Notes: Yes, I recycle my own OCs. Becca and Angie appear in my other BBSlade story Trapped, and appear in this one as well. I'm lazy.

Summary: Even though Garfield doesn't need a summer job thanks to his boyfriend, Robin, he still wants one. So when he scores a position as a cabana server at a nearby amusement park in Jump City, he takes the job. It's hard work, but manageable…until a wealthy man appears and kidnaps him. Unfinished.

Cabana Server

Garfield grinned, bright and sunny as he bid farewell to the cabana occupants. With their turn done, it was time to clean up their mess and prepare the cabana for the next group which…he checked the watch on his wrist. Would arrive in half an hour or so. Just had to sweep the floors of all the sand, change the towels for dry and clean beach towels, wipe the glass counters, and check the shore for any beach toys laying around.

He set to work, cleaning and organizing just like he'd been taught. Though he wasn't naturally a neat person, between working as a waiter during school year and now as a Cabana Server at the beach of an amusement park, the art of cleanliness had been drilled into him if he wanted to keep his job. Soon enough, he hustled away from the lone cabana to hand the dirty towels over to the laundromat. Now then…

"Sand swept away? Check." He muttered, mentally rolling through the list. "Surfing boards propped and wiped? Check. Boogie boards for kiddos intact? Check."

After scanning the room one last time, from the walls to the floor and to the beach chairs and leather couches, and found he was satisfied with the results, he checked the clock. Just minutes to spare. A glance in the mirror on the wall opposite the clock and by a colorful and wooden kids table, confirmed his appearance needed tidying.

Brandishing a comb from a pocket, he tamed his spiky but short green hair. Though his complexion was an unusual green due to a rare disease he caught as a child, the color was still a healthy shade and blended nicely against the light blue button down shirt. He patted the airy shirt of sand that fell from his hair and brushed the tan shorts of his uniform. There. Now he was presentable enough to greet the next wave of either genuinely nice people on vacation or snobby rich elites who liked to harass him for any mistake.

Though the job paid well, how the guests treated him varied from group to group. Since the cabana sat beside the amusement park and had access to it's own private beach, the guests who paid for a spot usually had money to spare despite such high costs. Such expanse of wealth in turn meant they had no respect for those who served them. If they had the money, then they had the right to treat others however they wanted.

There was always the spoiled rich guests, but some guests were generous sweethearts. His own boyfriend, playfully dubbed Robin by him for his heroic endeavors of volunteer work and donations, was the adopted son of a wealthy businessman. True, Robin would often take himself too seriously, but he always had respect for those who had to work to earn their keep.

So hopefully the next guests, a family under the name Wilson and who were assumedly the Wilson's friends or extended family since they had different last names, would be a decent group of people.

Garfield hustled out of the cabana and along a boardwalk, sneakers tapping against the sunbaked wood. The pathway widened to pavement as he arrived at a row of concession stands mingling with the park attractions. A front desk curved into view and there stood a group of eight adults and two kiddos. He slapped on a smile and chirped a greeting. Hopefully they wouldn't be too bossy. But given their expressions, that wouldn't be the case.

"Welcome to–"

"You're late." The sharp-faced man in the front glared.

Yep. Wasn't the case. He cleared his throat and swallowed back a grouchy retort. "Right, sorry about that. Had to ensure the cabana was up to standards and all that."

The man, and his entourage, were unimpressed. The woman at the blond's side snapped her fingers. "Don't just stand there–get to work!"

Garfield resisted the scowl. Must be his wife. They were one of those people. He plastered on an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'll check you right in." He rushed to the computer. "The appointment is under Wilson, correct?"

"Yes." The man gruffed. "Grant Wilson."

"Alright then," he typed their arrival into the device and straightened, waving a hand. "Please follow me to your cabana."

The group of men and women followed, the children striding stiff-faced as well, and Garfield couldn't help but wonder what kinda of group would go to an amusement park if they had no sense of fun.

Once they arrived, he outstretched an arm and gestured to the three-walled building. "Until 4:30pm this place is yours. Plenty of time for surfing, boogie boarding, and overall relaxing. If you need anything like a meal, beverage, or fresh towels, or even some clean-up, please type in your request on the tablet atop that table by the towels and I'll deliver. Everything's already paid for so please enjoy your stay."

Customary spiel over, he surveyed the cabana and the occupants one last time. The men and women scanned the place disinterestedly, but at least the children brightened. One of the two girls, the younger he guessed, tugged on Wilson's leg and said something. Since everything seemed alright, he prepared to leave when Wilson shot him a frown.

He hesitated. "Um…" the frown deepened and he hastened to add. "How may I help?"

"My daughter would like to play on the beach."

