37. Ciaran

37

CIARAN

T he moon's reflection glowed against the surface of the Pacific Ocean's ink-dark water when Joan parked at the beach access near Point Dume. My Malibu geography was improving by the day. I knew that we weren't too far from the Vaulteneau Estate. In fact, we could probably walk home from here.

I checked the time. It was close to midnight. We'd grabbed a late dinner from a drive-thru before we'd left Los Angeles proper, but Joan had detailed specifications on how we could eat the burgers and fries in her car.

"Just this one time," Joan had said as we pulled up to order the food. "You can eat one fry and that's it until we get out of the car."

Truth was, I was famished after the day's excitement and revelations. Granted, I was hungry for more than actual food. With Matty's arm wrapped around my shoulder and my hand leisurely lying on his thigh, I'd been wanting more of his kisses, but we'd kept things PG-13 after that last searing kiss.

Plus, my mind was reeling on Matty's predicament, while also trying to think of ways to help him. I didn't know Zoey, so I had no clue on the best way to approach her with our theories.

"Don't take the bait, my dude." Filipe's chuckle brought me back to the present as he handed us the greasy take-out bag. "Joan's on an adventure high right now. If she finds even one grain of salt in the backseat, she will go nuclear on your ass."

Matty nudged me, a grin on his face. "Don't eat anything until we get out of the car. Joan might be petite but she's a boar when riled up."

The savory smell of hot, salty fries filled the car and it was a hard-fought battle to close the paper bag.

"Duly noted," I said with a tiny grumble while squeezing Matty's thigh. I felt his rumble of laughter.

Once on the beach, Joan extracted a large blanket from her shoebox trunk and laid it out on the sand near one of the vacated lifeguard stations. The blanket was large enough for the four of us, but just barely. Joan created extra space when she sat between Filipe's outstretched legs, her back to him.

I sat between Matty and Filipe, and all of us faced the ocean as cool, salty wind ruffled our hair.

In companionable silence, my knee brushed up against Matty's as we ate our well-earned meal. I still had questions about tonight's activities, but I knew it could wait. I just wanted to enjoy this time with my friends.

Mega-estates high on the cliff, lit from within, speckled the dark landscape. The cliffs of Point Dume blocked any view of Los Angeles but in the opposite direction, the varying shades of brightness from estates and other residences along the coast lit up like a curved airport runway.

Out in the distance, the Anacapa Island's lighthouse was a faint beacon against the dark abyss of the ocean while shooting stars intermittently bisected the night sky.

Even though it felt like we were in our own little bubble, it wasn't like we had the beach to ourselves. I could hear ripples of laughter and murmurs of conversation mixed together with the surf crashing against the shore and the occasional foghorn of a ship way off in the distance.

And based on multiple piles of blankets stacked with shoes, clothes, and other personal effects tucked near the lifeguard's station, I knew there were night surfers out in the water.

"Done scarfing down everything?" Matty asked me as he collected Joan and Filipe's trash. I heard the smile in his voice.

"Yeah." I handed him the empty bag, burger wrapper, and drink cup. I'd inhaled everything almost immediately. I didn't even remember chewing.

"Come with me," he said, holding out a hand. After hoisting me up, I followed Matty to the large trash barrel, where he tossed our meal bags. When he flicked on his phone's flashlight and pointed it at the sand, I thought he was looking for seashells. Instead, he started picking up discarded trash. He explained his actions without me having to ask. "Anytime we come here at night, we always pick up trash in the sand. The tide will come in soon and wash some of it out into the ocean. Just be careful, as you might find something sharp."

I filed this new information in the "Matthias Vaulteneau file" in my mind. Recalling something Franky told me, she'd mentioned Matty was trying to get his dad into conservation efforts. I wondered if everyone who lived near the ocean did this kind of thing. Evidently not if we were cleaning up the beach ourselves.

Mirroring Matty's actions, I pulled out my phone, switched on the flashlight, and started picking up litter. Within a minute or two, I spotted the illuminated profiles of Joan and Filipe as they performed the same duty.

I found everything from crumpled water bottles, beer cans, and candy wrappers, to other forgotten beach items, like a lone flip-flop, a child's pacifier, broken beach chairs, and several vaping cartridges.

When I reached Joan, she said, "They'll comb the beach in the morning, but sometimes that just buries the trash. Best to pick up what we can while we're here."

I couldn't fault her for that logic.

"How often do you do this?" I unloaded another armful into the trash barrel. Overall, we made several trips back and forth between the lifeguard station and the jutting cliffside of Point Dume.

"Couple of times a week," she said. "We can't cover everything, of course, but every little bit helps."

Joan looped her arm in mine and led us back to the blanket. She plopped down on one side and I joined her. Matty and Filipe were still collecting trash farther down. Based on the additional number of flashlights, they enlisted others to help.

I had so much on my mind that I didn't know what to ask next. I wanted to ask about the trip to the consulate, to conservation efforts, to what else she did while not racing around in her carnival-blinking race car. Matty told me she was the granddaughter of famous film director, except Joan didn't come across as someone who came from a super-privileged background.

Staying on the safe side, I asked, "Do you go to USC, too?"

Joan lay on the blanket and looked up at the stars. I matched her actions. My eyes traced constellations as I waited for her to answer.

"No," she said finally, her voice neutral. I got the impression she wanted to be careful in how she answered me, which of course made me even more curious. "I'm in a cyber security program at Pepperdine's Graziadio business school."

"Are you on a swim team as well? From what I've heard, you're an incredible swimmer and surfer."

"No, I'm not on a team. In case you haven't figured it out, I'm not exactly into team sports."

I laughed. "You seem like an agent of chaos, if I'm being honest."

