Adrift

unbelievable to me, too. I’d kind of expected she’d cave, that maybe she was playing hard to get, but then she fell asleep. She’d washed her face, and without the make-up she almost appeared innocent.
“But it was still fantastic?”
“Oh, yeah. Fanfuckingtastic. I’ll be back to visit you again.” I grinned.
“She’s young, you know that, right?”
“She’s what? Twenty-five. Out of college. When did you become such a prude?” I didn’t see his issue at all.
“I’m not a prude. I’m just saying, we’re older now.”
“She’s the same age as a lot of the girls I date in New York.” My most recent ex accused me of breaking up with her because she’d gotten too old when she turned twenty-nine.
“Seriously?” His judgmental frown bordered offensive.
“I don’t target younger women, but I suppose the places I go often—”
“You mean strip clubs?”
I choked out a laugh and nodded. Busted. He frowned. He seriously needed to lighten up.
“So, does Luna do that, too? That app thing?”
“It’s not an app.” I took it from his scowl he didn’t care about specifics. “I don’t think so. Pretty positive no. I thought about asking Poppy, but I didn’t want to sound like I was into her friend.”
“Considerate of you.”
“Yep. But here, we can look for her.” I slipped out my phone from my back pocket. “Wait. She wouldn’t use her real name. We’d need her screen name to find her. Or look through a shitload of—”
“That’s okay.”
“I doubt she does it.” I breathed in the ocean air as I recalled my brief conversation with Poppy about the site. She seemed a tad defensive. Not embarrassed, necessarily, but I got the sense I’d get farther with her if I showed an interest in her and not in her pseudo celebrity. “Poppy stumbled into it when she lost her bartending job. She might have sold Luna on it. But Luna’s got a job, and she’s in grad school. I doubt she’s doing it on the side. Poppy’s dream is to own a cafe or a bar. I offered to be an investor, but she turned me down. Probably a good thing. I’m not sold investing in a restaurant on this island would be smart. I’d need to see the numbers. I’d imagine there’s a pretty stiff drop-off in the winter.”
Tate stared straight ahead, and I waited, curious if he had any thoughts about business out here. It had to be a tourist economy.
“Don’t look to me. I’m about to spend my first winter here. Right now is shoulder, you know, off-peak, and from what I’ve heard, weekends stay pretty full through Thanksgiving with weddings. Then it’s dead. Only locals around until the spring wedding season kicks in, maybe around March.”
Restaurants could succeed, I guessed, but any business was tough with an entire season of low income. The resort island didn’t allow automobiles, and without car exhaust and traffic noises, combined with palm trees and the lulling sound of waves, it did feel a world away from reality. I’d traveled all over, but I’d never forgotten this place. It wasn’t hard to see why families came back year after year.
“You wanna catch some waves?” He stretched, reaching skyward, clearly ready to end the conversation. Glad he let go of the sharp chip on his shoulder, I relaxed against the chair.
“Sure. For a bit. You and I still need to catch up. Then I’ve got to head back.” There’d be a ton of industry news to catch up on. Texts came through in bursts around here, all thanks to weak signal. Drove me fucking nuts. And my nature loving friend here moved to this isolation full-time. Vacation? Sure, I got it. Year-round? Insanity.
“Did you drive my golf cart back here?”
“What?”
“You left the cart at Jules, didn’t you?” Oh, shit. He did say he left it for me. I’d been so hot to ride home with Poppy I’d totally forgotten. “Don’t worry. I’ll ride one of your bikes down to get it.”
He rolled his eyes, all attitude and annoyance. A gorgeous woman caught my attention—sue me.
Monday morning, the alarm sounded at the early hour of four. A new day, a new week. My morning surfing felt distant. As if it happened a week ago, not just yesterday.
All looked good in early morning London trading, so I hit the gym by four thirty, and flipped the light switch in the office by six. I was knee deep in a review of my fund’s current positions when Reed tapped the door and plopped into my visitor chair. If it wasn’t for the fresh cup of coffee he slid my way, I might’ve chewed him out, as it annoyed me to no end he always assumed I had time for him.
“Tell me about this chick you met.” His eyebrows raised and wiggled, only he couldn’t control his right one, so whenever he pulled that move, he looked like a total buffoon. “Hot, right?”
Yeah, I texted Reed from the ferry. But only after his Saturday night text from a strip club came through, telling me how much I missed out on.
“I’ve already subscribed. She doesn’t do action. Or nudes. Kind of lame, if you ask me. There are way better porn stars to follow.”
“I didn’t send you her photo so you’d subscribe, you fuck.” I sat up straighter in my chair and stifled an urge to throttle the fuckwad. I wasn’t quite sure why I sent it. It was just the way Reed and I had been for years, but the idea of him scrolling through her photos, it didn’t sit well with me.
“Hey? You realize she has over twenty-five thousand subscribers, right? Which, again, I don’t get. In general, to me, if you want to get off, PornHub’s a better option. But she’s got some grade-A boobs, I’ll give you that. How was she to fuck? Are those breasts real?”
Reed might qualify as an old friend, but on some days, he truly grated my nerves. “Out.” I pointed at the door.
“What’s up with you?”
“Markets open