Don't Wait 3
Carlos trusted his instincts, honed during a misspent youth on the mean streets of Newark and in the juvie halls of Yardville, Jersey's Garden State Youth Correctional Facility. He was sure someone was looking at him, studying him, judging him. He remained casual, tucking his feet under and rising gracefully to a standing position without using his hands, surveying his surroundings as he moved.
There weren't many people on the beach on this mid-May Monday. One family group several hundred yards away, with children busy digging in the sand; an older couple walking along the beach holding hands; a hard-bodied young woman jogging on the hard-packed sand at the edge of the water.
He swung around toward the boardwalk behind him, appearing relaxed and unconcerned, but with keen vision. Julio and Lester were standing in the loose sand at the bottom of the steps leading down to the beach, engaged in conversation with busty blonde Ashley and her friend. What was the friend's name? Carlos replayed his conversation with Ashley in his head. Heather. That was it.
Standing up on the boardwalk leaning against the railing and looking out at the water was a group of three girls, women, he corrected himself, probably college students like himself, working in Point Pleasant for the summer. All three were dark-haired and attractive, although their height and build and skin tone varied. They were dressed identically in short white shorts and black t-shirts with huge orange crab logos on the front proclaiming "Crabster's." They must be waitresses at that restaurant on the beach block behind them, taking a break after the lunch shift.
There were a few other couples strolling the boards, window shopping and ocean gazing, but no sign of any threat. After another sharp-eyed look around Carlos shrugged off the feeling of disquiet, picked up his blanket and ambled toward his brother.
As he neared the boardwalk, laughter rang out above him and he glanced up. The three waitresses had their heads together, doubled over with mirth, their arms clutching at each other. Carlos couldn't help but smile at the sight. They looked so free, so innocent, so happy. He envied them their carefree laughter, their lightness of being. And the chains that bound him, of brother, son, student, were cement blocks anchoring his feet, dragging him to the bottom of the morass to drown.
His desolate eyes met those of the girl in the center of the three and it was as if lightning struck him, stopping his heart. Eyes the clear, crystal blue of the sky caught him up, sucked him in, making him feel for a moment as if he were soaring like a seagull in the bright air of them. When his heart resumed it slammed against the walls of his chest and the blood buzzed and vibrated through his veins.
A huge mass of brown curls haloed her head, drifting and floating on the ocean breeze. Her lips were pink and pouty, full even as her mouth stretched wide with laughter. Translucent white skin, the color and texture of cream, appeared never to have seen the sun.
His eyes skimmed down her body. Even the ridiculous orange crab on her shirt couldn't hide the lushness of her curves, the perky breasts, the tiny waist, the rounded hips. And the very short shorts drew attention to endless slim, pale legs that gave him the sudden urge to lick his way up them.
But she had an innocence about her. This wasn't the kind of girl you screwed under the boardwalk in the dark. This was the kind you walked with in the light, the kind you took home to meet your mama and papa.
Carlos shook his head, tearing his eyes away before the stirring in his shorts became a full-fledged hard-on. What the hell? he thought. Why would this little white girl affect him so much? He must be going soft. She was pretty, certainly, but not supermodel gorgeous. And her curves weren't as abundant as some of the other bodies he'd seen on the beach.
Ashley's, for instance. And he realized Ashley had turned from Les and Julio and taken his arm, was holding it with an attitude of proprietorship, as if he belonged to her.
oOo
"Well, Les was pretty cool, but what was up with Skeletor?" Tina said after the two guys were out of earshot.
Stephanie and Mary Lou looked at Tina, then at each other, and all three burst into helpless laughter, doubled over with it. Skeletor, indeed. It was the perfect moniker for the silent, surly and scrawny Julio.
As she straightened up and looked down at the group on the beach, Stephanie felt like she'd been hit by a brick, right between the eyes. Oh… my… God… she thought, a shiver working its way from the tips of her toes all the way up to the top of her head as she locked eyes with the most gorgeous man ever to grace the Point Pleasant beach.
He was Adonis incarnate, a work of art sculpted by the gods.
Tall, at least six feet, he was built like a brick shithouse, muscles on muscles defining a physique that could only be described as perfection. His skin was a warm mocha latte that she wanted to drink in, lap up, and his almost black hair was long and tousled, not quite touching his shoulders, with stray locks curving down to frame his face.
And what a face it was—a portrait of such outrageous beauty that she was certain a fallen angel had swept down from heaven to conquer her. His lips were full and firm, his nose narrow and straight, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. But a bleak unhappiness filled his dark, thick-lashed Latino eyes, beseeching her to kiss away the pain, make it all better.
As Stephanie stared open-mouthed at the vision of male splendor, he shook his head, rejecting even the sight of her, she thought, and turned to the blonde bimbo with the big boobs and the bitty bikini who must be his girlfriend. She took his arm and drew him into the confab with Les and Skeletor, Julio, she reminded herself. Mustn't get into the habit of thinking of him as Skeletor.
She studied the resemblance between Julio and the Adonis. It was unmistakable. This had to be the brother Les had mentioned, the lifeguard. Stephanie wafted away into a vision of drowning, the waves washing over her, beginning to go down for the third time and being cradled in muscled brown arms, embraced against a heavenly chest…
"Steph… Steph, wake up." Mary Lou's voice penetrated the stupor Stephanie had fallen into.
"Huh?"
"Come on," Tina urged. "Let's go back to the apartment and wash away the smell. It's going to really suck if we smell like fried fish all summer. There might not be enough tips in the world."
"Yeah," Mary Lou agreed. "And I need to rest. My dogs are killing me."
Stephanie sighed away the thought of the Adonis and followed her friends down the boardwalk.
TBC
