Go Away, Darling - Alexis Anne Page 0,5
have plenty of room. You have your own room.”
“You mentioned that a few times already.”
I had this dream that the island would be our home. The Kaine family never had a home base. With musicians for parents our lives were one long road trip. The eighteen months we lived here while they were the band in residence at the resort was just about the longest I lived anywhere except college. So I bought this ridiculous house with too much space for a single man in the hopes it would be more than just my house.
Bedrooms for everyone!
“Send me your travel info and I’ll get everything set.”
“Will do little brother. Looking forward to it.”
I hit the No Wake Zone and slowed the boat to idle speed as I maneuvered toward my dock. My house stuck out like a sore thumb on this side of the island. Everything was low, older, surrounded by lush tropical vegetation. Except my house. It was big, shiny, and treeless. But I never had to wonder which dock was mine. Point the bow toward the white glistening house four down from the point and you’re there.
Unlike the other end of the island where the older homes had been bulldozed and replaced with mansions not unlike my own, this side of the island remained very much unchanged. The families that had always lived on the island still lived there, and I bet none of them had any plans to sell out to people like me. I didn’t blame them. If I’d had my choice I would have rather moved into one of the older island houses instead of my gleaming new McMansion. But it was the only house for sale when I was ready to buy that was big enough for my ambitions.
I felt like an interloper and sometimes—to make myself feel better—I pretended I was a spy with my fancy boat and my international mansion of mystery. It also helped me feel better about not knowing my neighbors. I simply hadn’t had the time to introduce myself. In a couple of months baseball season would be over and I’d be home for the winter. I’d bake cookies and make nice. Hopefully none of them hated me.
Until then, I simply referred to my neighbor to the left as Senator (because she was a senator) and my neighbor to the right as Family With Kids because early in the morning and late at night I heard at least one kid yelling and having fun.
I came alongside the dock and did a quick reverse to stop my forward momentum. The one friend I did have, Trent Maddox, began tying off the boat for me.
“Whatcha bring home for us, boy?” The gravelly voice of my former coach made me smile. He had that classic old Florida islander drawl. It wasn’t a smooth southern drawl. This was different. It was more of a low growl, like he was always angry about something.
Trent liked to stop by for dinner. And by always, I meant the four other times I’d been in town long enough to go fishing. He lived three docks down, so he could see when I was gone for the day and invited himself over, not that I was complaining. If there was anyone’s company I enjoyed it was his.
He examined each catch as I laid them out on the table. “Mmmm, the snapper were biting today, huh? Those look mighty fine.”
“Agreed. I even threw one back.”
He shot me a glare. “You could have sent it home with me.”
“You’re eating with me tonight and I know you’ll be here for lunch tomorrow, too.”
He shrugged, sat on the upside down bucket beside the table. “You make a good point. How’s the arm?”
I rolled my shoulder and picked up the knife. “Good. It feels strong and healthy.”
“You’re going to do fine, Chris. Just keep your focus.”
For now I decided to focus on the fish in my hands.
This was the man who looked at a five-year-old kid and saw potential. When I snuck out to the ball field to play with the older kids he didn’t send me away. When he found me behind the dugout teaching myself to pitch, he mentored me. In high school he came out to my playoff games at Rhodes Academy, where I’d convinced my parents to allow me to be a resident student. I wanted to play professional ball and moving every year wasn’t going to help me get there.
Trent came out and talked to my coaches. He