Noah (Knight's Edge Series Book 2) Page 2

  Noah accepted the change in topic with grace and deep appreciation because he knew it wasn’t accidental. “You haven’t seen anything yet. We’re in spring, dude.”

  “It feels like fucking Miami on steroids. I don’t want to know what it is like in the summer.”

  “Humidity is the worst. It’s hard to get used to it, but you’ll get there eventually.”

  “You’re aware this is temporary, right? I’m here just to visit.” Tristan offered him a lopsided smile and Noah counted it as a blessing, even though it was so weak it seemed like his friend’s facial muscles had forgotten how to pull his lips up.

  “Can’t blame a friend for trying.”

  “Dude, we haven’t even gotten to the car. Give me a break. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Two rows to your left.”

  When he pressed a button on the smart key to turn the alarm off, Noah studied Tristan’s face for his reaction to the car. He bought it the day Tristan called asking if he could come over. That was not to say that Noah didn’t like sports cars or that he bought his new toy to make his friend envious. On the contrary. He had always wanted a car like that and so had Tristan. The timing was perfect, though. It would help Noah distract Tristan from his hurt and entice him with the possibilities that the new city he now called home offered to people whose income was generated in American dollars.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, man!”

  Mission accomplished. Tristan’s face lit up and a boyish expression split his lips into a wide grin. Noah laughed out loud. Maybe he was also overcompensating for his own recent troubles with the fairer sex, but he felt good putting a smile on his friend’s face. God knew Tristan deserved it.

  “I know, right?”

  Popping the trunk up, Noah grabbed Tristan’s suitcase from his limp fingers, as he moved around the shiny speedster, open-mouthed and speechless. When he spoke, a playful glint twinkled in his eyes. “Living large, are we? Offed your parents? Or robbed a bank?”

  They settled in the front seats, buckled up and Noah revved the engine a couple of times before putting the car into gear. Men and their toys and all that shit was true, he thought as he backed the car out of its spot. They left the parking structure and merged into the northbound traffic, not heavy at that time of day. Not heavy at all if you grew up around L.A., facing packed freeways and dirty exhaust smoke on a regular basis.

  “Funny,” Noah finally replied, elongating the syllables like he used to do as a kid, whenever his friend said something he didn’t find amusing. It would annoy the heck out of Tristan then. It did nothing now, except make Tristan chuckle. Noah smiled and replied, “Mom and dad are just fine, thank you very much. They sent you their best, by the way.”

  The shadows returned to Tristan’s expression and Noah mentally kicked himself in the shin for being so dumb. His parents lived next door to Izzie’s. “I know. I saw Reggie and Olivia the other day when I…”

  He never finished the sentence and he didn’t have to. Noah knew all about what happened that day. His mom and dad had witnessed Tristan’s last attempt to talk to Izzie. When she refused to go out of her parents’ house, or let Tristan in, he lost it. It wasn’t pretty, but understandable. Noah didn’t feel ready to discuss details, so he pretended Tristan didn’t say anything.

  “What’s the plan? Stay for a month? Maybe two?”

  “Return ticket says two weeks; we’ll see about that.”

  “No way! I can’t even begin to show you around on that schedule. You’ve got to give me more time. I mean, there’s freaking forty-two beaches in the island alone. And they’re all amazing. Then, there’s another gazillion gorgeous places on the mainland within a two-hour drive radius, in both directions.”

  Tristan’s uncompromising shrug spoke volumes. When he rested his head on the seat and turned to look out of the window, Noah focused on the road. After over a year living away from family and friends, he was eager to talk his head off, but he respected Tristan’s choice. He sympathized with his pain. His best friend needed time to lick his wounds and the least Noah could do was shut up and drive. That’s what he did.

  * * *

  Even though Noah lived in a beachfront property in Mole Beach, one of the hippest beaches in the island, there were other stunning beaches to the south and around Conceição Lagoon. That meant the two friends rarely stayed in the house. Each day, Noah took Tristan to a different beach. His friend gradually fell in love with the striking beauty of the island and the welcoming nature of its inhabitants. Just like Noah had hoped he would.

