Chapter 4
Mal
I craved distraction in the same way I craved alcohol.
I needed something—anything—to occupy my mind and keep me from obsessing about my bleak future. And Saylor’s bruise was the thing my addict brain latched onto. I knew, I knew, I should call my sponsor to keep me from spiraling. But that would mean admitting that I was out of control.
And I wasn’t. Not really.
I hadn’t felt the need for a drink or a hit since we’d left the tour behind.
And I’d turned down Samu’s invitation to meet up and drink cava. Not that it was alcohol, but it could be a trigger, with its numbing affects and social drinking aspect.
I wasn’t going to relapse. I was just a nosy asshole.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
And it was killing me that Saylor wasn’t spilling about her situation. Was she safe? Would that asshole come for her?
I hated seeing women abused. It brought back long buried childhood trauma I thought I was over. But apparently not.
Still, I knew better than to bring it up to Saylor again. She wasn’t gonna budge.
So if I couldn’t exhaust my mind, maybe exhausting my body would help.
As Saylor and I left the dining hut, I turned to her with what I hoped was a charming smile. “How about we grab a kayak and check out the island from the water?”
She bit her bottom lip as her eyes danced between me and the calm water behind me. “I’ve never done it before. Is it hard?”
“Nah, you just gotta be smart about it. Take the current into consideration and try not to brain your partner with your oar. Piece of cake.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound sure, but she followed me to the equipment desk, and we checked out a kayak, life vests, and oars. Samu helped me carry it down to the beach and gave us the usual safety spiel.
Saylor’s eyes grew wider the longer he talked.
I cleared my throat, and when Samu looked my way, I shook my head slightly.
His speech ended abruptly. “Yeah. So that’s it. Just wear your life vests at all times, and have fun. And don’t forget to sign up for some fishing later, Mal. I gotta get back on the water. She’s calling my name.”
“Sure thing, Samu. Thanks.”
He left with a wave and once he was a safe distance away, Saylor turned to me with a weird expression. “Who is she?”
“What?” I looked up from buckling my life vest.
“He said: ‘She’s calling my name.’ Who’s she?”
“Ah, waitui [wye-too-ee].” I reached toward her and finished clipping the buckles on her vest.
Her eyes widened even more.
“You ever see Moana?”
She nodded.
“Kinda like that. Samu has a deep cultural connection with the water.” I stepped back and picked up an oar. “You want front or back?”
She blinked a few times then shook her head. “Uh, whichever you don’t want.”
“I should probably take back, so we get where we wanna go.”
“Okay.”
After a shaky start, we pushed off from the beach, and before long were stroking against the current but parallel to the beach. I’d learned from my last time that you didn’t want to go the other way. Nothing was worse than trying to row against the current once you were already gassed.
Saylor was quiet at first. She paddled smoothly with me, careful not to collide oars. But since I was mostly steering now, there was little danger of tangling.
Suddenly she laughed.
I smiled at the sound. “What’s so funny?”
She shrugged. “I just never would’ve labeled you a Disney fan, that’s all.”
“I feel like I should be insulted.”
“Well, just with the whole man-bun, tattoos, and lithe muscles, I would’ve pegged you as anti-corporation, anti-billionaires, and maybe a yoga enthusiast.”
I cracked up. Pulling my oar out of the water because I didn’t want to lose it, I bent over in my seat and laughed so hard tears burned my eyes. “Shit, that’s funny. Me, a yogi.” I laughed some more as I put my oar back in the water to steer. “I can’t wait to tell Gio.”
And then I sobered. Gio hadn’t been taking my calls or replying to my texts since we got off tour. He’d gone underground. I really hoped he hadn’t relapsed. Maybe he and his girl had gone to Vegas and were living it up like he’d been talking about weeks ago.
Just without me.
“Gio? Is that a friend?”
“Only way I’ll answer that is if you answer a question from me. Tit for tat.”
Saylor’s whole body went rigid in front of me. It didn’t take a genius to get that she wasn’t keen on the idea.
I sighed. “And like for like. So if you wanna know who Gio is, I’ll ask who your best friend is. I won’t take it any deeper than you go. Deal?”
She studied the handle of her oar for a long minute before finally nodding. “Sure.”
“Gio is…complicated. He’s a friend. A coworker. A pain in my ass. But I guess I’ll settle on friend. We’ve known each other since middle school. He’s also the best drummer I’ve ever seen.”
