Rough Waters (17 page)

If anyone knows how awful Logan’s win was,
it’s me. I drove back to Crescent Cove with two highly pissed off
Hooligans. After Topher’s round three elimination and Colby’s exit
in round five, Logan was the last man standing…all the way to the
finals. To add salt to the wound, he eliminated Kieran Caples in
the quarter finals. Miles, Topher, and I watched the heat with
Clover, who had a few choice words for Logan.

“Did Vin really fire you?” Colby asks. “I
asked him if you were going with me to my photo shoot tomorrow, and
he said you weren’t on the payroll anymore.”

“He never technically said the words ‘you’re
fired,’ but I got that impression. A.J. brought home my Sunrise
Valley paycheck last night, so that pretty much sealed the deal,” I
say.

Colby shakes his head and puts his game
controller on the coffee table. “Please tell me this means you’ve
finally dumped his sorry ass,” he says.

Alston abandons his video games and glances
over his shoulder for my answer.

“Well, I never technically said the words
‘we’re over,’ but I figure he got that impression,” I say. “At
least I hope he did.”

The doorbell rings, and Alston rushes to get
it. He comes back with a thick envelope addressed to Topher Brooks
“c/o Haley Sullivan.” The sender is Liquid Spirit.

“Open it,” Alston says. “It has your name on
it, and Topher pretty much hired you as his manager. Legally you
can open all of his mail now.”

I roll my eyes at Alston’s nosiness, grab my
cell phone, and text Topher. Unfortunately, his reply is exactly
what Alston said to do – open it.

Colby hovers over my shoulder, as anxious as
Alston, and reads the contract much quicker than I do. Then he
grabs the contract from my hands.

“Damn,” he says, skimming the page. “That’s a
better sign-on deal than I got with Drenaline Surf. I mean, I know
Shark was just starting out and all, but damn. These guys are
willing to put some serious money behind Topher.”

Alston laughs and walks back toward his stack
of games to continue searching for his long lost disk. He doesn’t
even ask how much money Liquid Spirit is offering.

“He wouldn’t sign that contract for ten
million dollars,” Alston says. “Topher is going to surf for
Drenaline or no one. That’s just how he rolls.”

An hour later, I stretch out on my bed and
reexamine Liquid Spirit’s contract. I’m not a legal expert, but the
terms actually seem worth it – sign-on bonus, paid entry fees, and
travel expenses paid for all interviews, photo shoots, and events.
Their travel budget is beyond anything Drenaline Surf could offer.
They already have affiliates at Shaka Magazine and SurfTube. Even
as an up and coming company, they have some serious investors.
Drenaline Surf is still a “mom and pop” kind of surf shop compared
to these guys.

Part of me almost wants Topher to sign it
just to throw it in Vin’s face, to prove that he doesn’t need his
brother to make it as a pro surfer. I want him to show Vin that he
can play in the big leagues. But deep down, I want him on that
Drenaline Surf roster just like he wants it for himself. I want him
to represent Shark’s store and Shark’s legacy. Above all, I just
want Topher to have his Drenaline Surf dream come true.

What sucks, though, is that I want to be part
of it. I want to be there in the mix of the Drenaline Surf
atmosphere and everything it stands for. Instead, I’m going to end
up having to take college classes this fall, get a boring business
degree to make my parents happy, and then hope I can find a job
somewhere. I’d have been happier working PR for Shark’s store. I’d
have been right there in the middle of a company, doing something
businesslike, just as my parents want for me, but I’d have been
doing it my way, on my own terms.

A knock on the guest house’s door distracts
me from college worries and Topher’s contract. I walk to my bedroom
door and glance into the mini-foyer. Colby waves at me through the
screen door. He jingles his truck keys. I wave him inside.

“I figured you were a safer bet to leave my
keys with than A.J.,” he says. “Alston said he’d go feed Dexter for
me. A.J. has a house key, but in case you need it, it’s this one.”
He points to a silver key next to his Drenaline Surf keychain.

We walk into my bedroom, and I secure his
keys in my bag. Colby walks over to the bay window and spins
Solomon around. He laughs to himself.

“A.J. broke my window for this thing,” he
says. “Obviously it was important.”

“I bought it last summer,” I say, walking
over to the window. “I named him Solomon.”

