Look Inside Tentacle 2.0: Deadly Depths (Detest-A-Pest #4)

Rite of Passage

When Sam cracked open his eyes, they had already adjusted to the darkness, like a pirate switching an eye patch to descend below deck. But his visual advantage did nothing to help him orient himself. Varied points of dim light peppered his field of view.

Stars? How long have I been out?

It must have been the strong malodor that had pulled Sam from unconsciousness. The humid air here carried a pungent scent of seaweed, rot, and oxidizing metal, and left an oily sheen on his skin. It took energy to breathe.

He rubbed his eyelids in hopes that his vision would improve and offer more clues, but his hands came away gritty and his eyes burned. It felt like someone had thrown sand in his face. The more he blinked, the more his eyes protested.

Sam winced and licked his dry lips.

Salty. And so thirsty.

Relief came only when he kept his eyes closed. He pictured the last good thing he could remember before blacking out: a cloudless dawn sky.

He swallowed hard and his parched throat clicked. Once the burning in his eyes had faded, he opened them again and craned his neck to scan his unfamiliar surroundings. Pain immediately shot through his neck and shoulders like he was the recipient of some cruel voodoo doll curse, which was a definite possibility considering what he had already done during this trip. If only he had a do-over.

Flashbacks of the oppressive sinkhole at Mar-a-Verde and the bloodthirsty acidbacks flooded his mind, pushing out the image of a perfect summer morning. Could there be acidbacks here, too? What about rats? Or spiders? Panic welled up, fueled by the oppressive miasma of death and decay. Sam barely managed to stifle a scream. He focused on the points of light above and around him, which seemed just a little bit brighter now. Their positions shifted even with the subtle movements of his head.

They’re not stars.

The occasional sound of dripping water kept odd but regular time in this mysterious place and helped him get his panic in check. His breathing calmed and he began a systematic check of his body from where he lay.

Sam wiggled his toes on both bare feet and heard small splashes. He raised his right foot up and detected the change of water to air on his skin and the tickle of drips finding their way back down the soles of his feet to their source. He began to prop himself up on his elbows when a different, searing pain from his abdomen took his breath away. He fought against spasms that made the pain worse and laid back once again, breathing through clenched teeth.

Sam ran the fingers of his left hand over his shirt, just above the waistband of his shorts. The fabric felt warm and sticky to the touch. Held in front of his face, he could see nothing except the void made by his hand against the backdrop of random pinholes. He didn’t need to see it to know what it was. Sam brought his hand close to his nose, then tasted a fingertip, confirming his suspicions.

Blood.

He gently peeled back the hem of the shirt and exposed his skin to the air and whatever else that might be watching him. It did not take long for his fingertips to find the source of the pain and blood. A gash about six inches long crossed the left side of his abdomen. There was no way to know how deep the cut went without probing it. The last thing he wanted was the pain to cause him to pass out again.

Sam’s problems multiplied. He couldn’t move easily. He had no idea where he was or how to get out. And he had no food or water.

No water.

That meant he’d be dead in three days, or less depending on how long he had been unconscious.

Some Hawaiian holiday this turned out to be.

Four days earlier, staff, students, and family had packed the Washbrook High School auditorium to capacity. Staff had just finished their congratulatory speeches and begun calling up students to the stage to accept their graduation diplomas.

Sam pulled out his phone and opened his text messages. Ever since his parole officially ended, he had spent a lot of time assimilating modern society and technology. But one aspect he could never grasp was the ever-changing abbreviations used in text messages. Instead, he spelled everything out. It was slower, and most younger people found the messages rude, but at least there was no confusion on his side.

His last text to O’Connor, held captive in a blue speech bubble, stared back at him. “Where are you?” Just like when he checked fifteen minutes ago, there was no response, not even those infuriating three little dots that showed when someone was typing.

Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Dammit, O’Connor.” A parent sitting in the next seat gave him a wary eye.

Sam discovered long ago that O’Connor was a wild card and he had prepared for it. He had taken an aisle seat at the back of the auditorium to stow his suitcase and allow easy escape and re-entry from the adjoining hallway.

A steady stream of students were crossing the stage in alphabetical order, their faces filled with nervous, happy energy. They had already reached “H”. Soon, it would be—

“Jack Johnson.” Principal Durant, dressed in a sharp pant suit, directed her gaze to the opposite side of the stage as Jack walked confidently to accept his diploma.

Cheers erupted from a section of the audience. Sam meant to clap but O’Connor’s uncertain arrival kept him distracted and on edge. He checked his phone again. No new messages.

Sam scanned the audience. “Jesus Christ,” he said as he stood up. Several audience members shushed him with disapproving looks. “Sorry,” he said as he bolted for the exit.

He peered up and down the empty hallway outside the auditorium, his hands on his hips. He could hear names echoing from the auditorium doors. Sam stepped back, leaned against the wall, and rubbed his face, now covered with a sheen of anxious sweat. “Fuck me...”

“Thought you’d never ask. When and where?”

Sam looked up to find O’Connor standing several feet away, grinning and flashing her eyebrows at him. At her feet was a single well-traveled suitcase perched on its wheels. She wore leather work boots, cargo pants and an almost-white button-up shirt with the Detest-A-Pest logo embroidered on it. Clamped between her jaws was her signature smoldering cigar stub. At least she wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit.

“Don’t start.” Sam pointed at her emphatically. “I told you we should’ve taken the same flight.”

O’Connor turned on her best bedroom eyes. “Are you fingering me, Sam?”

“Ugh.” Sam shook his head, exasperated, and waved his hand toward the auditorium entrance. “Hurry up or you’ll miss Brad.” Sam eyed the cigar. “And put that out.”

“Don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.” O’Connor plucked the cigar from her mouth and rubbed the lit end against the tread of her right boot. She left a pile of ash behind as she stuck the cigar back between her jaws.

“Come on! You’re going to miss him.” Sam waved O’Connor into the auditorium and led her to his aisle seat, parking her suitcase next to his.