The tension leaked out of her shoulders the longer I talked until finally she put her oar back into the water. “He’s in a band?”
“Yeah… Yeah, he is. Uh, who’s your best friend?” That was a smooth transition.
“Paige. But unlike you two, I’ve known her since grade school.
We grew up on the same street. Graduated high school together.
Went to UNLV together. Only she went for hospitality, so she’s working at Oasis at their arena.
She organizes the suites and ‘gladhands the uber rich assholes who need help wiping their behinds.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way. ”
“Sounds like a fun job,” I said sardonically.
Saylor scoffed. “Paige has a fancy title, but that’s essentially the job. Most days it sounds like a huge headache.” She stroked her oar through the water a few times. “Some days I wonder if I should’ve gone into hospitality too.”
“What did you go to school for again?”
“Elementary education. I still have to pass a test, but then I’ll be certified as a teacher.
I just finished my student teaching session in a third-grade classroom.
” She sighed. “I mean, I like the kids, but the administration and some of the parents make the job not so fun. And don’t even get me started with cell phones in the classroom. ”
“Hence the butt-wiping envy?”
She laughed. “Exactly. I could be wiping bigwigs’ butts instead of runny kids’ noses.”
“Sounds messy either way.”
“Truth.” She sighed deeply. The sound was sad and contemplative.
“I really wanted to design clothes. But my parents refused to help me with college if that was going to be my major. I got so many lectures from my mom about picking something that had a career at the end of the degree. She’d tell me: ‘clothing design is a pipe dream.’ Or: ‘no one makes money as a designer.’ I swear she was more thrilled than I was when Trent proposed.
She wanted me to get my MRS and didn’t care about my BA at all. ”
That was more truth than I’d expected from her today. But before I could even absorb it, she chattered on.
“Uh, that was a lot of word vomit. It’s your turn. So what’s your super-secret job you won’t tell me about?”
“Um, that wasn’t my question. I asked what did you go to college for. And I didn’t go to school, so that’s my answer.”
“Oh, come on. I told you all about my bestie, my mom’s disappointment in me, my dream job, and what my job actually is. You gotta give me more than ‘I didn’t go to college.’ That’s a cop out.”
I didn’t want everything to change between us. But I was more than aware that the longer I waited to tell, the more wounded she’d feel that I kept it from her.
I didn’t know what the best move to make here was.
I wanted to spend more time with Saylor.
But I didn’t want to lie to her either.
And rigorous truth-telling was a pillar of my sobriety.
Shit.
I put my oar back in the water and stroked determinedly, keeping my eyes on the shoreline and away from her body in front of me.
“I’m the lead guitarist for the Long Licks.
Gio is our drummer. We just finished a two-year international tour and are on break for a few months.
But I’m pretty sure our lead singer, Leif, is going to screw us and go solo.
We only have one album left on our contract, which will probably be a ‘Best of’ album if Leif goes solo.
So this might be the end of the Long Licks. ”
That was more truth than I’d faced in a long time. I hadn’t even dared to say that last part out loud until now.
And judging from the stillness in the front half of the kayak, my answer had hit with all the subtlety of a nuclear bomb.
Shit.
Finally, after the longest moment of my life Saylor asked, “And you never went to college for that, huh?”
I smiled and went back to stroking my oar in the water. “Nope.”
“Huh, I guess my mom was wrong. College doesn’t always spell success.”
My smile grew into a grin.
We went back to our banter so smoothly I don’t know why I ever worried about her reaction.
“Do you use a cleaning service back home?” I asked. “Or are you a control freak?”
“That’s a not-so-subtle change of topic.” She tipped her head, and I would’ve given anything to see her expression about now. Then she laughed softly and I relaxed. “Or do you have a secret Cinderella kink, and this is your way of telling me?”
I laughed with her. “Nah, I just tried to hire one for my mom while I was on tour, and she yelled at me for a solid ten minutes, going on about wasting my money and how keeping a woman’s home is a point of pride.
I don’t know. I was wondering if it’s a generational thing, or if my mom is just weird. ”
“I guess it’s one of those things that sounds amazing but is kinda weird in practice for some people.
And I might be one of those people. My ex used a service which kinda freaked me out when I moved in with him.
I ran around and hid my underwear before they came over every time.
” She made this cute sounding snort. “Like they cared what my panties look like.”
I was a total dog because I was wondering what her panties looked like. Was she a boy shorts girl? A thong wearer? Maybe hipsters?