Poor kid. She had to have a stick in the mud of a father like that? Geeze. Still, he smiled. "Absolutely! The beach is open to only your group." He directed his attention to the suddenly embarrassed looking girl. "Boogie boarding is fun–you outta try it!"

Wilson's frown darkened into a scowl. What did he say wrong? "She doesn't want to play alone."

Garfield blinked and looked at the other daughter, who was busy staring at the surf boards. "Um…"

"Play with her."

"Um…" Had he heard right? Did the dude just order him to play with his daughter? What kinda father was he? Couldn't even play on the beach. Wait. Would he lose his job if he played with the customers? Was he even allowed to do that? "Uh…"

Wilson glared. "Seems to me you aren't doing your job. I gave a request and you aren't delivering. Should I contact your manager?"

"No!" Garfield yelped. His manager was evil embodied. One slight mistake and he'd lose his job so fast and he needed this job. If anything to prove to his boyfriend that he wasn't helpless. That he wasn't dead weight. That he could actually do something with his life. "No, no, I'm sorry, I was just surprised, that's all. I'd be happy to help, I mean," he hastened to correct, "to play with her."

"Good." Wilson tapped the girl's shoulder and pivoted. "I expect to hear she enjoyed herself or it will be your manager hearing from me."

"R-right…" he trailed as the man sat himself among the other adults. Garfield refocused on the child and jolted, realizing she looked sad. "Um–mm–uh." he flailed for words. "Well let's play?"

She offered an awkward smile and his heart melted. She didn't mean to get him in trouble, she just wanted a friend. His fake smile warmed into a real one.

He crouched to be eye-level with her. "Hey, now, boogie-boarding really is fun." The other girl wandered over, gaze flicking to the surf boards. "But surfing is also fun. Wanna learn and I'll teach you? Both of you?"

She brightened and grabbed her sister's hand, dragging the startled girl back to the surf boards with a chirped. "C'mon Angelina! Mister is gonna teach us!"

He chuckled nervously, feeling several stares watching him. Still, he followed after them and helped them choose their boards. The younger, Rebecca he learned, chose the vibrant pink one while the older, Angelina, gravitated towards the sky blue board.

Soon they applied sunscreen and removed their outer wear to reveal their bathing suits, but he on the other hand kept his shirt on. Though he didn't mind having green skin, he knew others didn't share the same view. Wearing shorts was pushing it, so there was no need to take off his shirt and show the world his torso was green too. Plus, even though the shirt would be heavier in the water, it would keep him from getting sunburned. Now if only he could remember if he had applied sunscreen to his face recently.

"Alright, so." he treaded water while the children lay on the surf boards. "Remember to keep the wrist band that's connected to the surf board on. That way if you fall off, you'll be able to keep your board near and get back on it sooner."

Angelina nodded. "But what if the board is over us while we're under water, Mr. Garfield?"

He smiled despite the awkwardness of hearing himself be addressed with the title. "One thing you can do is use the strand of your wrist band to tug it away from you, or you can use one hand above you to push the board away."

Rebecca cut in, impatient. "But when do we surf?"

He checked behind them and grinned as he spotted an incoming wave. "Right now. Start paddling with your arms and get ready to stand when the wave is right behind you!"

The two children burst into excited paddling and he ducked under the water as the wave washed over him. The current rolled against him and soon he resurfaced, blinking against the sunlight and spitting out water to see the children both successfully standing, if wobbly, and riding the wave.

He cheered. "You did it!"

Rebecca toppled off her board, soon followed by Angelina, and he swam towards them. They resurfaced soon enough and he laughed, feeling proud as he saw the delighted grins on their faces. They finally weren't statues.

They continued to play on the beach, alternating between building sand castles, boogie boarding the smaller waves, or surfing the larger waves. The sun slowly headed west and they decided to surf one last time before taking a break and eating a meal.

And then worry struck.

Rebecca, playfully dubbed Becca after spending so long playing together, had been knocked over by a wave before she could fully stand and her board was drifting fast away with no sign of her swimming to the surface. Concern rose fast and he dived beneath the waves, eyes open against the sting of salt and sand, and nearly swallowed water when he spotted a stranger in a full-on diving suit holding a struggling Becca.

He rushed forwards and grabbed an arm, attention on the flailing child, and kneed the stranger in the groin. The stranger released her and he kicked off the person, using the momentum to swim fast to the surface. He lifted her above the water and treaded, gasping himself and about to shout, when a hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him under.

Water burned his lungs and he coughed and swallowed more water. The diver tugged him deeper, pressure increasing around them and making his head ache, and blackness spotted across his vision.

His eyes closed just as warmth gripped his bicep and hauled him upwards. Air hit his face and his eyes snapped open, sucking in air and coughing wildly as someone dragged him to shore. Sand scraped against his back as the person laid him down and rolled him to his side, letting him hack our water before they dived back in. Something soft and dry wrapped around him and lifted him off the sand and into a beach chair.