“Stop fuckin’ fussing.” O’Connor pushed Sam away and sat down. She looked at the parent next to her. “How’s it hanging, toots?” Before they could respond, O’Connor spotted Bradley waiting in the wings at the side of the stage.

O’Connor stood up clapping and cheering, loud enough to overpower the names announced by Durant. “Alright! Brad-ley! Brad-ley! Brad-ley!”

The audience turned toward O’Connor’s boisterous outburst, some yelling at her to be quiet.

“Please.” Principal Durant leaned into the microphone. “You in the back, please keep your voice down.”

O’Connor waved her off. “Eat me. I saved all your asses last year, remember?” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Brad! The Bradmeister! Rad Brad!”

Durant cut her losses when she saw who was up next and announced the next name. “Bradley Shaw.”

Sam knew O’Connor was beyond his control, so he tuned her out and focused on applauding his son’s accomplishment, a wide smile on his face.

“That’s my boy!” O’Connor jumped up from her seat and pushed past Sam, trudging quickly toward the stage.

Sam made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, then shrugged and continued clapping. “Just don’t embarrass him,” he said to himself.

O’Connor hoisted herself up on the edge of the stage, swung her right leg up, and rolled the rest of the way.

Bradley had stopped his progress to center stage, black graduation gown swaying around his feet. “O’Connor?”

He watched with surprised amusement as she stood to face him, holding out open arms.

“Gimme some sugar!” O’Connor wrapped Bradley with a tight bear hug and rocked backward, lifting him off his feet.

Sam shook his head and laughed quietly to himself. “Always the showboat.”

O’Connor released Bradley and stepped over to Principal Durant. She recoiled at O’Connor’s approach. “What? I’m not gonna bite you... unless you want me to.”

Durant furrowed her brow and frowned just as O’Connor grabbed the microphone.

She pointed at Bradley. “Give it up for Bradley fuckin’ Shaw! Man of the fuckin’ hour.” O’Connor dropped the microphone, hooked her arm around Bradley’s neck, and led him off stage, encouraged by hoots and hollers from his classmates. He grabbed his diploma from Durant as he walked by, sharing a brief handshake.

“Thanks,” Bradley said to Durant. “And sorry.” He motioned at O’Connor pulling him across the rest of the stage and down the side stairs. Durant returned a pained smile and nodded before picking up the microphone and continuing the ceremony.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“It’s awesome that you’re here... I can’t believe it actually, but I can’t leave yet,” Bradley said.

“Sure you can. Come on. Sam’s waiting.”

“O’Connor.” Bradley grabbed her shoulders with both hands. “Listen to me.” He hugged her and whispered in her ear. “Thanks, but I want to sit here with my friends. Plus Trillian is up soon.” He stepped back. “Okay? See you when it’s over.”

O’Connor hadn’t expected to be overruled by a teenager, but she recovered quickly. “Damn straight.” She nodded and pointed back at Bradley as she walked casually back to her seat. “Bradley fuckin’ Shaw in da house!”

Instead of disdain like when O’Connor had first piped up, the audience broke into applause. She bowed and returned to her seat.

Sam grinned at her. “Even when it’s not about you, it’s always about you.”

O’Connor shrugged. “What can I say. When you got it, you got it. And I got it.”

“Trillian Stark,” Principal Durant announced. Claps and cheers rose up from the audience.

Trillian strutted across the stage, her bright orange and closely cropped hair practically lighting the way.

Sam placed a hand on O’Connor’s shoulder and shook his head. “Once is enough.”

O’Connor stood, clapping. “Okay, dad.” She grabbed her cigar stub with one hand and placed her index finger and thumb of her other hand between her lips and blew. A shrill whistle blasted across the auditorium. “Trillian for the win! You go, girl!”

Sam clapped enthusiastically. “You’re too much.”

“Au contraire,” O’Connor said between whistles. “I’m never enough!”

“I think the audience would disagree.”

O’Connor managed to keep her voice down for the rest of the ceremony and Sam was quick to pull her out of the auditorium when it finished twenty minutes later.

“Your friend sure likes the sound of her own voice.”

Sam turned to find his ex-wife looking at him warmly. He glanced up the hallway to where O’Connor was busying herself reading one of the many bulletin boards scattered around the school. Out of earshot, a good thing.

 “Claire.” Sam pushed his and O’Connor’s suitcases aside and gave her a hug. Their bodies still fit nicely together, even after their separation so many years ago.

“My... our son is all grown up.” Claire pulled away. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job. I had nothing to do with it.”

“The last couple of years have meant a lot to him, Sam. You’ve really stepped up,” Claire said.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, then balked.

“Take the compliment. I don’t give them out lightly.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Mom! Dad!” Bradley hustled down the hallway toward Sam and Claire, with Jack and Trillian following close behind. He hugged Sam. “If O’Connor was here, I was hoping you’d be too.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Congratulations, son.”

Jack spotted O’Connor in the crowded hallway and dragged Trillian over to her. “What you did was epic! Why didn’t you do that for me?”

“Sam made me late.”

“Fuck you. Did not,” Sam said from behind the group. “She didn’t listen to me and had to take a different flight.”

“I got here, didn’t I?” O’Connor gave Sam a playful sneer. “So, can it, Mr. Maxipad.”

Claire gave Sam a curious eye. “Mr... Maxipad?”

“I... I used a maxipad as a bandage once,” Sam stammered. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Trillian said. “I mean that’s literally the reason maxipads exist.”

“Who asked you, tangerine?” O’Connor scrutinized Trillian’s short orange hair. “You cut that yourself?”

Trillian stepped up to O’Connor. The graffiti-covered Doc Martens poking out from under her gown gave her an extra inch over O’Connor and she used it to her advantage. “As a matter of fact, yeah. Saves me a shit-ton of money.”

O’Connor spotted Sam glowering at her and took the hint. She nodded at Trillian. “Smart.”

