41. Max

I laid on the beach,soaking up the sun. I had my hat and two cigars left. My sunglasses were firmly in place, but other than that, this was nothing like when I lived in the Caribbean. I couldn’t get a job to pay for my alcohol, and charging it to a credit card wasn’t going to happen.

I couldn’t even get a job because I was still listed on the no-fly list, which apparently, extended to pilots. I never got an answer as to why I was placed on the list, but I imagined it had something to do with Cash.

So, I sat here, watching the waves crash along the shore. I was hot as fuck, and thought about going for a dip in the ocean, but my heart wasn’t in it. Hell, nothing was the same since Christa left. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and find out what she had to say. It usually was the complete opposite of anything I thought, but I loved hearing it all the same.

I couldn’t sleep at night without her, and when I did finally crash, I woke up thinking she would be there. And I was always disappointed. I should be happy. I escaped a life of boredom and work. Hell, she probably would have tried to convince me to go to church with her. And then I’d burst into flames and set the whole church on fire.

I chuckled to myself, but it was immediately accompanied by an overwhelming pain ripping through my chest. I fucking missed her. Nothing was the same without her. Throughout my whole life, I’d been selfish and a complete dick to everyone who crossed my path. I didn’t care about anyone, and didn’t bother to try to be a better person. Then Cash came along and fucked up my plans.

It was really him I should be pissed at. If it wasn’t for him, I’d still be in the Caribbean right now, taking jobs here and there and enjoying a new woman in my bed every night.

But the thought of anyone besides Christa in my bed turned my stomach. How could someone so innocent—so completely fucking different from me—turn my world upside down and make me wish I had a life I’d never wanted?

I laid back in the sand, staring up at the blue skies. It seemed like a lifetime ago when this was appealing to me. What the fuck had I done all day? I was drunk, slept the day away, fucked anything in sight…I basically just existed.

Three figures appeared above me, and I almost started weeping like a girl. I was daydreaming now, and these three fuckers were the ones that came to me?

“Yeah, he looks pretty fucking pathetic,” Dash said.

“Well, what do you expect? His woman left him. He has nothing to live for,” Fox answered.

“He needs a good adventure. We had good times. Remember when I fell out of that helicopter?”

“Go away,” I grumbled at my visions.

“He doesn’t look very happy,” FNG said, cocking his head at me.

“Of course, he doesn’t. Christa was good for him. I don’t know what the fuck she saw in him, but she loved him. Now she’s just…”

Just what?

“He just never saw how his life could have been with her in it. I guess it didn’t work,” Dash nodded.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Fox grinned down at me. “Just think of us as the ghosts of beaches past.”

“It’s Christmas past,” FNG corrected.

“Right, but this isn’t Christmas. We’re on a beach.”

“I think it’s actually more like that Christmas movie about the guy who wants to commit suicide,” Dash chimed in.

“Why are Christmas movies so fucking depressing?” FNG asked.

They all looked up at the sky like they were looking for a sign from heaven.

“Why the fuck was I stuck with the three of you?” I grumbled.

“Because no one else would put up with you,” Fox grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there, done that. But I’m back now and I have shawarma waiting for you.”

“Ghosts don’t eat food. Neither do hallucinations,” I muttered.

“We’re just as real as you are,” FNG said. “Maybe more since we haven’t been drunk morning, noon, and night.”

“I’m not drunk. I haven’t been for the past week.”

“What?” Dash said, frowning at me. “How is that possible?”

“It sort of happens when you have no money.”

“So, you’re sober?” Fox asked.

“Completely.”

“And what did you learn?” FNG asked.

“That I should really be drinking since I’m hallucinating three of the most annoying teammates I’ve ever had.”

Fox slapped FNG on the shoulder. “Did you hear that? He called us his teammates. The band’s back together again!”

“There is no band,” Dash grumbled. “We’re strong, virile men who chop down trees and slaughter pigs for breakfast.”

“I’ve never slaughtered a pig,” Fox raised his hand. “But now that you mention it, maybe that would be a good introduction into making my own pickled pig’s feet.”

I threw my arm over my face and tried my best to block them out. I wasn’t sure why my subconscious brought them to me. After all, it wasn’t like I meant anything to them, or vice-versa. We were about as different as any people could be. A group of misfits who…well, sort of worked together.

“Any chance one of you could bring me some tequila so my hallucinations actually make sense.”

Dash snorted. “He thinks we’re hallucinations. How long should we let this go on?”

“I’ve got it. He won’t know what’s coming,” Fox laughed.

