Fall With Me(6)
Author: Bella Forrest

“Man, and to think I bought that fluorescent pink mankini with you in mind—”

“Griffin, shut up. Seriously, shut the fu—”

“I’ve been kidnapped. I’m out on a boat in the middle of the ocean with these two guys who say they’re going to kill me if Dad doesn’t make some confession and pay seven million dollars.”

“You’re so full of shit—what?”

A gust of wind blows just then, almost drowning out the last part of what he said. But I hear it—something in his voice changes. Instead of silky smooth, his voice almost breaks, like liquid being poured over ice. It’s a rare tone for him, one he only uses when he’s very interested or excited about something, and in the twenty-four years I’ve known him, he’s never used it with me.

“What did you just say?” he says. “They want what?”

“Money! And a confession. They say Dad has—”

My back is to him, so I don’t see Snaggletooth come up next to me until it’s too late. He snatches the phone from me and shoves it back into his pocket.

“That call is clearly going nowhere,” he growls.

I stare at him. “But . . . but it was! He actually sounded interested, you ass**le! I was getting somewhere! Let me call him back.”

“That’s enough!” Snaggletooth snaps. “Like I said before—we don’t care whether we kill you or get the confession and money. Hell, maybe we’ll kill you AFTER we get them. How about that? How does that sound?”

Maybe it was just my imagination. Cam has never given a shit about me, even when we were kids, so it’s probably just some pathetic delusion that he seemed to actually care, brought on by the drugs and lack of sleep and food. The sun beams down on me. There is not a cloud in the sky. It could be any day, any nice day where you’re going out to do something fun, maybe with someone you like, someone who likes you back. A day when you don’t have to spend any money, or try to impress anyone. I can’t recall the last time I had a day like that, and suddenly, I feel very tired. Blame the sun, blame the salt air, blame the fact that I haven’t eaten anything in at least a day. I look at Snaggletooth, still fingering the knife blade.

“That sounds great,” I tell him.

Chapter 4: Jill

Karen is twenty, with frizzy red hair and the type of pale skin that burns, never tans. She’s wearing khaki shorts and already has her Sea Horse Ranch t-shirt on, even though the campers won’t be here until tomorrow.

“Show me everything,” she says, as we walk down to the barn. “Bill and Lorrie said how you’re like the horse whisperer or something. Did you read that book? The Horse Whisperer?”

I look at her. “No,” I say.

“Oh. Well, it’s really good. So is the movie, actually. We should watch it some night. It’s one of those movies I never mind seeing whenever it’s on.”

“I really don’t like watching movies.”

“You don’t?”

“I mean, once in a while, I guess, but it mostly seems like a waste of time.”

I give Karen a tour of the barn. Karen is replacing Brandon for this summer, and though Brandon has always been somewhat gruff and of few words, I miss him and wish that he could’ve been here for my last summer.

“So I guess the owners’ daughter is also going to be a counselor here?” Karen says. “Allison? I think I met her when I first got here. She’s so pretty. So are you. I’m definitely the ugly duckling of the group.” She laughs in such a way that I can tell this actually bothers her more than she is caring to let on.

“Horses don’t care what you look like,” I say.

“I know.” She sighs. “So . . . do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. This place will keep you pretty busy. I mean, you’ll definitely have down time, but relationships take up a lot of time. When you could be doing other things. Like showering. Or napping.” She gives me a somewhat horrified look and I smile. “I’m joking. Sort of. Come on; let’s go tack up a few of the horses so I can take you out and show you the trails.”

*

I didn’t go with my parents into the East Bay because I had a headache. I had a headache because I’d been up most of the night, arguing with Sean, and then having that really hot makeup sex that almost makes the whole argument worth having to begin with.

My parents were going to visit their friends in Walnut Creek. I was invited along because the friends owned horses and had just gotten a new one that was giving them some trouble.

“Carol is sure this is something you’d be able to figure out,” Dad said as they were leaving. It was one of the last things he said to me.

“Maybe next time.” It felt like there was a swarm of bees clustered behind my right eye.

My parents were driving back to the city that evening when they drove their car off the Bay Bridge. The bridge had been under construction for a while, and there was a dangerous S curve that a freighter had driven off of a few months ago. Drivers were supposed to slow to 35 to navigate the curve, but most plowed on through, keeping up with the flow of traffic.

It was a tragedy and also a miracle, because no one could imagine how my mother survived the plunge from the upper deck down to the pavement on Treasure Island.

It was touch and go with my mother for a while, though. Her hospital room and the ICU waiting room became my new home for nearly a month last summer. I didn’t go back to the ranch that year and I put my classes on hold. Uncle Nate flew in and after the shock had started to wear off, started talking about conspiracies, adamant this wasn’t due to negligent driving and poorly-lighted warning signs.

“Mike has always been a very defensive driver!” Uncle Nate raged, as though that fact alone meant my father could never be involved in even the most minor of traffic accidents.

For a while, I dismissed it as shock, his unique way of processing grief. Dad was his only brother, after all. And it was Dad who helped Uncle Nate in the early days of his business. Dad was really the only one who believed in him when my uncle said he wanted to start his own luxury cruise business.

Of course Uncle Nate would have difficulty accepting it.

But then the police closed the investigation, citing it as an unfortunate accident. The few witnesses that there were had little compelling evidence to offer otherwise; and it hadn’t been the first accident to occur there either. There were several editorials in the newspaper, letters of outrage, concerned citizens demanding that the city do something to better protect the general population. Perhaps it was a preventable tragedy, but it was only a tragedy at that.