The Island Read online

  THE

  ISLAND

  A

  ROMANCE

  NOVEL

  By:

  Daya Daniels

  THE BLURB

  One island.

  Two people.

  A spider monkey.

  Far from the only home they've ever known.

  Would you accept your fate?

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Quote

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Bonus Excerpt

  About the Author

  THE ISLAND

  Copyright@ 2019 by Daya Daniels

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any way, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or any other means without the explicit written permission of the author, except for brief quotations of the book when writing a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and even facts are the product of the author’s imagination. Wait a minute...especially facts. Any resemblance to actual people—alive, dead, or someplace in between—is completely by chance and likely in your head.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. Holy hell, this is important. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Let’s not forget! All song titles in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Readers,

  Firstly, thank you so much for your support!

  Two and a half years later and I’m still writing…

  A few thought I’d have quit by now.

  No-such-luck.

  (((smiles)))

  After finishing this beast of a story, it left me with lots of lingering questions that only you, the reader, will be able to answer for yourself when you tag along on this harrowing journey.

  I didn’t think I could get to the words “The End,” but, I did.

  So, here it is…

  I do hope you love Brooks and Tenley as much as I do!

  On another note…

  A writer can never promise that a reader will love a story. They may hate it. Which is fine too. But we can and should always be assured that they’ll never forget it.

  A special thanks to Buffy who has been with me all the way! You rock!

  Yours truly, Daya

  xoxo

  #indieauthor#loveconquersall#writelikeamotherfucker

  Thank you to J. Zweifel for proofreading this novel. As always, I appreciate you!

  for all those who believe that nothing is ever truly lost

  and of course

  for the monkeys

  PLAYLIST

  Click SPOTIFY to listen to songs inspired by this story

  “Easy Skanking” — Bob Marley

  “Yellow” — Coldplay

  “Won’t Be Broken” — Keane

  “The Night We Met” — Lord Huron

  “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” — Creedence Clearwater Revival

  “Wrapped Around Your Finger” — The Police

  “Red Red Wine” — UB40

  “Lord Watch Over Our Shoulders” — Garnett Silk

  “Pass the Dutchie” — Musical Youth

  “Riders on the Storm” — The Doors

  “The very essence of instinct is that it’s followed independently of reason.”

  — Charles Darwin

  WARNING: This novel contains strong language, strong sexual content, and situations some readers may find disturbing. Intended for 18+ years and above.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brooks

  “THOSE THINGS WILL KILL you!”

  So will caring about what other people think, comparing your life to another’s, endless stress and the never-ending pursuit of more money…

  Laughing, I spin around to the familiar voice which catches on the breeze.

  He’s high above me, taking the zig-zag landing which trails my way, blabbering obscenities.

  The crickets chirp tonight. The salty air is warm, and the crescent moon is high in the sky. It shines down on the waves which crash into the shoreline and dust the ocean silver in places. A crab makes its way across the sand then disappears in a hole and the dolphins jump out of the water with their squeals and shrill cries then disappear beneath the black ocean.

  It’s the beginning of July.

  Now, I stand at the edges of Indonesia on the island of Lombok.

  This place is just west of Bali. Home of the Sasak people and of Mount Rinjani—the highest volcano here in Indonesia. It’s home of spicy food along with the Pusuk Monkey Forest and is a popular honeymoon destination year-round.

  It’s perfect out here.

  She was right.

  She’s always right…

  And this is just the beginning I’ve been told. Apparently, there’s an even bigger surprise to come. This little shindig which she’d put together for tonight is the prelude, she said, to something far better. I only smiled when she told me that, kissed her softly on the cheek and told her I love her. I love the planner in her. Always so organized. Always eager to get people together. She’s the social butterfly of this relationship. If it were up to me, I’d be back home in Back of the Yards in Chicago in my workshop, digging my chisel in a chunk of chestnut wood and carving whatever my soul felt like taking a stab at—a rocking chair, a table, a bench. Even if it turned out like crap afterward, at least I’d revel a little bit in who I used to be. Instead of the clean-shaven, suited-up, slicked-back-hairstyle-wearing, cognac-drinking, upper-crust snob I’ve turned into.

  Even though we have a comfortable three-bedroom, two-bathroom home with a two-car garage and the massive fireplace Joy had always wanted, that sits in a gated community with twenty-four-hour security, still, she always asks me when we’re going to officially move out of that neighborhood.

  Since, of course, now we can afford to…

  I always tell her soon, but really, I have no intention of ever leaving the place which has always been my home. It’s why she bought that fancy townhouse in Lincoln Park. The one she insists we move into and that we sell the house we currently live in. I hate that townhouse whenever I’m in it, but never muster up the courage or concern to argue with her about it. I figure as long as I don’t have to reside in it, then…

  Back of the Yards is my home.

