Rough Waters (6 page)

“What are you doing here?” Kale asks. “I
really didn’t expect to see anyone I knew tonight, especially
you.”

What is that supposed to mean? Just because
I’m not half-naked and grinding on some guy doesn’t mean I can’t
blend in at a party…does it?

“You do know whose party this is, right?”
Kale asks, shifting his eyes from A.J. to me and back to A.J.
again.

We shake our heads simultaneously before A.J.
chugs a third of his beer. Kale tells us to follow him outside. We
exit through another living area. Kale slides the patio door shut
behind us. An in-ground pool glimmers up at us in the
moonlight.

“Look, I only came for the free beer,” he
says. “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I hang out with these
people or that I’m cool with them.”

I nod in understanding, even though I’m not
quite sure what I’m supposed to understand yet. I quickly explain
that Vin wanted us to pass out flyers for Drenaline Surf’s sale and
how A.J. thought the party would be better than the tourist areas,
especially since Alston was already planning on coming here.

“And I’m guessing Alston didn’t fill you guys
in? Or does he even know?” Kale asks, all cryptically. “This party
is for Dominic. It’s his welcome back party.”

It dawns on me that I never really followed
up with what happened to Dominic Richardson after Miles won the
sponsorship with Drenaline Surf last summer. But one thing is
certain – this is the
last
place we need to be passing out
flyers for Drenaline Surf’s newest addition.

“Where’s he been?” I ask.

Kale sits next to the pool and kicks off his
flip flops. He dangles his legs into the water, so I copy his
actions and do the same. A.J. relaxes in a lounge chair behind us
with his beer bottle.

“He went to school out of state. He left
right after he lost to Miles last summer,” Kale says. “His dad
walked out on them years ago, hooked up with some trophy wife,
bought her some boobs and a mansion, and now he tries to pay his
kids back, literally. So Dominic had his choice of schools.”

“So why the party?” I ask. “He’s just coming
home for the summer, right?”

Kale takes a swig from his beer can and sets
it back down on the concrete. “Afraid not,” he says. “Dominic’s
back for good. From what I heard, he partied a lot and flunked out.
He probably just didn’t give a damn, really. So now his dad and
stepmom are playing the pity card, saying how he was so depressed
over losing the sponsorship that he just lost his way.”

“Bullshit!” A.J. calls out. “He would’ve
partied his way right out of Drenaline Surf too. He was only in it
for the perks. He doesn’t give a damn about the store or Shark or
any of us.”

Kale holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey,
I’m just relaying the info,” he says. “I’m not on Team Dominic. We
don’t exactly have the best history, if you remember. But I’m a
Hooligan now and he’s not, and I plan to keep it that way.”

“You’re official now?” I ask, trying to keep
my voice from shooting up an octave like a Hooligan fangirl.

Kale nods. “I pretty much was anyway,” he
says. “Dominic was the only one who ever added the word ‘honorary’
to it.”

A.J. stands up, peers inside through the
patio door, and asks us where the ‘fuck up’ is anyway. With the
little I know of Dominic, I imagine him to be one of those guys who
shows up fashionably late and makes a dramatic entrance.

The three of us head back inside. Kale parts
ways with us so he can slip out without being seen once Dominic
arrives. A.J. pushes through the crowd until we find Alston talking
with a group of guys in a Billabong versus Hurley debate. I want to
chime in and vote for Hurley because John John Florence is
sponsored by them, and Topher wants to be the next JJF, but Alston
sees us and motions us away from the group before I can.

“Party sucks but this is the right crowd to
promote the sale,” Alston says, leading us into another room away
from the thumping music.

I shake my head. “We can’t,” I tell him. “We
just found out who this party is for.”

It’s like a freaking movie scene. Alston
opens his mouth, presumably to ask who the party is for, but the
cheers behind us announce the arrival of the guest of honor. He’s
everything I remember – movie star looks, salon-produced
highlights, what might be a fake tan, and enough arrogance to put
the Jersey Shore cast to shame. Maybe Dominic should’ve auditioned
for a reality TV show. He’d have been the star he dreams of
being.

He slaps a few high fives on his way in,
tilting his head in that magazine model way whenever he smiles at a
girl. He doesn’t seem to notice us in the crowd, which works to our
advantage and helps me find an escape route.

