4. The Saving of Lives, Dasham

I lifted the whistle to my lips and blew, catching every eye in the vicinity. "Stay in your inner tube," I yelled at a set of tween-aged boys that I'd had to discipline several times today.

I was tasked with keeping a bunch of unruly children from drowning, which was much harder than it seemed.

"Last warning," I said, flexing my power.

"Sorry." One of the kids shouted in my direction and scurried back to his tube.

Lifeguarding at my family's resort didn't require any real training. I had no idea how to save a life. I barely knew how to swim properly. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow managed to be roped into the job four days a week. And honestly, as much money as my dad made off this resort, he should be paying me more than minimum wage.

My frown had me lifting my employee issued visor and scratching the itch at my sweaty hairline. It enabled the whistle to fall until the chain around my neck kept it from dropping to the ground.

My father's normal roll-with-it personality had been stretched thin. He was angry and out to destroy every local business in his firing range. The atomic bomb had nothing on my father's intentions. I'd never seen this side of him. Ruthless all the time, he never gave a single inch.

I'd always liked my dad so this shade of him was hard to reconcile. Over the years, we'd spent time together whenever we could. We had breakfast together every morning when we were in the same place. My older brothers and sisters considered me his favorite. They also said he had mellowed with age. I didn't know about that, but he did take an interest in me. We shared hobbies, discussed in depth the current events happening in the world, and he taught me about finance. When he learned of a sudden employment vacancy in the swimming area, he signed me up for the job without asking, but it was fine.

A positive thing I learned from the experience was that I looked pretty good in blue. I generally shied away from the color, being sandy, blond-haired and blue-eyed, I thought wearing blues washed me out. They didn't at all.

A downside was that the media had figured that out before I did. The press was covering the relentless picket line in front of the resort and happened to capture me at work. Me and my short, tight lifeguard uniform made the local news, wondering who I was.

Then the national news got wind that I was a Richmond. AOL's AIM and Yahoo chat groups filled with details about me. Without realizing it, I gained a following. So much so the local news let up on us, congratulating my parents on raising me in such a grounded, responsible way. Inadvertently saying something positive about the resort.

My dad was very proud and happy with me.

I, in return, was forced into a summer job, regardless of my qualifications.

Think positively. My tan was coming along nicely. After the first few hours on the first day, I'd taken my tank top off. The shorts weren't speedos, but I wouldn't have called them shorts either. They didn't hide much.

Also, the sun added natural sun-blond highlights to my hair.

Another downside, the chicks—not really a word I used to describe females, but they referred to themselves that way. The ones who lay on the loungers and walkways all around me made me self-conscious and nervous. I felt like prey, and they were predators. When I relocated to the next guarding point, they followed, stretching out there too.

My father kept saying I should take it as flattery.

Maybe, but I couldn't get there.

"Dasham," Tamara, another lifeguard, said, drawing my attention to her as she came up behind me. I went for my shirt, towel, and water bottle, preparing for the next cycle. "They're calling you up front."

"Why?" I asked, shoving a hand through my tank top to pull it over my head.

"Don't know. Go up front and find out. They're taking you out of rotation," she said, dismissing me. She dropped her towel on the concrete walkway and squirted a large amount of sunscreen on her forearm.

"Why?" I asked again.

Tamara had the standard lifeguard vibe. She was older than me and had real training. All she did was look at me as if I were dumb and shook her head. Where the public loved me, the other lifeguards considered me privileged and unworthy of the job. They weren't wrong.

"I still don't know why," she quipped.

As I walked across the pool area, I made a quick detour to drop my towel and company-issued water bottle into the recycle bin. I removed my visor, running my fingers through my hair. I'd stop in the locker room on my way. Everything I wore, down to the water shoes, was designed to fit well and not hinder me in the water. I didn't normally believe in baggy clothes and certainly didn't wear any, but I felt barely dressed as I pushed through the resort's swimming pool entrance.

I was surprised to be met by my brother, Collin, the sibling closest to my age. "You're a douche," he greeted in his standard way. His entire life's focus this summer was to give me shit. Collin believed he should have been the baby of the family. I messed it all up on my arrival, and never heard the end of it.

"Why am I now?" I asked, glancing past him to see the rest of my family standing in the main foyer of the resort, directly down the hall from us.

"I don't know why you're a douche, but you can't seem to shake it, can ya?"

"What're they all doing down there?" I asked, barely paying him any attention as I stepped past him and started toward the employee locker room to change.

Even being in the resort at the same time, the family was rarely ever together. Something big must be going on.

"Waiting on your douchey ass." Collin walked the few steps to the long windows showcasing the swimming pool. "You've got all that tail running after you. Why haven't you tapped any of them?"

"Why're they waiting for me?" I asked again. Whatever drew his focus, released him. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Why do you look so scared? What did you do?" Collin asked, laughing at me as his gaze did a full-body scan. "You should fix your hair."

"Let me go change real quick," I said, letting the visor hang on my arm as I ran my fingers through my hair again.

"There's no time." Collin grabbed my forearm tightly and started to drag me down the hall toward my parents.

"Tell me what's happening," Panic rose, knowing Collin loved the worry in my voice.

Joy, my niece who was sixteen, met us about halfway to the foyer. With a practiced WWE move, I yanked my arm free of my brother. The three of us came together, walking stride for stride. Joy never missed a beat. The opulence of the main part of the resort made me woefully underdressed. The dress code didn't allow anyone in swimming attire to be outside of the pool area.