When his breathing steadied, he remembered the children and jolted. "Becca–"

"Is fine." Someone replied and he realized there was a wall of five people or so blocking the view of the ocean. He frowned because what was going on? Until a small cough and noise shifted beside him and he turned. Becca, wrapped in a damp towel, cleared her throat while Angie patted her back.

"Hey," he greeted. "Are you alright?"

She nodded as Angie spoke. "Papa was worried something like this would happen."

Garfield furrowed his brows. "What…?"

It was then when Garfield turned did he notice the guns in each of the group member's hands. He swallowed, fear rising. What kind of person or group or whatever brought guns to an amusement park? An amusement park in Jump City of all places?

"Who are you people?" He murmured.

"None of your concern." One of the women retorted, cold and fast.

He swallowed, glancing at the pistol. Was he in danger just being near them? Would they shoot him? Who were they?

The wall of people stepped in sync as a drenched Wilson stepped into the cabana. Garfield bit his lip, tense, but the man strode past him to check on his daughters.

"We should call the poli–"

"No." Wilson's tone brooked no argument.

He weakly argued against the oppressive atmosphere. "But someone could–"

"I said no."

Garfield wilted, chancing a glance at the guards and then the dejected children. Seeing their hurt expressions, like they were used to this kind of thing, gave him strength to speak. "Your daughter nearly–"

Wilson stared him down and he willed himself to continue.

"Your daughter was attacked." He summoned more bravery as the bigger picture came into view. "Someone else could get hurt if the police don't know. Their job is to protect people. If none of you won't call, then," he stood. "I will."

"No you won't." Wilson stepped close and suddenly the height difference made him shrink further. Something in the man's tone wasn't right.

"I…" he stammered, catching sight of the man's hand by his thigh and patting a pistol. "Um…"

One of the guards spoke up. "Mr. Wilson, a body on the beach won't be difficult to hide. Just toss him into the ocean and no one will know."

Garfield tensed and, judging by the children's defeated faces, realized this wasn't uncommon. He retreated a step but there was nowhere to run and he only succeeded in tumbling back into the chair. The man loomed over him, palms grasping the arm rest and limbs caging him into place.

Would they kill him? Weakly, he leaned away. "I-I have a boyfriend w-who'll wonder where I went. If you k-kill me, he'll contact the police and you'll be caught for m-murder."

Wilson sneered and was about to speak when Becca interrupted. "Please don't hurt him, Papa. He's really nice."

Garfield stiffened as the sneer melted into a contemplating frown and he mused. "You like him, Rebecca?"

Suddenly feeling like his life was in the hands of a child, he could only watch as the girl nodded. "He taught me an' Angie how to surf and he saved me from the bad man."

"True…" Wilson slowly examined his face. "I knew you were cute but if my daughters like you then I suppose I'll let you live…" He exhaled until the man continued. "But I can't allow you to call the police. You are a risk I can't allow to run free."

Garfield swallowed. "W-what are you saying?"

"Your freedom is in my hands."

His breath hitched. "What do you–"

"Now, either you come quietly, or…" Wilson unholstered the gun and brought the tip beneath a green chin. "I'll fire a bullet into your leg so you can't run. No one will hear the blast over the sound of the rides."

He couldn't breathe. Would the dude really shoot him? And if he seriously meant what he thought he meant, then… "W-what if I promised not to call the police?"

Wilson hummed. "Too late for that." The man straightened. "Hunt, get the car. Greensworth, get me some rope. Johnson and Williams, watch him. Ensure he doesn't escape. Anderson, I expect you to find out who attacked my daughter today."

Garfield gasped as the guards swept into motion. From men and women departing the cabana to two men approaching him, his heart hammered. "Y-you can't–this is kidnapping."

"I do what I damn well please." Wilson rebuked. "And your little boyfriend can search all he likes but he won't find you."

He shrank in the chair, wondering how the entire day went from bad to worse. Too soon he was grabbed by the arm and dragged out of the cabana, children following, and forced along the boardwalk until they reached the concession stands and snuck behind the buildings and rides before arriving at the parking lot where a sleek car waited.

The guards shoved him into the trunk and one of the men pinned his wriggling form while two women tied his wrists and ankles, then gagged his mouth with rope. They shut the trunk lid and darkness swarmed and he stilled, heart racing and mind whirling with disbelief.

It seemed like hours had passed and he was relieved he hadn't drank water in forever or else his bladder would be killing him. When the trunk lid opened, he was quickly hauled out into blinding light that slowly faded into a garage.

~oOo~

Notes: Been juggling a summer job myself, as well as exploring arts and crafts like melting crayons or making paper-maché pinatas. Haven't been writing and had this old thing sitting around so I figured I might as well share.

Thanks for reading!