  I’m an only child, born to two people who I respected and revered.

  I’d walked my mother home from work on many nights along Ashland Avenue after she’d finished the night shift at the diner where she’d worked. I played baseball on Sundays with my father in Davis Square Park. It was always the third Sunday of the month because it was the only day he had off. The man worked fifteen-hour days as a civil service employee and never ever called out sick even once. Not even when he was riddled with arthritis and had lost his vision in one eye. He was bionic until the day he died. My father’s mantra was effort/outcome. And it is what I live by even to this day.

  A smile plays on my face at the memory.

  As a kid, I ran the streets of Back of the Yards. Undoubtedly, there’s a lot of crime in the neighborhood now, as there was way back then.

  It’s the crime Joy hates about the place.

  Can’t say I blame her.

  My father’s hard-earned salary along with my eff
ort/outcome attitude is what afforded me a college education and an even longer stint at MIT. And the more I sank into building machines and becoming an engineer, I knew it would one day be my career. Only I didn’t know I would go so far…

  It was where I met her almost fifteen years ago.

  Joy Elaine Santiago.

  She had the cutest smile on her face that day, wearing a Jimi Hendrix tank top and shorts that were way too short, mahogany hair in a pixie cut and brown eyes so big I knew I’d never forget them. Although not a student at MIT, Joy had been lingering on campus, tucked up and in the company of her best friend—a fellow classmate of mine and her boyfriend. People I already knew so very well…I was all over Joy at that point, practically begging her to let me take her out. At first, she brushed me off like the rando I was at the time. But eventually, she caved, fell for my boyish charms and far more.

  A few years later, she had my last name, and my heart.

  I promised her the world.

  Still that hasn’t changed.

  I’m thirty-five years old now.

  In the span of a few years, we’d gone from struggling college kids to complete grown-ups.

  I’d given Joy everything…only one thing will complete it. I suppose it’s a large part of why we’re here…But I didn’t ask.

  I’m transfixed on the moon and the clear sky. A few splashes in the water tell me it’s full of fish.

  Exhaling harshly, I glance at my watch and take in the time. It’s late. Too late to be eating dinner and far too late to be enjoying drinks. But I’m here. Physically present, yet far away. At least that’s what Joy calls it.

  James’ laughter nudges me back in the present.

  He’s all grins as he heads my way, bottle of beer in hand…Only a man like this one would be drinking beer out of a bottle while dining at a four-Michelin-star-restaurant…linen shirt unbuttoned to his belt, flip-flops slapping the sandy deck, swaying and stumbling like a toddler when they first learn how to put one foot in front of the other.

  I take a few more puffs of the cigarette, stub it out on the railing then shove it in the pocket of my disgustingly expensive suit pants.

  “I’ve missed you, Brooks Ellis Eastwood!” Crashing into me, James pulls me in for a vicious hug, slapping my shoulder nonstop, holding on to me like he hasn’t seen me in years when I was only sitting across the dinner table from him just a few seconds ago.

  James Craig Noble—best friend, business partner. A man who matches my two-hundred-and-thirty-pound, six-foot-three stature. A guy I would go to war for and have done many times in the past. Smart guy. Good guy. A guy I’m completely in love with and who owns a very large piece of my heart. He’s the same guy I’ve scraped up off the sidewalk when he was drunk, nursed him through hangovers and loaned him money when he didn’t have a penny. And he’s done the same for me.

  We’re brothers, besties, locked in one of the longest, most passionate bromances in history.

  He cranes his neck to the night sky and smiles. “Now, this is what I call a vacation.”

  “Yeah.” I snatch up my tumbler of scotch and knock back the little left there. Then, I set the glass down and peer out at the bay.

  The sky is full of twinkling stars.

  James takes a swig of his beer. “Isn’t it nice to be out of the office?”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

  He nudges me in the shoulder with his own. “Or, I guess in your case, I should say out of the tunnels. Away from the plans you’ve been drawing up…Out of frickin’ Chicago.”

  With a deep breath, my mind drifts to all the work currently sitting on my desk back at Bona Fide—a company James and I had founded years ago shortly after leaving MIT. I used the little of my savings. And James was able to borrow the rest of the money from his father-in-law and from there we built a multibillion-dollar engineering company that specializes in underground tunneling and has expertise in the design and construction of road, rail, and metro infrastructure. Bona Fide also mines for gold and other precious metals around the world. In fact, I just left the fucking jungle only a day ago to be here on this excursion.

  A man like me who is up to his hairline in work shouldn’t be on vacation. I should be working. Everyone here knows that, including James. And now James has it in his genius mind that Bona Fide should begin to dabble in space exploration.

  I always say to keep things simple, but James is not a simple man.

  “Yeah, we’re in the tropics, just where I’ve always wanted to be.” I groan.

