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“HOW’D YOU GET OUT HERE?” asks the lean, sunburned, blue-eyed blond who appears to be my age—a recent college graduate, except he’s got a few extra creases to his forehead likely due to too much sun.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I reply as he helps me up from the inflatable boat onto his fishing boat that looks rather ritzy.
“You don’t know?” He sounds as distressed as I feel.
“No,” I say as he grips my hand tight to pull me over the edge of the boat and I find myself gazing into his eyes. His irises are not as deep a blue as the ocean, but rather bright, like a midday sky and angelic, most fitting of a savior.
“Did you have a quarrel with a boyfriend or something? Did somebody threaten you?” he inquires.
My heart floats along with the boat. I’m so thrilled and I feel safe to be with this young man who has come to my rescue. Plus, he’s cute.
I wish I could tell him the truth but then he would think I’m crazy and throw me overboard. “I don’t think so. I can’t remember.” I’m holding my breath.
“Well, you’re safe now,” he says with a beaming smile and I exhale.
He gets me a towel and leads me to sit down and I watch him as he pulls the float out of the water. I like the look of him—white polo shirt and khaki shorts. He looks rich. He glances back every now and then flashing his dashing smile and I know I’m blushing.
“You know, you’re really pretty,” he says as he steps on the float to depress the air out of it.
I get up to wrap the towel around my waist and sit back down. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”
A peculiar grin turns up on his face. “You know, I don’t usually like tattoos, but I think I like that one on you.”
My prince charming doesn’t like tattoos? I knew this was too good to be true.
“You don’t like my dragon?”
“I like it, but only on you. Like I said, I don’t usually like chicks with tattoos.”
I’m a little put off that my savior could be so picky. “What’s wrong with tattoos?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles. “Well, I don’t know. I guess I never thought to have one myself. It just seems strange, like you’re branding yourself in some way. You know in the old days tattoos were restricted to convicts, sailors, and pirates.”
“Uh...okaaaay,” I say vexed. He’s entitled to his opinion and I should just let him have it. He did just rescue me and I’m on his boat.
“You’re upset. You feel offended.”
“No,” I mumble.
He bends down to roll the float occasionally looking up at me. He’s checking me out. “To be honest, the whole idea of finding a beautiful girl stranded is a bit of a turn on. As upset as you are with me while wearing that thing on your arm, I have to admit, you’re sexy as fuck.”
Oh God. I nearly had sex with a tentacle man and now I’m sure I’ll end up in the sack with my rescuer—a rude little rich boy. Why do I seem fated to always end up in love with hostiles?
“You want a drink?” he asks.
“Please.” I’m thankful the little rich boy keeps his boat well stocked so we can get to know each other, plus I’m parched.
“Bradley Richmond,” he introduces himself as he heads to an ice chest to grab a drink while we exchange names.
Bradley. Of course, his name just has to be Bradley. His movements are smooth, his strut overtly confident, and his name is the perfect disguise for the bad boy hiding under his glistening bronze skin that is exactly my type—a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Bradley serves me up a rather strong liquor on ice, which he tries to quiz me on though I know nothing about because I usually drink beer, more often from a can than a bottle.
He teases that I don’t know much, but I’m glad I make him laugh. As the peak of our conversation starts to come down to a lull, I do mention I’m ready to go back to shore to find my friends. I wonder why my best friend Shelley has not sent anyone out to look for me because, according to Bradley, no missing person alerts have been announced on the radio.
But I can tell Bradley isn’t ready to take me back just yet. It’s like he discovered something strange—me, and he has a newfound fascination with strange things.
He sits next to me as I stare at the shore hundreds of yards away but getting closer and I can see Shelley’s beach house, which is where I’m staying.
“Hey Cuckoo, can I take you out tomorrow?” asks Bradley.
“Kumiko,” I correct.
“That’s what I said—Cocoa or...how about Cookie?” he laughs with a cheeky smile and I hate to say it, but his dimples are irresistible when he smiles. I’m going to have to forgive him for not being able to say my name accurately.
“You know, I don’t normally date girls like you,” he smirks.
This time, I am offended. “Girls like who?”
“Girls with mystery. Girls with a dark past.” He growls. “Girls with strange names and tattoos.”
“What makes you think I have a dark past? I’m completely normal.”
“Okay, so why were you stranded on the beach? And why the tattoo? I mean the thing looks like it’s about to peel itself off and breathe fire on me.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I laugh and I look down at my shoulder. My dragon does look different. It looks almost angry. And its claws look bigger, too.
I pull at the skin. My dragon’s puppy eyes are gone; where once it looked cute and lost, a different dragon—one with red fire in its eyes, seems to have taken its place.
Bradley reaches his hand out to rub his fingers along my tattoo and we feel a bump to the boat. My drink falls out of my hand and goes overboard. I’m a little upset until I see a cute little blue nose bring the glass up. Well, it’s not really a nose; it’s the tip of my little dolphin friend’s mouth and, like before, the dolphin is smiling at me.
“Holy crap!” cries Bradley. “A fucking baby dolphin just caught your glass!”
“I know. He’s fantastic, isn’t he?”
“You talk like you know him.”
I smile. “I do—kinda.”
Bradley looks impressed. “Well, keep talking to him. I’ll be right back.”
I call to my little dolphin friend as he loses the glass. He leaps in and out of the water alongside our boat and I clap for him as I once did before until Bradley shows up with a gun of some type.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Keep talking to him. I need him to keep still.”
“Keep still for what?” I feel myself sweating.
“A baby dolphin like that is worth a lot of money on the black market.”
I panic as Bradley takes his aim. “Black market? I thought you were rich!”
“Well, how do you think I get rich?” he says adjusting the gun into his shoulder.
“You can’t just kill a baby dolphin!”
“I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to tranquilize him and bring him onboard. Do you know how many rich fuckers want to swim with a baby dolphin in their backyard?”
I’m disgusted. “That can’t be true. How many people could you possibly know would want to keep a baby dolphin as a pet?”
“You’re right,” he says as he squints one eye to focus his other. “There are probably more buyers for his meat.”
I grab for the gun. “You’re not going to shoot him! Nobody eats baby dolphin meat.”
“Plenty of cultures eat dolphins. It’s just rare here in the States, so I’m sure this little guy with younger meat will bring in some real cash from the right buyer.”
Bradley yanks the gun back and I swallow hard trying not to cry. “But this is a baby.”
“Are you going to cry about this?” smirks Bradley. “It’s just a fucking animal. Look at it. It’s dumb as fuck. It has no feelings.”
I look at the dolphin leaping with exaggerated joy and I remember our encounter on the beach just hours earlier. I think of the tentacle man and I can’t help but wonder if he’d be able to save the little mammal right now. I know the tentacle man is near and I don’t think I can step in to help the juvenile from being shot by Bradley. I’m just not the kind of girl that confronts men.
“Please don’t kill it,” I beg and grab at Bradley’s thigh.
“Mmm,” Bradley groans and drops the gun. “I’ll tell you what. If you agree to spend the day with me, have brunch, hang out on the boat, and maybe share a little dessert afterward, I’ll put the gun away. What do you say, Cookie?”
Danger. That’s all I see in front of me. Bradley doesn’t have tentacles, so I should feel safe. But in my gut, I know Bradley is much more of a danger than the oversized sea monster that’s been trailing us under the water.
I look to my baby friend still racing alongside the boat and I know what his purpose has been. He’s been spying. But I don’t want the little guy to die or become someone’s meal because of me.
“Okay,” I tell Bradley. “You can take me out for brunch tomorrow and maybe I’ll bring along some cookies, but no seafood.”
