Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three Page 7

  “And why not?”

  “Because—” She took a sip of her drink. “Because he loves music too much. It would’ve led to questions about Love Bone.”

  “What’s wrong with him knowing about Tyler’s band?”

  “You’ll see when you meet him. He’s kind of obsessed with his guitar.”

  He plays guitar?

  “Jesus, Rosalyn, sounds like you’ve sheltered the poor kid. What other lies have you told him?”

  “They’re not lies. I just … omitted a few things.”

  “Yeah, I guess you did.” I kept my temper in check because I’d agreed to stay with Rosalyn, and I was meeting Eugene. “What do you plan on saying about my brother? You know it’s going to come up.”

  She turned to me, her large brown eyes feverish. “Maybe you can help me tell him. We’ll just tell him that we haven’t been that close for a lot of years—”

  “That part’s true.”

  “—and that Tyler was never in contact with me and that … Oh, I don’t know, Jax.” She buried her face in her hands again. She looked up at me pleading. “Can’t you help me think of something to say?”

  “Babe, you’re his mom. How about if you say what you just said. You and I haven’t been in contact for a long time.” I didn’t want to hammer home to Rosalyn at that particular moment what a mess this whole thing was because I felt sorry for her. So instead, I wimped out and went along with her way of thinking. We would just play it by ear.

  As we sat on her front stoop, the cool ocean breeze tickling our skin, I picked up my phone and checked my tide chart application. “How ’bout this. How about if I grab my board. Been wanting to check out Pleasure Point ever since I got here. By the time I get back, Eugene should be home from school, right? That way we won’t both be sitting here waiting for him with worried looks on our faces.”

  Her smile was timid, and she gave my arm a light squeeze. “Thanks, Jax. This is going to work out, right?”

  “Right,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Then, I headed to my truck to wax up my board.

  When I returned from surfing, I set my surfboard on the front porch and, through the screen door, said, “Knock, knock.”

  “Come on in,” Rosalyn yelled from the kitchen. She hurried over to me. “He’s in his room. Do you want to take off your wetsuit first, or do you need to put your board away or … Oh, let me just introduce you two.” Rosalyn’s hands shook as she knocked on the bedroom door. It had a handmade poster board sign taped to it which read: No Girls Allowed, Enter Only If You Play the Guitar, What’s the Password? and Now Entering a Hazardous Zone. “Honey, Jax is here.”

  The bedroom door creaked opened, and I found myself looking straight into Tyler’s green eyes.

  It was as if a meteor struck the earth.

  Without warning, I was sucked into a whirlwind of childhood memories: my brother, surfing, and music. I could hardly breathe.

  Eugene looked up at me appraisingly.

  “Sweetie, this is Jax, who I told you about. Say hello.”

  He stuck one skinny arm out, hand outstretched. “Hey.”

  I blinked. My body felt hot, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice the sweat on my palms. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Mom, I’m gonna practice before dinner, ’kay?”

  “Okay, but we’re having dinner at the regular time, so finish up your homework.”

  “Can Nelson have dinner with us tonight?

  “Not tonight, baby. We have company, but maybe tomorrow.”

  And with that, the door closed.

  When we went into the kitchen, I grabbed Rosalyn’s arm and spun her around to face me. “Jesus Christ, Roz, why didn’t you tell me he looked so much like Tyler?”

  Her smile was radiant. “I told you you’d know he was related. When he was a baby, I couldn’t get over how much he looked like your brother. Still can’t. Maybe we do have a little piece of Tyler.”

  Maybe we did. Not only did he have the same eyes, he also had the same hair color and lanky way about him that Tyler had when he was young. I heard the guitar playing from Eugene’s room and was transported back to when Tyler and I were young.

  “I can’t get over it.” I felt like scooping Rosalyn up and celebrating, but any euphoria I felt was quickly replaced by anger as I thought about all the years I’d missed. I pushed those feelings down. If I was going to give this a chance, I had to remain calm. I took another one of my big wave preparation breaths.