Looking to diffuse the tension, Claire stepped past Sam and addressed the group. “Anyone hungry?”

Jack pointed at O’Connor with both hands, grinning ear to ear. “Taco Siempre?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” O’Connor pulled Jack into a headlock and gave him a noogie. “I’m buying.”

Sam grabbed the suitcases as the rest of the group navigated their way around other mingling families in the hallway and headed for the school’s main entrance.

Sam glanced at Jack and Trillian. “Where are your parents? They’re invited too.”

Jack and Trillian shared a knowing glance and shrugged in unison. “My folks are in Germany. A river cruise this time. And Trillian’s are—”

“My foster parents don’t give a shit,” Trillian said. “But that doesn’t matter.” She grabbed Bradley’s hand and interlocked her fingers with his. “I consider you guys my family now.”

Fifteen minutes later, Claire pulled her red Nissan Leaf into the parking lot of Taco Siempre. Jack’s orange Honda Civic was already there and the three teens were sitting on the hood of the car laughing at the unfolding scene. Their graduation regalia lay piled in the back seat of the little car.

“Took you long enough,” Jack said.

O’Connor rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Would you rather have walked?” Claire locked the Leaf and tossed the keys in her purse.

Sam watched the two women bristle at each other, ready to jump in and put out any fire that developed.

“No,” O’Connor said. “Thank you for driving.”

Sam pulled O’Connor aside. “That was remarkably civil of you.”

“Yeah, well... Don’t expect me to make it a habit.” O’Connor pushed by him and led the group through the front doors. There was one booth left inside the small restaurant. For six people, it would be a tight squeeze. “Claire? Could you grab a table?”

Claire spun on her heels and headed toward the booth.

“Wait.”

Claire paused and faced O’Connor again, an annoyed expectation on her face.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Just a diet Coke.”

O’Connor stared. “A diet Coke? That’s it?”

“That’s what I said.” Claire sneered and headed back to the booth. “You should check those hearing aid batteries.”

Jack leaned toward Bradley and lowered his voice. “I don’t think your mom likes O’Connor.”

Overhearing, Trillian answered for Bradley. “What was your first clue?”

Sam had watched the entire exchange. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“Not while we’re here.” O’Connor glanced at Claire, who was sitting at the booth close to the window, then back at Sam. “Thank Christ we leave tomorrow.”

“I thought you two were cool, from last time,” Sam said. “She hasn’t forgotten about your trip to the morgue together.”

“Shit. Forgot about that. It’s been a while and we’ve been busy.”

“Just keep it civil, okay? I’ll have a beef burrito and a coffee.” Sam strolled over to the booth and slid onto the red melamine bench seat next to Claire. “Sorry about O’Connor. She takes a little getting used to.”

“Yeah. I know,” Claire said. “I’m not exactly easy, either.”

Sam smiled. “Well, she’s trying to be good. Trust me on that.”

Claire gazed at the traffic on Glenoaks Boulevard.

Sam squeezed her hand gently. “It’s good to see you.”

She smiled pensively. “You, too.” Claire squeezed back and pulled her hand away.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re here for Brad and that’s all that matters to me.”

Bradley and Trillian scooted onto the bench seat across from Sam and Claire holding trays with drinks.

“Mom, you got a diet Coke. Dad, a coffee. Trill, you got an Orange Crush, right?”

Trillian nodded, grabbed her drink, and doled out the three drinks on her tray. “Mountain Dookie for you.”

“Hey!” Bradley protested. “Try it before you diss it.”

“I’m not touching that bilge-water.”

Jack and O’Connor returned to the table and sat, O’Connor next to Sam.

“It’ll be a few minutes, guys,” Jack said.

Claire whispered casually into Sam’s ear. “Did you plan on being a buffer between me and O’Connor?”

Sam smirked. “Maybe.”

Claire touched Sam’s knee lightly under the table.

“So, kids.” O’Connor leaned forward, thrumming her fingers on the tabletop. “How’s it feel to be free of school?”

“Fucking awesome.” Immediately, Jack tried to backtrack. “Sorry, Mrs. Shaw.”

Claire waved him off. “You’re worried about swearing in front me now? Forget about it. You’ve earned it.” She addressed the three teens. “What are your plans?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I haven’t really thought much about it. Maybe take a gap year? Start a business?”

“Huh.” O’Connor leaned forward to glare at Claire. “I distinctly remember starting this conversation.”

Before the two women could get into another verbal scuffle, the intercom interrupted the Mexican music playing from the speakers in the corners. “O’Connor. Order’s up.”

“Make yourself useful and get the food,” Sam said.

O’Connor grumbled and slid out from the booth. She pointed at Jack. “You. On your feet. Help me with the order.”

Jack mobilized at once, following O’Connor to the pickup counter.

Claire shifted her gaze to Trillian. “What about you?”

Trillian took a sip from her orange soda. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably marry your son and have a couple of kids. Brad could get a job at the Food Fresh and we could rent a place near the school.” She grabbed Bradley’s arm and batted her eyelashes at him. “Sounds perfect, right?”

Bradley’s face drained of color as he choked on a mouthful of Mountain Dew. “Um...”

Claire shared an amused look with Sam.

Trillian burst out laughing. “Got you good.”

Bradley let out a breath of relief. “Well, it’s not like I don’t want to do those things... just not yet.”

Trillian side-hugged Bradley. “Good answer.”

Jack set a tray of food on the table. “What’d I miss?”

“Brad and I and getting married and having eight kids.” Trillian tried to keep a straight face, but it was next to impossible.

“Eight?” Bradley’s eyes bugged out. “I thought it was two.”

“Anything can happen,” Trillian said.

“Are you serious?” Jack’s eyes darted back and forth between Bradley and Trillian.

“No. I’m kidding. But you should’ve seen Brad’s face.”

“I’m glad I amuse you,” Bradley said.

O’Connor slid the second tray of food onto the table.

