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We bobbed on the water, our boards supporting our weight as we dangled our feet in the ocean. “Sorry,” I said. I swiped water from my board, marveling at how well it beaded due to my extreme waxing skills. “Not feeling it, I guess.”
He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “You ain’t been feelin’ it since you got home, dude.”
“I’m out here, aren’t I?”
“Are ya, bro? Are ya really?” he snipped. “You’re like hangin’ out with a zombie lately, C.”
We’d been friends since junior high school. He was built like a wiry rat back then, so the name just stuck. The nickname certainly didn’t apply to his looks. The guy was beautiful.
I know people think I’m attractive. I’m not naïve enough to act like I don’t, but Rat was a different sort of attractive, and pretty is the only word that fits. Perhaps you could call him cute as well. He was a mix of Filipino and Japanese. Before hours spent in the sun darkened him up every summer, he usually had flawless light brown skin. He wore his jet-black hair long, often in a ponytail, and from behind, he was frequently mistaken for a chick. His small body and soft features belied the fact he was tough as nails. He was a scrappy little guy that took no crap from anyone.
“In a rut,” I admitted. “Life isn’t that fun right now.”
His eyes widened. “Wow!” he declared, shaking his head like he was clearing his mind. “You actually just admitted something ain’t rosy and full of rainbows? Shit, dude. Call the fuckin’ press. Have you heard about the depressed Chad-meister?” he ribbed, slapping water toward me.
I laughed at his ridiculous comments. “Screw you.”
“Whoa! Careful now, choirboy,” he teased. “Strong words for an altar boy.”
“You’re dumb,” I stated, splashing water back at him.
“Ouch! Slow down with the super-edgy insults, big fella.”
We fell silent as we bobbed up and down on the low swells. I guessed that whatever needed to be said between us was settled in typical straight-guy fashion.
We watched and waited for a wave. The water was calm and most of our afternoon had been spent doing the same thing, waiting. At least I had a killer tan going, and Rat was practically black. I was about to call it a day when I spotted Cole walking along the beach. This was only the second time I’d seen him near the shore.
“Isn’t that the dude Bodie was bitching about?” Rat asked. “Something about a bad fuck.”
I rolled my eyes even though Rat couldn’t see me do it. “That was Bodie’s side of the story,” I stated. “Who knows what really happened?”
“The fucker’s rich,” he observed. “But then again, who ain’t if you own a place on this beach?”
“I’m not rich,” I argued, gazing at Cole from afar. I wondered if he’d noticed me.
“Your old man is. Same fuckin’ thing, dude.”
“I’m done, buddy,” I said. “Heading in.”
“Sure thing, man. Abandon me out here alone,” he complained. “Go chase after the rich dude. I don’t blame ya.”
His comment rubbed me the wrong way for some reason. “Is that what you think I do? Chase after rich men?”
Rat scowled. “Chill, dude. I was joking, for fuck’s sake.”
Too late. I was angered by his comment. “David wasn’t rich. Clint wasn’t rich when I first met him,” I defended. “Where does that remark even come from?”
“I was fucking joking,” he answered. “Jesus, dude. Whatever this funk of yours is, get the fuck over it, will ya?”
“I’m not after anyone’s money,” I stated. “Don’t care about money either, so back off.”
“Cuz you got money, dude.”
“I don’t have money,” I defended. “My mom and dad have money, but it isn’t mine.”
“What’s the fuckin’ dif?” he quipped, gesturing toward me. “Says the dude sittin’ on a fifteen-hundred-dollar board.”
I was about to ask who’d told him the surfboard was fifteen hundred, but my blood pressure was already up. I didn’t need the aggravation. In fact, I needed an overhaul of my mood.