  Rosalyn gently touched my arm. “Are you okay?”

  I gripped her arm. “I can’t get over this. It’s Tyler.” My heart broke with the loss of my brother.

  Rosalyn smiled, her brown eyes smiling along with the rest of her face. “You are going to love Eugene.”

  I helped Rosalyn prepare dinner. We fell into the easy routine we’d had in Point Loma where neither of us had to speak, we just worked together as a well-oiled machine.

  When dinner was almost ready, Rosalyn yelled, “Eugene! Come set the table.” She grinned. “Trained him to be handy around the kitchen, and he’s pretty darn good. Now, if I can just get him to clean his room.”

  Eugene emerged from his room, Leo trailing at his feet, and I had a chance to check him out. His blue jeans almost hung off his skinny frame, he wore a black Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt, and his dark hair hung in his face as he glanced shyly up at me. He set the table for three, helped his mom remove her vegetarian casserole from the oven, and filled glasses with water for everyone.

  We sat at the table and Rosalyn said, a little too brightly, “Well, isn’t this nice? Eugene, honey, Jax and I haven’t seen each other since I lived in Southern California. Isn’t it great that he gets to visit?”

  “Guess so.” He stabbed a cucumber slice with his fork.

  Rosalyn shrugged, both palms upturned giving me a “help me out” look, and I said, “Your mom and I lived in Point Loma when I was a teenager. You know where Point Loma is?”

  “Not really.”

  “In fact,” I continued, “I was the one who found Leo out by the trash cans one night.” That got a sideways glance out of him. “I was emptying the trash for your mom one night and—”

  “And Jax found little Leo who was just a baby with no mommy,” Rosalyn said. “Sweetie, Jax is a big wave surfer.”

  “So you said.” He tore into a piece of whole wheat bread, his eyes downcast.

  “And while he’s here, he’s going to surf at Pleasure Point. Maybe you can watch.”

  Eugene looked me in the eye and said to his mom, “How long did you say he’s staying?”

  “A few days, honey.”

  Eugene went back to eating his dinner while Rosalyn looked at me helplessly.

  I said, “Sounds like you play the guitar pretty good.”

  “I’m okay, I guess.”

  I said, “My brother played the guitar,” and Rosalyn shot me a look.

  “Cool,” was all I got out of Eugene.

  I tried not to stare at Eugene during dinner, but I couldn’t help myself. Now and then he’d catch me, and I’d force a smile while rubbing my hands against my pant legs. My son. I was actually sitting at a dinner table with my son. Periodically, he’d lean back in his chair and tap out a tune on the edge of the table as though playing drums. Tyler used to do that. My brother always had music running through his head. Then, Eugene would take a sip of water and hum a tune to some song or another. His gaze met mine a couple of times, and he forced a crooked smile that reminded me so much of Tyler. When I smiled back, it felt like my face would crack. My son! Eugene was really and truly my son. There was no denying the family resemblance. I wanted to ask him a zillion questions. Who were his favorite bands? How did he become interested in music? Did he feel drawn to the ocean the way I always had? Was he always looking at things that happened in life as material for the next song he’d write the way Tyler had? How did he feel about having been conceived through a sperm donor clinic as his mother had told h
im? And most importantly, how would he react to the fact that his real father was sitting right next to him?

  We somehow got through dinner, and finally Eugene said, “Mom, can I be excused?”

  “Okay, sweetheart. But you get to bed early. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

  Eugene slunk away, and the next thing I heard was his guitar.

  I stared at his closed bedroom door, took a deep breath, and ran my hand through my hair. “I can’t get over how much he looks like my brother.” I turned to Rosalyn. “You think he likes me?” I wanted Eugene to like me more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.

  “It was a start.” She picked up her napkin, putting it on her plate. “Help me clean up, will you, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart?

  We cleaned up the kitchen then went out to the front porch where Rosalyn had a hanging bench swing set up next to her hummingbird feeder and potted plants. The night air was cool, and the sun was just setting, the sky alive with orange, red and purple.

