The Secret of Othello

  Synopsis

  A shooting star streaks across Fisher Key’s skies. Natural phenomenon or secret military satellite? For Steven Anderson, any mystery is a welcome distraction. He’s vowed to avoid all the island’s pretty girls until the SEALs approve his waiver request. Unfortunately his libido—and the girls—have other ideas. Meanwhile, Denny Anderson is busy wooing the boy of his dreams. If he plans things right, he won’t be the only virgin entering the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. Too bad every romantic rendezvous is ruined by misunderstandings, interruptions, and pesky tourists. As the days get hotter, the twins are drawn into an underwater race against time, tide, and treason. Suddenly, true love is the least of their problems. Under the waves, no one can hear you scream…

  The Secret of Othello:

  A Fisher Key Adventure

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

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  The Secret of Othello: A Fisher Key Adventure

  © 2012 By Sam Cameron. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-793-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: September 2012

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Greg Herren and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  The Fisher Key Adventures

  Mystery of the Tempest

  The Secret of Othello

  For Steve and Alex

  Chapter One

  The most dangerous woman on Fisher Key leaned toward Steven Anderson with a smile promising all sorts of trouble. He told himself to keep calm. His friends were clustered on a picnic bench nearby, where the parking lot gave way to ocean and a twilight sky. But none of them knew what trouble he was in. He’d have to handle this on his own.

  “So, Steven.” Melissa Hardy’s eyebrows arched provocatively. “Have you decided?”

  She was wearing an absurdly tight pink T-shirt. The white straps of her bra peeked out, thin and lacy against her tanned shoulders. Her blond hair hung in a glossy ponytail.

  Steven took a deep breath. “Double-scoop hot chocolate with nuts.”

  She grinned. “You always were a double-scoop kind of guy. Glad to see nothing changes.”

  Melissa grabbed her metal scoop and leaned down to the ice cream bins. Her family had run the Dreamette Creamery for as long as Steven could remember. His crush on her had started sometime around sixth grade and hadn’t diminished at all in the two years she’d been away at the University of Florida.

  No women, he reminded himself. For the rest of the summer, he’d sworn off all members of the opposite sex no matter how pretty, how nicely they filled out their T-shirts, or how bright their smiles on a Saturday night.

  What a stupid vow to make.

  “I hear you’re going to become a SEAL,” Melissa said. “That’s awesome.”

  “That’s the plan.” He didn’t want to talk about it. Most people on the island didn’t know that he’d been rejected and lied about it. The crushing humiliation of being denied over a single vision test still made him squirm. It had been more than a week since his formal waiver request had gone in.

  Surely someone had made a decision by now, right?

  Melissa stuffed ice cream into the cone. “I’m jealous. You’ll be saving the world while I’m stuck in anatomy and physiology.”

  “I didn’t know you were pre-med,” he said.

  “I want to be a coroner. That way none of them can talk back to you.”

  He pictured her with hair pulled up in a bun and her blue eyes framed by sexy librarian glasses. She’d wear a tight lab coat and snap on those rubber gloves and oh, boy, if he didn’t stop thinking like that he was going to embarrass himself right against the counter.

  Melissa rolled the ice cream in chopped walnuts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. I’d almost think you were Denny.”

  “Denny’s not quiet,” Steven replied. In fact, sometimes his twin brother never shut up. Lately, all he did was yammer on about going away to the Coast Guard Academy at the end of the month. Steven was so sick of it that he was going to apply duct tape the next time Denny mentioned Swab Summer.

  “He’s not as talkative as you.” Melissa lifted the cone. “I’m not used to a Steven Anderson whose mouth isn’t moving.”

  A blush warmed his face. “It still moves.”

  “Good.” She gave him that bright smile again. “Here’s your ice cream. All ready for your mouth.”

  As he dug for his wallet, a southbound blue SUV pulled into the lot and parked near the trash cans. He didn’t recognize it, or the two men who got out. But that wasn’t unusual. The Dreamette was right on the Overseas Highway. Tourists on their way down to Key West or up to Miami often stopped at the sight of the old-fashioned sign. The two men halted a few feet from the SUV to check their phones.

  Steven handed Melissa his money. She rang it up and asked, “So what are you doing until you go away to boot camp?”

  “Nothing. Just hanging out.”

  “Me, too,” she replied. “Unless I’m working here, I’m just hanging out at home. Totally bored.”

  No women, he reminded himself. He hadn’t called Jennifer or Kelsey. He’d kept himself from flirting with pretty guests at the Fisher Key Resort, where he spent his days in the lifeguard chair. He didn’t even think about girls while he was in the shower—no, that was silly, of course he did. He was taking two or three showers a day.

  “Sucks to be bored,” he said.

  Her smile dimmed. “Yeah. It does.”

  Steven clamped his jaw shut. He wouldn’t ask her out on a date. He wouldn’t think about his lifelong quest to get her naked. He wouldn’t, wouldn’t, wouldn’t—

  “Or we could be bored together,” he said, and instantly regretted it.

  The grin came back, wide and lovely. Her lip gloss shimmered.

