Finding the Magic (Tom Kelly's Boys Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 5

Not only did I stoop down and take another peek while Megan and I were out there eating, but I also went back the next morning for a quick glance. I should be ashamed to admit this, but it was the first morning since the night in London that I didn't wake up thinking about losing the music.

That morning I woke up thinking about the gorgeous surfer I'd seen through the crack in the wall the day before. I tried to remember what he looked like, and found myself doubting that he could possibly be as good as my memory. That was the thought that sparked my curiosity enough to go out there again. I didn't think anyone would notice me out on that bench, but I hesitated to go right when I woke up just in case. I waited an hour; I held out till 11AM when I brought my coffee out onto the bench.

It was Friday, and I didn't really have high hopes that anyone would be back there, but you can bet I planned to look through that crack just in case. I'd only been sitting on the bench for a few seconds before I decided to set down my coffee mug in preparation for looking through the crack. I looked at the back of the guesthouse, and farther off to the main house. There was no sign of life at either place. Dr. Richie and his wife were probably already out for the day, and I assumed Steven was preoccupied or sleeping in like his sister.

The bench was in a shaded spot on the back edge of the property, so I felt pretty confident that no one would notice me. I adjusted my coffee mug, trying to look casual as I glanced again at the Richie's house and guesthouse, and then slipped off of the bench.

I sat on the ground with my back against the wall. English Ivy covered the wall in some areas, but it was bare in the spot near the bench. The soil was sandy, and I wondered as I sat in it if that was why the ivy didn't grow there. I leaned over to look through the hole. I blinked, trying to focus and feeling frustrated at the shrub that was obstructing my view. I didn't remember there being so much of that yesterday and I wished there was a way for me to get into their backyard with a weed wacker.

I waited patiently, and sure enough the wind carried the branches here and there, and I was able to get a clearer view. A clear view didn't make male models appear, though. All I could see was an empty backyard.

I had been staring at that empty backyard for the better part of a minute when it hit me. I had been awake for over an hour, and I hadn't thought about the concert. I stood up and sat on the bench, and for the next few minutes, had the same wave of sadness hit me. I sipped on my coffee trying to talk myself out of the same doubt and fear that had been plaguing me since December. It was getting easier, but it wasn't easy yet, and I was thankful for the distraction that lay on the other side of that wall.

I was looking directly at the back door of the Richie's house when it opened. Steven came out wearing some saggy athletic shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and a flatbill cap turned to the side. I smiled as he approached thinking he actually pulled off the look.

I smiled at him until I realized he wasn’t smiling back. In fact, he was pinning me with a stare. "What are you doing back here?" he asked. His tone was hushed, but his expression was verging on murderous.

I gave him an offended look. "I thought it was okay to drink your coffee outside in Miami," I said.

He sat by me and glanced at me with narrowed eyes. "I saw you looking through that fuckin' hole just now, and you can't be doing that."

I got so nervous that I denied it even though he'd seen me, and that was ridiculous. "No I wasn't."

He made a tisking noise and pointed toward the wall with his thumb. "You don't want to mess with those motherfuckers," he said. "The sonna va bitch who owns that house is a fuckin' pirate—and I'm not talking about Pirates of the motherfuckin' Caribbean either."

At first I was embarrassed to have been caught, but now I saw it as an opportunity to see what he knew. "Megan said you saw something that made you think that," I said.

"Shiiiit."

I smiled at how gangsta and dramatic he was, and he saw me smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't be a little bitch. It's not fuckin' funny," he said. "Those motherfuckers will
kill you
without batting an eye. I saw them beat the shit out of a guy one time, so I found out who they were. The front of their house is around on Oleander. Supposedly they have some furniture business and another fishing business that is a front for their boats."

"I thought you said they weren't like Pirates of the Caribbean."

"They're not. But they still use boats. Otherwise they wouldn't be called
pirates
, they'd be called motherfuckin' mafia or something. I don't even know. They're ruthless."

"And you gather all this from a fight you saw in their backyard?"

"Not just that. My friend Alex knows someone who knows one of them and he said Captain Tom, the guy who owns the house, cut a guy's head off one time in a fight, then he kept the skull and brings it wherever he's doing business so that everyone can see what happens when you fight with him."

I laughed out loud at how wide-eyed and freaked out he was.

"Go ahead and laugh," he said. "I'm just warning you that you might see some shit you don't want to motherfuckin' see if you look through that hole."

We were both quiet for a second before he continued. "My sister probably showed it to you so you could look at the guys, but she has no idea who she's messing with. Just listen to me when I say you would
not
like the results if they found out you was spying on them."

"Is Captain Tom in his twenties with long, blondish hair?" I asked, still curious.

He cut me a glance like I was crazy. "No," he said. "Those are his sons. There are two of them. They used to look just alike till one of them shaved his head; now I can tell them apart. Captain Tom is the older one—he's their dad. There are other guys in and out of there all the time." He cut his eyes at me and smiled. "And girls too."

"You just told me not to look over there. It sounds like you look over there all the time."

"That's because I know what I'm doing, and I got a fuckin' Glock strapped on just in case."

I laughed. "You do
not
have a gun. Do you?"

"No, but I know how to look through the crack without getting caught. Y'all bitches are too emotional. You gonna make too much noise and get yourselves caught."