“Worthington,” Colby says. “You know, for the
longest time, I regretted going back to North Carolina that night.
I always wondered if that’s what tipped my parents off. But even
with the lawsuit and Wall of Shame, it was worth it to have someone
believe in me again. You’re like my new Shark.”

The sunset pours through the glass, dashing
through Solomon’s blue colors and creating a purple hue against
Colby’s hand. He lets the suncatcher go, and Solomon sways in the
window.

“We’ll get through this,” I say. “You can
fight your parents. You were eighteen. You ran away. It happens
every day.”

“But they found me,” he says, walking across
the room. “When my mom threatened me, she used the phrase, ‘when we
got wind that you may be alive out here.’ Someone tipped them off.
I think it was someone who’s linked to Drenaline Surf somehow. I
just don’t know who yet.”

I sit in the bay window and stare out at
Colby’s truck. If someone wanted to ruin him, leaking his secret to
his parents would be the key. The media can’t keep a secret, and
the source would’ve been outted. But his parents? They’re
money-hungry and pissed off. Telling them would create the drama
and media frenzy, just as it did.

“Do you think they threatened to sue
Drenaline Surf as a cover up?” I ask.

Colby shrugs. “I hope it’s a cover up,” he
says. “I’d throw my career away before I’d let them ruin Shark’s
name. I’m normally not one to back down, especially to them, but
Shark’s legacy is more important. But for now, I trust no one.
Drenaline Surf isn’t even safe anymore.”

“You trust no one, but you’re leaving me with
your truck and access to your house?” I ask. “A.J. has a key too,
you know. If you’re wanting to keep us out, you’re not doing the
best job.”

Colby laughs. “I trust
you
,” he says.
“And A.J. had my back when no one else would. I know it was because
I was his cash flow, but for that, I know he’d never leak my
secrets.”

Not long after Reed gets back from dropping
Colby off at Drenaline Surf, the roar of a truck engine sounds in
our driveway. I peek through the kitchen blinds. Jace and Theo make
their way toward the front door of the condo.

Theo bursts through the kitchen without even
knocking. “We come with good news. Where the fuck is Gonzalez?” he
says.

“Upstairs,” Reed says, pointing to the
staircase.

Theo invites himself up, screaming for A.J.
Jace lingers in the kitchen, a bit more reserved than his
roommate.

“So,” Reed says. “What’s the good news?”

Jace smiles. “I talked to someone who works
for the city to see what they were going to do with all the stuff
from A.J.’s carnival grounds. They were going to trash it, so I
asked if we could have some of it for ‘local businesses and
landmarks.’ They actually bought into it.”

A.J. shouts the words “hell fucking yes!”
upstairs, so I assume Theo just delivered the same news to him.

“But there’s one problem,” Jace says. He
leans against our kitchen counter and already looks defeated. “The
city is clearing out the area tomorrow for a groundbreaking
ceremony, so anything we want, we have to get tonight. We don’t
have the manpower or the storage for it.”

“There’s room in the boat storage at the
store,” Reed says. “Dad is having the yachts repainted, so we can
use it for now.”

“And I have Colby’s truck,” I add. “I can
make some calls. We can get people to help us. If you’ll call the
Hooligans, I can handle the rest.”

Jace calls Topher as I head back toward the
guest house. I dig through my bag until I find the cigarette
receipt. I hope Clover has a lot of friends.

Two pickup trucks pull into the empty parking
lot behind Strickland’s Boating. The bass thumps loudly from one of
them. A guy hangs out the window of the other truck, screaming what
I think is, “We have arrived!” Clover gets out of the bass-thumping
truck.

If I didn’t have A.J. Gonzalez standing next
to me, I’d probably be scared out of my freaking mind to have these
guys all coming at me at once. Clover laughs as one of the other
guys whoops and hollers like an idiot.

“You made it,” I say to Clover as he nears
us. I wasn’t sure if anyone could really help us on a Wednesday
night with such short notice.

He nods. “Pretty easy to find. So, uh, this
stuff we’re going to pick up, we’re stealing it, right? Like this
is illegal?” he asks, his dark hair shielding his face in the glow
of the streetlamp.

“Um, no,” A.J. says. “The city said we could
have the stuff if we got it out of there tonight, which is why we
needed fast help.”