  He finishes his beer, sets it down on the railing, and looks at me. “We’ve earned this, man.” With a growl he drags his fingers through his bleach-blond perfectly coiffed hair. The glint of the Rolex on his wrist which is just as shiny as his teeth practically blinds me. “You know, the old man would be against this. Since he believes in hard work and all.” James grunts.

  “Old man?” I laugh. “Is that what you’re calling him now?”

  He runs a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, I know.” He shrugs. “I’m aware it so often used to be bastard or slave driver.” He arches his brows and leans in close to my ear. “And usually asshole.” He laughs out loud. “But, these days at the request of my wife, I try to refer to him as ‘old man.’”

  Seeing that James was able to get his richer-than-what-should-be-legally-allowed father-in-law, Richard, to loan us the money to start Bona Fide. In the beginning years, we were never able to pay him back. So, when Bona Fide gradually started to turn a profit, Richard, in exchange for being repaid, became a managing partner. Only in the last year when he had retired and stepped down, did Richard become a non-managing partner. The “old man” is now wealthier than he was before. As if he ever needed more money…And now he’s out of James’ hair, something I know this dude appreciates more than ever.

  “He hates me. He always has. But I don’t give a crap. I nail his daughter. I’ve nailed his daughter a lot, so…” James laughs.

  “I can see why he likes you so much.” A humorless smile touches my lips.

  James snakes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close, messing up my navy-blue linen suit. I get a whiff of the tequila on his breath which he’s clearly had too! And his shirt is now undone so low, it’s falling off his shoulders. Soon, he might as well take it off completely and show the world the stellar abs he spends more than half a day every day working on.

  “Do you remember those days back in college when we’d pool our money just so we could share a steak dinner?” He kisses me on the cheek harshly.

  “Yeah, of course.” I smile.

  “Pizza, pizza, pizza. It’s all we damn well ate.” He sighs. “But now, we can buy the whole restaurant up there if we wanted to.” He stretches an arm out in the direction of this overpriced resort. “We could buy this entire resort, Brooks.”

  “But we’re not.” I shoot him a stern look before he gets any bright ideas.

  Letting go of me, he laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, man, I know. We’re not. Besides, there’s too much other stuff I have my eye on. But first…” He lifts a finger toward the sky. “I’ve got to get my wife pregnant.” He grins. “How’s your baby-making going?”

  Lowering my head, I look away from him. “It’s going.”

  He inches closer to me. “Honestly, Brooks, I can’t wait to be a dad. And she can’t wait to be a mom. As far as I’ve been told, Joy feels the same way about it all.”

  I smile. “Yeah, me too.”

  “I’d say it’s about time now, for all of us. Wouldn’t you?”

  I nod. “Yeah, yes, it is.”

  He grins. “Can you imagine our little ones playing together?”

  Surprisingly, James mentions nothing about how his wife won’t go off birth control and I say nothing about mine never allowing me to let loose inside her unless it’s a special fucking occasion.

  Strangely, we exist in our own bubbles of belief for just a moment.

  James grins, big and wide. “Gosh, man, I can’t wait
. Our kids will grow up together. Go to the same schools. They’ll be family. Like us. Like how we are. And I know neither of us will stop at one. We’ll keep going and going until we have a whole goddamn tribe.” He barks out a laugh. “Life is wonderful, man.” He gazes out at the beach where the waves roll in. “I’m going to spend this entire weekend attempting to get my wife pregnant.”

  “I bet you will.”

  “James!” The voice of an impatient wife drifts on the breeze.

  James’ eyes widen. “I guess that’s my cue.” He frowns. “Our cue…I think dinner is about to be served.” He heads off, leaving his bottle on the railing.

  I snatch it up and toss it in the trash bin that’s nearby.

  “Yeah, I’ll be up in a few.” Shaking my head, I shove a hand in my pocket. My fingers knock into the Swiss Army knife hung on my key chain which it never leaves. And then the ultra-modern slim cellphone I’d been given as a birthday gift that I’m told will even work after being submerged in water. Pulling out the Swiss Army knife, I smile when I recall the day my father had given it to me when I was just eight years old. He’d taught me then how to whittle wood with it. Shaking my head at the memory and chuckling, I shove it back in my pocket and search for the box of cigarettes there, debating if I should have another. I promised Joy months ago, even years ago that I would stop, but this beast has hold of my soul. I strike up another and puff away at it quickly.

  Laughing, James jogs crookedly back up the zig-zag ramp toward the bustling restaurant. “Those things will kill you, man!”

  “Yeah, so will you…”

  UB40’s “Red Red Wine” floats around where I stand. Hoots, hollers, and singing drifts from the restaurant. Apparently, the party is just getting started…I shove my long to-do work list out of my mind—the one which needs to be finalized before I leave Lombok—for just a moment knowing it will linger there. Then my focus stays fixed on the ocean waves as they roll in.