Reckless Hearts (15 page)

It was the
magic hour. The thin winter sunlight painted the dunes and the shore road a deep golden ocher. The sea grass rippling in the breeze glimmered like goldenrod.

As Jake drove the Rumbler toward the pier (he still couldn't bring himself to take the Mini out), he could feel the wind in the air ruffle through his hair and he felt like he was entering a movie in which the beauty of the moment draws all the most beautiful possibilities of life. He had to vigilantly stop himself from hoping that Elena had called him here to tell him she'd realized what a fool she'd been, deluded and afraid to admit that she'd loved him all along. That wasn't going to happen. He
knew this. But still, he couldn't help fantasizing about her throwing herself into his arms.

He rolled onto the dirt road—really just two wheel tracks through the grass—that led to the dilapidated pier where he and Elena had spent so many lazy afternoons. Her bike was already there, lying on its side. He parked next to it and hiked through the goat trail to the pier, and there she was, like a classical statue, wearing black jean shorts and a tight pink tank top, dangling her legs off the far platform, past the spot where the pier had rotted away.

She was gazing off into space like she was in a trance and she didn't notice him approaching, not even when the wooden slats creaked under his feet, not even when he leaped across the gap to the platform.

Touching her warm bare shoulder, he plopped down next to her.

“Hey,” he said. Given how complicated everything was between them, he wasn't sure if he should hug her or not.

Even now, it took her a minute to look up. When, finally, she did, she seemed drained of her usual spunky, protective humor.

“Hi,” she said, scrunching up her face apologetically. Then, “Sorry. This is totally unfair. I didn't know who else to call. You're the only one I know how to talk to.”

Jake tried to keep his disappointment in check even
though he knew now that she hadn't called him here to profess her love. But seeing her like this, upset, overwhelmed, he cared less about his own feelings than hers. If she was in need, he had to be there for her in whatever way he could. To do any less would be a betrayal of his devotion to her.

“It's okay,” he said.

She looked like she was about to cry.

“Elena, it's okay,” he said again, more meaningfully this time. He sat down cross-legged across from her. “I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. I'll always be here.”

Now the tears fell from her eyes. He took her hand and let her cry.

When, finally, she took her hand back and wiped the tears away, he asked, “What happened? Is it Harlow?”

The stricken look that flashed across her face at the mention of Harlow told Jake he'd made a mistake. “Sorry,” he said in a rush. “I'm not fishing. I promise. I just . . . Tell me what happened.”

After a moment of hesitation in which she seemed to be gauging Jake's ability to comfort her, she rolled her eyes slowly with an ironic sense of resignation, and then she launched into it. “What didn't happen. Matty fucked some girl, and now, well, you know Nina. ‘It's all over now,' she says. ‘I'm moving back home.' But that can't happen. Dad would kill her. He'd kill me. Tough love, baby. You live with your choices. And anyway, what
happens when she decides to forgive Matty? Then we're right back where we started. It's just . . .” She flopped onto her back and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “It's the same old thing over and over again, but somehow it's worse each time. Know what I mean?”

Jake couldn't entirely follow the thread. In the past few weeks, with the strain between him and Elena, he'd missed a few episodes of the soap opera that was Nina's life. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he simply listen and show her he cared.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “You think she'll ever leave him for good?”

“She claims it's for good this time. But, you know, what fun would that be?” Elena said ruefully.

“Maybe it is. Maybe she's had enough. Maybe it's like my mom back when my dad was drinking. At a certain point, you can't keep sacrificing yourself. No matter how much you love the other person. Maybe Nina's reached that point.” He thought for a moment about what might be holding Nina back. “She's probably terrified about raising a baby by herself,” he said.

“I'd help her.”

“Does she know that?”

“Yes . . . no. Maybe. How could she not?” Elena said.

Jake tipped his head and raised an eyebrow, silently letting her pick up on what he was implying.

“Yeah,” she said. “You're right.” She gave a little half
laugh. “Like the saying goes, ‘When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.'”

“Exactly,” Jake said with a smile. “Baby steps. You'll talk to your dad. You know he can't say no to you. And then you'll see what happens.”

Elena let out a sigh. “I've missed you, Jake,” she said.

“I've missed you, too.”

They stared at each other, embarrassed for a second, then Elena stuck out her tongue and made a funny face. “Anyway,” she said, “enough about me. I'm sick of me. What's up with you?”

Jake took a deep breath and thought about what to say and what to keep hidden. “Well,” he said, “my, I guess, stepbrother Nathaniel broke my guitar the other night.”

“The Gibson?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit. What did you do?”

“What am I supposed to do? He's . . .” Jake couldn't resist planting a small seed. “You'd see if you met him,” he said. “He's a total douche bag. Anyway, he's gone now. Back in Atlanta at the Roderick School, where he would have been kicked out except if they kicked him out they'd lose that nice pipeline of cash they get from Cameron.”

