Flirting with Disaster (2 page)

I stepped out of my car in front of the house and leaned against it, breathing in the ocean air. A wave of nostalgia hit me and instead of getting my suitcases out of the trunk, I kicked off my shoes and climbed the dune. The ocean was the only thing I ever missed after I left. The constant traffic of the city never lulled me to sleep as well as the sound of the waves.
 

Once over the sandy hill, I looked around. The beach was deserted, I raised my skirt and removed my stockings. I walked down and waited for the next wave. The water was icy cold. Oh well, it wasn’t as if I’d come for a vacation. There would probably be no time for a swim even if I was still around when the weather got nice enough to hit the beach.

Turning back, I noticed a silhouette in the distance. Some other lost soul had decided to dip his toes in. What was he doing here in the middle of the afternoon of a weekday? He probably was retired or out of work. I braced myself. I wasn't here to get sentimental. I had a job to do, and it meant putting a lot of people out of work, but when industries became obsolete, factories closed, there was no other way. I was not heartless, I realized my decisions would have dreadful consequences for many families in this town, but if not me, it would be someone else.
 

Retracing my steps, I thought about the list of employees in my computer. Looking at it while preparing my plan, I noticed the foreman was still Dylan Bishop. My mother had lived in awe of the man for years. How ironic that, for the coming weeks, the man would be in awe of me. I would hold over him the power he had held over my mother. Unlike him, I would exercise it.

What would losing his job do to his family? I went to school with his two sons. I felt sorry for them when they lost their mother. At the time I thought their father was a monster. In retrospect I understood that if he had been a whip-cracking slave driver, it was probably because management was already putting pressure on him.

Ryder! That was his name. Right, Ryder Bishop. The eldest Bishop boy was about a year older than me and a regular heartthrob. He and his buddy Tony must have stolen the virginity of most girls in my class. It was one badge of honor I did not regret not sharing with the cool kids. Ryder and Tony were two arrogant, cruel, good for nothing bastards. I didn't think they ever knew I existed.

I couldn’t totally blame them for ignoring me. At the time, I worked quite hard at being invisible. Unlike my mother, I was going places and the only way to make sure history didn't repeat itself was to ignore all members of the opposite sex. I stayed away from the boys, the parties, and the boardwalk. Studying paid off. I was offered full scholarships from some of the best universities in the country. I only picked one in New York to be close to home. It was as if I had sensed my mother would die young.
   

Reaching the top of the dune on my way back, I saw a police car parked next to mine. Tucking my stocking in my skirt pocket, I hurried down.

"Is there a problem, Officer?" I asked the man in uniform looking at my license plate number, pad and pen in hand.
 

"Yes, ma'am," he answered without turning around. "When you passed me, you were going way over the speed limit."

"I'm very sorry but I don't remember seeing a sign," I protested.

"Well, this should help you pay more attention next time," he snapped back as he turned and handed me my ticket.
 

I couldn't help but smile as I took the stub from his hand and recognized him.
 

Probably because most people didn't take so well to receiving a ticket, Tony frowned at me and his expression just cracked me up. "What's so funny?" he asked as I repressed a giggle.

"Nothing," I answered fighting to regain my composure. I was not about to tell Antonio de Pino I thought it funny that one of the two rowdiest teenagers of my generation had turned to law enforcement. The only thing that could possibly beat this would be Ryder Bishop becoming a monk!

Tony returned to his car and drove away. Only after he had turned the corner of the street did I open my trunk and take out my suitcases. No use bringing attention to my return at this time. The news would spread fast enough. I pushed the gate and it squeaked a little. Letting it slam shut behind me, I unlocked the door and took a big breath. I was home.

I rolled out of bed and hit the shower. I had an early job to fit in. I'd bartered work in exchange for a day out on a fishing excursion. My dad's birthday was coming up, and I thought he'd get a kick out of it. He was about to hit sixty and rarely took time out for himself. This would force him to take the day off and actually enjoy it.