“I’m glad you amuse me, too.” Trillian gave Bradley a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now let’s eat.”

“Hold on.” O’Connor held onto her tray and placed a hand on Jack’s. “What do you all think about Hawaii?”

The group exchanged looks across the table.

“Sounds like a nice place to visit,” Bradley said.

“Except for the molten lava. Burning to a crisp would not make a good holiday. There’s been a lot of that over there lately.” Jack tried to unwrap his burrito and O’Connor smacked his hand.

“I’ve always wanted to tour the observatories on Mauna Kea,” Trillian said.

“That would be cool.” Jack leaned back. “Random fact. Mauna Kea is taller than the Titanic is deep.”

Trillian raised a brow. “That is random.”

“What would you say if I said I had plane tickets for everyone? Let’s call it... a graduation gift.”

The three teen’s jaws dropped in unison as they looked at each other.

“You’re joking,” Trillian said.

Bradley shot a quick glance at Sam, but his face didn’t give anything away.

“O’Connor doesn’t joke about things like this,” Sam said.

Trillian stared at O’Connor. “Shut up. Are you serious?”

Jack glanced at Trillian, then at O’Connor. He smiled and began to nod slowly. “I think she’s serious, guys.”

“No way.” Trillian’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Come on, O’Connor,” Sam said. “Quit the games.”

“But I was enjoying it. Weren’t you?”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

“So, we’re going to Hawaii?” Bradley locked eyes with Sam. “For real?”

“I don’t want to steal O’Connor’s thunder, but... yeah. You’re going to Hawaii—”

Trillian squealed and leaned over the table, pulling O’Connor into an awkward hug. “Thank you thank you!”

“Okay.” O’Connor struggled to stay upright, almost pushing Trillian back. “Enough.” She sat back down. “It’s got to be okay with your parents.”

“Mine are floating somewhere in Germany,” Jack said.

“Face up or face down?” Bradley began to laugh.

“Dude, that’s dark.” Jack faced O’Connor. “Getting permission is a no-brainer.”

“And like I said before...” Trillian shot a look at Claire. “My foster parents don’t care what I do. I’ll just tell them I’m going and they’ll say, ‘you’re blocking the TV.’ ”

O’Connor glanced at Claire. “I’ve got a ticket for you, too.”

“Me?” Claire showed genuine surprise. “Oh! You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. But I’ll never be able to get time off on such short notice.”

O’Connor shrugged. “It’s an open ticket. You can use it whenever you want.”

Claire hesitated for a moment and considered the consequences of what she was going to do. Then she reached out and gave O’Connor’s hand a light squeeze. “Thank you. Really.”

O’Connor nodded. “Not a problem.”

Sam leaned back to regard Claire, then O’Connor. “Is this what you call ‘burying the hatchet’?”

O’Connor half-grinned. “Maybe.” She dug into the trays and began handing out food. “Let’s eat God’s bounty before it’s stone cold.”

And they did.

Claire offered to put up Sam and O’Connor for the night. Sam had experienced sharing a room with O’Connor during their trip to Mar-A-Verde, before it was reclaimed by the sea. Nothing had changed. O’Connor still slept like a rock and snored like a jackhammer. He moved to the couch in the living room to preserve his sanity, but his brain obsessed over the upcoming trip and made sleep an impossibility.

At the first hint of dawn, Sam gave up and hauled his suitcase to the front door. He pulled out his phone and the lock screen faded up with the time: 5:08 am. He folded the blanket that he had used during the night and placed it on the end of the couch.

He went to the kitchen and started brewing a carafe of coffee. “This should help wake people up.” Sam paced the kitchen as hot water filtered through the coffee grounds and released a pleasant but strong aroma that could stir anyone from sleep.

Claire was first to the kitchen. “Hey.”

Sam nodded at her. “Hey.” He pulled open the wrong cupboard looking for mugs.

“Third one over,” Claire said. “You sleep okay?”

“Not really.” Sam pulled four mugs off the shelf. “You know I’m super anxious when there’s multiple variables and schedules to keep.”

“Variables like Brad and O’Connor?”

“Especially O’Connor.”

“I remember,” Claire smiled wistfully. “Some things don’t change.”

“Do I hear someone taking my name in vain?” O’Connor’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Nope,” Sam said as O’Connor strolled into the kitchen. “Always with love.” He glanced at her. “Coffee?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

Sam poured a coffee for O’Connor, Claire, then himself. He took a lingering first sip and felt relaxation flow through his body. “We have a nine-fifteen flight, so we should get moving.”

O’Connor gulped some of her coffee and strolled out of the kitchen. “I’ll get the kid up. Don’t want to be an uncontrollable variable.” She pounded on Bradley’s door three times, then burst into his room.

“Get your ass out of bed.” O’Connor’s voice boomed and Sam swore he felt the house shake. “We leave in five.” She returned to the kitchen, a satisfied grin on her face. “He’s moving.”

“You’re very good at that,” Claire said smirking.

“I’ve got a real talent with kids.” O’Connor gulped her coffee.

The doorbell rang.

“You’ve got something.” Sam set his coffee mug down and headed to the front door.

Trillian and Jack stood on the front stoop with their suitcases, trying hard not to show their excitement.

“Is it okay for me to park in the alley?” Jack rocked his suitcase back and forth. “I think there’s enough room beside the garage. My car’s small, but if there isn’t room I’ll park—”

Claire appeared behind Sam. “Go ahead, Jack. You’ll be fine.”

Sam took Trillian’s suitcase and set it next to the door. He reached for Jack’s, but he had already hopped down the steps and was halfway back to the Civic before he realized he was dragging his suitcase behind him.

“Shit.” He shook his head, ran back to the stoop, and handed his suitcase to Sam.

“Just a little bit excited?” Sam winked at him.

“Just not totally awake yet.” Jack ran back to the Civic and hopped in through the open driver’s side window.

“Make it quick, Jack,” Sam called out as he placed his suitcase next to Trillian’s. “We got coffee, but we also got to go soon, like in ten minutes.”