  Two days before Tristan was scheduled to take his homeward bound flight, Noah took him to Matadeiro beach, a secluded stretch of fine white sand accessed only by water or a narrow trail through the wildness. It was his favorite spot in the whole of Floripa, as the locals called the city of Florianópolis. He had chosen to take Tristan to that destination on the last full day he was to spend in the island for a reason. And a goddamn good one at that.

  Parking the car in a private garage, Noah greeted its owner with an affectionate hug as he handed out the car key. He exchanged a few words in Portuguese with the older man, then translated the conversation to Tristan, who had grabbed their beach gear from the trunk and stood beside them wearing a curious expression. It was obvious they were talking about Tristan, even before the man took off his large straw hat and pointed it his way.

  “Seu Jorge wanted to know why you were angry on such a beautiful day. I explained to him you must go back home the day after tomorrow. He said he’d be miserable too, if he was to be cast out of Eden.”

  Tristan nodded at the silver-haired man, whose wrinkled tanned face spoke of many years of hard work under the sun, and gave him a thumbs-up. The universal gesture bridged the language gap and Seu Jorge engulfed the tall youngster in a tight embrace.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Noah guaranteed a stunned Tristan as they turned to walk out of the parking lot.

  “Don’t think so.”

  “I’ve met Brazilians from other cities and even they think Floripa’s inhabitants are the best. I mean, in a country where the citizens are famous for their warmth and laid-back attitude, I’d say the people in this island stand out. And most of them like to hug. Just saying.”

  When they came out of the garage, they stepped straight onto the small stretch of beach covered in the finest white sand. Tristan stopped in his tracks and took in the view. His eyes swept from left to right, then left again. Noah nodded when their eyes met, but chose not to comment on the other man’s slack jaw. He had a pretty good idea of what was probably going on in his friend’s head. Not long ago, Armação beach made the exact same impression on him. If he were to be honest, its effects on his senses lingered even after all his frequent returns.

  The brightly painted houses spread along the beach to the left, the small fishing boats dotting the ocean, the rocky promontory covered in light green grass right ahead. Add the clash of the breaking waves against the high walls of the ridge of rocks and the shrill cry of the seagulls flying low around the boats and one would have Noah’s idea of paradise.

  “Wow! Dude, this is the most beautiful place I’ve seen so far.” Tristan’s voice dropped a couple of octaves as if he feared he would disturb the perfection of their surroundings if he spoke louder.

  “Agree. Then again, you said that every single day as we drove back home. Not sure I should believe you now. Ouch!” Noah feigned pain when Tristan punched him on the shoulder. “What? It’s true.”

  He laughed as he slung the strap of their cooler tote over his shoulder and began to walk towards the narrow trail to the right, but Tristan didn’t follow.

  “What the heck? This is the end of the beach. We should go left, if we wanted to find a place to sit down.”

  “As gorgeous as Armação is, we’re going over to Matadeiro. Armação is a two-mile-long stretch of beach shared by fishermen and surfers. We don’t want to fight them for a spot in the water.”

  “Fa
ir enough,” Tristan agreed as he turned to follow Noah along the path that led to the neighboring beach.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, as the two men savored their third Caipirinha and contemplated the beauty of the semi-deserted beach, Tristan asked, “How long did it take you? To feel at home here, I mean.”

  “Why? Planning to stay?” Noah didn’t try to hide the hopeful tone.

  “Jury’s still out on that. It’s not like I’ve got a lot going for me back in the U.S. at the moment.”

  “You can say that again. I’ll be honest with you. I brought you here for a reason. See that?” Noah turned to his right and pointed to an abandoned structure that the tropical jungle had claimed for itself, covering it with vines in bloom. “It’s an old restaurant, the only one ever built in this beach. Because the owner didn’t get to convince local administration to build a pathway between Armação and Matadeiro beaches, his business went belly up for lack of customers. The building has all the fixtures necessary to operate a restaurant and I’ve got the right connections with authorities to get the trail built. All I need is a trusted friend to be my partner.”