“Ohhhh,” Clover says. He eases in closer, so
only we can hear him. “Don’t tell the other guys. Kieran wouldn’t
do anything illegal. Neither would Payday, but those other fools
only came because they thought we were breaking the law.”

A.J. shoots me a look, and it takes every
fiber of my being not to laugh. A.J. may be Crescent Cove’s
resident criminal, but Clover’s friends might actually put him to
shame. I don’t want to ask and validate that theory.

As Clover’s friends move toward our group,
A.J. says we’ll play along and pretend we’re stealing. I just hope
that doesn’t leak back around Crescent Cove because A.J. doesn’t
need another inaccurate arrest, especially now that he’s Drenaline
Surf’s manager.

A.J. takes on the leadership role and
explains our mission – lifting the goods and bringing them back
here to ‘hide’ in Reed’s dad’s storage unit at the boating store.
One guy laughs like a wild animal and says this is ‘so fucking
awesome.’ He wears a blazer jacket, which is beyond weird
considering it’s the middle of summer.

I lean in closer to Clover. “Who are these
guys?” I whisper.

He motions me back a few steps, out of
earshot. He points to Kieran, his best friend and the one least
likely to ever get in trouble. Clover says he wants to be a
professional surfer and that Kieran also looks up to Topher the way
Topher looks up to John John Florence, which basically makes my
heart overflow with happiness.

“That guy in the jacket, that’s Terry,” he
says. “He’s only here for a few days. He, uh, you know, had some
business deals to secure out here. He’s a…supplier, if you get my
drift.”

The blazer makes sense then. I don’t even
want to know what he has stashed inside of it. He’s like a jeweler,
just opens the showcase and shows you every size he has for
purchase. I hope to the sea spirits that he leaves that jacket
on.

“And Payday is the pretty boy – a trust fund
kid,” he explains, pointing to a clean cut brunette. “He only
smokes weed, but he knows all the rich kids who want the harder
stuff. He brings in the clientele, and in return, he gets his stuff
free. His real name is Payton Davenport, hence the Pay and
day...well, the day part really doesn’t work. But he’s literally
Rico’s payday.”

He goes on to tell me that Rico, the Hispanic
boy with tattoos – their A.J. basically – is Sunrise Valley’s
notorious drug dealer, who buys from Terry and provides for Payday
and his friends.

“He wanted some cool secret name,” Clover
explains as we walk back toward the vehicles. “We were
brainstorming, and Mahli – this chick I’m friends with – suggested
Skunk because he used to have this white patch in his hair. He was
pissed. He grew his hair back out and decided to just be Rico.”

“And what about that other guy?” I ask,
pointing to a shirtless skinny guy with scraggly hair.

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue who he is,”
Clover says. “I think he was buying from Rico when I asked for
help, and he just jumped in the truck with them.”

In that case, we’re better off not knowing
the guy. A.J. tells the others to follow Jace’s truck to the
carnival grounds. A.J. steals Colby’s truck keys from me and says
he’s driving. I don’t even have it in me to object tonight.

A.J. puts his foot through the “condemned
property” sign the moment we step onto his carnival grounds. Jace
clears his throat from behind and reminds A.J. that this isn’t
actually an illegal activity. A.J. does a damn good job of keeping
up the appearance, though.

I go with Jace and Topher while A.J. leads
the other guys toward the carousel to start taking apart our
life-sized sea creatures. Clover follows behind me.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I have a question.”

I hang back and walk side-by-side with A.J.’s
long lost brother. When Clover is in the moment, he’s confident in
his words, but when he’s being shady, he angles his head downward
and to the side, just like A.J. does when he doesn’t want anyone
else to hear him. I swear, these two are so similar that it
actually borderlines scary.

“You think we could set up some kind of surf
thing between your boy and Kieran?” he asks, his voice barely above
a whisper. “You could talk Brooks into hanging out with him or
surfing together sometime, right?” Clover stops and steps in front
of me. “Aren’t you like his manager or girlfriend or
something?”

“None of the above,” I say, stepping around
him. “You should talk to Topher about it. I don’t think he’d say
no.”

Clover doesn’t follow along as I hurry to
catch up with Jace and Topher. He heads back to where Kieran is
with Rico and Terry. I hate to send Topher into drug-dealing
territory, but surfing with this Kieran guy may actually help him
step out of his usual Horn Island routine.