Chapter 1

~

June 1986 - Bradley Beach, New Jersey

The two young men stood at the edge of the sand, scanning the beach. The tall one’s long, dark hair ruffled in the breeze as he raised a hand to shield his eyes against the late-morning sun’s glare. “Where are they all?” he muttered, sweeping his gaze from left to right.

“It’s a fucking Thursday,” the shorter man growled irritably. “And it’s ten o’clock in the fucking morning.” His trademark cascade of hair was captured in a thick ponytail at the base of his skull and topped with a white Giants baseball cap. Bloodshot ice-blue eyes squinted behind mirrored aviator glasses perched atop a wide nose, the only of his features that wasn’t model-perfect.

“Yeah, but there are always girls on this beach,” Richie protested, a little too cheerfully. “Lots of ‘em. It’s summer now. They usually start showing up right after breakfast.” He grinned as he spied a small flock of brightly-colored bikinis down the beach to his right. “How about them?”

Jon turned his face in the direction of Richie’s point. He could instantly tell the group that had captured his sidekick’s attention weren’t what he was looking for. The girls were squealing and laughing giddily as they took turns snapping Polaroids of each other in front of the lifeguard stand and with the ocean in the background.

He snorted derisively as he watched them. Obviously tourists, down the shore from Pittsburgh or somewhere for an early-summer vacation. Real Jersey Girls wouldn’t act like those giggling bimbos.

“Nope.” With a quick shake of his head Jon vetoed Richie’s suggestion. He immediately regretted the brisk motion as his beer-soaked brain sloshed from one side to the other inside his skull. He grunted.

Richie noticed. “Really tied one on last night, huh Bro?” His laughter was barely contained. He was at the club with Jon the night before, and had seen him stagger out the alley door in the wee hours of the morning. With a friend.

“Fuck,” Jon muttered. “Yeah.” He had thoroughly enjoyed his night at the Fast Lane, hanging out at the bar and taking in the blatant T&A show put on by the girls in the crowd. In his comfortably-buzzed state he had almost violated his new cardinal rule and brought one back to his place. Luckily Jon had realized at the last minute that he didn’t really want Whatshername to know where he lived, so he had instead cruised the extra block to Snake’s ground-floor apartment.

Letting himself in with the key hidden under a rock, Jon had the blonde’s skimpy panties around her ankles before they even got the front door closed. He had proceeded to enjoy himself very, very much… at least until he passed out on the couch. The last thing he remembered was the blonde on her knees, sucking his cock with wild abandon.

When Snake came home and roused him at dawn, the blonde was gone. Jon doubted he’d see HER again.

“Why not?” Richie was still watching the bikinis down the beach with a wide smirk on his full lips. “They have nice tits. And I’m sure they’d be more than happy to play. Hell, we probably wouldn’t even have to pay ‘em.”

“ ‘Cause.” Jon replied, a little crossly. “I want local girls. This thing needs to look real. Not like last time, with those fucking so-called ‘actresses’ they brought in for the video shoot.” He made air-quotes around the emphasized word. “Remember what a fucking nightmare THAT was?”

Richie chuckled again, recalling the “In and Out of Love” video shoot, just down the beach. He had actually had a lot of fun with that one. But he could see Jon’s point; the girls hired through the video casting call were nothing more than walking Barbie dolls. Their lack of authenticity had been painfully apparent in the video’s final edit.

“Hey, Man…they weren’t that bad,” he teased, unable to resist poking at his hung-over buddy. “That redhead could suck a golf ball through a garden hose.”

Jon snorted but didn’t reply. He again shook his head, this time more slowly. “We need Jersey Girls,” he muttered softly. “With fucking Attitude.”

“And nice racks,” Richie added.

The men stood silent for another minute, continuing to scan the beach. Several groups of young women were scattered across the rapidly-warming sand, laying on brightly-colored towels, lounging in canvas-backed beach chairs, or wading in the surf. But none of them had The Look. Jon couldn’t exactly explain what that was, but he would know it when he saw it.

“Fuck.” He really wanted to get this thing over with so he could grab a few hours of sleep before it was time to hit the Asbury Park club scene again. Southside was playing the Stone Pony tonight and he had no intentions of missing the show, not only because it would be a great gig but because his presence at the hot shows kept him “in the loop.” Though Jon and his band had enjoyed some moderate success in their short career, he still needed to keep up his contacts here in Jersey. He might need them if this new record didn’t do well.

“Why don’t we head down there?” Richie asked, tipping his head in the direction of his original proposal, the gaggle of giggling bikinis. “Maybe we’ll find somebody closer to the hotel.”

Jon mumbled another oath but nodded, knowing Richie really just wanted to get a closer look at the girls and maybe flirt a little. He really didn’t feel like trudging down the beach but there were no more appealing options. They couldn’t start the shoot until they had something to actually photograph.

 The thought of scheduling another photo session made Jon’s lip curl. No, he wanted to get this done today.

Jon and Richie turned right and began to walk, first skirting the weedy edge of the beach then angling across the sand as they drew closer to the white-painted lifeguard tower. Richie’s grin widened as they approached the girls, but Jon’s disinterested scowl remained the same. He really wasn’t in the mood.

“Man, I’m going on ahead,” Jon mumbled as Richie veered toward the girls. He didn’t feel like being nice.

“I’ll just be a minute, Bro,” Richie responded before turning on the charm.

“Sure,” Jon snorted to himself. He knew Richie wouldn’t leave the group until he had at least three phone numbers and two dates for tonight.

