Mystery of the Tempest Read online

  When he found out that Steven and Eddie had faked the enlistment papers that Steven had brandished at the kitchen table.

  When he found out that his son was a liar and a fraud.

  Steven was never going to be a Navy SEAL.

  Chapter Three

  Three weeks earlier, Brian Vandermark had agreed to go to his high school graduation only if he could bring his boyfriend to the ceremony.

  “What boyfriend?” his mother asked, dropping carrots and celery into the turbo-juice machine on the kitchen counter.

  His stepfather, Henrik, didn’t look up from his computer tablet. “If it makes you happy, sure.”

  Brian knew he was lucky. His parents never gave him any grief about being gay. Too many of his friends back home couldn’t even tell their families, or had told them only to be interrogated—are you sure, maybe you’re wrong, how can you do this to us? But Brian’s mom had brought up the subject when he was thirteen, and again before she married Henrik. They loved him for who he was, not his orientation.

  “What boyfriend?” his mother asked, adding green apples into the juicer. “You haven’t dated anyone since we moved here.”

  “You can always find a date on the Internet,” Henrik said.

  “I was thinking about Christopher,” Brian said.

  Mom turned off the juicer. The blades slowed down as the last juice dribbled out. “Is that a good idea?”

  Brian shrugged. “We’re still friends. And he’d do it if I asked. Can we pay for his airfare?”

  “Sure,” Henrik said.

  “Only if you’re certain,” Mom added.

  Which is how Brian’s ex-boyfriend Christopher Morgan ended up on a direct flight from Boston to Miami, stepping off the plane in tight jeans, an even tighter blue T-shirt, and a garment bag slung over his shoulders. Brian hoped for a kiss, though he worried about what kind—passionate? Chaste? With tongue or without? But there was no kiss. Christopher gave him a big hug instead, followed by a manly slug to the arm.

  “Florida boy!” Christopher exclaimed. “Where’s your suntan? And what’s with the glasses? I know you have contacts.”

  “They itch,” Brian said.

  Christopher cocked his head. “You look good anyway.”

  They retrieved Christopher’s suitcase, threw his stuff into the back of Brian’s Honda, and headed south with the sunroof open.

  “When are you coming back to civilization?” Christopher asked as he typed messages on his phone.

  “MIT orientation is the third week of August.”

  “Still planning to live in the dorms? Your stepdad could buy you a condo.”

  “I like dorms.”

  “I’m renting an apartment with Dave and Jay,” Christopher said. “In the Back Bay. Three Musketeers.”

  Once, they’d been the Four Musketeers, but Brian ignored the pang of that.

  Christopher laughed at something on his phone and started typing again. “So how are we doing this thing tonight? Do you want me to be draped all over you? Suck face on the dance floor?”

  “No!”

  “Why not? Don’t want to shock the locals?”

  Brian tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t care what they think.”

  “So why not?”

  “It wouldn’t be…honest.”

  “One day you’re going to get over being the choir boy,” Christopher snorted. “I totally want to be there when that happens.”

  But it wasn’t happening tonight, Brian thought morosely just a few hours later. He was standing by the dance floor at the Fisher Key Yacht Club, just another unhappy wallflower. White lights twinkled overhead, swaying in the breeze from the open patio doors. Couples danced in front of him. Parents and chaperones had clustered over in the main lounge with champagne while the graduates feasted on the buffet and snuck alcohol in from the parking lot.

  “Hey!” That was Sean Garrity, the only openly gay teenager in the school. He was skinny and freckled and had spiky hair, but his smile was genuine. “Where’ve you been keeping him?”

  Brian played dumb. “Keeping who?”

  “Mr. Handsome Secret, obviously. Who knew you were a member of the club?”

  “It’s no one’s business.”

  Sean snickered. “On an island, it’s everyone’s business. The Rainbow Coalition of Fisher Key High could have used your support months ago.”

  As far as Brian knew, the Rainbow Coalition was maybe four kids, five at most, including Sean and the lesbian who’d sued the school board so she could wear pants to graduation.