“Wait,” A.J. says. “I want to hear what this
idiot has to say. You know he’s going to make some big speech,
probably toast to himself.”

Alston sighs. “Okay, fine,” he says. “Let’s
just hang toward the back, though, so he can’t see us from his
podium.”

We shuffle toward the room where the DJ is,
jostled around by the crowd of people following Dominic like a herd
of cattle. Dominic slices his hand across his neck, motioning for
the DJ to kill the music. The beat stops almost instantly.

Dominic steps into the DJ booth, steadily
waving to the crowd like he’s some famous musician who is about to
thank his fans and ask the DJ to play his new song. Girls shriek
around us, squealing with excitement and hormones. I wish I had
earplugs.

“What up, Crescent Cove!” Dominic echoes
through the speakers. “It’s so great to be back in California, back
home where I belong with my family and my true friends.”

I glance at Alston and mouth ‘true friends?’
He shrugs. A.J.’s expression says that he’s clueless as well. I
can’t imagine Dominic having any friends left in Cali aside from
the screaming girls who just want to make out with him. I’m
surprised he didn’t find another sponsor to let him live the surf
star dream. Asshole or not, he’s a damn good surfer. There are
plenty of assholes in the elite world of surfing, so I know they’re
accepting applications.

“I want to thank you all for coming out
tonight, to celebrate with me and have some fun,” Dominic shouts.
“I’ve done a lot of soul searching, and I’m definitely not the same
man who left here last summer. I’ve cleansed myself of the bad, and
I’m only focused on moving forward from here.”

There are so many things wrong with this.
Dominic doesn’t have a soul to search, and he’s never been a man,
period. He’s only back here because he has nowhere else to go, and
he isn’t about to get a job or actually work for anything in life.
He came back for the lifestyle his dad has been guilted into
serving him on a silver platter.

“This is sick,” A.J. says. “I’ve heard
enough. Let’s bail.”

As the man of the hour rambles on about
starting anew, we push back through the onlookers and starry-eyed
girls to the front door of the beach mansion. There’s nothing in
this world that could keep me in there listening to his
well-rehearsed speech that was probably stolen from a motivational
speaking pamphlet.

Except for the black truck that just pulled
up next to the curb.

Colby Taylor steps out.

I don’t know what Colby is doing here, but I
instantly turn around, go back inside, and plaster myself to a
wall. Alston and A.J. become wallpaper on either side of me. I’m
sure we look out of place, like wallflowers at a school dance, but
I can’t allow Colby to run loose at Dominic’s party. That’s like
opening all the cages at the zoo and telling the animals to have
fun.

“Well, we can’t leave now. The party’s just
getting started,” A.J. says. “I’m going to get another beer. If we
have to stay through this shit, I might as well get drunk.”

He peels himself from the wall and disappears
into the crowd. Alston and I don’t move, still hanging around in
the foyer. Colby hasn’t made his way inside yet, so I move over to
the window. People stand around in the front yard, some sitting on
the curb, but the surf star isn’t anywhere among them.

“Maybe he came in through another door,”
Alston says. “This place is a fucking maze. Do you want to go look
for him?”

No, I don’t want to look for him because
there’s no telling what he’ll say to me. I don’t want to find him
because I don’t want to know why he’s even here. Every fiber of my
being knows this is absolutely terrible, and finding, seeing, or
speaking to Colby Taylor will simply just prove what my instinct
already knows.

“Yeah,” I say, reluctantly. “We need to find
him before he does something stupid. Does he normally go to Cove
parties? I thought he lived like a hermit.”

Alston’s face answers my question before he
even speaks. “The only public appearances he’s ever made were for
Drenaline Surf. I don’t even know how to react to this,” he
says.

I guess now that his secret is out, all bets
are off. It’s scary, though, because everything is about to change.
Drenaline Surf may be facing a lawsuit. Shark’s legacy and
reputation are in danger of being damaged. And God forbid, if
Colby’s parents actually win a case over him, we’ll all be homeless
because the first thing he’ll sell off is the condo that Reed,
Alston, A.J., and now I live in. I get why Vin was always leery of
this whole thing – Colby Taylor’s name
is
on the mortgage.
He holds all the cards.

