Graham walked into the kitchen and saw a note taped to the phone. It was his turn to order pizza. His roommates were gracious enough to list what they wanted and how many he should order. He dialed the memorized number, told the girl with the cheerful voice on the other end what he needed, and said he would pay by card. After he hung up, he went to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and went outside, where another roommate sat by their firepit.
“Where’s Monica?”
“With her parents for the weekend,” Graham answered.
“Oh yeah? Is your hottie coming over?” His roommates often teased him for being attracted to Rennie even though he had a girlfriend. Most of them suspected Graham cheated on Monica when she went out of town, but he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. He respected her even though his attraction to Rennie was undeniable.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. He worked hard to hide his disappointment, but deep down he knew it was for the best. If Rennie were there, life would be more complicated than it already was.
One by one, people started to arrive at the house. They brought coolers filled with beer and Jell-O shots. Their guy friends brought their current girlfriends, who wasted no time jumping in the pool. That feature alone was why everyone hung out at Graham’s—the pool. It was hot in Cali, and while they had the ocean, having a pool was second best.
It didn’t take long for the music to start and for the other roommates to join the growing party outside. People danced, flirted, swam, drank, and ate pizza, which lasted a whole five minutes. Graham sat in his chair because he felt sorry for himself for no other reason than the fact Rennie wasn’t coming. A friend tapped him on the shoulder and nodded toward a blonde woman, who stood with a group of friends.
“What do you think of her?”
“Pretty,” Graham said. He couldn’t see her all that well, but from a distance she looked pretty.
“I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me for a year,” his friend said. “She wants to be friends.”
The kiss of death, which Graham knew all too well. He laughed. “I feel ya, man.”
“What? Aren’t you and Monica going strong?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just want different things right now. I predict the fork in the road is getting closer and closer.”
His buddy shook his head. “One of my coworkers is getting married next weekend. He’s twenty-three. I don’t get it.”
“Me neither.”
Graham’s name was yelled from the back door of the house. He stood and walked toward his roommate. “Your parents are on the phone.” Graham stood there for a moment. It was late, and his parents would rarely call him past eight o’clock, even if they had been out with the Holmeses or Carly Woods. He went into the house and directly to his room. After he picked up his phone, he yelled, “Got it!” as loud as he could and hoped his roommate heard him and hung up the other line.
“Hello?”
“Son . . .” The sound of his father’s strangled voice was enough to send Graham into a panic.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
He heard his mother wailing in the background.
“Dad!” Graham yelled.
“It’s Austin.”
“What about him?” Graham grew frustrated between his father’s inability to form a sentence and his mother’s screaming in the background. “Jesus Christ, Dad. What the hell is going on?”
“There’s a storm, and Austin . . . he and your brother took the boat out. The boat capsized—it’s bad, Graham. A rogue wave came out of nowhere and took them under.” There was more silence from his dad, but he could hear his mother crying louder.
“Dad, is Grady . . .” Graham had trouble getting his question out.
“We can’t find Austin.” Never in his life had he heard panic in his father’s voice. It was undeniable now. Tears formed in Graham’s eyes as he searched around his room. He needed to get home, back to his family. He needed to be there for his brother. Grady and Austin had been best friends from the time they were in diapers. There were five close friends, including those two. Bowie Holmes, Jason Randolph, and Graham rounded out the group.
His mouth opened, but no words came out. His tiny fishing community had been rocked many times before with fishing accidents, but not since Skip Woods had a heart attack out at sea had he lost anyone he knew.
Lost. There was no way Austin was lost. Every single guy he grew up with could swim, and if there was a riptide, the people of Cape Harbor would form a human chain to bring him in. His father was wrong.
“Dad, I’m sure . . .” But even as the words left his mouth, he didn’t believe them.
The phone was fumbled around, and Graham strained to pick up on the conversation between his parents. There was a third voice, but it was unfamiliar. In the background, he heard sirens and more people talking.
“Dad, where are you? Where’s Grady?” Usually Graham could sense when something was amiss with Grady or even when his brother was elated. It was the weird twin thing between them, which often confused outsiders.
“He’s in the hospital. He’s being checked for hypothermia, a concussion, and is very agitated. But it’s Austin; we can’t find him. And we can’t find Bowie.” Graham knew if Austin was out on the boat, Bowie was likely with him. He also knew his family needed him. His brother would definitely need him if Austin wasn’t found. “I need to go back down to the docks. We’re going back out to search.”
“It’s not safe if it’s raining, Dad. You should stay with Grady,” Graham pointed out, knowing full well his plea would fall on deaf ears.
“I won’t leave Austin out there alone. I can’t do that to Carly. Not to Skip. Your mom will stay with Grady, son. Your brother . . . he’s going to be okay, but I have to help find Skip’s boy.” George Chamberlain was a family man and had taken Austin under his wing after Austin’s father passed away. Just as Gary Holmes had.
“I’ll book a flight right now.” His father hung up, with no other information. Graham was angry and confused. He went to his computer and booted it up. Over the past year, websites had become more popular, and he knew Southwest Airlines had a fairly active site. Plus, their flights were cheap, and there were plenty of them. He could get one by the morning and be home in five hours. While his internet loaded, he went around his bedroom, packing clothes. He dug into his closet and pulled out his wet suit—he would need it if he planned to dive, which he did, unless Austin surfaced beforehand.
With AOL open, he typed in the airline’s URL and hit enter. The internet was slow this time of night because everyone was on. He clicked, typed, and pressed enter more times than he could count as he searched for a flight. Nothing for hours, and the earliest was tomorrow night. He could drive home by then. He logged off and remembered his father said they couldn’t find Bowie. He couldn’t fathom any of this. None of it made sense. Why would Austin take the trawler out in a storm? Why would Grady go with him? And where was Bowie?
He picked up the phone and dialed Bowie’s cell phone. He was one of the few people Graham knew who had one. The phone rang, and by the fourth tone, Graham’s frustration started turning into fear.