I took a towel from the rack and dried off before digging through my dresser drawer to pull out fresh clothes. Good and ready for breakfast, I grabbed a banana and tossed it into the blender along with milk, protein powder, and ice. I hit the on button and waited for it to mix the ingredients. A couple cans of tuna, strained and flaked would be lunch. I gathered my things and poured my protein shake into a waiting glass. With a quick glance of the clock, I knew I needed to hit the ground running. I chugged the shake and stooped to shove my feet into the boots that stood patiently beside the door. A quick tug and my helmet dropped off the hook I'd placed it on.
 

Out the door, I hopped on my bike, secured my helmet, and took off. I had just enough time to stop for coffee. I was due at the boat docks shortly. With the sun barely in the sky, the air was still warming. It was chilly at night, but the afternoons were perfect.
 
I rode to the local diner, Dash and Dine.
 

It had changed owners and names over the years, but this last variation stuck for a while. You had to love the work. Ocean Crest businesses were hardly money havens.
 
After parking, I climbed the four steps that led to the entrance and made my way to the counter. On seeing Joanne eye me like a tasty treat, I groaned. She wasn't one to take a hint.

"Hey, big boy," she said. She stuck out her chest and licked her lips, her not so subtle approach always so transparent. Her grin was tight, but sun and cigarettes had played havoc on her skin, aging her faster than she probably would have liked. Her bleached hair took on the appearance of straw, but she didn't seem to notice time had been less than kind. Her calling card, what she'd relied on since high school was big, dangling earrings. Chandeliers, hoops, it didn't matter; she always chose the gaudiest of pieces, and the bigger the better.
 

I nodded. I'd been avoiding her for the last few, I don't know, years. Bad choice on my part... I was drunk and gave in one time. The girl always thought there could be more. How? Why? I didn't have a clue. She was just weird like that. Some girls weren't made to be one-night stands, they got too attached too fast, and I wasn't a commitment kind of guy. Every freaking time I saw her, she'd paste on her false charm. I'd rather eat a split of firewood than share a bed with that one again. I placed my order and hoped for a quick escape. "I'll have a large, black coffee to go."
 

"You should call me sometime," she said before turning her back to pour the coffee into a big Styrofoam cup. She capped it with a plastic lid and waited for my response, holding my coffee hostage.
 

"Yeah, I'll keep you in mind," I said to ease my way out of the conversation. We both knew I was lying.
 

She stared at me a few moments longer and finally handed me my coffee. I went to the register to pay, passing a booth with some curvy chick eating an egg white omelette. Next to it was a large chocolate shake. I shook my head. I took pride in my body. Some people ...
 
Let it go. Not my business.
 

I headed to the docks to meet my customer. We'd bartered over a few beers, but now it was time to pay up. I had set my Friday aside to work on it. He showed me what needed to be done and where, and let me get on with it. We'd go out fishing tomorrow. It was tight quarters doing the work, but it would be worth it to see the look on my dad's face. It's not like I could afford to charter a full day out fishing for a couple of people on a regular basis. Sure, on a cheaper boat, but I wanted to do it right. I couldn't afford the offshore fishing cost, but inshore would work just fine. It was still a deep chunk of change for a single day.
 

Saturday morning, bright and early, I called up my dad. I'd told him to keep his Saturday open for me. Sixty freakin' years old; he didn't look a day over fifty-nine. Eh, he'd had some hard years after Mom died, and while he was rough on me sometimes, he just wanted to make sure I had a good set of standards. I got it now that I was older.
 

I left my bike at home and jumped into my truck. It was a little weathered, but she ran like a dream. I kept it tuned-up and detailed her every year. She was due for a new paint job, but it just never seemed like a priority. After I picked up my father, we headed to the marina.
 

He looked around and then asked, "What are we doing here?"
 

"We're going charter fishing today, Pops." I puffed out my chest proudly. "Eight hours on the Widow's Wave Breaker."
 