  “I’m not involved in anything. I’m leaving in August,” he said, watching Christopher bump and grind with three girls who’d come without dates.

  “Leave Mr. Handsome Secret behind,” Sean suggested. “We’ll make him feel right at home.”

  Christopher was doing his part to play dutiful date. Between songs he would swing by to see if Brian wanted anything to drink (no) or wanted to dance (definitely not), and each time, his breath smelled more and more like booze. Brian lingered by the dance floor, hung out on the patio for a while, and wished he’d brought his book along. Finally, he drifted downstairs to the game room, where the Anderson twins were bickering over a game of pool.

  “You shoot like a girl.”

  “You shoot like you’re blind.”

  “I could totally sink that blindfolded.”

  “I bet you a dollar that you can’t.”

  One of the twins was the smart one and the other was the jock, but Brian couldn’t tell them apart. Both of them looked extremely handsome—ties discarded, shirt buttons undone, sleeves rolled up. They had dark hair and brown eyes, with the long, lean bodies of swimmers.

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  “You’ve got a blindfold?”

  “Use your tie.”

  One of the twins lined up the shot, then fastened his tie over his eyes. In the doorway, Brian shifted to get a closer look. The other twin glanced his way.

  “Think he can do it?”

  Brian blinked. “Maybe.”

  “I can totally do it,” said the blindfolded twin. He picked up the stick and felt carefully for the cue ball.

  His brother said, “I didn’t say you could touch.”

  “Didn’t say I couldn’t.” With one swift, sure release, the blindfolded twin knocked the four ball into the corner pocket and ripped off the tie. “Ha!”

  The other twin looked bored. “Can’t do it again, Steven.”

  Brian offered, “I can do a jump shot.”

  They both frowned at him.

  “I can,” he insisted.

  “Let’s see it,” Steven said.

  Under their scrutiny, he lined up the cue ball, blocked it with the six, and then set up the eight farther down the table. Sweat pooled under his armpits. He hoped he didn’t look too nervous. Trying to show off was always a bad idea. Especially in front of the two hottest guys in school.

  “He’s not going to make it,” said Steven.

  “Bet you a dollar he does.”

  “You’re on.”

  Brian angled the pool stick and drove it downward. The cue ball jumped exactly as the laws of physics said it should. The eight rolled into the pocket perfectly.

  “It’s just one trick shot,” Steven groused.

  Denny smiled at Brian. “He’s jealous.”

  It was the kind of flirty smile that Christopher used to give him. But Brian told himself he had to be wrong, because no way was either of the twins gay. Not unless the Rainbow Coalition at Fisher High was bigger than he’d thought.

  “Not jealous,” Steven said. “Anyone can get lucky once.”

  Footsteps thumped down the carpeted stairs outside the game room. Eddie Ibarra burst in, lipstick on his cheek and a bottle of (supposedly) root beer in hand. With him was a pretty girl whose name Brian couldn’t remember, even though she’d been valedictorian. Chelsea? Kelsey?

  “What are you two doing?” Eddie demanded of the twins
. “The party’s upstairs.”

  “And it’s time for us to go, Steven,” the girl added, tapping her toes.

  Steven lined up another shot. “I just need to teach Denny a lesson.”

  “And Prince Valiant here?” Eddie said, eyeing Brian.

  Brian tried not to flinch. For some reason, he ended up collecting nicknames wherever he went—Floppy and Rabbit Ears and once, for a whole year, Schwinn (although the bike accident hadn’t been his fault. Not at all.).

  “My name’s Brian,” he said.

  “Yeah, Prince Brian,” Eddie sneered. “And your prince of a boyfriend. He’s not welcome here.”

  “Shut up, Eddie,” Denny said.

  “Agreed,” Steven said.

  But Eddie just took two steps closer to Brian, his chin thrust forward. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to flaunt it like that faggot Sean Garrity.”

