Page 63 of Sapphire Storm

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Donnie gently took the photo from Roman’s hands, reached up,and tousled his hair. “Don’t be. It grew back stronger.” His smile lookedforced as he put the picture back on the shelf. “All right, boys. To the highseas we go.” Donnie popped open the galley fridge and handed them both a frostybottle of Corona. “Don’t worry. The captain never imbibes at the helm. But hedoes keep the good stuff flowing just in case the passengers have opinionsabout his captaining. Which Ethan usually does. ’Cause he’s, like, eighty-fivepercent opinions.”

“Lies,” Ethan responded. “My opinions are about yourcooking, and I keep those to myself.”

On the fly bridge, Ethan and Roman settled onto oppositeends of the built-in sofa right behind the helm chair as the engines beneaththem rumbled to life.

As soon as the Golden Boy entered the choppy bay, thetemperature dropped, and the winds started to do a number on the canopyoverhead.

Ethan told himself to stay still, to keep his head turned inthe direction they were headed. But he didn’t listen. He looked back and sawRoman sitting at the sofa’s far end.

“Hey,” Ethan said before he could stop himself.

Roman removed his sunglasses. The canopy offered decentshade. “Hey,” he said back.

His mother’s ghostly voice still scolded him, but the wordsthat had rushed from Roman in the parking lot made for a louder chorus in hishead. Ethan patted the bench seat next to him and said, “Come here, stormy.”

Without hesitation and chewing his bottom lip withexcitement, Roman slid across the seat and wilted into Ethan’s side. The touchof him, the warmth of him, made Ethan feel like he was floating high above thewater rather than resting on a bunch of pleather and wood. It was as powerful,as total, a feeling as the one he’d felt on Sunday morning.

If it was a mistake, he might as well enjoy every second ofit before it drowned him.

18

Ahead of theGolden Boy, a giant Navy missile cruiser wasrounding Point Loma, heading out to sea. Donnie chose to cut across its wake, amove that took them well south of the peninsula’s rugged end, a wise coursesince kelp beds filled the waters just offshore.

Ethan could make out the squat Point Loma Lighthouse perchedatop the cliffs hundreds of feet overhead. Somewhere behind it but out of viewwas a statue of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, allegedly the first European to evertouch West Coast soil with his own two hands. The first time they’d visited themonument years ago, Donnie had jumped up onto the statue’s base and pretendedto hump its stone leg.

Then the Pacific opened before them and the missile cruiser,which had seemed to tower over the harbor moments before, now seemed smallerand less significant as it headed north up the coast.

Once they were clear of the harbor’s mouth, Donnie killedthe engines. The boat gently rose and fell. In an instant, the three of themhad been handed over to the gentle currents of the sea.

The quiet that descended over them stilled Ethan’s soul. Thesunset, which would have been obscured by Point Loma even from the height ofhis room at the Wyman, was on full display here, the orange ball turning deeppink as it set the ocean waters ablaze.

“Shit, man. How is this my life?” Donnie asked. “I used todream about this kind of thing when I was covered in crap in some oil field inNorth Dakota. Now here I am. God bless America. And porn.”

He felt the power of Donnie’s gratitude pulling at him. Ifyou’d told him on the day his parents had banished him from the family thatsomeday he’d be floating on a sea of blue and gold with a man as beautiful asRoman in his arms, he wouldn’t have believed you.

“From oil fields to porn?” Roman asked. “How’s that happen?”

Donnie turned the helm chair to face them, one foot bracedagainst the edge of the sofa seat. “Well, first your dad finds you behind thebarn messing around with another boy and literally—and I do meanliterally—beatsyou with a Bible. Then you haul off and break his nose and suddenly everyone inthe family agrees sixteen’s old enough for you to be living on your own. Thenit’s a lotta hitchhiking, lotta turning tricks I thought I might not livethrough. But thank God for those old porn clips on the net, ’cause they reallymade California look like a great place to live. Gave me something to shootfor.”

He grinned, and Roman laughed. The full story was harder andhad even more sharp edges, but Donnie hated dumping it all on people. The factthat he’d shared this much with Roman meant he was trying to welcome the guyinto the fold, encourage whatever he’d seen developing between him and Ethan.

“What about you, influencer?” Donnie asked. “What broughtyou out west?”

Ethan tensed.

“My dad cheated so my mom divorced him,” Roman said. “Weended up in Victorville when I was a boy.”

If Ethan hadn’t felt let off the hook before, somethingabout the simple, unadorned honesty of Roman’s response allowed him to feelthat way now.

“In California, that makes you a local,” Donnie said.

“Yeah, but there are a lot of different Californias.”

Donnie nodded. “Smart kid,” he said to Ethan.

“Yeah, maybe don’t call someone akidafter youfilmed them jerking off,” Roman said.

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