  Tristan eyeballed the structure, then frowned at his friend. “That old thing? Is it even safe to enter that?”

  “Don’t be fooled by all that green stuff. The guy closed the restaurant less than a year ago. I got to eat at the place once or twice before Nelson gave it up. He’s looking for investors and I’ve got some money. Plus, foreigners need a local partner if they want to open a business in Brazil. It’s a win-win thing. I’d love for you to invest with me.”

  Tristan stared at Noah for a long moment before looking out at the green-blue ocean in front of them. He seemed lost in thoughts, so Noah didn’t push the subject.

  “You mean to say you gave up on the band?” Tristan asked after a while longer.

  His tone was so flat that Noah couldn’t tell if Tristan was glad or not at that perspective, so he decided to give him straight. “No, but now isn’t the best time to discuss that. I believe starting a rock band is the last thing you’d want to do right now, correct?

  Tristan nodded. And offered nothing else for another long stretch of time. When Noah was about to veer the conversation back to the restaurant, his friend reminded him, “You never answered my question. How long did it take you to feel at home, Baby Face?” He used his nickname for Noah for the first time since he had arrived.

  “That’s a tough one. At times, I’m not sure I feel at home at all. Most of the time, it’s great, though.” He paused to search for the best way to explain his feelings to a person who had never lived away from home. “During the day, I can pretend I’m still home. I mean, even the ocean is cold here, just like Zuma or Ventura.”

  Tristan took a long sip of his drink and smiled. “Interesting. I always thought the ocean would be warm in a tropical country, right?”

  “In other places along the Brazilian coast, it is. Here, there’s too many ocean currents moving up from Antarctica. Water gets pretty cold in many spots, even during summer.” Noah stopped again until the right words came to mind to describe how he felt about his new zip code. “Nights are the hardest. When I look up at the sky, I don’t see the same stars I used to see when I was a kid. The stars are different below the equator, you know?” His voice broke off and he whispered, “I miss the stars the most.”

  “Whoa! There’s a poet in you after all.”

  Noah felt his cheeks burn, so he hid his face in the glass of the delicious lime-and-sugar-based drink. “I don’t know about that. You’re the lyricist in the band.”

  “Since it’s a non-existing band, I won’t dispute. If and when we go back to that project, I’d better watch out for the talented Noah Cartwright. Playing multiple instruments and writing the lyrics, you might not need me after all.”

  Glad to hear his friend mentioning something connected to the music industry without a derisive side comment, Noah replied, “No worries. I’d be glad playing the drums. Besides, we can’t call it Knight’s Edge if Tristan Knight isn’t in the band.”

  Tristan shook his head and didn’t hide a smile. “Dude, you’ve barely managed to talk me into starting a restaurant together. Don’t push your luck.”

  “I did? You mean you’ll stay?”

  “I need to call my accountant and my lawyer to see how much I can afford to invest, but I’m in.”

  Noah contained his enthusiasm. He didn’t want Big T to mistake him for a hysterical high school girl, but inside his head he was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Cool. Do that when we go home,” he managed to say in a non-committal tone. “We should go out later tonight to celebrate our partnership.”

  “Deal.”

  Tristan’s face had lost a great deal of gloom in the last half hour or so. Noah believed his plan to entice him to stay had much to do with that. His reasons for doing so were partially selfish, in the sense that he felt miserable for not having friends and family around him. He loved Brazil and the people he had met, but a friendship like the one he had with Tristan took years to be built. He hated the fact that it had taken a mind-numbing betrayal for Tristan to become his business partner, but he was thrilled that he had decided to stay. How twisted was that?

  * * *

  John Bull was a brand-new rock bar that Noah had been dying to check out, so he convinced Tristan to celebrate their business partnership there. His choice proved to be great as the bar’s clientele was basically young college students. That didn’t surprise him because Floripa housed three major university’s campuses.