  “That sounds like a much better plan,” Melissa agreed. “Call me and we’ll figure something out.”

  The two men from the SUV came up from behind Steven and studied the menu board. He trudged off, mentally kicking himself. Denny was going to gloat like a madman when he found out about Steven’s date. Then again, maybe they could do something that wasn’t technically a date. They could talk about college, for instance. About coroners. About something that had nothing to do with kissing or sliding his hand under her bra—

  “You look like someone killed your dog,” Eddie Ibarra said when Steven reached the picnic tables. Eddie was Steven’s best friend, or used to be. It was hard to say these days.

  Steven sat down. “I don’t have a dog.”

  “I have four dogs,” said Robbie Gerstein, who had played on the high school baseball team with Steven until graduation last month. They also worked together as lifeguards at the Fisher Key Resort. “One of them’s pregnant. You can have any puppy you want.”

  “He’s going away, idiot,” Eddie said, even though he knew the truth about Steven. “He’s not stuck here like us.”

  Robbie said,
“I’m going away, too.”

  “Key West Community College is not going away,” Eddie mocked.

  “At least I’m going somewhere,” Robbie retorted, which made Eddie slug him in the arm.

  Laughter rang out from down by the water. Some girls he knew were pitching rocks into the waves and sharing a bottle from a paper bag. Above them, the sky shaded from gold to blue. No moon yet, but stars had begun to glitter. One looked bright enough to be a planet.

  Actually, that bright dot was moving. A plane, then.

  But no, moving too fast to be a plane. Streaking, bright and swift.

  “Shooting star!” one of the girls exclaimed.

  His mouth full of double chocolate ice cream, watching the light fall, Steven felt queasy. With dead certainty he knew he’d be sitting in this exact same spot next summer. And the summer after that, and the summer after that one, stuck in place, never moving on. If the Navy didn’t take him he had no backup plan. He’d been so stupid, assuming he could just have what he wanted and worked toward for so many years.

  The meteor—because that’s what falling stars were, just hunks of rock on fire—slammed into the ocean. The girls clapped and Eddie said, “So what?”

  A noise made Steven glance over to the Dreamette counter. Almost too late, he saw one of the men grabbing a bag from Melissa. Her smile was gone, replaced by terror.

  “Call nine-one-one,” Steven said, thrusting his ice cream toward Eddie.

  “What?” Eddie asked.

  The men sprinted back toward their SUV.

  “Tell them two men just robbed the Dreamette!” Steven said, and ran for his truck.

  Chapter Two

  Denny Anderson stepped inside the chilly, opulent lobby of the Fisher Key Resort and immediately stopped. Two women in cocktail dresses glided by, on the arms of men wearing dark sports jackets. Jazz music floated out of the lounge, where rich tourists had crowded around the bar. Denny was suddenly and absolutely certain he looked like a scruffy beach rat in his khaki shorts, brown shirt, and sandals. He should have worn a suit. Or a suit and tie. Shoes with actual laces in them.

  Twenty-three days until he left Fisher Key for the Coast Guard Academy, his first official date with another guy, and he was screwing it all up.

  Maybe he should just go home.

  His phone buzzed with a message from Brian: where r u?

  Denny didn’t answer. He was too busy thinking about turning around, getting back in his dad’s car, and going home. But it was already getting dark out, and he didn’t want to make Brian wait, and really now, why wasn’t there a 1-800-Tell-Me-What-Gay-Guys-Do?

  Besides. Twenty-three days. He wasn’t going to be the only virgin at Swab Summer, thank you very much.

  Denny took a deep breath and walked to the elevator.

  “Hey, Steven!” That was Marcus Sanders, standing behind the front counter in a spiffy green uniform. Marcus had ranked third in the high school class, right behind Denny. He was waiting to go off to the University of Miami in the fall. “What are you doing here?”

  “Um, nothing.” Denny didn’t correct Marcus’s mistake. Half the time, people couldn’t tell him and Steven apart. “Picking up a date.”

  “Someone I know?”

  “No.” And now Denny was screwed, wasn’t he, because he couldn’t pretend to be Steven and walk out with Brian. He couldn’t even be himself and walk out with a guy on his arm. Only a few people knew that he was gay. “I mean, not a date. A friend. We’re going to pick up our dates.”

  Marcus looked puzzled. “You have a friend staying here?”

  Denny pictured the hole he was digging for himself. Six feet deep and getting deeper every second. “It’s a long story.”

  “If you say so. Hey, how’d that thing with the jewel thieves turn out?”

  “They weren’t exactly jewel thieves,” Denny said, but that was an even longer story—how Brian’s stepdad had stolen diamonds from his own family, and how Brian’s house had been burned down, and oh, yes, his parents were divorcing and his mother wasn’t taking things well.

  “Whatever they were,” Marcus said. “When are you going away to the SEALS?”

  “I’m not—” Denny shook his head. He had no good way to end that sentence, either. “Never mind.”

