Gnarly Page 4

  By the time Ed finished his meal, he was more than ready to embrace the Spanish custom of napping after a meal. Thanking the management profusely, he paid his bill and headed back home, where he fell asleep on the living room sofa.

  Once more his bladder woke him up, and he grumbled all the way to the bathroom, wondering when he’d turned into an old man who couldn’t hold his piss. Then he recalled the liquid he’d consumed before his nap and gave himself a pass.

  Anxious to look his best when he approached Patxi, he took another shower, shaved, and changed into his last pressed outfit. When he walked into Elizalde Bar, he was surprised to see Javi behind the counter pouring drinks.

  “Hey,” Javi called out in Spanish. “Nice to see you again.”

  Ed blinked, confused by the abrupt shift in attitude. Javi had practically thrown him out of his place and now he was acting like Mr. Congeniality.

  “How’s it going?” Ed said warily.

  “What’ll you have?”

  “A beer will be fine.”

  “Sure I can’t tempt you with something more exciting?”

  “Like what?” Ed asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. A mojito or a sangria?”

  “No, just give me a beer.”

  “Alhambra okay?”

  “Sure.” Ed reached for the cold bottle as soon as Javi put it in front of him and chugged down half of the contents in two gulps. He didn’t know why he needed liquid courage to get through the conversation, but Javi had thrown him for a loop by showing up. It was the last thing Ed expected, and he didn’t know how to proceed. Should he pick up where they’d left off last night or start over? Opting for safety, he went with the mundane.

  “I took a walk earlier on the Paseo Nuevo. It was nice.”

  “That’s right.” Javi nodded. “It wasn’t built yet when you were here.”

  “Yeah, it was a hike, but I enjoyed it. Ended up having lunch at a bar on the boulevard.”

  “Were you satisfied with the food?”

  “Absolutely,” Ed replied. “So… what made you decide to come here tonight?”

  Javi shrugged.

  “Last night you said you never step foot in this place.”

  “I came on crutches.”

  “Jesus,” Ed remarked, shaking his head.

  “What’s the big deal?” Javi said. “Aita needs my help and I don’t want him calling strangers to motivate me.”

  “I’m not a stranger,” Ed protested. “But I’m glad my visit got you off your rump. Will you let me help with the prosthesis?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not?”

  Ignoring him, Javi scooted down to the other end of the bar. Ed could see he was half sitting on a wheeled barstool, and while he used his good leg to push off, he held on to the countertop for leverage. He glided across the floor effortlessly. He was wearing jeans and there was nothing to indicate a missing foot unless one looked down and noticed the end of one pant leg perched on the elevated footrest attached to the barstool. Javi’s father must have had the chair custom-made long ago. Ed glanced at Patxi and the old man smiled, visibly grateful that Ed had chosen to intervene.

  Javi, on the other hand, was sizing him up suspiciously. “Are you and Aita in cahoots?”

  “What do you mean?” Ed asked, confused.

  Javi’s gaze flicked from Ed to his father and back again. “The old man’s been trying to get me out of the apartment for a long time. Suddenly, you show up out of the blue and he gets his wish. Did you guys plan this?”

  “You’re giving us far too much credit,” Ed scoffed. “Patxi had no idea I was coming to town and I sure as hell never expected to find you like this.”

  Javi sneered. “Like what? A shell of the guy you were banging for weeks?”

  Ed quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention. Fortunately, Javi had switched to English, so maybe it was a nonissue. “You’re wrong and I’d appreciate it if you dropped this.”

  “Which part should I drop, Edu? The colluding or the fucking?”

  “What’s your deal?” Ed asked tersely. “I had nothing to do with your resurrection.”

  “That’s right. You’ve never been concerned with anyone but yourself.”

  “I won’t even dignify that accusation with a response,” Ed snarled.

  “Yeah? We can save that argument for another day.”

  “Up yours.”

  “I’m not convinced you two didn’t plan this.”

  “Paranoia is a symptom of PTSD,” Ed said. “Get your head out of your ass and admit you’re happier behind the bar than reclining on a sickbed.”

  “Says you.”

  “I have the degree,” Ed huffed.

  “That’s right. You’re so special. Do you want another beer, Doctor?”

  “No. And don’t call me doctor, for fuck’s sake.”

  “You just reminded me you had the credentials,” Javi snapped. “Make up your fucking mind.”

  “You’re so damn insulting,” Ed protested. “All I want to do is help.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Javi insisted.

  “Javi, it’s offered with the best intentions. Why can’t you just accept without turning this into something ugly?”

  Javi continued to glare at him.

  Frustrated, Ed slid off the barstool. “You know what? Fuck you and your shitty attitude.”

  “Go, then.” Javi waved him off.

  “Stop,” Patxi called out. “Please, Edu. Stay.”

  “That’s okay,” Ed said, taking a small roll of euros from his pocket and throwing a bill on the counter. “I’ll see you around.”

  He walked out of the bar, painfully aware he’d caused a scene. Multiple sets of eyes were boring into his back, probably laughing at his churlish behavior, which was ridiculous for a man his age. Where did he get off thinking Javi should accept his advice because it was the smart thing to do?