Joan snorted. "You're a quick study, Ciaran. Let's just say I don't follow the popular crowd. I've been in the water since before I could even walk, though. For the most part, my mom shunned my granddad's celebrity lifestyle. She hated being filmed and photographed at every opportunity. So she moved to Thailand in her early twenties and met my surfer dad there. My mom likes to joke that I was born on a surfboard. My dad's still kind of a big deal over there. He's won a lot of surf competitions and he's been bitten by two sharks. He's more proud of the shark bites than any trophy in his cabinet. I go see them once or twice a year."

"What's your mom doing these days?" I asked.

"She's written a few memoirs about her messed-up childhood as the daughter of a mega-famous director. It's earned her enough for my parents to live off the royalties. It's kind of funny." Joan laughed as if I knew what was in her mind. "I had no clue about my grandfather's status. I grew up in Thailand watching his films, not even knowing he'd directed them. To his credit, he kept in regular contact with my mom. I got cards, birthday gifts, and he'd visit when he wasn't directing a major film. It wasn't until I was ten, when my mom got sick and flew me back to the States to stay with my grandparents for a few months while she recovered, that I learned the truth. Once I got here, though, I never left."

"I hope she's healthy now," I said, turning my head to look at her profile.

Filipe and Matty returned. The four of us lay side by side, our arms and legs touching.

"She is, thanks." I saw the smile form on her lips. "Anyway, imagine my shock when I landed at LAX and a sleek town car transported me to a helipad. A helicopter brought me to his house here in Malibu. My mom kept so much information from me, I honestly had no clue. Pools, servants, my own dedicated assistant and chef, a wardrobe for miles. My bedroom was the size of my parents' house in Thailand. Thankfully I had a humble upbringing before I landed here, and my mom and I talked every night on the phone. She gave me the cold, hard truth about being related to someone famous, so that kept everything from going to my head. At a certain point, though, I came to resent all of it."

It wasn't difficult for me to imagine that at all, though I was sure it was a different sensation at ten years of age versus eighteen.

"Our girl's a rebel," Filipe said with affection.

I focused on Filipe's choice of word "our" there, as if Joan was our collective girlfriend. I was still so confused on the nature of their relationship, but I figured that was a question for another time.

Beside me, Matty said, "If anyone can imagine what you went through Joan, I'm sure Ciaran might. We didn't pick him up in a helicopter," he added with a gentle laugh, "and he scarcely had anything approaching a wardrobe, but we'll get that fixed soon."

"People will start to gossip if I keep wearing your clothing, Matty," I said. What I didn't add was, I'm sure people will gossip for other reasons, too.

"You mean the clothing that's all but destroyed in your closet?" Joan asked. She propped up on an elbow to offer us a shit-eating grin. "Miss Paulina is going to be horrified when she discovers the mess."

"Good lord, don't remind me," Matty said with a low hiss. His hand went to his forehead. "Do you think she'll believe me if I tell her someone from the party did it?"

Filipe laughed so hard that I thought he might start crying. Clearing his throat, he said, "If you think Miss Paulina doesn't already know everything that's going on at Vaulteneau, you're living your life with rose-colored glasses, Matty. I bet she knew about your kiss before you two got around to letting it happen. Miss Paulina is an omniscient old broad, and I say that with deep affection and terror. She can be as ruthless as Stefon, and that's saying something."

Worry swirled in my belly. "Maybe we should go clean it up, Matty."

"How about," Matty said as he kissed my forehead, "we don't and instead go to bed."

His finger traced my jaw before it lightly skimmed my lips.

A silent gasp hung in my throat. An entirely different feeling replaced the worry in my belly. A ball of excitement expanded and a jolt of sheer pleasure went through me. I wasn't sure I could speak, even if I wanted to. I wanted to see how Joan and Filipe were reacting to this but I couldn't tear my gaze from Matty's shadowy face as he hovered over me.

I wasn't ashamed of my feelings for him, and I sure as hell wanted him to touch me, but I wasn't sold on the idea of Matty doing any of it in front of others. Instinct told me that Matty, Filipe, and Joan had a sexual history together, but that was none of my business…unless they continued it.

Matty studied my face in the darkness. Perhaps my silence conveyed my tinge of discomfort. A cool gust of wind blew in from the ocean and I shivered.

"Yeah, Ciaran," he said softly as he sat up, "we should go clean it." To Joan and Filipe, he said, "Come by tomorrow and bring your wetsuits. I have a few ideas about Zoey and I'd like to plan it together, but I want to do it out on the water where no one can hear us."

"Sure thing, bro," Filipe said.

Everyone came to a standing position. Matty and Filipe did the bro-hug thing while Joan pecked Matty on the lips.

"See ya, babe," she said to Matty. "Go slow with my darling Ciaran."

Oh God , I thought, as my face burned hot with embarrassment. Did everyone know I was an inexperienced virgin?

Matty merely said, "Ciaran's calling all the shots."

I thought I was free from her affection, but she pulled me down into a fierce hug. In my ear she whispered, "Goodnight, sweetie." On tiptoes she also smacked me on the lips. She smelled like cherry cola and Sun Bum coconut lip balm, a scent I'd come to associate with her.

Behind her, Filipe also hugged me, but it was more of a side hug like he'd given Matty. "Night, bro." Thankfully, he didn't try to kiss me.

With that, we left Joan and Filipe on the beach as they settled back on the blanket.

I didn't argue when Matty took my hand. "The trail can be tricky," Matty said by way of explanation.

We turned toward the cliff and I followed Matty up a winding path that led up over Point Dume, which would bring us to another path that traversed between the mega estates along the cliffside.

Mentally, I calculated how long it would take until we got to the Vaulteneau Estate. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? I was nervous about what might happen when we got there.

But, as the butterflies went haywire in my belly, I was also very excited.