Brando by J.D. Hawkins

while to catch our
breaths, the glorious LA sun glistening off our wet bodies. I flip
open the cooler and pull out two beers, popping the tops with my
fingers and handing one to Jax.
    “How’s
Lizzie?” I ask, as
we sit on the towels and gaze out at the rolling sea.
    “Excited;
I’m taking her to
Paris this weekend.”
    “What
is it with chicks and Paris? I never got it. I mean, what’s
Paris got that LA doesn’t?”
    Jax
gives me a sideways glance and smiles.
    “Centuries
of complex history and culture? Fantastic cuisine? The biggest art
collections in the world? The most sophisticated fashion labels? A
beautiful language?”
    “Shit,”
I say, swigging greedily from the
cold bottle. “I’d
take a girl with a Bronx accent and a good slice of pizza over that
any day.”
    Jax
laughs and takes a sip. After a few moments he asks, “How
are things going with your new protégé?”
    “Haley?”
I say, trying to suppress the
smile I get from saying her name. “Pretty
good. Yeah.”
    But
Jax has been my friend for way too long not to notice. He grins
widely when he sees it.
    “Damn,
Brando. You’re
really full of surprises.”
    “What?”
    Jax
shrugs his shoulders, his smile widening a good half-inch.
    “You
think I’m falling
for her?” I boom.
“Bro, that’s
projection. I mean, it’s
good that you settled down, but that shit ain’t
ever happening to me. I was born wild and I’ll
stay that way.”
    “Right,”
Jax says, giving me the most
unconvinced nod he’s
ever managed.
    “You
don’t believe me?
You don’t believe
me! Look, she’s
great. Talented, sexy, sarcastic as fuck, and she’s
definitely a change from the cuties we usually pick up, but bro…
Come on! This is me we’re
talking about. Brando. Think about it. Brando. Relationship. You
can’t even use the
two words in the same sentence – they’re
like from different languages.”
    Jax
laughs as he stands up.
    “Are
you trying to convince me,” he
says, as he throws his towel around his shoulders and picks up his
board, “or
yourself?”
    Jax
salutes a goodbye and starts walking off, the question hanging in the
air like an unconnected cable. Truth is, I don’t
have an answer.
     
    After
a couple more waves I decide to leave. The sun glints off the chassis
of my jeep, obscuring the tall figure leaning up against it, waiting
for me.
    I
recognize her instantly, despite the disguise of a wide straw hat and
big, Audrey Hepburn-style sunglasses. She’s
wearing a black bikini, teasingly revealed by a lace sarong, and
there’s only one
girl with a body as poised and as slamming as that.
    Lexi.
    “I
always thought you were hottest when you were surfing. Water dripping
between all those muscles.”
    I
frown at her, wishing I was more annoyed by her presence.
    “Where’s
Davis? Did they not let him out of the wax museum today?”
    “I
came alone. I was watching you,” she
says, pulling off her glasses to flash me an earnest look. “I
wanted to come over and talk…but
I hate breaking up a happy couple.”
    “You
and me were a happy couple,” I
say, before my brain can stop the weak, regretful words from falling
out of my mouth.
    “Were
we?” Lexi says.
    I
look away, trying to ignore the deep thud of pain I get from even
seeing her too much. I let the sound of the waves fill my ears, as if
it’ll wash away the
memories.
    “If
you came to ask something,” I
say, loading the cooler and my board into the back of the jeep, “just
come out and ask it.”
    She
pouts, the way I could never resist. “Can
we just sit somewhere and talk?”
    I
know there are a lot of answers to that question. No. Fuck you. Maybe
later. How about next Tuesday? But there’s
only one my brain seems capable of giving.
    “Sure.”
     
    I
take Lexi to a pierside café;
it’s got one of the
best views in the city, and since I’m
good with the owner I know he’ll
keep the tables around us empty.
    Lexi
looks out into the ocean as if she’s
seeing it for the