  Flustered, Ed weighed Javi’s accusation. He could see the kernel of truth—and pain—in the hateful words and bowed his head in shame. The facts were undeniable. Ed had kept his distance, barely giving one moment of thought to the proud and fiercely stubborn surfer in three decades. He’d never even conjured up memories for wank sessions because he’d been sexually satisfied and his career was thriving. Then everything changed. Now he was back and trying to insert himself into Javi’s life when he had no right whatsoever. How did that even compute? Ed hadn’t been remotely interested in another man since leaving Spain. And now, suddenly, he was thinking of dick again. And not just any dick. It had to have a prickly surfer attached to it.

  Carol’s death had disarranged his world. Suddenly he was a single dad with hardly any time for himself. Whereas his previous schedule had only included work-related events, her absence had left a gaping void in their sons’ lives and Ed had to pick up the slack. Fortunately they’d been teens—and surprisingly well-grounded—but there were still day-to-day problems that demanded his attention. Dating had never factored into the equation. Even jerking off was a hurried affair, a physical need for release he carried out efficiently even though it felt wrong and left him feeling worse rather than better. The truth was his sexuality had been put on hold and had only started to rekindle when Aiden and Avery left for college. Even then it had been slow going. He didn’t have time to meet women in the usual places, and online dating made him feel exposed, like he was advertising his loneliness. After a few unsuccessful attempts at hooking up, he’d stopped trying.

  This sudden interest in Javi wasn’t healthy. Ed didn’t like being out of control, and unexpected boners due to another man’s presence left him feeling off-kilter. Was he only interested because he was being denied, or was there more to it? It was a puzzle only time would solve. And on that disturbing note, Ed headed toward home.

  Chapter 5

  PATXI’S DEPRECATING glare was as effective as a slap upside the head, and justified when he came right down to it. Javi had been out of line for no
good reason.

  “What is wrong with you?” his father asked as soon as he stepped behind the bar.

  “I don’t know,” Javi said, scowling. “Leave it alone, Aita.”

  Undaunted, Patxi pointed out, “You’re acting like an imbecile; he just wants to help.”

  “I don’t want or need his fucking help!” Javi snapped. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

  Patxi’s overgrown eyebrows met in one messy line as he struggled to control his temper. Javi waited for the explosion, but it never came. Instead, Patxi dismissed him with a disgusted grunt and left him to fend for himself.

  Javi knew he was being an ass, but he didn’t feel the need to justify his every move because he was disabled. Yeah, he’d been a leech since this all started, but he was done with his pity party. Patxi needed to remember that Javi had been self-sufficient for years. The accident had altered their roles, but his father had to relearn the art of keeping his opinions to himself, at least the ones involving Javi’s life.

  Before the shark attack, Patxi had honored boundaries and tempered his criticism. To the outside world it looked like Javi was having one big summer holiday, traveling the world in search of a new adventure, but he was actually earning money and sending home a good portion of what he earned, albeit in the form of gifts or travel vouchers. While he was doing something constructive with his life, his father had left him alone. He’d reverted to meddling when they’d brought Javi home on a gurney. Too weak and despondent to protest, Javi had allowed the intrusion, but it was time to cut the strings again. Patxi was butting into a situation that was beyond reasoning.

  How could he explain the dynamics of his relationship with Ed and not sound like an arrogant (and delusional) prick? Javi didn’t need twenty-twenty vision to see they were reacting to each other physically. It was encouraging that his body hadn’t forgotten how to respond, but it was brutally unfair that he wanted another go at the stuck-up bastard when the ending would be exactly the same. And Ed could cloak his interest in good intentions and protest till he ran out of breath, but Javi could tell when a guy had an itch that needed scratching.

  He reached for a rag and wiped down the countertop, putting used glasses in the bin underneath, discarding wet coasters and napkins, pocketing the tips, and removing empty plates. The repetitive task helped to keep his mind off what had just happened. Unfortunately, it also brought home the sad truth. Without surfing to sustain him, he was doomed to spend the rest of his life stuck at this job. Any other person seeking employment in the area would have been grateful to work at Elizalde Bar, a thriving family enterprise that had been around for over fifty years. To Javi it was a virtual death sentence.

  Life in San Sebastián was idyllic to an outsider, but to the vast majority of young people—born in the late eighties and onward—the area offered few opportunities for advancement. Jobs were scarce, and the cost of living was incredibly high, it being one of the most expensive cities in Spain, or Europe, for that matter. During the summer months, it was alive with activities, the constant stream of tourists kept the euros flowing, and the eye candy, in Javi’s opinion, was unparalleled. However, by the end of September, things would quiet down, and for the next six months there would be hardly any foreign influx. In the past, Javi would have been on the first plane or train out of town in search of the next tournament, but that was no longer an option. He was stuck. The very sameness of daily living grated on his last nerve. Instead of being comforted by the familiar—people, customs, food—the roots that bound him to San Sebastián were choking him.