"No I'm not," I said, challenging him. He was so full of hot air. There was no reason he should be allowed to spy on them and none of the rest of us could. "Well, this happens to be a fun distraction for me, so you're gonna have to just share." I crossed my arms indignantly and he looked at me smiling.

"It's Drake you're looking for—the guy with long hair."

"I'm not looking for him particularly, I just thought it was intriguing when Megan told me you said they were pirates."

"Megan just wanted you to see the guys. She doesn’t even fuckin' believe me that they're pirates."

"I believe you," I said wistfully. I held my mug and stared straight ahead. "I wish there was a way we could make that hole bigger."

Steven made a noise of disapproval and shook his head at me. "See? That's
exactly
why you don't need to be back here. Didn't you just hear what I said? They'd
kill
you if they found out you were watching them."

He had said that before, but for some reason it was just sinking in. "Do you think they'd seriously try to hurt us if they knew we could see into their yard?"

"Well, it depends on what we fuckin' see, duddent it?"

"They're never gonna notice," I said. I pointed at the hole. It was almost imperceptible in the huge, stone wall, and looked to be even smaller on the other side.

"Yeah, but you can't be doing shit like trying to make it bigger."

I just sat there, knowing he was right. "Did you say his name is Drake?"

"Yeah. Kelly"

"Huh?"

"Drake Kelly. That's his name. His dad's Tom Kelly, the pirate. I'm telling you the truth. That's for fuckin' real over there. He was named for Sir Francis Drake. England saw him as a hero, but the Spaniards knew him for the bloodthirsty pirate he was."

"Which one was he named for," I asked, "the hero or the villain?"

He cut his eyes at me as if I must be playing dumb on purpose. "The pirate, obviously. The villain."

"How do you know all this? You sound like you did a report on him or something."

"My friend Alex knows someone who's told him stories of first hand accounts. It was someone who'd seen all this stuff with his own two fuckin' eyes, and he told Alex and them some of it—like the way he carries around that skull."

"That's so weird," I said.

We sat in silence for a few seconds. "You have to wonder how he went about, you know, cleaning it."

"You mean getting the fuckin' brains and shit out?"

I cringed, but nodded. "Yeah." A big smile crossed my face, and he glanced over at me.

"You think it's funny, cutting heads off and carrying them around with you?"

"No," I said defensively. "I was smiling at something else, and you don't even know that story is true."

"Yes I do, and what were you smiling at?"

"I was just thinking that it's been a while since I had something to take my mind off… " I hesitated. "Did your sister tell you about—"

"That you're not playing piano anymore?"

"Yeah. It was a big, on stage catastrophe—a nightmare. I've sort of had a hard time forgetting about it." I shrugged. "Anyway, it's just nice to get my mind off of it, and shirtless pirates have been a nice distraction."

Steven smiled at me, and I could tell he cared about me and hated that I'd been having a hard time, but didn't know what to say.

I smiled back at him. "So does this mean you're not gonna get mad at me for looking through there, because I pretty much want to do it again, like immediately."

He rolled his eyes at me and sighed dramatically. "I don't care what you do, but don't come crying to me when they tie you up and throw you to the bottom of the motherfuckin' ocean."

I giggled. "Oh that's a nice thought Steven. Thank you for that."

He shrugged and smiled. "I'm just sayin'."

We sat there for a few seconds. I was waiting for him to leave so I could peek through the hole again but he didn't make any moves.

"You're in luck if it's Drake you like. I think that's the one my sister likes too."

I felt an unexplainable stab of jealousy, but I ignored it. "Why's that lucky?" I asked, not mentioning the part about Megan and her apparent crush on the beautiful surfer.

"Because he's the one who builds furniture. Alex's friend was telling him about how he's really talented and makes this custom wood furniture—tables and chairs and shit. Anyway, he must work at the house because he goes outside at different, regular times of the day like clockwork. He must be taking breaks."

My head popped up. "You know
what times
he comes outside?"

Steven smiled at my eagerness. "Just on weekdays. Weekends are always different and all sorts of crazy characters come and go back there."

"It's Friday," I said.

"Yeah, so?"

"So what time's he coming out?"

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Eleven thirty or so."

"He'll come out sometime in the next hour, and he'll stay for thirty minutes. He eats lunch by the pool as long as it's nice outside."

"It's crazy that you know this."

Steven shrugged. "I like to be aware of my surroundings."

"So is that one not a pirate?" I asked. "The one with the long hair? The way you're talking, it sounds like he just sits over there and builds furniture."

"They're all fuckin' pirates. He might not go out on the boat, but he's a fuckin' gangsta, make no mistake about that. He's the one I saw kicking someone's ass that day."

"So, he's like their on-land representative slash furniture builder," I said.

"You're gonna think it's really cute until you see some shit go down."

"How often do you come out here?" I asked.

"Not much anymore since my friends started getting cars and shit." He paused, put a finger in the air, and cocked his head to the side. "Hold up, be quiet."

I got really still, waiting to see what he was doing. I figured it was something to do with the neighbors, and I instantly got excited and nervous.

"I know the sound of that sliding glass door even though you can barely hear it. I'm not sure if it was that I heard, but you can check if you want."

I didn't hesitate to go to the hole in the wall. He watched me as I bent down to take a look. I blinked several times, trying to focus past the shrubs and into the open pool area. It took me a second to catch some movement just to the left of the backdoor. It was the lovely, longhaired hunk, who was also apparently very good with his hands.