6. Rescue Mission
RESCUE MISSION
The days dragged by in unending sand and water and candy bar wrappers and aluminum cans. Even when Jake was certain he’d picked up every last bit of refuse, the sea brought him more, as though it were collecting it to put in his stewardship.
He had switched to evenings to avoid the morning rush of beachgoers, though he was never so lucky as to get away from Robbie. Robbie was always there, haunting the shore like a disgruntled ghost.
It never got better being around Robbie, and the words they exchanged never seemed to soften any. Robbie gave as good as he got, but sometimes Jake felt like he hit a particularly exposed nerve, like whenever he brought up Robbie’s parents.
“Do they regret having a son like you?” he’d asked one afternoon when he was at his very limit.
“Excuse me?” Robbie straightened up, planting his gloved fists on his hips.
“Your parents, do they—”
“I heard what you said.” Robbie’s jaw tightened. “Only as much as your parents regret having you.”
“My parents love me quite a lot, thank you very much.”
“Then there’s your answer.” Robbie turned around so Jake couldn’t see his face.
“I mean, I know people sometimes regret having kids. You seem like the type of child parents would regret having.”
“Drop it, Jake,” Robbie said, his back still turned.
“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe there’s a reason they only had one—”
“I said drop it. You can insult me all you want, but trying to stick your nose into my family’s personal business is a step too far.”
Jake fell silent. Maybe, as much as he hated to admit it, Robbie was right.
The next day, he didn’t talk to Robbie at all. Robbie didn’t even look at him when he arrived at the beach—no obnoxious smile, no calculating gaze, no snappy greeting. He just kept working, ignoring Jake so long as Jake ignored him. Silence had never been so sweet.
Before Jake left, he had to hand Robbie that sheet of paper and a pen.
Robbie still refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t look particularly upset, Jake thought, just vaguely annoyed.
To him, Jake was an imposition, minor but unyielding.
He was probably counting down the hours until Jake wouldn’t have to come to the beach anymore.
When Thursday rolled around, Jake found himself rushing to the beach before it got too dark to work for a full hour.
Isabel had kept him at home to finish painting the house exterior since there was rain in the forecast, and it’d taken long enough that he was still in his paint-stained jeans and old, ripped T-shirt when he left.
Robbie actually glanced up when Jake came into view this time. Maybe it was because he was late, or maybe it was because he had globs of cornflower blue paint stuck in his hair, but he made eye contact with Jake for the first time in days.
Then he looked away again, not bothering to say the first word.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jake panted.
“I don’t care,” Robbie replied nonchalantly. “It’s not my community service to complete.”
“I was helping my aunt,” Jake snapped back. “I’d rather do that than try to fulfill some bullshit volunteer hours.”
“You would think that kind of thing is bullshit, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know that.”
“Then why’d you say it?” Robbie glanced up again, his eyes dull. “Look, Jake, I’m going to be heading out soon. It’s getting late, and I need to get home and have some dinner. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to work alone for once.”
Jake furrowed his brow. “You come here straight from the bookstore?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you pick up dinner on the way?”
“I like making it at home. Besides, there aren’t many food options out here.”
Jake nodded slowly. “Right. A pretty boy like you couldn’t possibly eat the gas station fried chicken Eaton Gas sells—oh, wait.”
“Shut up, Jake.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, if it’s good enough for your parents to sell…”
“You know I don’t control what my parents sell at their businesses. Or are you really so dense that you don’t even understand how that works? I’m going now. Have fun alone with all the other trash. I’ll sign off on your hours tomorrow.”
Jake opened his mouth, readying himself to hurl one last slight at Robbie, when a keening whimper pierced through the salty air. He jerked his head in the direction of the sound, every muscle in his body stiffening. “What was that?”
Robbie looked in the same direction. “It sounded like a dog.”
“A dog? It’s almost eight. Who’s out walking their dog on the beach now?”
“People who work?” Robbie shrugged.
The sound split the air again, this time more of a yelp than a whimper. Robbie was right; it was definitely a dog.
“That doesn’t sound like a very happy puppy,” Jake said.
“Let’s go check it out.” Robbie started forward, and Jake trailed behind, wishing Robbie had left just a few minutes earlier, so neither of them had to deal with this.
They reached the outcropping of rocks that most people avoided lest they twist their ankles or slide between them and get stuck, and the yelping got louder and more desperate.