  Denny stepped in between Eddie and Brian. “Nobody wants to hear that redneck trailer-trash talk—”

  Eddie swung a punch at him. Denny caught it, twisted Eddie’s right arm up behind his back, and slammed him down on the pool table. Brian winced at the solid thump of it.

  “Let me go!” Eddie raged.

  Denny shook his head. “Not until you promise to play nice.”

  “Fuck you! Faggots! You and Garrity and Prince Valiant—”

  Denny twisted his arm tighter. Eddie yelped.

  “You shouldn’t make him mad,” Steven said calmly.

  “You want to drive around all summer with your arm in a cast, or do you want to think about what you’re saying?” Denny asked.

  Eddie grunted but said nothing. Kelsey’s gaze flicked between the two brothers. Brian kept his own face blank. He didn’t like violence, but he didn’t like Eddie either.

  Steven scooped up two balls and lined them up near Eddie’s head. He picked up his stick and drawled, “You’re blocking my shot.”

  “Asstard,” Denny said, although it wasn’t clear who he was talking to. He let Eddie go and stepped back. Eddie reared to his feet, his face red and drool at the corner of his mouth.

  “Sissies, all of you,” he spat out, and stalked out of the room.

  Brian’s mouth was dry. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

  Denny said, “I didn’t do it for you.”

  “No, you did it because you could.” Steven didn’t sound mad about it, but he didn’t sound happy either. Brian wondered if he and Eddie were friends. Steven knocked the nine ball into a pocket. “He’s going to be pissed tomorrow.”

  Denny replied, “He’s pissed now. Do I look worried?”

  Kelsey said, “Can we go now?”

  “Yeah.” Steven tossed his stick to Denny. “Don’t wait up.”

  They left. Upstairs, the music shifted from fast and heavy to soft and romantic. Brian was abruptly aware of being alone in a room with the insanely hot guy who’d just defended his honor, or something like that. The air seemed warm and scarce, as if it didn’t have enough oxygen for both of them.

  “Why’d you come tonight?” Denny asked. “You could have just stayed home and collected your diploma by mail.”

  Brian took his time answering. “I guess because you only get to graduate once.”

  “And why’d you bring your boyfriend?”

  That was easier. “I didn’t want to hide who I am.”

  “Or you wanted to show it off.”

  Brian squared his shoulders. “Maybe.”

  Denny’s expression was inscrutable. “Okay.”

  He left the game room. Brian followed him upstairs. A few couples still lingered on the dance floor or by the buffet, but mostly everyone else had cleared out for other parties or private get-togethers. Brian couldn’t see Christopher anywhere. That wasn’t much of a surprise, but it stung anyway.

  “Come on, Denny!” a girl called out. “We’re going to Jennifer’s!”

  “Best party on the island tonight,” Denny said casually. “You going?”

  Brian wasn’t much for parties—too many strangers, too much noise. At the same time, the idea of spending more time with Denny was very tempting.

  “I wasn’t invited,” Brian said.

  “You don’t need an invitation.”

  “I have to find my friend.”

  “Call him,” Denny said.

  Brian tried Christopher’s number, but it went straight to voice mail.

  “Come on,” Denny cajoled him. “It’s a small island. Send him the address. You’ll have a good time.”

  Part of Brian told him to be loyal and stick around until Christopher returned. The other part, much louder, told him to seize the day. Graduation night only came once, after all.

  “Okay, sure,” Brian said. “I’ll follow you over in my car.”

  Denny smiled that handsome smile again. “Forget cars. I know a shortcut.”

  Chapter Four

  The boat that belonged to Kelsey’s father was a vintage cabin cruiser with a small but well-designed galley. Steven pulled green grapes, Swiss cheese, some turkey slices, and an apple from the refrigerator, silently thanking whoever had stocked it. Sex always left him famished, ready to restock at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  “Steven?” Kelsey called out. “Did you knock me up and run away? That would be terrible.”

  He finished piling the food on a plate and went to the aft cabin. Kelsey was stretched out on the narrow bunk, covered with a white sheet. She didn’t look lonely. She looked like she was messaging someone on her phone. Beside her, the open porthole let in the smells and sounds of the Atlantic.