She propped herself up on her elbows and gazed out at the water. In the golden light, every curve of her body
seemed even more achingly beautiful than usual. “Same shit, different day,” she said. Then she made another one of her funny faces.

“Better than a bullet to the head,” Jake offered.

“But just barely,” said Elena. There was that smile he'd been hoping to see—a little wistful, a little sad, but as gorgeous as ever. “Oh, Jake,” she sighed.

Sitting up, Elena scooted closer to Jake and laid her head against his bicep. He was too tall for her to reach his shoulder. He could feel the heat radiating off her forehead, feel the tickle of her hair against his skin.

He had to at least make an attempt. “Should I ask how Harlow is? Or is that off-limits?”

“You really want to know? I thought you hated him. I thought you didn't even think he was real.”

“I'm over it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I've missed you too much to stay angry about anything.”

And yes, maybe he was twisting the truth a bit, but he was being entirely honest about his emotions. That's what really mattered. Protecting the connection between the two of them.

“So how's it going with him?”

“I wish I knew,” she said.

“You broke up?”

Elena sat up and looked at Jake. He felt a cool emptiness rush in to replace the warmth of her skin on his arm.

“I wouldn't say exactly that we broke up, but . . . he's got a wild streak. He's gotten himself into some sort of . . . situation. I haven't seen him since . . .”

She stopped herself from revealing more, but what she had said was enough for Jake to spin the calculations in his head and note one more convenient alignment between Harlow's and Nathaniel's actions.

“You know what,” he said, letting her off the hook. “Let's talk about something else. We should go to Comic-Con this year. Don't you think? I mean, you've wanted to go forever and why not now? We can get Cameron to buy us plane tickets and . . .” He knew he was babbling, but he just kept on going, filling up the space between them with words. “Who would you go as? I think we should be elves, like from
The Lord of the Rings
. But not the obvious ones, not Legolas or whoever. Some elves that only appear on, like, one page in the appendices. Some elves that nobody would recognize. And then we can wander around acting totally shocked when people come up to us not knowing who we're supposed to be.”

Elena tilted her head and gazed at him with what he could only understand to be adoration. He wondered if she'd ever let Harlow—or Nathaniel—see this marvelous
and unguarded expression on her face. No way. That look was just for him.

“What?” he said, grinning.

“Where've you been all my life?” she said.

“Right here. Always. Right here.”

She looped her arm around his and laid her head against his arm again.

They'd reached the old familiar place in their conversation where they knew where each other was without having to speak. Instead, they watched as the sky transformed from golden into a streaky orange and red and purple.

Jake wished they could stay here forever like this. Nestled close, arm in arm. It felt good—not good like pleasurable, more like there was a goodness that existed when they were together that couldn't be re-created any other way. When would she realize this? he wondered. Or was he asking for too much? Maybe he should be thankful for what they had and not worry about pushing it toward something more.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Elena flicked her finger across the hair on his arm. Jake wondered if she realized how intimate the gesture was. A few moments later, she allowed herself to wrap her hand around his arm and hold him tighter, massaging his skin. Just like she would if he were her boyfriend, but it was also possible that she
was oblivious to the erotic way he was experiencing her touch.

He wondered what she would do if he allowed himself to shift his hand from where it sat on his knee to her smooth tan thigh like he desperately wanted to.

He didn't dare.

He didn't dare move a muscle, didn't dare do any single thing that might bring this exquisite moment to an end.

Elena felt the
breeze on her face.

As she pedaled her fixed-gear bike past the shadows of the stilt houses of the Slats, making her way toward the slope that would take her home, she felt a kind of calm she hadn't experienced in weeks.

It was funny. She'd missed the stability she felt in knowing Jake was always there. What she hadn't realized was that she missed all these other things about him. The way he moved his long, knobby arms around, not knowing where to put them. His sad, soulful face and the way, when he became inspired—like he did today talking about Comic-Con—it would betray with a mischievousness so subtle that nobody but her could see.
She imagined him with elf ears on his big round head and laughed out loud at the image.

Most of all, she'd missed his caution—the careful way he absorbed the details of her life and made observations she knew she could trust. Just talking to Jake calmed her down, even if nothing got resolved. He hadn't given her any specific advice—he hadn't needed to—but she knew now that she was strong and sharp enough to persuade her father to give Nina another chance. She'd slather on the charm. If need be, she'd put herself on the line and tell him that he could blame her for whatever trouble Nina caused this time.

Turning up Sunrise Avenue, which cut diagonally across town on a slow rise until it eventually looped around Seminole Park and was the quickest way to get to Greenvale Street, she leaned into her handlebars and let herself grin like a delirious fool.