I heard munching, but didn’t know what that was supposed to be.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Eating Funyuns. See, the smell will invade his senses, and then he’ll realize that we’re not hallucinations. He’ll wake up and want to join the party.”

I bolted upright, tearing the sunglasses from my face. They were really here. I slowly reached out and poked Fox in the stomach. He laughed like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Scampering back in the sand, I stared at them in horror.

“You’re real?”

“Well, yeah. You know, I think you were right. I think you function better as a drunk,” Dash pointed out.

“What the fuck?” I hissed to myself. “Why are you here?”

“We’ve been here the whole time.”

“You what?”

FNG nodded. “You don’t really think Cash cut you off, right?”

“He said he did. He…I don’t fucking believe it. He said he put up cameras.”

All three of them raised their hands. “While we don’t record anything, we were Cash’s eyes and ears,” FNG said.

“But…why would he do that?”

“Because he knew you weren’t done. You may have let Christa go, but he knew it wasn’t over.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I hate to tell you this, but she’s definitely done with me. Our lives don’t line up.”

“Says you. Or, drunk you.”

“No, I was perfectly sober when I had that conversation with her.”

Fox nodded. “Yep, I totally get it. A woman comes in and thinks she can change you?” He scoffed. “You’re an island.”

“Right?” I said. “I wasn’t meant for living on dry land. I was meant for island time. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Yep, you’ve always been happier on the island,” Dash agreed. “Well, when Christa was with you, I actually saw you smile. This past week, you’ve basically just been moping around.”

“Because there’s nothing to be happy about.”

“And why is that?” FNG said, scratching his chin. “Could it be that the man who used to be an island is no longer suited for island living? Perhaps he needs more than sand and liquor to make him happy. Perhaps these islands don’t hold the same appeal they once did. Perhaps the little man inside you needs something more substantial from life. Perhaps?—”

“Oh my God, if you say perhaps one more time, I’m gonna shoot you!”

“You would if you had a gun,” he grinned. “But Island Max doesn’t carry weapons. That’s right, Island Max doesn’t believe in violence and dangerous flying and falling in love. No, Island Max believes in drinking his cares away and sleeping around. Which you haven’t done at all this week,” FNG pointed out. “Rather curious, if I do say so myself.”

“You don’t need to say myself,” Fox said, munching on his Funyuns. “You said if I do say. Adding myself is just redundant.”

I scrubbed my hand over my face, wishing they would all go away and leave me in peace. It was bad enough I wasn’t drinking. How the hell was I supposed to tolerate an English lesson in this state?

“I’m just saying, it’s unnecessary.”

“And I’m just saying, I don’t give a fuck. I like the way it sounds.”

“Well, it sounds wrong,” Fox retorted.

“Would you just shut up?” I snapped. “You’re ruining Island Time!”

“Yes, but Island Time isn’t even fun anymore. What are you doing here, man?” Dash asked. “She’s there, you’re here. What the fuck is the point?”

“She doesn’t want me!” I shouted.

“No, she doesn’t want to live an aimless existence on a beach with you. What she wants is to build a life. You know, one where the two of you spend your nights together and make plans for the future. Maybe you’ll have kids. Maybe you won’t, but you can’t fuck her from here.”

“He’s right,” FNG nodded. “Your dick’s not long enough.”

“Ooh, and I have more Funyuns at home,” Fox grinned. “And I make killer shawarma. I’ll even make you the good kind.”

Dash turned to him. “And what the fuck is the good kind?”

“You know, the one I make that’s not made with my victims.”

Dash gagged, bending over and heaving. “Are you fucking serious? You’ve made us shawarma with human meat?”

Fox tossed back his head and laughed. “No, not really. I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Then he winked at me over Dash’s back as he continued to heave into the sand.

What the fuck was that?

“Gotcha,” Fox laughed. “Man, you’re so easy.”

Dash jerked upright, slamming his fist into Fox’s face. “That wasn’t fucking funny.”

Fox laughed hysterically. “It really was. You should have seen your face. Oh, oh!!! He’s serving me human flesh! Man, I crack myself up.”

I didn’t know if he was joking or not, but I was never fucking eating his shawarma.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” FNG asked. “Are we going home or spending some more time counting the sand granules?”

I couldn’t spend another fucking minute with these guys, but it didn’t look like I would have a choice. I was fucking miserable on Island Time. I needed Christa more than I needed the ocean breeze. Hell, it just wasn’t paradise without her. Not even alcohol helped me escape anymore. There was only one thing in this life that I desperately wanted, and it was her.

“We’re going home, boys.”

FNG grinned at me. “Yeah, we are!”