 Not bothering to look back, Jon continued to trudge down the beach, his thong-clad feet sinking in the sand and slowing his pace. Realizing his trek would be easier if he walked along the surf, Jon turned left and cut toward the ocean, reaching the packed wet sand in a matter of seconds.

Jon glanced behind him to see Richie surrounded by tanned bodies in neon bikinis, grinning like a fool. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he turned to continue his forward progress.

Jon angled more toward the water to avoid a small dune that lay in his path. When he rounded the sandy mound he saw that Richie’s hypothesis was correct. In the middle of the expanse of sand between the dune and the small beach hotel was a group of bikini-clad girls, shaking out their towels onto the sand. And this group actually looked promising.

Jon paused at the edge of the dune, watching the six young women. They had obviously just arrived on the beach and were settling in for what appeared to be a long day of sun and relaxation, judging from the amount of gear they had brought. They went about their preparations calmly, as if this was a familiar ritual. They weren’t giggling or squealing or posing for photos. Their easy laughter was punctuated by playful swearing. Oh yeah, they’re Jersey, Jon thought.

* * * * *

“Hey, gimme some of that gum,” Nicki demanded, holding out her hand, palm up. The curvaceous blonde was kneeling on her blue-and-white striped beach towel.

“You’re welcome,” Marie said sarcastically, tossing a thick square of watermelon-flavored Hubba Bubba to her friend. “Jesus, Nick, didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Marie snapped her own piece of gum between her teeth to emphasize her point. She reached up to adjust the scrunchie holding her sunkissed locks in a loose ponytail atop her head.

“Well, ex-CUUUUSE ME!” Nicki replied, making a face. “I meant, gimme some of that fucking gum, you Bitch.”

“Better,” chuckled Wendy from her prone position on the towel next to Nicki’s. She turned her head to grin at the girls from behind her white-framed Ray-Bans. “Shit, Marie, what did you expect?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” Marie agreed with a laugh as she reclined backward onto her towel, sliding her own sunglasses into place over her bright blue eyes.

“Hey, any of you know that guy?” Carmen’s husky voice cut through her friends’ ribbing.

“What guy?” Nicki swiveled her head to look all around for the man in question.

“Over by the dune. He’s been standing there watching us,” Carmen answered. “And real fucking subtle, Nick. Jesus!” She rolled her eyes as Nicki’s gaze locked onto the tanned, scruffy guy in the cutoffs and ripped-up white lifeguard t-shirt.

Nicki’s lips pursed as she studied the man appraisingly. “Hmmm. He looks familiar….”

“Tell him to drop his pants. Maybe you’ll recognize his dick. Then again, there have been so many, how can you tell them apart?” Suzanne’s zinger was delivered with a bit of tease. She smiled sweetly and continued to rub suntan oil onto her legs as Nicki stuck out her tongue in response.

“Maybe I would,” Nicki agreed, only half-kidding. She again brazenly raked her gaze over the Watcher. He was damned hot. She was sure she’d remember going down on him.

“Probably some pervert,” Carmen observed dryly. “If he stays there staring at us much longer I’m gonna go tell him to fuck off.” The olive-skinned brunette regarded the man suspiciously. “Whoever it is, he doesn’t seem to give a shit that we know he’s watching us.”

“He’s probably waiting for us to take our tops off,” Suzanne chortled. “Not that you have far to go there, Nick.”

“You know I fucking hate tan lines.” Nicki reached up to adjust the tiny hot pink triangles that barely covered her round breasts before leaning forward to brace her hands on the ground. She paused on all fours before slowly lowering herself onto her towel chest-first, the arch in her back presenting her rounded buttocks for a long moment before her hips followed her torso to the ground.

Suzanne chuckled again at Nicki’s blatant tease for their Watcher. Finished with her suntan oil, she capped the bottle and tossed it onto the towel next to hers beside a firm, sunkissed thigh. “You know that guy, Kim?”

Kimberly groaned softly and raised her head from the cradle of her folded arms. Her thick caramel hair fell softly around her face as she turned her gaze in the direction her friends indicated. She studied the young man standing casually next to the dune for a long moment before answering. “No…. but Nicki’s right. He does look familiar.”

“Well whoever he is, it’s fucking creepy, him standing there just staring at us like that,” Wendy observed.

“Just ignore him,” Kim muttered, lowering her head back down to her arms and closing her eyes. “He’ll go away sooner or later.” She sighed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her bare back. “I need a fucking nap. I didn’t get home until 3:30. And I gotta work again tonight.”

“That sucks,” Suzanne said sympathetically. “Are you gonna have to work all weekend?”

“Yep. You know how busy it is in the summer.” Kim mumbled. “If I didn’t need the money I’d cut back, but the tips are damned good this time of year.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Suzanne sighed. “I need to pick up more hours at the store, too.”

The girls were quiet for a few minutes as each of them relished the morning peace of the beach and the warm caress of the sun on their already-bronzed bodies. Beside their cooler and beach totes a boom box pumped out chatter from WXRK Radio. “Hey Wendy, turn it up,” Marie urged when familiar opening notes of a made-for-summer rock song sang from the speakers.

Wendy sat up and nudged at the volume dial, then settled back onto her elbows. She shot a glance at the dune to see if The Watcher was still there. He was, only now he wasn’t alone. He was conversing with a tall, lanky guy with shaggy dark hair, gesturing in their direction. “Shit,” Wendy swore quietly. “Girls, he’s got a friend.”