Brandon Enns - Islanders

He ignored her, tapping away on keys, the clicking function annoyingly audible.

“Should I get my books then?”

“You don’t need to study,” he said with a half laugh.

He had it in his hard head that she could just take a mental snapshot of her textbooks and she’d be good to go. This was not the case. She had to work hard like everybody else.

A scowl was still lingering on her face. He finally looked up from his phone after the brief silence. “What? You can just do the whole photograph shot thing you do when you get home. Done.”

“Click. Done.”

He exhaled through his nose with a bleak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m glad we’re here. Should be fun, right?”

The moans from the other room were now tearing down the walls. Either she was incredibly dramatic, or Ashton was a god in the sheets.

Trevor’s dark brown eyes locked on hers. With one stare, her frustrations melted, while his beauty managed to mute the noisy neighbors. He rose to his feet and hovered over her. Her loins grew hot, the sexual pleas next door now adding to her own desires.

She made a mocking sex face in rhythm with the sounds from next door. He remained serious.

She wanted him to take her roughly, but she didn’t know how to play the part. The warmth of his breath touched her cheek. Their lips touched. He pulled away slowly and she said something without thinking, a semi-nervous question to fill the silence. “Could you avoid work while we are here?”

“If I don’t do the work, the next guy will. I’m going to see about getting some Wi-Fi. Probably in Stefan’s place. I’m sure he’s all set up in that pretentious shack.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll keep it to a minimum though, okay?”

She put on her best fake smile. “Thanks.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek. They clanked their beers.

Erin was partners with Stefan, Trevor with Skye. Ashton was out on the water trying to catch waves that clearly weren’t coming.

There were two posts about fifty feet apart, each with a glass bottle on top. The object of the game was simple. Knock the bottle off with a Frisbee, the other team has a chance to defend and catch the bottle. First to three wins.

Trevor was throwing the Frisbee harder with each toss. He snapped one straight for Erin, and it glanced off of her fingers and drilled her in the mouth.

From both the shock and the humiliation, she could feel tears begin to sting. Ashton, walking in from his failed surf, consoled her first. She could hardly see through her blurred eyes that Trevor was walking over, in no particular hurry. “Shit, are you okay, Erin?” Stefan rested a hand on her back as she was keeled over. “No blood? Did it get your pearly whites?”

Her voice was shaken. “No, I don’t think so. I’m fine.” She choked down the tears and cleared her throat, embarrassment converting over to anger.

Finally, Trevor made his way over. “Sorry, E.” She hated when he called her that. It was always in context of him downplaying a situation, often when he was being shitty.

“I’m fine,” she said coldly.

He extended a hand to her wrist. “That’s my girl.”

She ripped her arm away angrily. She couldn’t help it.

“Whoa. It was an accident.”

“Yeah. I said I’m fine.”

“Really? Cause you don’t seem fine. Should we get some ice for your chin?”

“No. I’m just going to take a break.” She could feel the tears bubbling to the surface again.

Stefan followed her as she stepped away. There was something about his face that was both odd and comforting. He was tall and slender, his dark hair similar to Trevor’s, but he had much less muscle definition, and a clean-shaven face. His eyes were kind.

“I’d be a little ticked too,” he whispered. “There’s ice in your freezer and some hand towels to wrap it in in that first drawer on your kitchen island. I’ll give you some ibuprofen at dinner if the swelling is bad.” Stefan spoke with her quietly enough that the others continued on playing.

“Thank you.”

Trevor stopped playing and asked one more time, “I’m really sorry. You’re okay, Erin?”

“Oh, God.” She waved her hands casually. “I’m honestly fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, just rattled me a bit. I’m going to take a dip.” She smiled wide, feeling her already swollen lip pull tight against her teeth.

Stefan called out, “Here.” He tossed her some goggles.

The colors of the fish were so bright. The coral, the fish, the sunlight reflecting off shallow blue water. It was all stunning. The taste of salt made her crave tequila.

Trevor stared at his plate of mahi-mahi. He hated fish. No Wi-Fi and a week of seafood. He’d stomach what he could and hold out for the shrimp days. Hopefully there would be some pasta dishes served throughout so that he could pick around the meats and at least get some carbs. He caught Erin in the middle of an elongated glance at Stefan.

All the plates were served and Stefan addressed the table. “I caught it myself.”

He couldn’t decide if Stefan’s game of host was childlike, creepy, or pathetic. At least Trevor was forthcoming about his handouts from his dad. He didn’t claim his father’s legacy as his own; he just got what he got and kept his nose to the grindstone. There would come a time when the firm would belong to him, not only in writing, but in his heart. He didn’t know when, but it seemed to be at quite a distance. It would be earned as if his last name hadn’t meant a thing.

His relationship with his father had been only a little complicated growing up. He was demanding of Trevor. At the office, he was a drill sergeant, and at home, a happy goof that loved his son and loved his cocktails. Something had changed though, and now he was different both at the office and at home. He was missing meetings with important clients, his scheduling was a mess, his research notes were spotty, he wasn’t dating his files at times, and the most alarming conversation happened a week before Trevor left for the trip.

His father referred to his older sister, who had died at a young age from a combination of illnesses starting with meningitis. Within the context, it appeared that he believed she was still alive for a second, like he was trapped in a momentary time capsule, but he caught himself quickly when he saw Trevor’s facial response. He seemed to be more like himself the rest of the week, and Trevor had convinced himself that he was fine, but he knew he wasn’t.

“Dig in everyone. Who wants wine?” Stefan filled everyone’s glasses with a colossal grin on his face.

The room was a little stiff for Trevor’s liking, which made it even more surprising that Erin was the first to speak up. “So, Stefan, how are you and Trevor related again? Cousins, right?”

“Second cousins. Our dads grew up together, causing shit before they both started printing money.”

Trevor played with his food.

Skye, who had her body on display that evening, asked, “Printing money?”

“They’re rich,” Ashton answered.

“Yes, they certainly are…” Stefan and Trevor stared into one another’s eyes, one smiling, one not.

“But, that’s them. And this is us.” Stefan raised a glass. “I want to thank you all for coming out and being our guinea pigs this week. Here’s to getting out of NYC. Cheers.”

Trevor worked around the fish, enjoying the steamed vegetables as best as one can enjoy steamed vegetables. There was a barbecue sauce drizzle that ran over the edge of the fish that he dipped his carrots in. It was sweet and smoky and would have been nice on some chicken or pork.

Looking around the quiet room, everyone’s mouths chewing, he realized that this wasn’t the trip he had imagined so far. Stefan’s eyes kept flicking different directions, his mouth moving oddly, and then his jaw stiffened. Trevor then saw why. Around the edge of the table, he spotted a foot moving up and down over the crotch of his jeans, Skye reaching underneath the small table. Ashton didn’t take notice as he was too busy mowing through his plate of food.