  Unless he swallowed his pride (and misgivings) and took Ed’s offer at face value. But Ed wasn’t just any guy. There would be strings attached, of that he was certain. His accident had left him weak in mind and spirit. Ed’s tenderness when he first walked into the apartment had shaken Javi. The anger he’d been harboring for years had melted away the moment he felt that first kiss. Now he didn’t trust himself to keep his heart out of the picture, and turning into an asshole and pushing Ed away seemed the safer choice. On the other hand, no one else was badgering him into accepting a handout. His so-called friends and acquaintances, who’d previously clung to him like barnacles, were quick to desert the sinking ship.

  Javi had been taught, and had learned the hard way years ago, that accepting help in any form meant an exchange of favors. It was barter, pure and simple. He hadn’t minded the occasional hookup to get ahead, rationalizing the incident as fun, fun, fun, rather than the dirty truth—put out or lose out. He’d been young and reckless. Sucking off some “straight” guy in an RV to get a prime endorsement only enhanced his career and his reputation as a whole. He knew his bedroom antics were woven into surfers’ lore, his prowess between the sheets as impressive as his ability to perform aerials. He was the acknowledged king of the Basque surfing crowd in more ways than one, and it hadn’t been hard to retain his position. So long as his heart wasn’t involved in the transaction, Javi didn’t give two shits what people thought of him or how many men he’d fucked. Until now. He wasn’t sure he could survive if he caved and opened his heart to Ed again.

  Besides, there were no guarantees. Doors wouldn’t swing open if he showed up. It was presumptuous of him to assume an improved prosthesis would be his ticket out of town. He’d been away from the circuit for eight months, and he could use his lost eye and foot as a convenient excuse, but he’d also lost his courage as well. The very thought of getting in the water induced panic attacks. He’d have to tackle his current phobia if he ever wanted to get on a board again. And if that didn’t happen, what did he have to offer? Could he write a book? Who in hell would buy it? Maybe he could teach surfing? With his disabilities it would be impossible to catch a wave and his star power would tank. Nobody wanted advice from a has-been. If there were other options out there, he didn’t know about them. He’d been hiding away for so long, closing his eyes and ears whenever Patxi offered to catch him up on the latest news. It was sickening how he’d let this go on for so long. Never one to back off from a challenge, Javi’s current mindset was more debilitating than his missing limb.

  Lost in thought, he hadn’t realized it was time to close up the bar until Patxi was back in his immediate vicinity.

  “Ready to go home?” he asked, businesslike.

  “You walking me back?” Javi asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” Javi said. “Sorry if I acted like a dick earlier.”

  “You should apologize to Edu, not me,” Patxi reminded him.

  Javi nodded, acknowledging the rebuke. “Maybe I will if I ever see him again.”

  “I have his number,” Patxi remarked. “Do you want me to transfer the contact to your phone?”

  “Sure,” Javi said.

  It was two thirty in the morning by the time they left the bar and started the trip back to Javi’s apartment. It was slow going once again, but this time there was satisfaction mixed in with the fatigue. Javi had survived his first night back at work, and Patxi had managed not to hover. Although his father insisted on walking Javi to his door, he absolutely refused to allow the old man to come in and help him undress.

  “No, Aita. I don’t need you to tuck me into bed,” Javi affirmed. “Those days are over.”

  “But I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do. It’s time to move on, and the first thing that needs to change is you treating me like a child.”

  “I love you,” Patxi said gruffly. “Is that a sin?”

  “Aita,” Javi said, caressing his father’s weathered face. “Your love has been the one constant in my life. I couldn’t have asked for a more understanding father, but you know as well as I that I crave my independence. It’s time to let go again so I can figure this out on my own.”

  “Will it include Edu?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re afraid he’ll hurt you again?”

  Javi shook his head and let out a gust of air. “Stop picking at my sca
bs.”

  “It was wrong what he did, but he’s back, Javi. Doesn’t that mean anything?” Patxi asked gently. “Now that his wife is gone, he might not be so skittish.”

  “Let’s not even go there, okay? Leave Ed out of the healing process.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Javi said. “Let it be.”

  “How will—”

  “Aita,” Javi growled, losing patience. “I’ll be at the bar again tomorrow night and every night after that. You can be the backup on my days off.”

  “Which days do you want off?”

  “Monday.”

  “Since we’re closed on Sunday you’ll have two days in a row,” Patxi protested. “I think Tuesday or Wednesday is better.”

  “Don’t negotiate,” Javi begged. “I want Mondays off.”

  “Fine,” Patxi said, giving him the stink-eye. “You’re a brat.”

  “At fifty-two I don’t qualify as a brat. A demanding bastard might be more appropriate.”

  “You were not born out of wedlock,” Patxi reminded him. “Don’t insult your mother.”

  “God, do you have to be so literal?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Javi said indulgently. He kissed his father on the cheek, turned the lock, and pushed into his apartment, leaving Patxi squawking in the portal.

  Javi chuckled as he headed toward his bedroom to undress. It had been a long night, but mentally it felt good to overcome this first hurdle. Now he wanted to sleep for hours. Before going under, he thought about his father again.