Swell (3 page)

His cheeks flushed beneath his tan.

‘Shame but I get it.’

‘Good. Now we’ve got that sorted, you can either run away and find a girl who will sleep with you or we can stay here and have an interesting conversation.’

Jason pressed his lips together and then a smile spread across his beautiful face.

‘I admire your honesty. You know I think I’m already having the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had at one of these parties so if you don’t mind, I’ll stay.’

We clinked our glasses together and drank. The combination of the expensive bubbles, the delightful company and the breathtaking surroundings lifted my mood so high above where it had been for the previous few months, I felt as if I were watching myself from above. So much so that when Jason asked me the question that had the ability to change my life forever, it seemed to reach me on a warm breeze.

‘I’ve been thinking, Bailey, how great would it be if you actually were my biographer?’

‘Pardon me?’

Before he could reply, Jason’s eyes flitted over my shoulder. Half expecting to see Portia bearing down on me with a stiletto heel poised to strike, I spun around. Instead I saw the man I recognised as Chuck. He beamed at me. I tried to smile back, but his aubergine hair was so startling, I just felt myself staring at the top of his head.

‘Chuck’s my manager,’ Jason explained. ‘Chuck, this is the girl I was telling you about, the writer, Bailey.’

‘How’s it going?’ Chuck chirped.

He greeted me with a handshake so enthusiastic it made my bones rattle. His suit was as sharp as a lemon.

‘Delighted to meet you, Chuck.’

‘Likewise, dude,’ Chuck whooped. ‘Man, that is one cool accent. If I didn’t know you wrote books I’d already be guessing that compared to the chicks Jason usually hangs out with, your IQ’s actually on the scale, for shizzle.’

‘Er, thanks I think,’ I said, raising my eyebrows.

Chuck spoke at three hundred words per minute and shouted as if speaking into a strong headwind but he was friendly and interesting and bubbled with infectious energy. I did not come across people like Jason and Chuck in my everyday life. So even if I had found inspiration for two new book characters the party had been worthwhile.

‘It’s been a real pleasure,’ I said bowing my head, ‘but I should really get back to my friend.’

‘Hold up, dude, what about the deal. Is it a no go?’ Chuck hollered.

‘Deal? What deal?’

Jason glanced at Chuck, ran his tongue along his lips and took a deep breath.

‘Well I was trying to quiz you about being my biographer. I know you don’t know me…’

‘Must be the only damn person in L.A. who doesn’t,’ Chuck snorted. ‘Ironic, I like it.’

‘Look, I’ll cut to the chase. Chuck and I have been trying to find the right person to write my book for so long but everyone here has a pre-conceived idea about me.’

‘Half the writers in town have been dreaming about landing this job for years,’ Chuck interrupted. ‘For real, some of them have probably penned the whole damn thing already, just waiting for the call you know what I’m sayin’?’

My focus flicked back to Jason. I could hear my heart beating faster.

‘So I haven’t found anyone I’d be happy working with. Until now.’

I jolted under the intensity of his gaze.

‘But you don’t know anything about me, Jason. You haven’t read my CV or any of my books.’

‘Yeah OK I apologise for that. I’ve got a short attention span for books but I will read them.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t force you to,’ I laughed.

He reached out and placed his hand on my knee. I wobbled on the barstool and caught a glimpse of Chuck’s eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

‘I’m impulsive and instinctive, Bailey. I live my life according to ocean swells. I catch a sixty-foot wave based on my gut feeling about whether it will kill me or not. I take risks and so far it’s paid off.’

I blew air up into my hairline.

‘Gosh, you and I really are polar opposites. I would do none of the above.’

Chuck spread his arms theatrically.

‘The perfect team,’ he hooted.

I tapped the side of my champagne flute anxiously.

‘I don’t know. I did not expect this. When do you need an answer?’

Jason shrugged one shoulder.

‘Now would be good. We work fast here in L.A.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that. I feel as if someone pressed fast forward the minute I landed at LAX.’

I ran my hand through my long, black hair.

We had only known each other for a couple of hours and already Jason and I had met, flirted, had an affair, been caught out by a Choo-wielding maniac, had a fight, made up, become friends and started talks about going into business together. If this were England, I thought, we would still be eyeing each other awkwardly across the room and building up to a handshake.

