Story by Zach Mountford

Chapter 4

The fear and anxiety of being on the run had made Brad a nervous wreck. He wasn’t his usual calm self and he had found too many foreboding white roses to relax. His hotel room felt like a cell.  He could never go out without feeling like he was being watched or in the scope of some terrible executioner’s gun.  His dreams were haunted with gruesome scenes of his own demise that sent his beating heart into a frenzy.  Even his snub-nose .38 couldn’t give him the confidence he needed to keep his cool.

Feeling out of character, Brad tucked his gun in his shorts, grabbed his beach chair and sunglasses, and stepped out.  Realizing that he was in Surf City conjured up a Beach Boys song in his head and he wanted to feel the soothing effects of the rolling waves on the surf.  Even though it was a seven mile walk, Brad liked the idea of a journey.  Walking was meditative.  Perhaps he could get his thoughts together along the way and try to plan his next move. 
“Death comes swiftly to the stagnant,” Brad said out loud as he left his hotel room. On the way he bought a pack of cigarettes and a tall drink.

Walking up North Shore Drive, Brad found a beach access near the Surf City Pier that looked pleasant and quiet.  As he climbed the crossover, he could hear the steady roll of the thundering waves in their constant massaging of the shoreline.  Immediately he was filled with a sense of belonging, a feeling he hadn’t known for quite some time.  He stumbled and slid down the warm sand and plopped his chair in a spot where his feet could feel the cool water.

Brad couldn’t get his hands around what was happening and who was looking for him.  Instead he focused his attention on the happenings around him.  There were children playing, couples sunning, and older folks walking hand in hand. Brad’s gaze was drawn to a figure that was forming in the distance.  As the person moved closer, Brad could see that it was a woman in a white bathing suit.  Her curves became more obvious and her brown, tanned skin accentuated her rhythmic movements.  Brad tried not to gawk, but found himself stealing glances every few seconds.  She was beautiful, a gem in a pile of stones.  There was something uncharacteristic about her presence there and something even more delightful.  Brad took a deep drag on his cigarette and coughed.

Soon she was right in front of him and stopped.

“You know those will kill you,” she said. 

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“I quit, but I still allow myself one a month.”

“Have you had one this month?” Brad asked.

“Nope, and I haven’t seen someone so handsome this month either.”  She smiled and Brad handed her a smoke a she sat down on the sand next to him.  “Got a light?”

He lit her cigarette and they sat in silence for a moment.  Brad glanced at her sideways.  Her hair was dark brown, tied back in a ponytail.  She had full lips and a slim nose and her eyes were shielded by big sunglasses like the movie stars wore.  Her figure was athletic and full in the right places.

“I sure love this place,” she said. “It’s so peaceful.” She looked out at the surf.

“This is my first time here,” Brad lied, still wrapped up in the fact that this girl had even stopped to talk to him.  She smiled at him again.  

“I hope not your last.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Brad said, smiling back.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Brad.”

“I’m Angela; it’s nice to meet you Brad.”

“The pleasure is mine.”  The two new acquaintances talked for a while and decided to get a margarita over at Indigo Marsh by the swing bridge on the sound.  Brad tried not to gawk at Angela’s assets as she led the way.  As they got to know each other better, Brad began to like this woman.  She was smart, witty, flirtatious, provocative, and laughed at all of his jokes with a beautiful smile.  They had margaritas on the deck and Brad began to forget the horrific position he was in.  Tom, the money, the pistol in his pants, all began to fade away as Angela’s green eyes put him into a trance.

Four drinks in and she asked him if he wanted to see her house.  There was no way Brad could refuse.  He suddenly remembered how long it had been since he had enjoyed the company of a lovely woman.  The trip back to her house was a short walk on Roland Avenue, then over on North New River drive to a big house on the Intracoastal Waterway.  It was a modern beach house and seemed to be very expensive.  Brad began to wonder if Angela was married, and if not, what she did to afford such a place. 

“I’m going to change, please make yourself at home.”  She disappeared into a back room.  Brad grinned, a little drunk, and looked around the house for evidence of a family, friends, or anything.  Oddly, there were no personal pictures anywhere; instead, there were abstract paintings of the coastline and ocean life.  The home was strangely clean as if no one had lived there for a while.  Still, Brad was just happy to get away from his thoughts and relax.  Soon he heard a voice from the back room. “Brad, come here!”  He jogged to the back and found Angela standing in the dark bedroom with three candles lit.  His heart was pounding wildly now. 

“Would you like to join me?”  Angela led Brad into the room and quietly locked the door.

She began kissing him as if they’d been in love for years.  Brad forgot about his gun, forgot his fears and dreams, forgot everything.  Suddenly Angela stopped.  She slowly reached under the bed and produced three long stem white roses and a 9 mm handgun.

“I thought you’d like me.”  She smiled.

ZACH MOUNTFORD is a student of UNCW’s Creative Writing Program and he lives in Wilmington.  His work has appeared in Atlantis.  He and his family take summer trips to Topsail Island every year.  “This place is rich wit history and stories to be told,” he said.  “All you have to do is walk around to find inspiration in this unique city.  Island life is magical.”