  Rosalyn went into the house and came back with her bong. “Light this for me, will you, babe?”

  “You still smoking that stuff?” I asked as she handed me the lighter.

  “Got a medical marijuana license for it now.”

  “Do you think you should be doing that? I mean with your health and all?”

  “Don’t be a downer. Helps with the pain.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  She looked away. “Sometimes.”

  “Where? I mean, where does it hurt?” I was desperate to do something to make her pain disappear.

  “Can we not talk about it?”

  Silent seconds that felt like hours passed. I stared at Rosalyn’s profile then closed my eyes wanting to memorize her image and remember her this way. Alive. I opened my eyes, and she held out the bong. “Light this, will you?”

  I flicked the lighter, and she took a toke, and then leaned back against the bench. We rocked slowly, and she said, “So, what’d you think? Of Eugene, I mean.”

  Even with my big wave preparation breaths, I was having a hard time dealing with the reality of a son. My son. “Jesus, Roz, I just can’t get over how much he reminds me of Tyler.”

  “Guess I’ve gotten used to it some, but yeah, it’s pretty unreal.” She took another toke. “You know, he loved music right from the time he was old enough to pull himself up in his crib. The little guy would hold on to the rails and just dance and bounce and …” Rosalyn’s eyes were tearing up. She took another toke.

  The only sound was that of the waves gently breaking on the shore. We watched the last of the Pleasure Point surfers packing up their boards.

  Finally, I said, “Hey, remember that night when you talked me into breaking into that abandoned house to get that painting of the sunset?”

  “I thought you were gonna have a heart attack,” she said, smacking me on the thigh. “You were such a good boy till I got ahold of you.”

  “Can’t say I was all that good. Hey, what happened to your bimmer? That thing was cool.”

  She faced me. “Ah. Ol’ Betsy. I loved that car. Had to sell her on Craigslist when the mileage got too high. I see her around town once in a while.”

  “And remember the time I punched that guy out at Sunset Cliffs ’cause he was hot for you?”

  Her eyes were becoming unfocused from the pot. She cocked her head sideways. “No. You did that?”

  I looked down at my hands. “Yeah. Dude was being disrespectful.”

  “Well, that was sweet of you.” She turned to me until our faces were just inches apart. And then she kissed me. It was a sweet, soft, light kiss on the lips. She pulled away. “Sorry.”

  When she kissed me, everything stopped. I became hyperaware of the sound of the gently lapping waves on the shore, and my skin prickled from the breeze of sea air as my body flooded with warmth. I drank in her scent, my fingers tingling. I wanted to touch Rosalyn, to feel every inch of her body again.

  Tentatively, I reached for her hand and held it lightly in mine. She didn’t pull away. We sat there for a while, not talking, just listening to the ocean. Rosalyn’s hand felt like it branded my skin even though we were barely touching. I was falling into a risky place. I knew that I’d better be careful, but at that moment it all felt so right. The two of us together. Rosalyn’s hand was soft, warm, and I felt myself becoming aroused. I shifted uncomfortably.

  “And what’s going on here?” she said, her fingers moving gently to my crotch.

  “Rosalyn, don’t.”

  She smiled, and my stomach did that flip-flop thing. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” she said. And it sounded like she meant it.

  When I lay on my makeshift bed on the sofa that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rosalyn who was only a few feet away. I kept stealing glances at her closed bedroom door.

  I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be in love with Rosalyn. It had been so long since she needed me. My protective side emerged as my body filled with energy. I wanted to run around the block and wake people up out of their beds, wanted to shake them and tell them how incredible love could be. All it took was one small kiss for my body and soul to remember. But the giddiness was mixed with an unbearable sadness at the reality of Rosalyn’s situation. Just take a deep breath. After all those years of wondering what’d happened, she’d actually kissed me. I could still feel her lips on mine as though if I looked in the mirror, somehow I’d be able to see her mark on my lips.