“It’s coming from somewhere in the rocks,” Robbie said.
Jake glanced around. There, between a rock and a large chunk of driftwood, was a mid-size dog that couldn’t have been more than a year old. Its fur was brown and white, stringy and wet from the seawater, and its big, dark eyes locked onto the two men as they approached.
“Robbie, look,” he hissed, pointing toward the dog.
“Poor thing,” Robbie said softly. “It looks like it got stuck.” Slowly, carefully, he made his way forward, waving for Jake to go behind him.
Jake rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest. The dog was already in distress, and he didn’t want to make everything worse by arguing with Robbie in front of it.
“Hey, little pup,” Robbie crooned. The setting sun and the shadows it cast made it difficult to see exactly how the dog was stuck, but Robbie crawled over the damp rocks until he was crouched beside it, scratching a spot behind one of its lopsided ears. “Why are you out here all alone?”
“You think someone left it?” Jake asked, climbing up behind Robbie and perching on one of the rocks.
“I hope not.” Robbie's tone was calm and steady, but when he glanced back at Jake, still scratching the dog’s ear, his eyes were full of concern.
“Probably not,” Jake said quickly. “The poor little bastard probably ran away and got stuck here. He looks like he’s been trying to get free for a while based on all this sludge.”
Robbie looked back down at the dog, examining the slurry of sand and mud it had created in all its struggling. “Come closer,” he told Jake. “You’re going to help me move this driftwood so we can pull the poor thing out.”
Jake scrambled closer, positioning himself so he could pull on the end of the driftwood.
He waited for Robbie’s go ahead, and together, they groaned and grunted, shifting the wood an inch or two to the right.
It was a monumental effort, but it was enough, and while Jake held the driftwood before it slipped back into place, Robbie scooped the dog up, cradling it tightly in his arms. When it was safe, he leaned back against the rocks, panting for air.
“Christ, that was a lot of work,” Jake muttered. “It’s not hurt, is it?”
The dog squirmed in Robbie’s arms, coating his stark white shirt in thick brown mud. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Let’s get him back to the car before he tries running off again.”
“My car?”
“Yeah, why not? You know I didn’t drive here, and I’m sure as hell not walking all the way back to my house with this little devil in my arms.”
The dog yipped, its long pink tongue reaching out to lick Robbie on the cheek.
It was all Jake could do to not burst out laughing.
Perfect, porcelain little Robbie, fit more for a dollhouse diorama than the real world, was getting big, slobbery kisses on his face as the pup replaced his fresh scent with musty, wet dog.
“Fine, but I swear to God, you’d better have a towel or something we can use to keep my backseat clean.”
“I have a couple of spare garbage bags back at the main part of the beach.”
Jake sighed. “That’ll have to do. Where are we taking the dog, though? Not the pound.”
“No, not the pound.” Robbie shifted the dog in his arms so he could read the name tag on its collar. “This little fellow here is Cooper, and I happen to know the family that owns him.”
“Great. Are they missing their dog?”
“They must be.”
Jake shook his head as they trudged back along the shoreline, the dark now fully swallowing them up. “I hope you’re right. The last thing I need to ruin my time here is someone else’s problems to deal with.”
Jake unlocked his car and laid two garbage bags down across the back seats.
Robbie let the dog jump in, where it promptly shook off, sand and seawater droplets spraying everywhere.
Jake cringed, but he didn’t say a word. He’d as good as agreed to help Robbie tonight, as much as he was regretting it now.
Robbie slipped into the front passenger seat, his critical eye examining every inch of the car’s interior. “When was the last time you vacuumed this thing?” he asked.
“Jesus Christ, you really are insufferable all the time, aren’t you?” Jake got into the driver’s seat and started the car.
“I’m just wondering.” Robbie paused for a moment. “You don’t bring guys home in this, do you?”
“No, I have a limo I keep in the parking garage back home for that.”
“All I’m saying is maybe you’d have better luck finding dates if you made yourself a little more presentable.”
“I don’t have any trouble getting dates,” Jake said stiffly.
“Really? That’s a surprise.”
“Just because you struggle doesn’t mean everyone else does, too.”
“What makes you think I struggle?”
“Because you smell like a wet dog and your shirt is soaked through with that nasty beach sludge.”
Robbie followed Jake’s gaze down to his chest. “It’s not as if I look like this all the time, and you know that, smartass. So, tell me, what makes you think I struggle to find dates?”