The whole thing had felt so warm and safe. So intimate. So natural. Was this what Nina had meant when she'd told Elena that Jake was in love with her? That he'd accept whatever craziness was going on in her life without any judgment? Well, there was also the way he looked at her. She'd noticed today that his eyes lingered slightly longer than they had to on her bare thighs, that he had surreptitiously sized up her breasts. He'd desired her, no question. And she had to admit that she liked the feeling of being looked at by him. She liked the
thought that he might go home and replay his time with her today, that he might ache for her and wish he could touch her and kiss her like he wanted to. She liked the power of knowing that he wouldn't dare, that he was powerless to do anything with his love for her. It was all very erotic in a kind of cruel psychosexual way, and she felt a little bit wrong just noticing it. She didn't want to ever become the kind of person who would take advantage of Jake's desire.

As she made her way up the hill, her legs burned a little more with each turn of the pedals. She crossed A Street Southwest against the light. She was out of the Slats now, in the no-man's-land between the two neighborhoods where the blocks went on forever and the boxy beige buildings of Maritime Industrial Park sprawled like tombstones. Halfway home.

She wondered if Jake had noticed her finger on his arm. She hadn't meant anything sexual by it. She'd just felt close to him. But thinking about it now, she couldn't deny that it had been sort of sexy. Had she been teasing him? She hadn't meant to tease him.

Her phone vibrated in the front pocket of her jean shorts.

Slipping off the pedals, she let the bike roll to a stop and planted one foot on the pavement, straddling the bike while she pulled the phone out to see who was calling. Jake? Nina?

No. It was Harlow.

A flare went off in her head, sending her reeling, erasing all thoughts of Jake.

“Jesus,” she said, when she answered. “I thought you'd died.” She was only half joking.

“No,” he said. “Not yet. How's tricks? I've missed you.”

He was trying to play it off like his disappearing act was a normal thing to do. No way was she going to let him off the hook this easily.

“What the hell, Harlow?” she said. “You turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight and the only explanation I get is ‘I've missed you'?”

He didn't respond at first. She could hear him struggling with how to go about explaining himself. “I wanted to call earlier, but . . . it wasn't safe.”

“You could at least tell me what's going on . . . Harlow?” Had she lost him again?

“Yeah. I'm here,” he said, finally. He was whispering now. “I'm trying to figure how where to start. I guess, with that guy I saw at the hotel on New Year's Eve. It's crazy.
He's
crazy. He's all hooked in with the Cuban mob. He thinks I owe him a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Oh shit.” Elena's heart raced. “What did you do? How did that happen?”

“Nothing! I don't know!” Harlow whispered emphatically. “I met him in a club in Miami one night and he
seemed like a good guy. We had a couple of drinks and talked about baseball and suddenly he was accusing me of being involved with some other gang he was at war with. He went totally insane. Started waving a gun around. And he's been after me ever since. Somehow he got my number. And my address. A guy like that, he really would kill me. That's why I haven't been in touch. I had to leave town. And I can't come home unless I give him the money or . . . I don't know.”

Her brain couldn't process what he was telling her fast enough. The whole thing sounded far-fetched until she remembered the stories her father used to tell her about how ruthless the mob had been when he was growing up in Miami, how he'd had to watch his back every second of the day and be prepared to fight over the smallest, most inconsequential insult.

“God, that's horrible,” said Elena. “You should have called me. I've been worried. I mean, I thought we . . .” She stopped herself from saying anything embarrassing about relationships and her own hurt expectations. Instead she said, “I'm on your side, remember? And didn't you tell me I was the only one you could trust?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I've got issues. Listen—”

She wasn't done chastising him. Suddenly she understood how Nina felt with Matty. She just had to get it out of her system. “If you trust me, you shouldn't disappear like that. Or anyway, you should take me with you.”

“You're right. It's just, it's dangerous. I'd hate for anything to happen to you.”

“Where are you? I want to see you.”

“That's not a good idea right now. I mean, it's impossible. Listen, I've only got a couple minutes to talk.” She could hear an urgent, anxious edge in his voice now. “I need to know if I can really trust you.”

“I just told you you could.”

“Even if things get real? 'Cause shit's starting to get pretty real right now.”

“You can trust me, Harlow. I promise.”

She stood there, still straddling her bike, in the growing darkness, waiting. She was suddenly aware of how empty the street was. How dark. There were streetlamps every fifty yards or so, but anything could be lurking in the darkness between them. She hopped off the bike and began walking it up the hill, eager to get herself locked up safely at home as quickly as possible.

When he finally spoke again, he said, “I knew I could. It's just hard to believe. You're . . . you're the only one. I'm not used to it.” He paused and she could hear his head spinning in the silence. “Thank you,” he said.

“So tell me what I can do. Let me help you.”

“Okay,” he said. “I've been scrambling to find some way to at least buy myself some time.” “And?”

“And I've figured out who he's sent to hurt me. One
of them goes to Chris Columbus, actually. I think there might be a way to scare him off. If you're willing to do one tiny thing for me.”

“Sure,” Elena said, gulping. “Anything.”

“Okay. I don't know the guy's name, but I know he drives a black Mini with a checkerboard hood . . .”