“On it!” Jack started the Civic and peeled out, making a U-turn in the middle of the street. He shot back past the house and turned into the alley.

“I’ll take one of those coffees,” Trillian said.

Claire waved her in and Sam followed them back to the kitchen. Bradley had just finished stirring sugar into his coffee as Trillian beckoned for it.

“Please, kind sir!”

Bradley handed her his mug and poured another for himself, emptying the carafe. He added sugar and was about to take a sip when Jack burst through the front door and into the kitchen.

“Hey dude, is that for me?”

Bradley gave him a sideways look. “Of course. I live to serve.”

Jack took the mug gladly. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey, barista.” Trillian nodded Bradley over and shared her coffee with him.

Sam’s text message alert went off. He checked his phone. “Our ride is here, people. Grab your bags and saddle up.”

Bradley ran back to his room.

“Get my bag while you’re at it,” O’Connor called back before gulping down the rest of her coffee.

Claire took everyone’s mugs and placed them in the sink. “It was nice to have a full house again, even if it was for one night.”

Sam hung back at the kitchen. “You can still come, you know.”

Claire took Sam by his sturdy shoulders. “You know I can’t.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a brief fierce hug. “Be careful.”

“It’s a Hawaiian vacation,” Sam said. “What could go wrong?”

Claire took a half step back. “Are you forgetting who’s leading this charge?” She locked her gaze with Sam’s.

“O’Connor,” they said in unison, laughing.

“We may not be married anymore,” Claire said, “but you’re still important to me. So I’ll say it again. Be careful.”

Sam nodded. “I will. You have my word.”

O’Connor bounded back through the front door. “What’s the fucking holdup?” She saw Sam and Claire in a partial embrace. “Wait. Are you two...”

“No,” Sam said. “Just saying goodbye.”

“Uh, really?” O’Connor squinted doubt at him.

“Really.” Sam stepped to the front door. “Where’s my suitcase?”

“Already got it loaded. Come on.”

O’Connor hopped down the front steps toward the waiting Nissan Pathfinder Armada.

Sam paused at the front door and looked back at Claire framed by the kitchen that he never knew, but should have. He should have been around for a lot of things, most of all for his wife and son. Regret and guilt flooded him. He offered a subdued wave and closed the door.

O’Connor stood waiting for him by the SUV, then pulled him aside. “It’s for the best.”

“What is?”

“Claire staying here,” O’Connor said. “Less complications.”

“What do you mean?”

O’Connor laughed and pulled open the passenger door. “Get your ass in the car. We got a plane to catch.”

He saw that the front passenger seat had been reserved for him. Sam walked around the back of the Pathfinder to allow time to collect himself. O’Connor would freak out if she spotted tears.

Sam hopped into the SUV and buckled himself in. He peered out through the driver side window and saw that Claire had opened the front door and was standing on the front stoop, waving.

“Have a great time,” she called out.

Jack leaned through the open window and waved enthusiastically. “We will!”

Sam waved again as the SUV pulled forward, sure that Claire would never see it. But O’Connor did.

She pulled herself forward from the back so she could whisper into Sam’s ear. “Don’t go and do something stupid.”

“That’s funny coming from you.”

O’Connor grabbed a fistful of Sam’s shirt, more serious than playful. “I mean it. We’re on vacation. Less complications, remember?”

“Can I quote you on that?”

O’Connor held Sam in her silent serious gaze.

“Don’t worry.” Sam twisted in his seat to face O’Connor. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

O’Connor nodded, satisfied that Sam wasn’t hiding anything, and let go of his shirt. “Better be.” She sat back.

Bradley looked at O’Connor, then Sam. “Everything okay, Dad?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Sam twisted to look at everyone in the back seats. “Next stop, LAX.”

Cheers erupted from the teens as the Pathfinder headed west on Sheldon Street. The driver navigated through the twisted knot of asphalt that tied Los Angeles together and soon merged onto San Diego Freeway, which took the group through the Sepulveda Pass and south to the Los Angeles International Airport.

The dawn traffic was light and made the trip effortless. Forty minutes later, the SUV rolled into the roundabout of 1 World Way and stopped in front of Terminal B. The driver popped the back hatch.

“Everyone out. Grab your stuff.” Sam was preaching to the choir because everyone had already unbuckled and hopped out of the SUV as soon as the driver stopped and unlocked the doors.

Sam closed the back hatch and waved to the driver. “Our flight leaves at Gate 208. Everyone ready?” He surveyed the group. O’Connor rolled her eyes and sighed, ready to go but clearly bored. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bradley, Trillian, and Jack practically vibrated with excitement. “Let’s roll out.”

With a little difficulty, O’Connor matched Sam’s stride. “Slow the fuck down. We’ve got lots of time.”

“I’ll relax once we’re through security.”

“It’ll be a piece of cake. Except for my leg,” O’Connor said. “That always gets security’s attention.”

Sam chuckled. “At least we don’t have weapons in our suitcases this time.”

Trillian turned to Bradley and Jack. “Can you believe this is happening?”

“It’s totally sick,” Bradley said. “I can pretty much guarantee that no one in our graduating class is going to Hawaii right now.”

“I was sad to miss the grad after-party, though. And the pancake breakfast,” Jack said. Trillian and Bradley stopped in their tracks. He looked back at them and laughed. “What? I’m kidding!”

The group worked their way though security without issue, except for O’Connor and her leg of course. It didn’t help speed things along when she told TSA officers that she kept her bowie knife in her prosthetic. The joke backfired and she had to send her leg through the X-ray machine. Sam managed to convince the officers not to fine her, but they confiscated her cigar stub.

“Jesus Christ, O’Connor.” It took all Sam had to keep his cool. “Wasn’t it you who was telling me about keeping this vacation uncomplicated?”

“It was funny.”

“Yeah. I can see you laughing from inside a jail cell as we leave you behind,” Sam said. “Pretty damn funny.”

