Page 99 of Malibu Rising

“So tell me what you need from me in order to put this behind us.”

“What I need from you?” Jay said. “What I need from you is to stop sleeping with my ex-girlfriend!”

“No,” Hud said, shaking his head. “My answer is no.”

When Jay lunged for Hud, it was not graceful. It was sloppy and scrappy and ugly. But it was effective. Before Hud even realized that his brother was aiming for him, his back was slammed down onto the lawn.

Jay swung with reckless abandon but Hud did not fight back. Hud’s upper-arm strength alone could have crushed his brother’s windpipe, shattered a rib. The lone joy of being the stocky one was that you were the stronger one. Jay on top of Hud—punching and elbowing and grabbing for whatever limbs he could—was like a whippet on a pit bull. But Hud would not further shame his brother.

Jay and Hud had borne witness to the full scope of each other’s lives. They had lived in the same rooms, wished on the same stars, breathed the same air, been taught and reared by the same mother and teachers. Been abandoned by the same father.

They had traveled the same beaches, trespassed in the same oceans, surfed the same waves, stood on the same boards. Made love to the same woman.

But they were not the same men. They were not haunted by the same demons, they were fighting for different things.

Ashley screamed as Jay’s fist made a crack against Hud’s nose.

“Fuuuuuuck!” someone screamed from the crowd that had gathered. Others gasped as the blood started to trickle down.

“Oh my God,” one of the women said over and over. “Someone do something!”

“Punch him again!” a man called from the back.

Some people started cheering for Jay. Others yelled at Hud to fight back. Ashley wept. And the two brothers—aching and bruised and bleeding—continued on.

Nina decided it was time to leave the pantry if only because the air was getting stale. But also because if this party wasn’t going to end anytime soon, she was at least going to try to enjoy it.

“All right,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go join the land of the living.”

“You do not have to,” Tarine said.

“I want to,” Nina said, holding her hand out for Tarine to lift herself up.

“I suppose I should check on Greg anyway,” Tarine said.

Nina opened the pantry door to see three girls standing by the breakfast nook, looking at her strangely. “It’s my pantry,” she said. “I can hide in it if I want to.”

She could hear a commotion out in the backyard but decided to ignore it. Instead, she walked toward the entryway and then stopped dead in place at what she saw.

Dad?

He was standing with his back to her but Nina recognized him instantly. His back was broad and sturdy and his shoulders were wide enough that, even with a jacket on, you could make out the perfect triangle they formed with his waist. His hair was grayer now, but the back of his head still looked exactly the way it had when she used to watch him watching television or running along the sand.

She felt both intense familiarity and staggering strangeness as she looked at him—this man she knew so well, this man she barely knew at all. The combination made Nina feel dizzy.

She pulled herself back behind the corner. “What the fuck is my dad doing here?” Nina asked. It was a rhetorical question, though she would have welcomed an answer.

“Your father?” Tarine said, truly shocked.

Tarine couldn’t help but peek around the corner to see for herself. “Wow,” she said, stunned. “Mick Riva. My God.”

Nina pulled her back. “Why on earth would he be here?”

“I assure you, I have no clue,” Tarine said, peeking again.

Nina searched for any reason that might explain it. “Maybe he needs a kidney or something.”

Tarine looked at Nina to see if she was kidding. Nina was dead serious. “I suppose that is possible,” Tarine said.

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