Reckless Girls(38)
I didn’t know I had that streak in me, and it strikes me how much we revert back to the most basic human instincts when we leave civilization behind, even temporarily.
The man is a capable swimmer, and he quickly reaches the shore, staggering toward us with a big smile on his face.
He’s ropy and skinny, his shorts hanging low on his hips, held up by a belt so old and fraying that at first glance, it looks like a stray piece of twine. His hair has been buzzed down to the scalp, pink skin showing through in some places where the sun obviously got him. But he’s got an easy grin as he surveys us on the beach, his hands on his hips. He’s not quite as tall as Jake, but a little taller than Nico. Still, I think I could knock him over with one good push.
“Paradise, huh!” he says, throwing his arms wide, and when we just stare at him, he drops his arms, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I’m Robbie.” He’s American, with a southern accent I can’t quite place. “Hope it’s cool I’ve turned up?”
Jake is the first to take his hand, with that winning smile I’ve seen before, but this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I wonder if his easy friendliness has always just been an act and I’m only noticing it now.
“Jake Kelly. More the merrier, mate,” he says, and Robbie’s eyes grow wide, his smile even bigger.
“Ah, an Aussie, niiiiiiiiiice,” he drawls, then takes in the rest of us. “And beautiful ladies. Man, this is even better than I’d hoped.”
Great, he’s fucking smarmy.
“I’m Lux,” I tell him. “This is my boyfriend, Nico, and this is Brittany and Amma.”
“And this is Eliza, my lovely lady,” Jake says, looping an arm around Eliza’s waist and pulling her forward. “So, Robbie. What brings you to Meroe?”
“I dunno,” Robbie replies, leaning down to scratch at a bug bite on his shin. “Guess I just wanted to see some shit off the beaten path, you know?” That quick grin again, showing lots of teeth. “A friend stopped by here a few years ago on a sail, said it was cool as fuck, and I thought I’d check it out myself.” He shrugs happily. “And gotta say, seems like he was right. This place is pretty fucking rad.”
Nodding at Nico, he adds, “Sick bandana, man.”
There’s something about this guy that I immediately do not like. Something that makes me more than a little nervous. He reminds me of guys we got at the Cove sometimes, the ones who only ever ordered Pabst Blue Ribbon and had eyes that slid over our bare legs like slime.
“I sailed out of Papeete,” he continues. “Heading for Hawaii eventually, I guess, but you know how it is.”
Now he has Jake’s and Nico’s attention. “Tahiti?” Nico asks, stepping forward. “Fuck, man, that’s a lot of sailing on your own.”
Robbie throws his arms out again. “What is life if not to live it, right?”
I catch Eliza’s eye, see the way the corner of her mouth kicks up just the littlest bit. Like me, she’s not feeling this guy’s entire … vibe, and I lean close to Brittany.
“Love a guy who sounds like an inspirational Insta account,” I whisper.
She snorts, and I see Amma cut a sharp glance in our direction.
“So!” Robbie claps abruptly. “Y’all got anything to eat? Because I’m not gonna lie, I’m fucking starving.”
* * *
IT’S LIKE A REPEAT OF our first night on Meroe. There’s good food—Eliza and Brittany cooked together in the Azure Sky’s little kitchen—good wine, too much of both, but now there’s this new person in our midst, shirtless and skinny, smelling like salt water and engine grease and too much time alone.
I really don’t like him.
It feels unfair, like hating a kicked puppy or something, but as I watch Robbie shovel Jake and Eliza’s food into his mouth and down an entire bottle of sauvignon blanc, I wish we could go back to just a few hours ago, when it was just the six of us.
“This place has a really fucked-up history, right?” Robbie says. He’s still holding the bottle of wine by its neck, his knuckles red and raw, and the firelight makes strange shadows under his cheekbones, his eyes. “Sailors eating each other and shit?”
“Sailors were wrecked here,” I say, reaching into the cooler for a fresh bottle of wine. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly I’ve gotten used to treating Jake and Eliza’s provisions like they’re ours. Sure, we’ve provided a jar of peanut butter and the occasional beer, but all the good shit is Jake and Eliza’s. I have the fleeting thought that we should offer to pay for what we’ve been eating, before I remember that of the four of us on the Susannah, I’m certainly not the one with that kind of money.
Outside the circle of light provided by the bonfire, the night is dark, save for the stars and the occasional white flash of the surf as it breaks. I keep my eyes on Robbie’s as I stick in the corkscrew. “I don’t know about eating each other.”
Robbie laughs, a phlegmy, thick sound. “Oh, if there was a shipwreck, there were cannibals. People do what they got to do to survive, you know?”
He looks around the fire, grinning. “Wouldn’t you?”
“This is gross,” Amma announces, getting up, but Robbie doesn’t seem offended.