Chapter 8-2
650 Words
Sean drove to the place where the ghosts lived.
Jesse Marcus had dragged his family to Jupiter Point because of an airstrip he’d seen for sale in a flight magazine. He’d purchased two small, fixed-wing planes and set up Marcus Flight Tours. Sean always suspected he intended to smuggle drugs through the flightseeing service, but Jesse never copped to it.
After the crash, no one had stepped forward to purchase the business, and it had been liquidated. The lawyers had sold the planes, but Sean had kept the property. He’d never missed a tax p*****t, even though they were pretty hefty. He’d turned down a few purchase offers. He wasn’t sure why it was important to him, since he’d never intended to return. He had no clue what to do with an old airstrip.
But it was a little piece of Jupiter Point, and it was all he had left of his family. He hadn’t wanted to let it go.
The airstrip was located outside of town, at the end of a long, barely maintained gravel road. It was only half a mile from the ocean, and beach grass grew wild to the edge of the runway. Sean parked next to the entrance, which was chained off. “No Trespassing” signs were posted every twenty feet or so—the estate lawyers’ idea. A light wind rustled the knee-high grass and bright California poppies grew wild alongside the tarmac.
The property didn’t have much to offer—one ramshackle hangar, a small office building that doubled as a waiting room. But the view was pretty amazing. The blue Pacific shimmered off to the west, and the stunning bulk of Jupiter Point rose to the east. The scent of salt air and sweet grass, and the faintest ghost of airplane fuel, brought back a rush of memories.
Ugly memories.
The time he’d been so angry at Jesse that he’d jumped out of the cockpit while the plane was still moving.
The time Jesse had locked him in the hangar until he’d finished the maintenance chores he’d been assigned.
He could practically hear the voices from all those battles floating in the air.
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever gotten us into, Jesse! Even stupider than that peony farm!”
“Your adolescent rebellion is getting old, man. It doesn’t matter what I pick, you’ll hate it. It’s an adventure, that’s what life is for.”
“How is some Podunk nowhere town an adventure? Smoke some more w**d, why don’t you?”
“You should try it. A little more mellow would do you good.”
“I should call the cops on you. You’re offering a controlled substance to a minor.”
“Department of Empty Threats, you have a caller.”
“I’m going to file for emancipation as soon as I can.”
“I don’t know why you haven’t already. You afraid?”
“Yes! Afraid you’ll do something really stupid and land Mom in jail!”
Sean shook his head violently to chase away those voices. All those fights with his father and nothing had ever been resolved. And it never would be. One freak accident and it was over. No more fighting. No more words at all.
For months after the crash, the words Sean wanted to say ran through his mind on a nonstop loop. The stuff in his head had more reality than anything around him. He was barely aware of the McGraws. He zoned out during school. He hardly spoke to Hunter, even though they shared the upper floor of the house.
It wasn’t until he’d spotted Evie’s panicked face squished under Brad White that he’d snapped out of his stupor. Then during that night in jail, he realized it was time to stop thinking and act. Pick a path and take some sort of step forward. Ever since then, he’d kept moving. He’d been driven to succeed, to prove himself. To triumph over every impossible situation.
So why had he come back to Jupiter Point? Good question, Chief Becker. Why the f**k would he come back to the place where people saw him as nothing but trouble? The place where he was known as that hippie Jesse Marcus’s no-good son?
Maybe he wanted to prove he was more than that. Maybe he wanted to prove everyone wrong.
- Writer
