Rough Waters (3 page)

With each step closer to the enemy, I wish I
had a paper star just to throw it in his face. Literally. How this
jackass was the one to inspire me to dream bigger and chase after
what I want is beyond me. He’s a cracked shell of a dreamer, and
I’m sure there’s no beautiful pearl inside.

He glances toward us when we approach. Then
he shakes his head and looks back toward the bleeding sunset as it
meets the sea. I sit next to him. A.J. stands guard behind us.

“A bit public for someone who’s running from
everything, don’t you think?” I ask, motioning around the pier.

“Nice,” Colby says. “I figured you were here
to talk sense into me, but I can appreciate smartass comments. Vin
sent you, right? Because he hates me as much as I hate him and he
knows I won’t listen to him, correct? So he sends his girlfriend to
be the middleman. Save the speech.”

He makes my insides burn with anger and some
weird sort of passion. He’s like a damn Pink song – commercial,
popular, and radio-friendly one moment but ripping your world apart
with raunchy lyrics and world-hate the next.

“I get it, okay?” I say. “You and Vin don’t
click. That’s cool. But maybe this really is a blessing in
disguise. Maybe you can spin this as your chance to break free from
all the secrets and lies. What can they really do to you? You’re
not the same eighteen-year-old kid who ran away. They can’t hurt
you.”

Colby just shakes his head instead of
speaking. Then he laughs condescendingly, like I’m the biggest
idiot in the world and he can’t believe he’s even letting me
breathe his oxygen.

“You don’t get it,” he finally says. “This
isn’t about me. It’s never been about me. It’s about them and what
they wanted then and what they want now. There’s no ‘talking it
out’ and moving forward with them. They’re here to ruin me.”

I hate to tell him, but he’s done a damn good
job of ruining himself without their help. I’ll never understand
it. He has everything he ever wanted, the life he dreamed of, and
his parents have absolutely zero control over him. He needs to man
up and fight for himself just like he did all those years ago when
he walked into Drenaline Surf and bought a surfboard from
Shark.

“You know what?” I ask. “I think you’re a
coward. You’re too scared to face them. You ran before, so you’re
doing what feels natural. Instead of owning up to it, you just
run.”

I push myself up from the pier, and A.J.
bulks up next to me. I try not to crack a smile because A.J. is
barely five-foot-seven and not exactly ripped, but he could still
take on Colby or anyone else who dared to mess with me. I spin on
the heel of my flip flop, lock my arm around A.J.’s, and stomp away
with a fierceness that I left back in North Carolina in the form of
Linzi.

Refusing to look back, I get in the car,
crank up, and pull away from the pier. It’d give Colby too much
satisfaction to know that he’s completely under my skin and
crawling around like algae engulfing a sunken ship.

“You were right,” A.J. says from the
passenger seat. “About his parents, you know? They can’t do
anything to him now. He ran away, and they found him years later.
He has a new life now, one without them, and they’re going to have
to play his game now or lose him for good.”

I nod but keep my eyes on the dashboard. It
makes sense that his parents have no hold over him now. He’s
untouchable. Or is he? I can’t help but wonder if maybe Colby is
right. Maybe they are here to ruin him. I’m just not sure how
they’ll do it.

An hour later, at the condo, Topher tells me
via phone that the press conference has been postponed for another
hour and that he’s tired of waiting around. Kale says something in
the background about it all being a publicity stunt and how unfair
it is that this crap stole Miles’s thunder today. Topher informs me
that Drenaline Surf closed for the day, but Vin is still at the
store handling phone calls and dodging media interrogations.

“I swear, I’m about to leave,” Topher says
through the speaker. “Nothing’s happening, and I want to go
celebrate with Miles, so I’m going to bail out. Don’t tell my
brother, okay?”

“Your secret’s safe. Go celebrate. I’ll keep
tabs on the media frenzy,” I say.

I plug my phone into the charger and make my
way from the guest house into the condo. A.J. and Reed stand
solemnly in the kitchen as A.J. reenacts the scene from the pier
and how I apparently “totally let Colby have it.”

“I think we should go to the press
conference,” I interrupt. “Topher just left, and I have a bad gut
feeling about it.”

