I’d come to the island anxiety-ridden and the blue water was my prescription. I’d set goals to forget my old ones and shed my skin for a better fit. One that bled life without calculations and bred alternate possibilities. I basked in the smell of the ocean—a new necessity—and marveled at the swirl of different shades of blue that hit the slightly rocky shore.
Several healthy sips of wine later, and much to my dismay, my bottle was empty.
As wrong as it was, I glanced over at Ian who remained in the same spot on the beach and then over to the Kemp’s house, where I knew an expensive bottle was chilling in the fridge.
As the sun began to fade behind the new Armani-clad statue in the neighborhood, the ocean and surrounding mountain islands behind him, I tiptoed over to the house. In record time, I had the bottle in hand and walked out of the Kemps’ ready to step lightly back to my side of the invisible fence. I shrieked when I saw the dark cloud that waited on the other side of the door and dropped my keys on the porch between us. Ian peered down at me as I scrambled to retrieve them.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Ian, hi, do you remember me? Koti?” He remained mute with no recognition on his face. “Well, it’s good to see you. I was… just making sure the place was ready for you. I manage this property now, I don’t know if your mother mentioned it?” Ian stood silent, his hands in his pockets. He was pale, his stubble-covered face was slightly bloated. Red-rimmed eyes were a sure sign of the day he’d had, and his full lips didn’t move with a single tell.
Ian glanced at the bottle of wine with indifference before he sidestepped me, plucked the key out of my hand and went through the door shutting it soundly behind him.
“Well, that was good, Koti,” I muttered, taking a step away when he sounded through the door, his South African tongue slightly faded, but much more masculine.
“It was awful, actually. Terrible liar. But then I guess that’s a thing with you women.”
“Wow, uh, geesh. I’ll replace your wine tomorrow,” I said through the closed door. “Sorry, for… sorry.”
What in the hell was I apologizing for? He’d just thrown women into a collective group and labeled them all liars, insulted an entire sex because of my slight alcoholism on a Tuesday night.
The nerve.
Stomping across the sand, my cell phone rang. Already on edge, I shrieked in surprise before I pulled it out of my pocket. I’d forgotten to turn it off after my shift and it was Jasmine’s night for after-hours calls. I blew out a breath as I looked at the lifeless house behind me while dusk set in. He hadn’t turned on a single light. Reluctantly I answered. “At Ease Property Management, this is Koti.”
“Hi, Koti, it’s Rowan Kemp.”
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Kemp.”
“Koti, I insist you call me Rowan. Is Ian there? Is he still at the house?”
“Yes. He uh, showed up about six hours ago.”
“Oh, thank God, okay…” I could hear the fear in her voice. “Koti, darling, I need a huge favor,” I swore when the woman spoke to me she could make a simple sentence sound like a song lyric. Ian’s father was all-American, but his mother was where the South African roots lay.
“Sure, you know I’ll help any way I can.”
“I’m sure the rental was booked for the week, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. Actually, it’s booked almost every week for the next several months. We had to spend a small fortune relocating the guests today.”
“I’ll cover all of it, double your commission. I really need your help.”
“Okay.” I was up for anything that had me in electricity and wines that didn’t taste like syrup. Living hand to mouth had been a refreshing change when I first moved to the island, until it became a burden. Maintaining island life took work and a lot of it. “What can I do for you?”
“Watch him.”
I pressed my phone closer to my ear. “Watch him?”
“Yes. He’s just been through the worst divorce. Almost a year of fighting. He left home without a word to anyone. His father and I were frantic. He won’t take my calls. Just please check in with him each day. Make sure he’s okay.”
I lived in the house next door, there was no way it would be hard for me to check on him and the commission alone had me speaking up. “Of course.”
“I’ll send the money right away. Whatever he needs, invoice me. If he stays longer than a few weeks, we’ll be down.”
I highly doubted Ian wanted a visit from his parents, but it wasn’t my place to say so. “Yes, ma’am. Can I ask… actually never mind.” I had to admit I was curious, the image of his tortured gray eyes flashed through my head.
“He wanted the divorce, he asked for it. I’m not sure what happened.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Ian is a good man, a very good man. I’ve raised an amazing son. This… running away is not like him.” I thought back to a year ago when I showed up to my parents’ sanctuary with nothing but the clothes on my back, my purse, and my passport.
Back inside my house, I sat in my living room, opened the table side window and listened to Simone as she began to sing her lullaby. “If any place can make him feel better, it’s this place.”
“I’m so worried.” She was crying now as I gripped the phone tight, hearing my own mother’s voice from a year ago. “Koti, you can’t just run away. You need to face this head-on.”
Thinking back to the worst day of my life, I spoke from experience. “This island frees people, Rowan. I promise I’ll look after him.”
“Thank you, Koti.”
“Call me anytime.”
“WHAT THE FACK!”
In the midst of a foggy, wine-induced dream, I snapped to and looked at my bedside clock.
4 a.m.
Groaning, I grabbed my body pillow and cradled it between my legs as I heard repetitive banging in the house next door.
Everything went quiet for a few minutes before I heard another enraged growl. Pulling myself from the bed, I moved to my window where I saw every light in the Kemp house had been turned on.
“Okay, Ian, have your freak out and go to bed.” It was going to be a long night if he had insomnia.
Another loud clatter had me jumping away from the glass, while his growls grew louder.
“What in the fack! Eish!” It seemed his native tongue made more of an appearance when he was angry. “Fok hierdie plek!”
He stormed onto his porch with a broom in hand looking back at the house and tilting his head as if he were straining to hear. I moved out of sight before I turned my light on as he slammed his way back into the house. Another series of bangs had my head pounding. I moved to my kitchen and grabbed a bottled water when I heard the repeat thwack of his back door. Realization dawned, and I began to laugh when the door slammed again.
“Oh Simone, you’ve got yourself a new victim.” I grabbed a new pair of noise-canceling plugs from my nightstand and marched over to the porch where Ian paced. With a heated glance my way, he didn’t bother with pleasantries. “The facking smoke alarm is broken. I’m…” he tapped his forehead. “Gatvol!”
“Gat what?”
“I’ve had it! Never mind. It’s the alarms, we need to have them checked.”
“No…”
Ian, still in his slacks and undershirt, glared at me. The porch light illuminated us in weak shadow. He was a beautiful man, even with a vampire tan and the slight bulge around his waist. His thick, gelled, dark-brown hair was scattered from a day of running his hand through it and feathered over his brow. He’d grown up pretty… and pretty bitchy.
“Don’t tell me no. I’ve been listening to the screech for hours. I’ve dismantled them all!”
“Ian,” I said carefully, as I closed the few feet between us like I was cornering a very angry six-foot-plus mouse. “It’s not the smoke detectors.”
He scrutinized me in my shorts and thin halter top, sans bra. “Brilliant, just brilliant. You manage this property, right? How does anyone get any sleep here?!”
“If you will just listen—”
“Are you mad, woman? I have been listening! I’m certain it’s the alarms.”
“It’s not—”
He moved toward me his lips upturned. “Listen—”
“No listen, Ian, it’s—”
“Shush!”