“You’re so dramatic.” O’Connor pulled away from the group and headed up the escalator to Level 4, Departures. “You’ll retell that story often. You watch.”

Sam scowled and followed her.

Bradley leaned into Trillian and Jack and lowered his voice. “I say we keep to ourselves once we get there. These adults are creating too much drama.”

“I second that,” Trillian said. “Besides, we need to find Jack a girlfriend.”

“But I have no time—”

“No time for a girlfriend, yeah, yeah.” Bradley shook his head, grinning. “We’ve heard this before.”

“But what about a temporary one, at least.” Trillian looked at Jack over the rims of her sunglasses. “Would you go for that?”

Jack considered the idea. “That might work.”

O’Connor crested the top of the escalator and did a one-eighty, blocking Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam looked at her confused. “Move.”

“Shit,” O’Connor said with a sigh, and stepped aside, revealing Hope leaning against a support column. Her hair was a little shorter than it had been in the Bahamas, but she was still decked out in black: leather jacket, jeans, and Vans. Her black T-shirt featured Mickey Mouse sporting two middle fingers with the words “FUCK STRUNK” underneath. It was a far cry from the usual obscure punk rock band. Beside her sitting on rollers, sat the hot pink suitcase. It occurred to Sam that the suitcase had more stickers on it. The Bratz, My Little Pony, and Disney stickers were partially covered by other, newer ones, specifically “Mar-A-Verde SUCKS” and a large “ReLAX” centered in the fuselage of a plane icon.

“No complications, huh?” Sam shook his head and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot I invited her, last minute.”

“No, you didn’t forget.”

“Well, shit, Sam,” O’Connor said. “You’re shacking up with her, so what does it matter?”

Sam gave O’Connor a light slap on the back. “Thanks.”

Bradley gazed around Sam’s shoulder to see why O’Connor was blocking the way. “Hope?” His eyes brightened as he hustled over and gave her a hug, much to the surprise of Trillian.

“Who’s that?” Trillian’s jealousy seeped through.

“No idea,” Jack said. “But she looks kind of like you, except older.”

“Shut up.” Trillian narrowed her eyes at Jack, then at Hope and Bradley. He glanced back at her and waved her over.

“Hope, this is my girlfriend Trillian.” Bradley slid his arm around Trillian’s waist.

Trillian held out her hand. “Hi.”

Hope returned a firm handshake, then cocked her head to one side. “Trillian... as in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”

“Yeah,” Trillian said. “My fosters were a fucking laugh riot.”

“And this is Jack, my best friend.”

“Cool.” Hope and Jack shook hands. “I hear you had some wild times with spiders last year.”

“Damn straight,” Jack said. “Built my own flame thrower.”

“And almost incinerated yourself,” Bradley said. “Why didn’t you join in the fun?”

“Uh yeah, no.” Hope grimaced. “I don’t do spiders.”

Sam poked his head into the conversation. “And where we’re going, there won’t be any spiders.”

“Hey, Sam.” Hope’s voice softened as she stepped up and hugged him, more tightly and closely than she had with anyone else.

“Glad you could make it,” Sam said quietly, his voice warm and close to her ear.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Hope backed up and eyed Bradley. “I mean you only get to graduate high school once. And thanks to the generosity of O’Connor, we can all celebrate together.”

O’Connor took a bow and attempted a Southern drawl reminiscent of Elvis Presley. “Thank you. Thank you very much. You’re beautiful.”

Sam pointed at Hope’s suitcase. “I see you’re still lugging the pink abomination.”

“Yup.” Hope kicked the side panel. “Still rolling and collecting memories.”

“Look,” O’Connor said. “I hate to break up this little trip down memory lane, but time’s ticking. I didn’t get up at oh-dark-hundred to stand around and yak.”

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat and led the way. “Let’s get everyone checked in. Gate 208.”

“Then food,” Jack said.

“Then food,” Sam nodded.

Jack looked around the main foyer as they walked through it. “They need a Taco Siempre here.”

O’Connor snapped her fingers. “Yes. They do.”

“But...” Bradley grinned at Jack. “Is mixing spicy food and a five hour flight really a good idea?”

“For me it is,” Jack said.

“What about everyone else?” Bradley pinched his nostrils closed. “You can’t open the window on a plane.”

“Okay. TMI.” Trillian grabbed Bradley’s hand and tugged him along.

“Wait up!” Jack ran to catch them.

“What do you plan on doing while we’re in Hawaii?” Hope watched Sam’s face as he answered.

“As little as possible.”

But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when one least expects it.

Spokes

Pandora Rockwell preferred Lanai to the other Hawaiian Islands. The small island west of Maui had a year round population of a few thousand people. Because most of the land was privately owned, those who made the effort to travel there were offered unrivaled privacy. That was a bonus, since Pandora was a self-made millionaire, soon to be billionaire if she played her cards right.

Pandora had built her company, Rockwell Simulations Inc., from the ground up. She had spent the past twenty-five years using cutting edge computer technology to analyze real-time atmospheric data. Everyone wanted to know what the weather would be like tomorrow or next week. And Pandora decided that her company would be the only system to deliver reliable results. There were many competitors, but none came close to Rockwell’s accuracy.

During the past five years, Pandora had incorporated artificial intelligence into Rockwell’s forecasting to further increase its range. Millions of AI calculations, based on current and past weather events, atmosphere dynamics, and particle physics, allowed weather predictions that were up to eighty percent correct over thirty days.

The world beat a path to her door. Television networks, radio stations, newspapers, airlines, and other companies that relied on accurate weather subscribed to her top-tier subscription service and made her rich. Her limitless access to money led to her becoming a sought-after angel investor. She was always looking for new opportunities.

But everything had a cost. For Pandora, she chose business deals over family life, and as a result had been divorced three times before she gave up on marriage. Her second marriage had produced a daughter, Maddilyn, which she considered the second best thing she had brought into this world. Lucky for her, Maddilyn didn’t hate her like her ex-husbands did.