  The front desk phone rang, enabling Denny’s escape into the elevator. When the mirrored doors slid shut he again feared that he was maybe underdressed. And wasn’t he supposed to bring something? When Steven picked up girls on a date, he brought flowers. Denny had no idea if gay guys brought each other flowers. Maybe chocolates. Maybe those chocolate-covered strawberry basket things?

  He was so bad at this gay thing.

  For the next thirty seconds, as the elevator glided upward, he obsessed over the part in his hair, the razor nick on the side of his chin, and the tiny red zit trying to pop out on the bridge of his nose. He turned sideways, sucked in his stomach, turned back. He tucked his shirt in, but that didn’t help. He pulled it out again.

  The elevator doors slid open. Brian had said they were staying in suite at the far end of the hallway. After the fire they’d moved into a rental home, but Mrs. Vandermark didn’t like the isolation and they moved again a few days later. Nice to have money, Denny thought. Except money hadn’t made Brian’s stepdad happy at all. It had just made him more greedy.

  Denny reached the suite and pushed the doorbell. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Best to look casual. But not too casual, maybe, so he slid them out again. He folded them across his chest, but that looked stern. Clasped them behind his back. No, too military.

  You are such a dork, Steven’s voice said in his head.

  The door swung open. Brian stood on the other side, looking as cute and adorable as ever with his glasses and shaggy hair. He was dressed in a rumpled T-shirt and wrinkled shorts.

  “Hi,” Brian said, smiling, but the smile was forced. “I sent you a message.”

  “I was downstairs,” Denny said. And this was awkward, too, because was he supposed to kiss Brian hello? Shake his hand in a manly but affectionate way? “Just getting into the elevator.”

  “You’re right on time.”

  “That’s me,” Denny said. “Punctual.”

  From inside the suite came Mrs. Vandermark’s voice. “Is that Denny? Bring him in. You know we can’t leave the door open.”

  Brian stepped aside to let Denny inside. The walls were dark green and the entryway floor tiled in marble. The air-conditioning was so cold that Denny swore he could see his breath. The foyer led past a kitchenette to a living room decorated in shades of coral and green. Mrs. Vandermark was sitting on an oversized sofa, watching TV. She smiled at him, but her smile wasn’t much better than Brian’s.

  “Hello, Denny,” she said. She was wrapped up in a blue terrycloth bathrobe and sipping white wine from a glass. “You look very handsome tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Denny replied. “This is a nice suite.”

  “It’ll do.” Mrs. Vandermark’s gaze drifted back to the TV. “Not quite like home.”

  Brian tugged on Denny’s arm. “I’ll show you my room.”

  The feel of Brian’s fingers—warm, electric—almost made Denny shiver. He followed him down another hallway to a neat bedroom with dark brown furniture and a giant bed. Books were piled on the bedside table and next to the TV. Brian read books like other people drank water. Right now he was in a Stephen King phase, with Duma Key sitting on top of Bag of Bones and Under the Dome.

  But it was the bed that really snagged Denny’s attention. The fluffy pillows and chocolate brown comforter looked luscious enough to fall into. The big ticking clock in his head flashed a bright red message: 23 DAYS, DENNY! He and Brian could get a lot done on that bed in twenty-three days—if they had some privacy.

  Brian closed the door. “Mom’s right. You look good.”

  “You look good, too,” Denny said, because it was true—despite his wrinkled clothes, Brian was the best thing that Denny had seen all d
ay.

  Brian grinned and leaned forward. “Liar.”

  That was definitely a cue for a kiss. Which Denny could do, yes, because he might be inexperienced, but he was motivated. Brian’s lips were warmer than he remembered, and tasted like coffee and toothpaste, and they made Denny want to push him backward onto that wide, wonderful bed—

  From the living room Mrs. Vandermark called out, “Don’t forget to ask Denny what he wants from room service.”

  Brian stepped back apologetically. “Okay, Mom!”

  “Doesn’t she know we’re going out?” Denny asked.

  “Yeah, about that.” Brian squared his shoulders. “I don’t think I can leave her alone tonight. She’s been on the phone all day with lawyers, and she’s already on her second bottle of wine.”

  Denny said, “Oh,” and nothing else.

  Brian adjusted his glasses. “I’m really sorry. I thought it’d be okay, but what if she passes out? There’s no one here to help her but me.”

  Denny tried to sound reasonable. “She’s not going to pass out. She’ll probably just go to sleep early.”

  “She could hit her head or vomit and breathe it in,” Brian insisted. “We’d come back and she’d be dead and it would be my fault.”

  This wasn’t an argument Denny could win. He couldn’t even bring himself to make Brian feel guilty about it, because, really, wouldn’t Denny do the same thing? When your heartbroken and depressed mom needed you, the only decent thing to do was ditch your date and stick around. Brian was a loyal kind of guy, which was something else Denny really liked about him.

  But still. Twenty-three days.

  “Could you say something instead of stare at me?” Brian asked.

  “Sure,” Denny replied. “I mean, yes. I get it.”

  Brian’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Thanks. I mean, you can stick around. I want you to. We can order from room service and watch TV and maybe she’ll go to bed early, okay?”