Chapter Six
Riley
“Well, you look like you're hard at work,” Beck says, walking through the doors to the Inn. I don't turn my head his way, still throwing the old tennis ball against the roof above me. Something I’ve done since I started working here full-time when I was in high school.
The old grouchy janitor lives up there, and the first day on the job, he told me it was my job to clean every toilet in the joint. He had a bad back, and that was why the job paid so well. I thought to question it, but it was my first job. How was I supposed to know the pay was actually shit? I cleaned those toilets for nine months before the owner popped up and saw Reggie behind the counter instead of me, and me doing Reggie's job. Luckily, the older woman who owns this place is cool and thought it hilarious.
Me? I didn't think it was funny at all. I swore to get him back, and when I learned he lived in the room above the desk, I saw that tennis ball on the desk, and it started. It's been almost four years now, and Reggie and I have long since gotten over it, but Reggie confessed at the beginning of last summer that he missed that knock while I was away at university. He said he always knew I was home when I knocked.
“Not a lot of phone calls after ten at night. What are you doing here?” I ask, throwing the ball one more time and then placing it on the counter beside me.
I lean forward in my chair and turn to look at him. Beck’s never really been the night owl of the group. He does maintenance for the town and the Golf Course on the rich part of the island. Those fuckers can call him in the dead of night just to come to fix a busted ice maker. I’m pretty sure they’ve called him at three in the morning to come jump-start a car. Rich assholes.
“Well, Gray and Kas were, of course, busy with their women, and I knew you’d love my company on your nightly routine. So here I am.” He throws his arms wide and smirks at me. I narrow my eyes at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don't give me that. We know all about your trips to the pier. You're looking for her, and tonight, I'm here to help. So let's get moving.”
“I just really been craving funnel cakes,” I try to recover.
“Yeah, it shows in your ass. Now, come on. Which station do you want to start with, the funnel cake stand, or the Ferris wheel? Then we can finish with a fresh lemonade before scoping out the parking lot for about forty-five minutes,” Beck says confidently.
I'm so stunned by the realization that my friends knew what I even denied to myself. I don't realize Beck has me clocked out halfway down the boardwalk when I notice I haven't spoken. How did he know the exact path and booth I check out every night? Normally, I'm so engrossed in my books that I barely notice anything or anyone around me. It's possible I just switched my obsession with books for my obsession with my little siren.
“How long have you guys known?” I ask him. I hadn't seen the guys much since my family dinner about two weeks ago. At first, I just wandered the boardwalk when I usually would have been hanging out with them, then I realized a few days into it that I was actually looking for something, well, someone.
“Eh, little more than a week. The question really is, why didn't you ask for help? You know we always got your back, man. I have a lot of contacts around here.” He puffs out his chest like a peacock, and I can't help but give him a gut check.
“Hey, no fair,” he complains.
“Yeah, that would be a lot of help if I had her name,” I mutter.
“Damn, brother, you're obsessed with this girl and don't even know her name? That's insane!” Beck yells.
I sigh. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
I continue walking down the boardwalk, getting lost in my thoughts. After that dry, boring dinner that night, I realized I knew that was not the life I wanted. It's the life I was headed for, one my older siblings are headed for. I want something different, though. But Beck is right. How can I be so crazy about this girl without even knowing her name? I stay lost in my thoughts as we circle around the carnival, looking in all my normal spots, not really paying attention to the bright lights and cheerful laughs around me. By the time we make it back to the parking lot, I feel more lost and dejected than ever.
“You know what, man? I think I'm going to make it an early night. No use waiting around when I know she's never going to come.” I shrug, turning to walk back toward my parents' house.
“Damn, I’m sorry we didn't have any luck tonight, man. I’m gonna stay out here a little longer. See if I can catch a glimpse of that yellow van. You know, to, uh, see if they know where your girl is,” he replies oddly. Why would he want to stay around? Beck’s always a wild card, so instead of questioning it, I shrug and give him a chin lift before walking back toward the boardwalk.
I’m just past the pier welcome sign when I hear an echo of a voice coming from somewhere close. It breaks through my brain fog, and something about it is so familiar. I shake my head and continue my depressing walk when the voice hits a high note. Again, something about that voice. It’s pulling me that way. It's a beautiful voice, but it's getting lost in all the noise around me. I take another step away from the carnival, just wanting to call it a night already.
Then it hits me. I know that voice. I've been searching this whole seaside town for that voice. I take off, going around the front and checking the loose board that leads under the carnival's boardwalk. Few people know about it, but Beck found it when we were in high school, and we used it to run up and down the beach side of this area.
I slip through the loose board and rush down the path that leads to the water. I hear the laughter from the rides above; the music playing the same old tune, and even the sounds of the game stations handing out prizes when the buzzers sound. It all fades to the back, though, when I hear her sweet melodic voice. It's carrying me toward the water just like a siren's call, but I'm too far gone to ignore that fact. I break through the path of overgrown grass and see her, a solid figure, sitting alone on the beach.
I slow down my steps and listen carefully to the song she's singing. I recognize it as an old sailor's song, but I have no clue how I know that or where I would have heard it. However, I would bet every dime to my name that I know this song. It's eating at me right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite spit it out.
“And he lay with her soul, rocks below……” She finishes the last line, and I barely catch it, but somehow, I hear the catch in her voice, the sob that breaks off the final note.
I’m still trying to work out the song. I know the voice is my carnival girl. Without a doubt, it's her siren's call, but the song sounds so familiar. Like I've heard it in the white noise over and over again. I could even write out some of the lyrics. I close my eyes, singing it through again, and I feel like I’m back at a familiar booth, sticky table, and…..
The diner! That's where I know that voice from. Was she sitting that close to me all this time, and I just didn't notice? I place one foot in front of the other, letting my feet carry me to her. I reach my hand to her shoulder, trying to open my mouth, probably to utter something idiotic, like “Hey! I've been searching for you, basically trying to stalk you..”
My words cut off as she gasps and turns to look at me. I catch one glimpse of her eyes, then let my gaze travel down her body, over her uniform, and to those beaten-up shoes. It feels like the waves crash around me, and I feel like I've been shocked. I know those shoes. I know that uniform. I've seen them countless times. I would know the beat-up shoes anywhere as I only glance up floor level when I'm entranced in a book. I’m too stunned to move, and of course, the words that flow from my mouth are stupid as hell, but I'm just shocked, and all I can utter is….
“You?”