‘It’s a guaranteed bestseller,’ Chuck pressed on. ‘This guy is massive.’

I blinked and suppressed the obvious comment.

‘I don’t know, my life is in England.’

‘I understand but I could trade you England for Hawaii.’

I raised one eyebrow.

‘Then Tahiti, South Africa, the beaches of Europe.’

I raised both eyebrows.

‘A year on the professional surfing tour writing about my life on the world’s best beaches.’

I stopped breathing.

Seeing the expression of disbelief on my face, Chuck threw his arms skywards and shouted – ‘Welcome to L.A., girlfriend, the land of opportunities.’

I glanced at Chuck and started to laugh. My eyes then moved to Jason and past him to the glossy people networking around the party. They were not sitting back waiting for inspiration, they were out there grabbing life by the collar and dragging it to where they wanted it to be.

I gulped the dregs of my champagne and, for the second time that night, felt something fizz inside me that urged me to go for it. Tristan would disapprove of my choice but he was not the one who had to search the depths of his imagination and actually write a book. I had come to L.A. to find inspiration and here it was staring me in the face.

Slowly and with a certain amount of trepidation, I held out my empty glass towards Jason.

‘Fill it up,’ I said with a smile, ‘looks like we have something to celebrate.’

HAWAII

CHAPTER FOUR

Only one month later I found myself in Hawaii for the final event of this year’s tour where Jason was hoping to seal a thirteenth world title; lucky for some. I was there to get a taste of tour life that I would be embarking on in full the following year and to get to know both Jason and the sport. I was staying with Jason and Chuck on the North Shore of Oahu, the home of some of the world’s most infamous big waves. Oahu was a place where grandparents surfed alongside their grandchildren. It was the birthplace of surfing and an intrinsic part of the culture. The missionaries in the nineteenth century had tried to ban the sport for being too sexual but it had returned with a vengeance and was deep in the blood of the Hawaiian people. The beautiful and fit male and female bodies emerging minute after minute from the surf, however, confirmed the sexual reputation. Six-packs were not something bought in the beer aisle of the supermarket on this island.

Our beachfront house was a cornflower blue, architecturally designed, wooden home nestling in a perfectly tended garden of towering palm trees and hibiscus flowers. A wooden lookout post like a childhood den hovered above the beach at the front of the garden. From there, Jason watched the deadly waves of the Banzai Pipeline crashing onto the reef. Sitting alongside him, I was aware of the searching eyes of the public and the lenses of photographers focused on us from the beach. I was a friend of surfing royalty, which meant I had the best ticket in town. The lifestyle I had tasted so far was indeed fit for a princess.

The previous few weeks had been a whirlwind. I had spent days convincing myself I was doing the right thing while brushing up on my surfing knowledge, or rather opening the book of surfing knowledge at chapter one and starting at the very beginning. I had to convince Tristan that I was not selling my soul to the devil by writing a surfer’s biography but that I was simply selling my writing talent for
money
. Something he had thus far failed to grasp as an essential feature of my career.

Jason, Chuck and I had talked money and talked contracts and then his people had talked to my people. He was important enough to have an entire entourage of people. My ‘people’ numbered just the one. While on important international calls, Tristan had repeatedly forgot he was on speakerphone, shaking his head and saying things like – ‘A surfer? A professional surfer? What’s that? Never heard of him, darling.’

At the age of sixty-four Tristan was a very successful and respected agent but this proposal had left him flummoxed. Much of the problem arose from Chuck’s use of slang and surfing jargon. One conference call I had witnessed at the end of the negotiations went something like:

Chuck – ‘So basically Trist’ the word is Bailey will follow Jason on tour. She’s gotta learn the breaks, see it all as it happens. It’ll be a buzz, for real. The reef breaks like Teahupoo are the danger on Tour, Trist’. Beach breaks in Europe are heavy, man but that ain’t nothing compared to Chopes you know what I’m sayin’?’

Tristan - ‘I haven’t the foggiest, Charles.’

Chuck - ‘Yeah, man, you should come check it out. I mean, for real, Chopes is heavy but Pipe, you can never underestimate Pipe. That’s where B will start the book, at Pipe.’