  Halfway through the night, after several rounds of Caipirinhas, Noah and Tristan felt the weight of their heartaches become less debilitating.

  “You ever going to tell me what she did to you?” Tristan asked when Noah returned from a visit to the restroom.

  “What the fuck are you driving at?”

  “See that cute brunette over there?” Tristan’s head tilted to the left and his chin seemed to point to an attractive woman sitting on a table not far from them.

  She nursed a Cosmopolitan and looked bored. Or something that Noah couldn’t identify. She glanced their way then quickly focused her stare on the glass in front of her.

  Noah frowned and turned back to face Tristan. “What about her?”

  “She’s been eyeing you for the past hour. She even found a way to cross paths with you when you went to take a leak just now. And you didn’t notice. What’s the matter with you? I get it you and Brenda didn’t work out, but I thought you’d have moved on by now.”

  It was a surprise to find out that hearing her name still hurt him. He also thought he had moved on. At least, he often told himself that he had moved on, hoping his brain would eventually get the message and his heart would follow suit. Truth was, he was still recovering.

  “You’ve been through enough, Big T. I don’t want to drag you through my shit.”

  Tristan’s laugh sounded more pained than amused. “Ever thought focusing on someone else’s shit might help me forget mine?”

  Noah stared at his almost empty glass of Caipirinha. “I need another drink before I get into that. Pedro, glass is empty.” He was on a first-name basis with the bartender half an hour after they arrived at the bar. He was aware of his ability to be a people person and he wasn’t afraid to use it. “So is my friend’s. Two more, please.”

  “Prá já,” replied the bleached-haired bartender in his native Portuguese.

  “Coming up,” Noah translated to a puzzled Tristan. “Man, we’ve got to find you a tutor or something. You suck at this.”

  “Suck at what?”

  “Picking up a new language. I’m here a little over a year and speak fluently.”

  “Not fair. You had training before coming over. Now, quit stalling.”

  Noah weighed different ways of telling his friend what had happened and decided that going straight to the point would be the best tactic. Tristan had witnessed most of the story, anyway. He missed out onl
y on the final drama.

  Noah met Brenda Safra when she was a sophomore at UCLA. During the following three years of her major in Film and Television, they became the on-and-off-and-on-again couple that common friends dread. They never knew if they should invite Noah and Brenda for social gatherings, for example. If they were on a break and both attended the same party, chances were that the night would end in drama. So, their friends avoided inviting them altogether. Except for Tristan and Izzie.

  When Brenda decided to return to her hometown in Brazil after graduation instead of pursuing a Master’s in the field, Noah did all he could to convince her to stay. He even considered asking her to marry him and bought a ring to surprise her at a farewell dinner he organized at his parents’ house. She never showed up and when he called, she told him there had been an emergency in her family and she had to take a flight one day earlier than she had planned.

  Despite his parents’ advice against the idea, and Tristan’s insistence that Noah had gone insane, he applied for a Brazilian university, got accepted in their MBA program and came to Floripa.

  “You’re right. I’ve been avoiding the subject. Brenda was nothing like I thought she was.”

  “That much I guessed from that drunk-dial call I got in the middle of the night.”

  “Sorry about that, bro.”

  “No problem. You just told me that time that Brenda was a lying bitch who had ruined your life. Then, you hung up. Just like that,” Tristan snapped his fingers and Noah noticed his coordination wasn’t as sharp.

  Caipirinhas tasted sweet, but they could mess with you pretty badly. He knew it very well. That’s how he had ended up calling Tristan that time.

  “I guess I owe you a better explanation. When I got here, I enrolled in the program, shopped for a house and found that one in Mole Beach quite quickly. I wanted to be settled before I contacted her. When I did find Brenda, she told me she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I was shocked. She was super cold and distant. She practically hung up the phone on me. I thought I had done something to hurt her. Maybe I had offended her in some way.”