“We’ll lay low,” Alston says, pulling me back
into reality. “Just hang to the back of the room, wherever we go.
If it gets bad, we find A.J. and bail.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “Lead the
way.”

We follow a slim path through the first room,
past the Greek goddess statue and a passed out teenage boy, into a
small parlor room where two girls are making out on an antique
sofa, and back into a main living area with a pool table. Some guys
play beer pong and shout stupidly no matter what happens in the
game. And that’s when I find Colby, indirectly. His voice seeps out
of the speakers and ricochets off the walls of the mansion.

I grab Alston’s arm and drag him through the
house, slamming into people along the way. Alston apologizes to
them for me as I dash for the DJ booth. Colby gives Dominic a high
five and that classic ‘one arm over the shoulder guy hug.’ There’s
no way these two are friends. Colby doesn’t have any friends. Hell,
I’m
the closest thing he has to a friend. Colby has people
who hide him, people he works for, and the girl who still tries to
have faith in him. Dominic falls nowhere under those
categories.

“I want you guys to give it up for my man,
Dominic,” Colby says into the microphone. “We all have our demons,
and we all have our own battles to fight, but you guys are looking
at the next big thing in the surf world!”

As the cheers erupt around us, Colby grabs a
red cup from someone nearby, raises it in a toast to Dominic, and
then throws his head back, drinking the stolen beer. His face
contorts, and his Adam’s apple bulges when he forces himself to
swallow.

“Looks like he just came to party,” Alston
says. “You want to bail?”

“Are you serious?” I ask. “We can’t leave.
Colby doesn’t ‘come to party.’ He’s anti-parties. He’s one of those
water-drinking, organic-food-eating, save-the-planet and go green
people. He doesn’t party or drink or smoke. His body is his temple.
This is
not
like him.”

People can say what they want about his lies
and secrets, but they can’t deny that the boy is the perfect image
of health and fitness. If he’s here to let loose and live a little,
he’s going to end up living a lot more than a little.

“Alright, I’m going to find A.J. then,”
Alston says. “Will you be okay or do you want me to hang around,
just in case?”

“Go,” I tell him. I take a deep breath. “I’m
going to do what I can to intervene.”

Thirty minutes later, I’ve reunited with
Alston and A.J. I almost hoped they’d have Colby with them when we
met back up, as I’ve yet to find him. When he stumbles out of a
back bedroom, balancing himself with a pool stick, I decide it’s
time to move in.

“We’ll hang back for security purposes,”
Alston says. “He’ll listen to you before he would either of us.
We’ll watch out for Dominic or anyone else who might try to get in
the way.”

Colby trips, slams into a wall, and rams the
pool stick into the backside of a skinny blonde girl. She yells,
and he holds his arms up in apology. He leaves the pool stick
behind when he goes into the next room. A.J. nods and I decide to
follow.

When I get through the room to where he
stands, he holds out both arms, asking everyone to stand back while
he shows them how it’s done. I’m pretty certain this is the first
time he’s ever been drunk in his life. I doubt he’s had a ton to
drink, but he was a clean slate before tonight. Even with a few
beers, he’s long gone.

And that’s when it happens. Colby stretches
his body over a coffee table – the kind of coffee table with a
glass top. He braces each hand on the corners of one end, over
where the wooden frame sits. Where there’s glass, there’s bound to
be blood.

I force myself toward the table as quickly as
I can, but the world moves in slow motion. As Colby pushes himself
up onto the table as he would a surfboard, his right leg moves
back, slipping. His foot dives through the glass, sending shards
around him rather than ocean droplets. Girls scream and guys shout
‘hell yeahs’ as the table completely shatters and collapses under
Colby’s body weight.

No one bothers to help as Colby scrambles to
his feet. He pulls a small shard of glass out of his hand and wipes
the blood on his shirt. Someone needs to just throw him in the
pool, but as wasted as he is, he might not come back up.

A girl rushes into the room, screaming about
the coffee table. It must be her house…or her parents’ house, more
so. At this point, damage control isn’t an option. So I do the only
thing I can. I find Alston and A.J., and we bail.