The thing about Joy was that she might possibly be my best friend in the family, but she liked to give me shit as much as Collin did. "You know, you're officially a douche after what happens next." She gave me a side wink, letting me know she was teasing.

The other glaring difference between me and the rest of my family was my high IQ. Theirs weren't. I doubted they knew any other insults to give. "If one of you will fill me in before we reach the rest of the family, I'll give you my first paycheck."

"Some incentive," my brother barked. Joy followed in his laughter. "I spent more on breakfast than you'll make all week."

"But, Uncle Collin, he's working for a living," Joy teased, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "And saving the family's reputation and business with all his prettiness."

"Shut up!" I countered, knowing they wouldn't, but it helped my heart to say the words aloud.

"Shut up," Collin squeaked, mimicking me.

"Leave him alone," Joy said, her hand flipping out to playfully hit Collin in the chest. "He can't help what's going on."

I cast a quick glance at my niece as she reaffirmed my decision to call her my best friend.

Time didn't allow me to process anything more. We stepped into the main greeting foyer of the resort where my mother and father stood waiting. They both had giant grins on their faces, directed at me.

Even at my parents age, my mom was just shy of her sixty-third birthday and my father close to sixty-six years old, they appeared an impressive force. My mom looked boardroom ready all the time. Sculpted hair, freshly applied makeup, and a business suit—a jacket and matching skirt. Barbie had nothing on the permanent arch in my mother's feet. I'd never seen her without high heels on.

My father wore his usual bespoke suit, silk tie, and Italian loafers. As for the rest of my family, all but Collin were married with children. There were thirty-two of them in total. All miniature versions of my parents, looking at home in the most ornately decorated lobby I'd ever seen.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Dasham," my father started toward me, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders.

My mother came up beside me, smiling tenderly. My brows lowered in disbelief. The smile felt so real… I was truly unnerved.

"Happy birthday, son. You've made us proud," my father said both loudly and boldly. My parents caged me in with their love. I reared back, giving an unsure glance past my parents to Collin. Probably not the best call. He stuck a finger down his throat in a gagging motion.

None of this made sense. I still had weeks to go before my birthday.

With my dad on one side and my mother on the other, they walked me across the marble tile entry and through the main doors of the resort. The valets stood on either side of the impressively large portico with the ocean churning its waves in the distance. The drive leading to the valet stand was blocked off. A shiny red Ferreri with a giant white bow on the windshield was parked between me and the ocean.

With a glance in either direction, I searched for who drove such a beauty even as my brain gave a blip in understanding.

No. My parents believed the first car needed to be a safe, yet expensive sedan. Usually in the BMW or Mercedes class. I, of course, had asked for something sporty and quick, but I never expected to receive it. I had only said it to get underneath my mother's skin.

Under the arm of my father's hand gripping my shoulder, we walked toward the car. The sun was bright, the sky clear, a gorgeous day that I barely recognized in my current state of stunned silence.

"You don't have anything to say?" my father asked teasingly and dangled a key fob with two keys in front of me. My mother gave a cultured singsong laugh then a side hug as I took the offering.

"Go see," she said happily.

My father kept me in his hold as he and I walked the distance to the driver's side door. "I thought we were waiting until September," I said lamely as he let go of me and opened the door. It was then I saw the photographer in the distance, snapping pictures.

"Don't look over there," my father guided quietly. "It's staged. We're pretending we don't know they're here."

The excitement I did my best to rein in deflated. This was a setup. Some play to show strength, or wealth, or family first. Maybe all of the above. Most definitely a mighty flex of financial power, showing his strength to continue the legal battle for the expansion of the resort.

I looked over the top of the car to where my entire family stood watching. Joy's brother, Jon, came jogging toward us.

"He's twenty-one and going to ride with you to keep it legal," my father said proudly, and whacked me on the back, packing in a solid punch. "Go."

Whatever he saw on my face had laughter booming. He grabbed the bow while taking several steps backward, waving his hand in a motion to get me moving.

"Thanks, Dad," I mumbled and tried to drop the blinders I'd been wearing for several days back in place. My opinions on the dishonesty and manipulation I'd watched happening for days had to stay at a distance. I had no control over any of this.

"Get in," Jon called and opened the passenger side door.

Back in the moment, I decided if they let me keep the car, I was going to have a badass ride.

Where the outside was designed to be seen, the sleek interior, with butter soft Italian leather, spoke to the innermost primal guy inside me. My dream car. Everyone's dream car. I dropped into the bucket seat as if it were crafted for my body.

The new car smell mixed with the fine scent of rich leather and ocean breeze, became my new favorite scent. My fingers reached for the dash as the prancing horse logo on the steering wheel had me making a promise to myself: To do whatever it took to always own a car like this.

"You're damned lucky. This is badass," Jon murmured in my same awe.

"I know. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it." My hands roamed as far as I could reach on the dashboard.

"I do. Reservations have doubled. The reviews of the resort are changing. People are finally willing to risk the wrath of the picketers to stay here. The female teenage demographic that drives their parents' spending, and decision making, don't have a care about the hometown businesses. People magazine wants to interview you..."

I wrinkled my face at the horror of such an idea.

Jon's tone rang with humor. "Everybody's talking about you. Dasham's so polite. Dasham's such a hard worker. Dasham's such a good-looking guy."

I tuned him out, pushing the key into the ignition. With the twist of the wrist, the engine roared to life. My father gave me a double thumbs-up. I waved and shut the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

"Anywhere as long as you do a U-turn and drive past the photographer," Jon instructed, his thumb hooking over his shoulder. "Grandad said you could drive a stick."

"I can." And I did for the best ride of my life.