Page 1 of Sighs By the Sea

Grayson

Abreeze from the ocean ruffles my unruly hair as I step away from the gate. Behind me, I hear the clink of metal as they relock the gate. The imposing prison looms, its gray walls casting long shadows under the afternoon sun. I give a final defiant glare to my least favorite guard, a nice enough guy marred by an off-center soul patch. I swear he cuts it that way on purpose just to mess with prisoners. In my hand, I hold a large plastic bag full of things I had forgotten were with me when I turned myself in.

"Good luck, buddy," Soul Patch says, giving me a stiff nod. I grunt in response.

Two whole years.

My son is almost five now. I spent two grueling years in federal prison. Though George visited, it wasn't nearly enough. I'm desperate to rebuild my life.

Job. Car. House. George. That's my priority list.

The problem is, I don't have any money. The government seized every penny I ever earned, repossessing my beautiful Santa Monica home. The memory of its spacious rooms and ocean view pierces my heart, a sharp reminder of all I’ve lost.

How the hell am I going to provide for my kid?

These awful questions plagued me every night during my stay. But the prison was kind enough to supply me with a few bucks for the bus and the address of a halfway house. It's a start, I suppose. The bus stop is only a half mile down the road. I start walking, the weight of my past pressing heavily on my shoulders.

Just as I sit on the bus bench, a sleek black BMW pulls up. The passenger window rolls down, and I see my younger cousin. Her hair is a little longer, making her look more like Tilly, and her face is fuller. Happier even.

"Need a lift?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Not from you."

Moving the sunglasses up onto the top of her head, Miranda laughs. "Really? Still sore?" Sore is an understatement. Miranda was just as guilty as I had been, but because she ratted out the family first, her sentence was strictly probation.

"Yes." I'm a man of few words, not without reason. The fact is, my life hasn’t been easy. My time as the accountant for many of the Cardenas family businesses painted a target on my back. Suzanne, my wife, was taken from me the moment she started to complain that laundering money for the Ukrainian mob was too dangerous. The loss of her still aches deep inside, but the sting has somewhat died in the last two years.

"Grayson, I’m here to help. Everyone wants to. Tilly especially." The mention of Tilly gives me pause. Tilly is Miranda's identical twin, but the two couldn’t be more different. Tilly is the entire reason I turned myself in. Watching her boyfriend, the father of her twins, get taken by our family, presumably to be killed, was the tipping point. It was the same thing that happened to me and my wife. Or so I believe. There are people, possibly Miranda included, that believe Suze left of her own free will.

But Tilly believes me. She has always been on my side, at my side. Even through my quick sentencing and while I was in prison, she stood with me and visited. If I can't trust Miranda's motivation, I know I can trust Tilly's.

I exchange a knowing look with Miranda. Her expression says it all: "Told ya so." I get up off the bench, and Miranda smiles. When I settle into the passenger seat, she stares at me. "I knew mentioning Til would get you. She's waiting at her house for us."

The car starts moving, and I let my head rest on the cool leather seat. "How are her boys? She mentioned one is blind?"

Miranda nods. "Doesn’t slow him down, though. Drew is a firecracker. But my Matty is my sweetheart."

"You’re playing favorites with your nephews?"

Miranda shrugs. "Not on purpose."

I chuckle. Miranda hasn’t changed at all. We drive down the California streets, past palm trees swaying in the breeze, and down the five freeway until hitting Los Angeles traffic. One of the many things I haven’t missed while in prison.

"So, you have a job?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, I run Tilly’s businesses. Bitch is on fire." There's a hint of disdain in her voice, possibly some healthy sibling rivalry. "They have the surf shack, which pretty much runs itself, and now they have a rental business down at the harbor too. They rent out those scooters, Segways, boats, bicycles, beach gear, and do guided tours."

Though I don't say it aloud, it sounds like Tilly is killing it on the business front. It's a smart move to have more than one source of income. It means when business is slow in the winter for the surf shack, they have the rentals to keep them in the black.

"She’s going to offer you a job."

My eyes go wide. "Why?"

Miranda smirks. "Because despite our family’s fucked up ways, we did learn a lot, Grayson. You were a damn good accountant, and she needs one. I’m doing my best, but I don’t hold a candle to you."

I, of course, lost my CPA when I was arrested, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work as one. More so, it means potential employers won’t want me. That has been a concern, one of many, but one I was ready to tackle. "We'll see," is all I say. I doubt she expected anything more. Stubbornness is definitely a genetic trait in our family.

An hour later, we’re pulling up to a modest home in the suburbs of San Diego. The houses here have a sunbaked charm, with their terracotta roofs and pastel exteriors. I fight the nerves that have been building for the last twenty minutes. Seeing my family has that effect on me. Though I’m not quite sure if it’s warranted anymore. I’m safe. The family has been destroyed. So many were thrown in jail, including Keaton, my sadistic cousin, and Papa, the leader of our family. Papa lasted exactly two days in the role before everything imploded, but to get to the top, his own daughter was killed.

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