Maddilyn had wanted for nothing growing up. The latest toys, the best clothes, the most attentive nannies and tutors, nothing was out of reach. Now seventeen years old, the only thing she lacked were good friends who liked her for who she was as a person, and not just because her mom was loaded. She went with her mother to Lanai because Pandora swore it would be a “real vacation”, and not business-related. Maddilyn liked new experiences. Anything could happen. “My life can’t be predicted by a Rockwell simulation,” she would often say.

Club Niho‘gula was a small all-inclusive resort, hosting two dozen finely appointed two-bedroom cabins situated around a restaurant, pub, and gift shop. Located on the east coast of Lanai, the club faced an expansive but secluded cove. Rocky beach heads extended north and south where numerous shipwrecks littered the shores in shallow, mostly unmarked graves. On a clear day, the West Maui Mountains ten miles east could be seen poking through their cloud halos. The spectacular sunrises were worth getting up early for. Many small businesses contracted with the club to supply extra guest amenities, such as snorkeling and sight-seeing tours. The club was open year round, but the summer months were busiest for Club Niho‘gula and its exclusive guests. Many were regulars, like Pandora, but this was the first time Maddilyn had gone with her.

Today marked the beginning of week two of their “real” vacation. Pandora and Maddilyn had claimed the two chaise lounges on the beach in front of their cabin. The essence of coconut tanning lotion hung heavy between the two of them.

“What are your plans for today, Maddi?” Pandora focused on her phone.

Maddilyn sighed and adjusted her Armani sunglasses on her nose. “Nothing.”

“What about snorkeling?” Pandora gazed out into the cove. “Looks gorgeous out there. Maybe you’ll find some treasure.”

Maddilyn ignored the question. She adjusted her red bikini top, flipped herself face down on her chaise lounge, and turned her head to watch her mom through her sunglasses. All she wanted to do was work on her tan while listening to music or a book. Her current steamy romance series partially made up for the lack of available guys. But books and her imagination could only go so far.

Pandora reclined on her chaise lounge, a wide-brimmed sun hat and sunglasses shading her face, and a tropical-themed silk sarong covering up the bottom half of her white bikini. She focused intently on her phone with one hand and ran her fingers along the seams of her sarong with the other. Back and forth, back and forth.

To Maddilyn, it looked like Pandora was texting someone, but she couldn’t be sure.

“That’s not work, is it, Mom?”

Pandora set her phone down and focused on the cove. “Of course not. This a real vacation, remember?”

“If you say so.” Maddilyn closed her eyes and let the warmth of the tropical sun lull her towards deep relaxation. It was only a minute or two before she could hear Pandora’s fingers tapping on her phone again. It was the one thing that stopped Maddilyn from completely giving in to the summer heat.

 Pandora casually glanced at her gold iWatch. “You know what would be nice?” She spoke loud enough for Maddilyn to hear. “A tall, cool Hawaiian iced tea. Would you be a dear and fetch one from Gus?”

Maddilyn cracked her eyes open and saw Pandora looking at her over the rims of her sunglasses. “Really, mom?”

Pandora kept her gaze on her watch as the corners of her mouth curved up in a subtle smile. “I’d be forever grateful, honey. You get yourself one, too.”

That caught Maddilyn’s attention. The drinking age in Hawaii was twenty-one. “Really?”

“Really,” Pandora said, “but without all the adult stuff in it.” She wiggled her fingers.

“Oh.” Maddilyn pushed herself up, tied on her own red silk sarong, and trudged up the beach toward the bar. “I’m only here to be your servant,” she said, thinking she was out of earshot.

“I heard that,” Pandora called back. “Remember, you chose to come.”

That was true. And honestly Maddilyn’s life could be so much worse. Perhaps she could dig up a little more gratitude.

She could see Gus serving a guest at the bar. Gus was the easy-to-remember name he chose for guests, but his real name was Kanakamana. He had said it meant “powerful man.” But Maddilyn couldn’t keep the name in her head. All she heard was “Copacabana”, a song by Barry Manilow that Pandora had overplayed so much that the track was burned permanently into Maddilyn’s brain.

Powerful man, however, was apt. Tall and well built without being grossly chiseled, Gus’s best feature was his bright smile. Tied for second was his dark, shaggy hair and the intricate Hawaiian tattoos that spanned his arms and chest. Unfortunately, he was at least twice her age, but that didn’t stop Maddilyn from inserting his likeness into her romance novels. It made the books better.

She stepped up to the bar. Gus nodded at her and smiled as he finished with another guest.

God, his smile.

Maddilyn felt her knees weaken. She planted herself on one of the bamboo stools in front of the countertop.

“Maddi! What can I do for you?”

Steamy romance novel thoughts of what Gus could do for her flashed through her young mind, temporarily distracting her. “Uh, could I get two Hawaiian iced teas?”

He grabbed two tall glasses and gave her a sly grin as he filled each half full of ice. “Two?”

Maddilyn shrugged. “Well...”

“One adult version? One young adult version?”

She nodded and sighed, her shoulders deflating. “I can’t wait to be twenty-one.”

“Slow down,” Gus said as he prepared the two drinks. “Enjoy your youth. You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”

Maddilyn rested her head on her arm on the countertop, her eyes watching wave after wave curl onto the beach. “This place needs more guests my age.”

“Agree. One hundred percent.” Gus placed the two drinks beside her arm. Maddilyn sat up. “The young adult version has the red umbrella.” He winked at her.

“Thanks, Gus.”

“My pleasure, Maddi. Say hi to your mom for me.”

“I will.” Halfway back to their chaise lounges, Maddilyn knocked back half of her mom’s Hawaiian iced tea, then filled it back up from hers. She’d never know the difference. Besides, it wasn’t even noon. Who drinks before noon?