  “Don’t even joke about getting pregnant.”

  She smiled widely at him. “Just checking.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “Jennifer. Big party at her house, right now.”

  Steven perched on the edge of the bunk and ate the apple while Kelsey kept typing. Kelsey and Jennifer O’Malley were best friends. He liked Jen, and he liked her big house overlooking the water. He bet the party would go on all night.

  “Tell her I was totally worth waiting for,” he suggested.

  “You want us to compare notes?”

  “No,” he said. That didn’t sound like a good idea at all. He’d been with Jennifer only twice, when they were sixteen.

  Kelsey put her phone away. She propped herself up on one elbow, took a grape, and popped it into her mouth. “I would tell her that you were fantastic. Kind of fast.”

  About to bite down on a wedge of cheese, Steven paused. “Fast?”

  “And fantastic.”

  “But you said fast.”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Like you were maybe rushing things.”

  His face grew hot. “I wasn’t rushing anything.”

  “Or maybe I was.” She popped another grape into her mouth. “We need to do it again, more slowly.”

  He certainly could do it again, but no one had ever criticized him before. Not in bed, anyway. Especially not someone who’d never done it before, so how could she tell?

  “Anything else I should do differently?” he asked sarcastically.

  She stroked the side of his face. “Don’t be insulted. It’s a good thing when someone gives you feedback. That’s how you get better.”

  “Maybe I’m just fine right now.”

  “You are,” she agreed. “I said ‘fantastic.’ But slow is good, too. Don’t you want to practice?”

  The sheet was slipping off her shoulder. In another minute or two it would fall completely. Steven put the food aside, kissed her on the mouth, and then kissed her neck. Her skin tasted like baby oil. She made a little happy noise.

  “We can practice all summer long,” she murmured. “I got a book to use.”

  Steven pulled back. “A book?”

  “The Kama Sutra. It’s an ancient Indian guide.”

  “I know what it is,” Steven lied. “Maybe I just like it American style.”

  Kelsey frowned at him. “You need to have an open mind. I�
��m moving to Miami in September, and you’re going to be in the military.”

  He didn’t correct her about that.

  She added, “Don’t you want to be as good at this as you can be?”

  “Maybe I’m good right now!”

  “You’re okay,” Kelsey said quietly. “I knew that already. All your ex-girlfriends said so.”

  Steven sat back so quickly that he hit his head on the bulkhead. The crack of it made his eyes water.

  Kelsey cupped his chin. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he complained. “You broke me.”

  She kissed him lightly on the lips “Well, fix yourself. We’ve got some practicing to do.”

  *

  “How is this a shortcut?” Brian asked as Denny steered a small white motorboat away from the twinkling lights of the yacht club.

  “We’re avoiding gridlock,” Denny replied.

  Gridlock on Fisher Key meant three cars at the only traffic light in town. Not that Brian was going to complain. A warm summer night, a half-moon in the sky, and a handsome guy at the helm? Graduation night was turning out a lot better than he’d imagined.

  “What if we tip over? I’m not the best swimmer around,” Brian said.

  “I’ll save you.”

  “That’s comforting.” Brian gripped the edge of his seat tighter. “Technically, are we stealing this boat?”

  “Technically, we’re borrowing. It’s Sean’s dad’s, but he lets me use it.”

  “Why?”

  “Steven and I helped him out once. One of his employees was stealing from his company, and we caught him.” Denny said it casually, as if teenagers solved crimes every day. “I have my own boat, but it’s at my house.”

  “You own a boat?”

  “Sure.”

  Brian wondered what his life would have been like if he’d grown up on Fisher Key. Boats, tides, and deep-sea fishing, instead of cold winters and city traffic. He’d never have met Christopher and had his heart broken.

  He snuck a sideways look at Denny. Didn’t he know what rumors would start if they arrived at the party together?

  Maybe Denny was thinking the same thing, because he looked out at the horizon and said, “I’m not gay, you know. That was just Eddie being a jerk.”