Page 18 of Speechless

“Luce, calm down. Get up on your board and let’s go. I left my jumper by the rocks over there, see?” He points toward the far end of the beach. Luckily there isn’t a soul in sight down there, but there’s still no way I’m gettingupon anything until I’m far enough away from Graham that I look like a tiny speck. I glare at him and shake my head.

“No offense love, I’m sure that body’s a hit with men far and wide, but I’m more of a boomer guy myself, all right? Now give me your hand and I’ll help you up.”

“Umm, what?”

“Oh, sweet little Lucy, I couldn’t care less about your tits, ok? That bloke over there?” He points to a man north of us, also straddling his board. “If you have any ideas on how to gethisclothes off, let me know.” He pauses, winks at me. “You’re gorgeous, love, but nothing under the water is doing anything for me, so just use this as an opportunity to get rid of those tan lines.”

Graham’s gay?

I’m dumbstruck for a moment, wondering if I should have known this already, but I guess it just hasn’t really come up. I suddenly love him even more, or maybe I’m just slightly less embarrassed about my current boob crisis. His hand is still stretched toward me and he’s chuckling at my bewilderment. I take his hand and let him haul me up, then I start laughing with him until I’m completely out of breath and lying flat on my back. I let him tow me back to shore as I work on my tan.

* * *

I decideto make shrimp on the barbie for dinner tonight in Graham’s honor. Maybe if I suck up to him a bit, he won’t tell the rest of HAAAM about the surfing incident. I honestly have no idea what else is considered Australian food, so I grill some coconut-rum-soaked pineapple and veggie kebabs and make a big pitcher of mezcal margaritas.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to see Henry tonight. It just feels weird being here without him when he’s the one who invited me. But I guess he just saw someone who needed a place to stay and figured he has extra bedrooms.

“This pineapple is like crack,” Craig declares. “I’m gonna need you to make this every day.” I haven’t gotten to spend much time with him, but he seems to be the least friendly member of HAAAM. Even the way he looks, tall and lanky, beady brown eyes devoid of much warmth; he just gives me a “don’t come too close” vibe.

I flash him a smile and choose not to respond to his request slash demand of me.

“He’s right. This pineapple is killer, Lucy. What did you do to make this so delicious? I want to bathe in it.” Jayce seductively takes another bite.

I roll my eyes. “I’ll tell you my secrets, when you tell me yours, Jayce.”

He opens his arms wide. “I’m an open book. Ask away Little Lu.”

“Hmm.” What do I want to know? Jayce is fun, but his social life really doesn’t concern me that much. I’m more interested in the group as a whole. It’s wild how different these guys are. They don’t make any sense together.

“How do you all know each other? I mean, I know because you work together, obviously, but how did you meet? How did HAAAM come to be?”

Graham shakes his head at me like a disappointed parent.

“Lucy,Lucy, how could you deny us an actual dirty secret? I can answer that for you!”

“Well, that was her question, so I shall oblige.” Jayce winks at me. “We all met in New York at school, at Juilliard. We weren’t friends exactly, well not at all actually. Especially not Henry. He knew he was better than all of us, kind of antisocial too.”

“He was not antisocial Jayce, what the fuck?” Graham jumps in, clearly offended on Henry’s behalf. This is already interesting . . .

“Okay, maybe antisocial isn’t the right word, but he was, well, how the hell would you describe it, G?”

“He was . . . focused. He didn’t spend every second banging ballerinas like you mate.”

“Don’t judge me. We were severely lacking in the ballerina department where I grew up. I was just learning to enjoy the finer things in life.” Jayce has a wistful look in his eye and I wonder if there is a particular ballerina he’s remembering or if they all blur together in his mind. “I guess you’re right though. Henry didn’t have the same distractions I did—he got me to prioritize.”

“What do you mean? What’d he do?” I’ve been trying not to interject but I can’t help myself. Every time Henry’s name comes up in conversation I find myself overeager to learn more about him.

“Well, I was pretty close to losing my scholarship,” Jayce says. “They run a tight ship at Juilliard, and I wasn’t ready for that course load. Way too much pressure. I just wanted to play, ya know? I was playing drums like five nights a week at clubs in the city, had a couple house bands that were trying to recruit me, but they paid practically nothing. Thought about dropping out actually, moving back home, even if it meant I’d face the wrath of my father for not going torealcollege.”

He pauses for a moment, and I remember what he said the other day about his family not supporting his musical endeavors. “Then Graham came at me one day. Said Henry wanted to work with me, said he knew I could do more than just play drums. I didn’t even realize Henry knew me. Everyone thought he was a fuckin’ genius, so I was intrigued. Graham filled me in on their side project, some indie film. Said Henry could even help me with orchestration.”

He looks over at Graham and I can see deep gratitude in his eyes.

“So yeah, Henry was right. I didn’t just wanna play in a band. Percussion is so much bigger than a drum set. You ever heard a marimba? That shit is so sick!” He must note my brows raised in confusion. “Don’t worry, Luce. I’ll play for you later—you’ll love it. You know I got to write a whole score for bongo drums for our last movie? We have the best fucking job. And yeah, I owe it all to Henry, antisocial or not.”

“Percussion? Try playing the french horn—that’s a real instrument. You know, the kind that takes actual skills?” Craig smiles smugly, and I honestly can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Jayce gives him a quick “screw you” expression and follows it with a hand gesture.

Craig ignores him and continues, “Henry collected all of us. We weren’tallin trouble for banging ballerinas, but I don't think any of us knew what we were doing, long-term at least. I couldn’t seem to focus on an instrument, and he pushed me towards orchestration. Made my degree so much easier.” Craig speaks with a more serious tone this time.

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