Near the shoreline, maybe thirty feet from where Pandora sat, a splash in the water caught Maddilyn’s attention. It was different from the predictable waves that crashed on the shore. She squinted where she had first seen the disturbance and saw movement again. It looked almost like a dozen people were skipping stones, all at the same spot at the same time.

“What the...” Maddilyn’s eyes went wide as saucers as she watched something roll out of the surf, like a multi-blade propeller on its side, but soft and organically shaped. Whatever it was, the thing gained speed quickly and headed right for Pandora.

“Mom?”

The thing reached Pandora in a few seconds and latched onto her arm.

“MOM!” Maddilyn dropped the drinks and ran.

Pandora’s peripheral vision caught the creature’s movement before she had a chance to set her phone down and react. A mass of slimy legs and a bulbous body wrapped itself around her left arm.

She screamed and tried to shake the creature off, but it clung to her more tightly. Then she felt intense pain, as if she was being burned and cut at the same time.

“Mom!” Pandora thought she heard Maddilyn’s voice but wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not. She tried to dig under the creature’s legs with the fingers of her free hand, but it was like trying to grab strands of algae in a tide pool. The creature’s leg kept slipping away until something pricked her finger. She pulled her right hand away and saw a cut on her index fingertip, like a paper cut, but deep enough to draw blood.

Then as quickly as it started, the creature bolted back toward the water and disappeared, leaving her left arm mottled with bloody cuts. The attack had lasted no more than thirty seconds.

Maddilyn arrived a second later. “Mom! Are you okay?” She wrapped her arms around her, then saw the blood. “Holy fuck!” She grabbed one of their beach towels and wrapped Pandora’s left hand and forearm.

She looked back at the bar ready to yell for Gus, and realized he was already on his way, his phone to his ear.

“I’ve called medical.” Gus crouched next to Pandora. He took off her sunglasses and peered into her eyes, checking both her pupils. “Mrs. Rockwell, I’d like to look at your arm. Will you let me do that?”

Pandora stared at him, through him, like he wasn’t there.

“Grab the other towel and cover her up,” Gus said to Maddilyn. “She might be in shock.” He took her right hand and noticed a small amount of blood clotting on her index finger. “Mrs. Rockwell?”

Maddilyn unfolded another towel and spread it over Pandora, despite the noonday sunshine. “Is she going to be okay?”

As if on cue, Pandora’s eyes cleared, and she smiled. “Gus. Why so formal? Call me Pandora.”

“Okay.” Gus gave Maddilyn a quick, reassuring look. “I think she’s going to be okay.” He returned his focus to Pandora. “Will you let me take a look at your arm?”

“Go ahead,” Pandora said.

Gus unwrapped Pandora’s left forearm slowly and carefully. “Let me know if you feel any pain and I’ll stop.”

Pandora nodded. “It doesn’t hurt actually.”

Gus worked the towel off, revealing the remnants of bloody cuts, but the bleeding had already stopped. He gently raised her arm to get a good look at the cuts, but most of them had closed up. “That’s weird.”

Maddilyn shot him a concerned eye. “What?”

“It looks like the cuts have mostly healed.” Gus scrunched his brows in confusion. “Or the cuts weren’t very deep to begin with.”

“What would do something like this?” Pandora asked.

Gus shook his head. “I was serving someone. I didn’t see the attack.”

Pandora raised her forearm for a closer look at some of the healing cuts. “That thing was wrapped around my arm, like a snake.” She looked at Maddilyn and Gus, baffled. “And it was slimy.”

“Whatever it was, it took off just as I got to you,” Maddilyn said. “It rolled, like a bike wheel, but without the tire. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know of anything that would move like that.” Gus looked back at the bar. A couple of customers were standing waiting to be served. “I got to get back, but the medical staff will be here soon, a few minutes. I’d feel better if they checked you out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Pandora ran a gentle finger lightly over her forearm.

Gus jogged back to the bar. On the way he picked up the two glasses that had been filled with the Hawaiian iced teas from earlier.

“Thanks, Gus.”

He gave them a thumbs up.

Maddilyn shifted her attention back to Pandora and her forearm. Something wasn’t right. “Uh, Mom?”

Pandora looked at her, confused by Maddilyn’s concern. Her forearm had almost completely healed. “What is it?”

“Where’s your watch?”

Pandora glanced at her wrist, then down at the sand beside her chaise lounge. “Did it fall off?”

Maddilyn dropped to her knees and ran her hands through the warm sand. “It’s not here.”

“It’s got to be there,” Pandora said. “Check underneath.”

“I checked already.”

“Check again. That thing cost twenty grand.”

Maddilyn rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you can’t buy another one.” She sat on the edge of her chaise lounge and propped her chin up on her hand.

“That’s not the point.” Pandora slid off the chaise lounge and flipped it on its side. She ran her fingers across the first few inches of sand.

“Satisfied?”

“No.” Pandora sat back on her heels and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m fucking pissed.”

“Twenty-K can get you a new watch but can’t buy you a new arm,” Maddilyn said. “Be thankful it wasn’t permanently shredded.”

Pandora glared at her and stood. She brushed the sand off her sarong and stormed off across the sand dune. “I’ll be in the cabin.”

“No shit,” Maddilyn said to herself. She spotted Pandora’s phone balancing on the edge of the upturned chaise lounge and grabbed it. “Missing something?” Maddilyn waved the phone in the air without looking back at her mother.

Pandora stomped back, grabbed her phone, and resumed her emphatic exit. The two medical staff had just rounded the bar, getting their directions from Gus.

“Over here.” Pandora beckoned them to follow.

Maddilyn laid back onto her chaise lounge. “Gus got a thank you, but not me. God forbid she thanks me.” She inserted her earbuds and pressed play on her current audiobook.

The central character’s confident voice swept aside everything that had just happened and helped Maddilyn slip back into some steamy romance. She grinned, licked her lips, and closed her eyes behind her Armanis. “Hello, Gus...”

Enjoying this sample of Tentacle 2.0: Deadly Depths?

Please add it to your cart and continue reading. Thank you.