His voice was low and guarded. I sat straight up against the hard back of the kitchen chair. The night before I’d had fitful dreams of him wiping out on monstrous waves, his limbs torn from his body as massive whitewater imploded. “Jax! How were the waves?”

  “They were fun.” He cleared his throat. “I don’
t want you to worry or anything … but Butch is in the hospital.”

  My armpits felt itchy. “What happened?”

  “We were surfing, and everything was good, and then he caught a wave and dropped in too deep. The whitewater slammed him down.” Jax hesitated. “He wasn’t wearing his flotation vest, and got held down too long.”

  I stood up so fast that my head felt dizzy. My hand flew to my forehead. “Oh, my God! Is he alive?”

  “Yes, he’s alive. He’s fine. Just dislocated his shoulder. They’re keeping him in the hospital to monitor for secondary drowning.”

  “What the hell is secondary drowning?”

  “Sometimes, when a person gets water in their lungs, they can drown even after they’re out of the water. But, don’t worry.” Jax chuckled. “The guy’s strong from all his breath training. He’ll be fine.”

  “But he could have died!” My body broke out into a cold sweat, I could barely get the words out. “This big wave thing, I know you love it, but Jax, come home.” All I wanted was to touch him again, to feel the warmth of him, to assure myself that he was solid and alive.

  “I will, sweetheart,” he said. Then his voice took on another tone. I couldn’t tell if it was the shock of what had happened to Butch or something else. “But tomorrow I’ve got to stop by and see an old family friend in Santa Cruz. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s right here so—”

  “Family friend?”

  “Yeah, an old friend of my mom’s from San Diego.”

  “Was this something you planned before you left?”

  “No, she just called yesterday.”

  I quickly walked outside to get some fresh air, the puppies trailing at my heels. “Who’s this old friend?” I didn’t like the tone in my voice. I sounded like a jealous girlfriend.