"Wait, what? You can't...you shouldn't...it's too much." He stumbled over his words.

"Don't worry, I bartered work. It's all good. Happy birthday, Dad."
 

"Are you kidding me? You and me, eight hours?"

"Inshore, couldn't quite pull off the price of offshore."

"Wow, this is great, Ryder. Thanks," he said. "I wish your brother was here to join us."

Once we got on the water, I knew it was the right choice. I hadn't seen my father smile that much in years. He was a good old boy, but sometimes took life a little too seriously.
 

"Look out!" the captain shouted.
 

A wave runner was going too fast and the driver didn't have control. At the last minute, the Jet Ski veered off, narrowly missing us. The wakes it caused had the boat rocking. I must have a damn target on my back lately. Other than the near miss, we had a good day. Dad caught some fish, smiled a little more than usual, and brought in his sixtieth birthday on a fancier boat than either of us had been on before.
 

We stopped for grub at a little seafood place. If you wanted fancy, you had to go somewhere else, but if you wanted the best New England Chowder and a bowl full of steamers, Watson's Seafood Shack was the place to go. Locals swarmed the place, but this little gem was non-existent to out-of-towners. We liked it that way; more chowder for us.
 

Opening my eyes in my childhood bedroom caused an incredible adrenaline rush. For a second I imagined I had traveled in time. No! I couldn't be back in high school. I sat up, legs dangling on the edge of my bed, my heart beating like a wounded animal in my chest. And then I remembered. I remembered why I had returned and guilt struck. Guilt for coming to tear the town apart, guilt for not having returned more often when my mother was alive.
 

I stretched and yelped in pain. I was sore all over. What had possessed me to think I could clear my bedroom of all its furniture by myself? Bad idea. By the time I had taken the old mattress down the steps I was exhausted. I barely had enough strength left to throw the inflatable mattress I bought on top of the old frame and make my bed with fresh sheets. The second my head hit the pillow I was gone.

I needed to make a list of things to do but I couldn't do it on an empty stomach. Breakfast would come first. A sweat suit, my bag with a pad and a pen, and I was on my way. Almost on automatic pilot, I drove to my mother's favorite old diner. This was a strange trip down memory lane. They used to have the best chocolate milkshakes ever and my mother would treat me to one on special occasions.

Parking across the street, I looked at the beat up facade. A semi-new flashing neon announced the place had been re-baptized “Dash and Dine.” When the lights came on, it was possible to read some of the old letters through the bad paint job "ddy's Diner."
 

I smiled as I pulled the old door open, imagining a retired Eddy or Freddy enjoying a hard earned rest away from this godforsaken place in a warmer climate. Who wouldn't run given half a chance?
 

The place hadn't changed and was deserted except for an older man nursing a cup of coffee at the counter. The waitress babbling on her phone waved for me to pick any place I wanted. I thanked her with a nod and sat in the first booth. Still on the phone, she dropped a menu on my table.
 

"Holler when you know what you want," she said without looking at me.

"Thank you, Joanne." If not for the name embroidered on her uniform, I would probably not have recognized her. We were in school together and she was actually halfway decent to me.
 

She paused for an instant to take a second look at me. She squinted, frowned, and then noticed my eyes on her name tag. She shrugged and walked away, her attention back to whomever was on the other end of the line.

After a brief look at the menu, I pulled out my pad and began two lists. The first was stuff I needed to do for the house, like find someone to move the crap I wanted thrown out, the second, work related.

I was still making notes when Joanne ended her phone conversation and returned to my booth.

"What will it be, honey?" she asked squinting again. The woman needed glasses but then chances were the job at Dash and Dine didn't provide medical coverage.
 

I looked up at her. "I'll have the egg white omelette, please."

In addition to glasses, she also needed a total make-over. Not that I was an authority on looks but seriously who wears so much make up on a Saturday morning? And what had she done to her hair? I remembered a luscious mass in a warm chestnut color and now it was a bleached out mess that probably felt like straw!