Page 7 of Wayward
“Yes, sir,” Hughes says and steps out a little faster than we were going before, his shoulder smacking the fronds as he does.
We’re almost to the waterfall. It’s loud, and today it seems even louder. Like the island is mad, just like my guys. Just like me.
Hughes breaks through the last part of the jungle and steps into the clearing around the waterfall. “Damn, I saw it last night, but it’s even prettier in the daylight.”
Holloway clears his throat behind us. Hughes steps out of the way and positions himself before us, in a military stance. Thayer’s threatened by his employees having thoughts. That’s never a good thing. People should have their own thoughts. But maybe not when they are carrying large guns, or at least the person paying you to carry the gun doesn’t want you to have your own thoughts. Honestly, if he gets us back to the mainland, any mainland, I don’t care what he does to his employees, as long as we’re alive. He could have them stand on the fly bridge and quack like ducks for all I care. I just want us to get back to civilization in one piece. All of us. I’ll worry about what that means later.
“Holloway, please take the lovely Hal over there.” Thayer cocks his head to a tree.
“Haley.” Holloway steps around Thayer.
“Don’t touch her. I’ll get you what you want,” says Easton.
Thayer cocks his head to Holloway.
“Serious, Z, I’m getting it.” Easton walks around Thayer and Hughes, up the rest of the way, and backs down the path to the big rock. He crouches first at the wrong rock. And I don’t mean to, but I flinch.
“What do you know, Hal?”
“Nothing. I don’t know anything. I’m nervous because . . . guns.” My throat is closing up.
“I see. Such a delicate lady. I can see why they are all so smitten with you.” Thayer shrugs.
“Don’t touch her,” Easton growls. He’s still digging under the wrong rock. The right one has a different color to it?it’s two below the one where he’s digging. Every time we came to the waterfall, I’d stare at it?not for long, but long enough to make sure I didn’t forget which rock it is. And I know Easton hasn’t forgotten, either. He has a fantastic memory. I told him my mother’s birthday once, and six months later, he pampered me all day long, even though I didn’t tell anyone on the actual day. Then when we went to bed, he asked me if I wanted to share stories about my mom. So I know he hasn’t forgotten. There’s no way.
What I don’t know is why he’s digging in the wrong spot. Does he want more time? Is he not going to give it to them? Easton grabs a chunk of bark and digs deeper and deeper until there’s a large pile of dirt around his feet. Thayer’s moved over and sits on the ledge above the path. His white pants aren’t going to be white for long. There’s an irrational pang of empathy for whomever the stew is in the laundry room.
Thayer kicks his feet over the side. “Do you need some help there, Rockwell?”
“I’ve got it.” Easton glares at Mr. Z.
“Harris, help Rockwell,” Mr. Z barks.
“Yes, sir,” he says, and I wonder if Dante will be able to make him less loyal to Thayer. Is there even the tiniest bit of connection leftover from their time on the Russian yacht together? I know I always help out other stews that I’ve worked with. Even difficult ones. Once, in the Med, I gave three bottles of rosé to a stew I had worked with a couple of seasons before.She’d forgotten to order any from her provisioner, and she had ten women on board celebrating a fortieth birthday.
Harris moves closer on the path, but there’s not enough space for the three giant men.
“It’s a small hole, Z,” Easton says. “I think I have the wrong rock. Let me try this one here.” He pushes the dirt back into the hole and takes the rock one up from where he had been digging, farther away . . . and now I’m wondering if he really has forgotten where the diamonds are.
Mr. Z cocks his head at Harris, and he moves away.
Chapter 4
Rocks Ahead
Easton
I’m at the reasonable bottom of the third hole. The undersides of my fingernails are black with dirt. I’m dragging this out as long as I can . . . and Z’s losing his patience with me. I don’t glance up, but I know he’s glaring.
Haley is crouched twenty feet away with Holloway leaning on a tree behind her. Hughes is looking at the clouds coming in and out of the jungle canopy. I’ve caught Harris more than once watching the waterfall instead of me. It’s a fine line between getting shot and distracting them enough with boredom that they don’t notice when I find the bag.
“Yeah, it’s not this one either. I know it’s one of these rocks. Sorry.” I say it convincingly. It’s not an excellent trait, but in a pinch, I can lie with the best of them.“No, Susan, I don’t know where your good scissors went?I don’t even know what they look like"; "Dad, I’m training and there’s no way I can come for a week on the Mermaid’s Tale with you.”Fuck, that last one I wish I could undo. I’d give anything to spend a week with my sister and my dad now.
Z stands. “Harris, keep an eye on him. I have to go to the banana tree.”
“Yes sir!” Harris says, though he’s startled.
Z cocks his head at me and brushes off his pants. And this is my opportunity. Holloway and Haley are far enough back that they can’t see the bottom of the pits when I dig them. The second Z turns around, I casually push the dirt into the last hole I dug, moving the next rock?the right one?aside. Holloway’s watching me, but the other two are watching Z leave.
