I tried to sleep, but failed.
Air that felt like it had been cooked in an oven smothered the garage and sweat coated my body. Thoughts of Liz and Carter and Keene and Zip and San Diego ran through my mind like a freight train. Nothing I did could slow it down and I spent the entire night flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.
It was early when the birds roused, chirping their good morning. I pushed myself off of the cot, rinsed my face, threw on some clothes and headed to the beach.
Waves crashed in choppy, uneven segments, the wind turning them into unpredictable mush. Two guys were trying to navigate the mess, flailing around on what looked to me like rented long-boards. It had been so long since I’d been in the water, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to tell them how to get up on their boards, even if I’d been inclined to do so. Instead, I watched them fail, time after time, before they finally gave up, trudging up the beach and to the parking lot, exhausted and frustrated.
There was a time when I would’ve offered to help, to show them what they were doing wrong or at least told them why the waves were impossible to ride. I was never one of those territorial surfers who reveled in watching people struggle, like I owned the ocean and the right to surf. If people were polite and looked like they just wanted to have fun, I’d go talk to them, help if I could.
But I just didn’t have a lot of that in me anymore.
I was unlocking the shed when Ike wandered down to the sand, holding up a hand in greeting.
“What the hell happened to you?” he said, squinting at my face.
“Nothing.”
“Looks like some kind of nothing.”
“I’m fine. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. Won’t happen again.”
He frowned and waved off the apology. “Please, kid. You’re fine. The weather sucked anyway and you’re the most reliable employee I’ve ever had. One day ain’t gonna kill us.”
“Still. Sorry.”
“Whatever,” he said, still frowning. “But, hey. I did wanna talk to you about yesterday.” Concern shimmered in his eyes. “Dude came looking for you.”
I nodded. “Skinny little dude? Looks like a crackhead who hasn’t showered in weeks? Don’t worry about it. I got him covered.”
Ike shook his head. “No. That ain’t who I talked to.”
My stomach dropped.
“This guy was well put together,” Ike said. “I’d put him around your age. Good lookin’, not that I go that way, but you know what I’m sayin’. Dark hair, tan, almost as big as you. Asked for you by name.”
The muscles in my gut clenched.
“I played dumb at first, but he knew I was full of shit,” he said. “So then I just said I hadn’t seen you in awhile. Tried to get a name or number out of him, but he just said he’d come back.”
I shuffled my feet in the sand. “Okay.”
“He didn’t seem pissed or nothin’,” Ike said, pulling the sunglasses on the cord around his neck up onto his face. “But he was definitely looking for you. And I don’t think he’s going away.”
I ran Ike’s physical description through my memory banks, but came up empty. I was drawing a blank.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“You need help,” Ike said, nodding at me. “You holler at me. Any kind at all. You holler at me. Got it?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“And you need a different place to stay, I’ll work it out,” he said. “Just let me know.”
“I’m good,” I said. “But thanks. I’ll let you know if it changes.”
As Ike disappeared over the sand dunes, I was anything but good.