But A.J. shakes his head. “No. That’s one
party I’m not crashing,” he says. “Colby may be a fuck up, and
yeah, he’s going about this all wrong, but he’s my cash flow.”

Since when did A.J. get any sense about him?
Shouldn’t Reed be the one shaking his head and telling us how messy
this is? Reed should be pulling A.J. back, telling him how Deputy
Pittman is probably working security and that he’ll be cuffed at
the door just for showing his face. Yet Reed’s the one holding his
keys and waiting by the door like we’re wasting precious
seconds.

“You can be the getaway,” Reed says. “Haley
and I will go in and get the scoop.”

I’m not sure who’s been poisoning Reed’s
drinking water since I’ve been gone, but I’m not even going to
question it. I nod in agreement because I need to be at that press
conference. I need to hear what these people have to say. I need to
know that they really do just want their son back.

There’s no time for second guesses. I grab
A.J.’s arm, rush outside with Reed, and claim shotgun in his Jeep.
When we get to the hotel, Reed and I get out at the door. There
isn’t a parking space anywhere within three blocks of Crescent Inn,
so A.J. says he’ll circle around and keep an eye out for us.

The hotel lobby glows in hues of orange. I
see nothing but the backs of reporters and cameramen. Even with a
microphone, we’d be lucky to hear a word through all the shuffling
around us.

Reed cranes his neck and pushes up on his
toes to see over the crowd. Then he shrugs and shakes his head. “I
can’t see anything from back here,” he says. “But I have an
idea.”

I latch onto his arm and hold on as he fights
back through the security officers in the entrance. We step back
into the parking lot as nightfall wraps around the building. Topher
wasn’t kidding. This is just a big publicity stunt. They can’t hold
off much longer.

“This way,” Reed says, pointing around the
building. “There’s a fire escape that we can use to get inside.
We’ll be on the concierge level. We can take the elevator
down.”

He shakes the metal just slightly to make
sure it’s sturdy before stepping onto it. He climbs up a few steps
and then comes back down.

“It’s solid. You go up first. I’ll follow,
you know, just in case I need to catch you,” he says.

I hesitate for just a second but grasp onto
the metal and pull myself onto the ladder. The burning curiosity
forces me up until I reach solid landing on metal steps. Reed
follows closely behind, and we ascend the stairs until Reed finds
the entrance to the concierge level on the fourteenth floor.

“This isn’t like you,” I say as he helps me
inside. “This is something A.J. would do. Maybe Alston. But you?
You should be the one sitting at the condo waiting for A.J. to call
from lockup.”

Reed laughs but says nothing as he leads the
way to the elevator. We step inside, and he presses the button for
the first floor rather than the lobby.

“Have you ever noticed how hotels don’t have
thirteenth floors?” he asks, nodding to the keypad of floor
numbers. “It’s supposed to be bad luck.”

The numbers decrease one by one as we descend
toward the first floor.

“You weren’t the only one who made some
changes after last summer,” Reed says. “I guess I realized how much
I wasn’t living. I mean, I’m not on A.J.’s level or anything, but
I’ve been hanging out with some new friends, and it’s been
good.”

The feeling in my stomach is all too
familiar. It’s the feeling I had last summer when Reed introduced
me to A.J. in the middle of Strickland’s Boating, telling me that
he would be my right-hand man for the day.

I don’t know why Reed would need new friends.
Our friends are enough. A.J. may not be the best behaved, and yeah,
the West Coast Hooligans aren’t exactly the most upstanding
citizens, but our friends are the best.

“You should come with me sometime,” Reed says
as the elevator door dings and pops open. “I surf with them. I
hadn’t surfed in a long time. I’m not all serious about it like
Topher or anything, but I didn’t realize how much I’d missed
it.”

I force myself to smile. “I have enough
surfer drama in my life,” I say, remembering why we’re even here.
“I don’t need any more wave riders.”

With that, I brush past Reed and hope he’ll
drop the topic. I don’t want to meet his new friends. I want my old
friends and nothing more. It may be immature or stupid, but I don’t
want new people hanging out with us. I’m fully aware that I’m an
outsider who somehow worked her way in, just like Colby did back in
the day, but the fact of it is, we’re on the inside now. I’m
finally here in California for good. I don’t want anyone messing up
what I worked so hard to build. Colby Taylor may be the fuck up of
all surfers, but damn it, I understand where he’s coming from
because I’m right there with him.