Tristan - ‘What sort of Pipe are we talking about, Charles?’

Chuck – ‘Pipe. The Banzai Pipeline, North Shore Oahu. Tell me you’ve heard of the Banzai Pipeline, man.’

Tristan – ‘Can’t say I’ve come across it in my line of work, Charles.’

Chuck – ‘You haven’t lived, Trist’, man. Bailey will freak when she sees Pipe and then she’ll roll with us around the world for next year’s dream tour. It’ll be a blast. You know what I’m sayin’?

Tristan had coughed and loosened his tie from beneath his sagging jowls – ‘Frankly, Charles, I’m as lost as a sailor without a compass. Do you think we could just move this on to the money and get it over with?’

Their worlds were not even in the same universe.

The deal had been agreed while I listened, feeling at last like a writer on the front line, which also brought with it the fear of taking up arms and going into battle. I knew I was a talented writer but I could write my surfing knowledge on a postage stamp. Jason was taking a gamble in hiring me, but so was I in forging a new direction for my career. Deep down I was terrified the gamble would finish me, just as gambling had destroyed my father.

Tristan did little to alleviate my fears.

‘Well if deciphering this surfer fellow’s grasp of English is a task akin to listening to his buffoon of a manager then you will be climbing a bloody big mountain in your search to find anything at all intelligent to write, darling. But find it you must, Bailey, because if this book goes belly up, you will have alienated your publisher and your readers for nothing and that will be a shame. I very much doubt you have a bestseller on
your hands but I can see the thought of sand between your toes has you convinced. I am warning you, darling, this is the last chance saloon and the exit sign is flashing.’

We had not popped champagne to celebrate the contract.

‘What are you thinking about?’ said Jason, sitting down beside me and scooping a spoonful of berries and granola into his mouth.

‘Just looking for inspiration,’ I said, tapping my pen on my notebook. ‘What is that stuff you’re eating again?’

‘Acai. Miracle Brazilian berries. They’re great for your body, full of antioxidants. They’re from the Amazon and help to sustain the forests by giving the local people an alternative income to logging.’

I smiled. Tristan was wrong about the intelligent conversation.

‘Gosh, breakfast and an environmental crusade all in one.’

‘I’m a surfer. I have to care about the environment or else I wouldn’t have a job left. No clean oceans, no healthy surfers.’

‘Very admirable.’

‘So, do you want to try some?’

I screwed up my face at the granola-topped sludge that was the colour of Chuck’s hair.

‘No thanks, I’ll stick to my coffee and blueberry muffin but thanks anyway.’

I bit off a generous mouthful of sumptuous muffin and gazed out at the stunning beach that had become my home. A group of four girls in bikinis that were more string than bikini caught my eye. Before coming to Hawaii I had never known how toned a
woman’s body could be without airbrushing. These girls had probably never heard of cellulite. I swallowed my mouthful with some difficulty.

‘I think someone might be trying to get your attention, Jason,’ I nodded while trying to suck in my cheeks. ‘Actually can I try some of those miracle berries?’

‘Sure. Why are you talking funny?’

‘Hmm?’

I released my cheeks and dug into the health food. The lean girls were now practising yoga stretches just inches away from our garden, glancing at Jason from upside down through their smooth legs.

‘Bloody hell, if she gets that string stuck up there she’ll need a doctor.’

Jason crossed his arms over his naked torso and chuckled to himself as I sank lower into the wooden chair.

‘Jason, are you going to go over there and speak to them before they start taking each other’s bikinis off with their teeth?’

‘And stop the show? Why?’ he teased.

‘Do things like this happen often to you?’

‘All the time,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug.

I set the acai bowl on the floor and rubbed my hands together.

‘Right, I think it’s about time we got down to some work, Jason.’

‘What brought that on?’

‘Because we haven’t even started yet.’

‘Yes we have. We’re getting to know Hawaii. We’ve soaked up the aloha vibe, we’ve checked the surf, we’ve de-stressed in the hot-tub.’

‘De-stressed? Jason, if you get any more de-stressed, you’ll be dead.’

Jason raised his sunglasses to hit me with his incredible eyes.