“I love it. We don’t have a beach in El Paso,” she said.
“No. What do you think of Beau?”
“He’s nice, but I just met him, Sunday. What do you want me to say, that I have fallen madly in love?”
“Well no, but Beau is special to me.”
“I don’t doubt that, but what about Michael; you know he wants to see me. I don’t need a conflict between these two men. I already have a problem being the physician for this team; I surely don’t need to get involved with one of them, much less two,” Krysti snapped.
The absurdity of the question was now obvious even to Sunday. “Well, you know what I mean.”
The last statement was lost on Krysti as she tried to evaluate her own emotions. Justin liked Beau more than she had ever seen him like anyone. Michael was the one she hoped Justin would like. Her son had tried but he just didn’t take to him. Michael was a gentleman with a fine background. She liked Beau but she knew nothing about him. Then she remembered Shanghai Pete’s and how she felt with him. Strange, it was as though nothing could harm her when he was near. He gave her a sense of safety, security, something she didn’t feel with Michael — a foolish thought she immediately dismissed.
Krysti noticed the dejected look in Sunday’s eyes. “Well, I do feel comfortable with Beau and Justin likes him.”
Instantly a frown filled Sunday’s face. “Comfortable? That’s terrible, so unemotional you—”
“Sunday!” groaned Krysti.
“Oh, okay,” Sunday mumbled. “Comfortable, huh?”
The headlights of the car first alerted those around the fire, since the approaching vehicle could not be heard above the splashing surf. Larry James and Marix emerged from the shadows and into the light. Their only welcoming committee was Krysti who went to meet Mike. He put an arm around her and together the three neared the fire.
Beau suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy. He knew he had no right to feel as he did, but he was pleased when Krysti pulled away from Mike and walked straight to her former place beside him. She motioned Mike to sit on her other side. Beau passed off his apparent jealousy to the conflict between him and Marix.
Mike brought Larry James before Beau. “Commander Gex, this is Lieutenant Larry James.” James wore oversized shorts, and a beach shirt hung over his narrow shoulders. The shirt, buttoned to the collar, was more than adequate for his small long neck. Tiny stick-like arms protruded from the short sleeves. A crop of unruly black greasy hair topped his head. The small jaw hung beneath a long hooknose between round close-set eyes, giving him a mousy appearance.
Beau shook hands and noted the firmness lacking in his handshake. James’s hands felt cold. Beau shook off his first impression telling himself a handshake did not make the man. After all, Marix had a firm handshake.
“Dismiss with the formalities. Away from the base just call me Beau.”
Abruptly, Justin shoved two burnt marshmallows into his face. “Here Beau,” the boy yelled triumphantly.
Gently he pulled one of the black balls from the metal hanger and acted like he was trying to see inside. “Any surprises?”
Justin started laughing then moved to Marix, offering him the last one. “Hey!” Marix snapped, pushing the shaft and the black object on the end away from him.
“Justin, don’t shove that in his face,” said his mother.
“Sorry,” Justin said dejectedly. “Here, Mike, you want my last marshmallow?”
Marix’s lips curled in disgust at the sight of the ashen object. “Are you kidding, you’ve ruined it.”
Defiantly, he held the shaft behind him and stuck his head toward Marix saying, “I’ll share with Beau. He’ll eat it!”
Children were a nuisance, thought Marix. They always got under his skin. He tried to smile, but he had already decided if he and Krysti ever became serious, he would really have to discipline the little bastard. She would let him control the boy or else.
Backing away from Marix, Justin faced Beau. He slid the marshmallow from the blackened shaft. Then with his sandy fingers he handed him half of the burnt offering. Together they shared the last marshmallow.
Ruben shoved a handful of chips in his mouth, took a drink from his beer, and raised an eyebrow to Marix. “Hell, I was sure the Red Baron would eat one of those crispy critters,” he said, mocking Marix and playing with Beau’s words.
Mike tensed when the men laughed. He would not let Ruben’s constant needling go uncontested, but the awkward situation prevented him from doing anything about it. He managed a feeble grin, trying to show he thought it to be funny. The anger went undetected.
The attitude of the two men toward her son was not lost on Krysti. Nor were the actions lost on Sunday, who decided the situation was getting too tense and moved to action.
“Ruben, tell us the story of Moon Shadow,” she begged. She need not have pleaded because Ruben was always ready to tell the story — his grandfather Grandy’s story.
Krysti tried to ease the situation but only made it worse when she turned to Michael and asked, “Do you have a story about the Red Baron?” The statement brought a few chuckles from the throng gathered closely to hear the tale of Moon Shadow. The question caught Marix unprepared and off guard. Things were swiftly going awry. “Uhhh, no, I really don’t have one,” he stammered.
Ruben smiled. “Ahhh, yes, Moon Shadow. Alright, I’ll tell it.”
Softly, Beau squeezed Krysti’s knee. “You’ll enjoy his story.” Justin crossed his legs and sat next to Beau. Everyone moved closer to the fire. Then Ruben started telling the legend of Moon Shadow.
“A long time ago, right here, here on this very island, there were—,” Ruben stopped, when he heard the noisy exhaust of dune buggies. Two vehicles roared past. One turned a half circle at the water’s edge, raising a wall of water vertically in the air as it slid backwards down the beach.
“Wow! Cool,” said Justin.
Sullivan grinned. “Beau, your brothers are here.” The small group rose to watch the antics of the dune buggies. Only Beau moved toward the beach and his brothers. The second buggy did a complete circle, and then slid to a stop next to the black Corvette, spraying sand against the left side. The driver jumped from the buggy and spying Beau, moved toward him. Beau and Jack clasped each other close so hard it almost knocked them to the ground.
His brother pushed Beau away and held him at arm’s length; then he extended his hand, which was greeted with enthusiasm and a rugged shake. He followed with a hard slap on Beau’s shoulder.
“Hey renegade,” he said with a grin. “Hunting for another war?”
“I think not. I’m ready for Big Bend with ya’ll.” A beer tab popping made Beau turn. Brook offered him one with his free hand. “Should’ve known where the beer was, I’d find you,” said Beau, taking the drink.
“Hey, you slimy scum bag,” laughed Brook. “You sure as shit didn’t write very much.” He scanned the fireside and recognized some of Beau’s friends. “Hey, Ruben how is it?” Ruben waved as did Brook. About the same time, he spotted Krysti and jabbed Jack in the ribs.
“Cut it out, Brook,” said Jack.
“No. This is serious. Look at that gorgeous doll,” Brook half whispered, motioning with his eyes without pointing.
“You’re too young for her,” popped Beau.
“She sure is a looker,” said Jack. “Sure is a shame you don’t like them short.”
“In her case, I might change my mind,” Beau said, wondering if he hadn’t already.
A tall blond kid stood silently in the shadows. “Guess who that is?” said Jack, giving Beau a playful blow to the midsection.
“Danny?” Beau asked.
Chugging a beer, Brook stopped long enough to comment. “Sure as shit is. Hell, we should’ve fed him weed killer. Guess that makes me the dwarf of the family.” Obviously Brook was the smallest of the four. Two inches shy of six feet, he was the leanest and probably in the best physical condition of them all. None of the brothers could match him in endurance. Not only was he the smallest, he was the only one with dark hair, although Jack’s was light brown.