“Where are we headed?” Reed asks. “We can
take the stairs to the lobby. We might be able to squeeze in closer
to the front.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” I say. “To the
stairs.”

As we draw toward the end of the hallway, I
hear voices. I almost keep going until Reed and I stop at the very
second we hear the words ‘Drenaline Surf.’ A door opens from
somewhere behind us. We conceal ourselves between a plant and the
drink machine.

“Do not mention Jake McAllister, no matter
what,” a man says. “If you drop his name, they’ll know you’ve
investigated into your son’s life. We want them to think you
literally just found him. Pretend you know nothing of his life over
the last three years.”

“Do you want us to avoid mentioning the store
too?” a lady asks.

My body grows cold, the kind of cold you feel
when you’re alone late at night and feel like someone is watching
you. I turn slowly, as not to make a sound, and look at Reed.

I mouth the words ‘his mom.’ Reed nods.

“Just continue the distraught parents act,”
the man who mentioned Shark says. “We’ve rehearsed your story
enough. They’ll never need to know about the private investigator
or the upcoming lawsuit. If my findings are correct, you’ll cash in
not only from your son but from the estate of Jake McAllister.”

“Splendid,” Colby’s mom says. “I’m going to
step into the ladies’ room. I need to apply some eye drops and
smudge my mascara before I go onstage.”

I rest my head back against the wall. I can’t
see them from my hiding spot, but I wish I could catch a glimpse at
the man with them. If he’s speaking of lawsuits and private
investigators, he has to be a lawyer – a lawyer who is about to go
after Colby…and Shark’s reputation.

I absolutely have to get out of here. Anxiety
smothers my lungs, but I can’t gasp for air at the risk of being
discovered. Right now, Reed and I are the only ones who can warn
Colby about what’s really going on here. He was right. His parents
aren’t here to make peace, and they definitely aren’t here to get
their son back. They’re here to ruin him.

“Alright,” Colby’s mom says. A door shuts
behind her. “Do I look the part of a distraught mother who just
wants her baby boy back in her life?”

“Very much so,” her lawyer says. “Lights,
camera, action.”

The elevator dings a few seconds later. We
wait, completely silent and motionless, until we’re certain they’re
downstairs in the lobby. The increasing noise below us allows me to
finally breathe.

“I have to call Colby,” I say. “Do you have
your phone?”

Reed shakes his head. “I left it at the
house. I got excited and rushed out. Where’s yours?”

“On the charger in my bedroom,” I say. “We
have to leave now, before Colby shows up here. We have to stop
him.”

The plant bends over as I push myself off the
floor. I don’t wait for Reed. I rush to the elevator and hit the
button.

“We’ll never get out through the lobby,” Reed
says.

“No kidding,” I say. “We’ll have to take the
fire escape again and hope no one sees us. This is about to get
bad.”

We make it up to the concierge level and back
down the fire escape in what feels like record time. For us to have
only done this once, I’d say we are instant fire escape
professionals. Reed’s Jeep sits parked on the curb, engine
running.

“I need your phone,” I say, before I even get
inside.

A.J. stares at me. “My battery is dead. I
forgot to charge it before the competition today. I figured I
didn’t need it now that you were here. You’re the only person I
call or text.”

“Floor it,” Reed says, leaning in between the
seats. “Haley’s gotta get in touch with Colby. Something bad is
about to go down.”

When we get back to the condo, I leave Reed
to explain details to A.J. while I rush to the guest house for my
phone. The screen lights up and tells me I have one new message
when I jerk the cord away from it. It’s from Colby.

You were right. They can’t do a damn thing
to me now. I’m going to the hotel to talk to them. Maybe I can
catch them after the media show.

I check the timestamp. Thirty minutes ago. I
just fed him to the sharks.

Colby’s phone sends me to voicemail for the
fifth time. A.J. gives me the epic face of sympathy when I finally
lay my phone aside. I can’t stop the damage that’s being done.
Colby is probably already on the hotel’s first floor, hidden away
behind locked doors with his parents and their lawyer. I bet he’s
saying all the right things, explaining himself and why he did what
he did. I wonder if they’ll play along or if they’ll tell him
they’re suing him for his net worth and then some.