  From where I lay on the sofa, I could see Rosalyn’s and Eugene’s closed bedroom doors. I wanted to jump up and throw myself in bed with Rosalyn where I would convince her that everything was going to be okay, then grab her by the hand and take her into our son’s room, sit on the edge of Eugene’s bed, and just blurt out the truth.

  I called Butch. When he answered, I whispered into the phone, “You will not believe how much Eugene looks like Tyler.”

  “You okay?”

  “Just in shock, I think. Butch … I’ve got a son. Man, this is not the way I planned to spend the year.”

  “And how exactly were you planning to spend the year?”

  “What do I know about raising kids? And what if Rosalyn doesn’t make it? And what am I going to do for money? And, Jesus—”

  “Slow down, buddy. One thing at a time.”

  “But I’m not a dad.”

  “Looks like you are, actually.”

  I took another deep breath. “Eugene seems like a great kid.” I didn’t want to admit how intimidated I felt by the reality of a son. Would I make a good parent? “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Jax. Listen to me. You can. Sometimes life throws curve balls. You’ve got a son. I’d say that’s a pretty great curve ball. Take it one day at a time.”

  “I’ve got a family. I really and truly have a family.”

  “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

  I hesitated before answering. “Yes. But what the … She messed me up bad.”

  “Jax, listen to me. Forget about the past. Those two need you.”

  “Yeah, well I needed her too, and where was she?”

  “Will you stop it? I haven’t even met them yet, but I know you. And you, my man, are not the type of person to walk away from a good challenge. Think about it like riding a hundred foot wave. So what if you wipe out? So what if you don’t live through it? It’ll be one heck of a ride.”

  “Why do you always have to be so damn philosophical?”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, and when we hung up, he texted me a joke:

  Did you hear about the girl who swallowed bullets? Her hair came out in bangs.

  I rolled my eyes then checked the rest of my texts. It was more of the same messages:

  Christy: Hey lover boy, thinking of you and melted chocolate.

  Jenna: Saw some Stand Up Paddlers today, and guess what? I got wet. When you coming home?

  Cas
sandra: Wanna fuck?

  Sandy: Going to bed now with my vibrator and dreams of you, Surfer Boy. Hurry home.

  Olivia: I don’t know how much longer I can be trusted to behave. I’m a very bad girl.

  I smiled at Olivia’s text. Sweet, vulnerable Olivia. She needed me most.

  I didn’t want to hurt these women who’d put trust in me, so I answered every single one of my Janes. But my heart wasn’t in it. I knew I’d be quitting the business.

  The last thing I did was text Holly. Tuck yourself in and get a good night’s sleep.

  I would deal with one thing at a time.

  Eugene

  After that first dinner my mom and me had with Jax, I went in my room and called Nelson. I’d already told Nelson about Jax because it was kinda big news. Other than Mom’s friend Carissa, who visited like once every other year, we never had anybody stay with us. Jax seemed okay, kind of quiet, but I wasn’t sure if I trusted him.

  “Wussup? Did you meet him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, what’s he like?”

  “He’s okay, I guess.”

  “What’s the dude’s name again?”

  “Jax.”

  “And what’s he look like?”

  “Kinda tall, blond. My mom says he surfs big waves.”

  “Well, that’s cool,” Nelson said. “Sitting at my computer right now. I’m gonna do a search. How do you spell Jax?”

  “I don’t know. J-A-X, I guess.”

  A few seconds went by while Nelson typed, and then he said, “Holy shit! You know who this guy is?”

  My head snapped up, and I said, “What? No. Who?”

  “He’s one of those guys on the Big Wave World Tour. Holy fuck, this is unfuckingbelievable. Jax Priest. There’s this cool picture of him taking off on a gnarly huge wave then there’s a picture of his face. At least he’s smiling.” Nelson kept reading. “Jax Priest, Encinitas, California, ranking number eight. Not bad. Gotta be the same dude, right? How many Jaxes can there be? Think he’ll take us surfing?”

  “You know my mom won’t let me,” I said.

  “Screw your mom. She’s being nice to this guy right?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Well then, she’ll let him. You know how soft your mom is,” he said.