Swell (4 page)

‘Come on, Bailey, they may call the contest on tomorrow. I’m relaxing and watching the surf today. Today is not a work day.’

‘Is any day a work day?’

‘Sure, you’ll see soon enough. It’s not always like this.’

I clicked the anxiety from my neck.

‘But I haven’t even learned anything about your work.’

Jason stood up and extended a hand. I heard the girls groan loudly on the beach when Jason’s nut-brown six-pack became visible. Keeping my eyes fixed above his hemispheric pectoral muscles, I accepted the hand and let him pull me to my feet.

‘This is my work,’ he said, placing one hand around my shoulders and pointing at the topaz blue ocean with the other. ‘These waves are my office.’

‘Not a bad office admittedly.’

‘Now, Bailey, to understand my work, the best thing you can do is come to the office with me.’

I looked at Jason and then back at the churning, hollow waves pounding the reef at a decibel level that would have most neighbours complaining.

‘What? Out there? Are you joking? I don’t mind looking at your office from here but I don’t fancy having a skyscraper landing on my head thank you very much.’

‘Alright,’ he smirked, ‘maybe not at Pipe but if you look at those waves on the next break at Ehukai Beach Park they are fine for you. Small and mellow. I promise you it won’t hurt. Are you regular or goofy?’

I arched my eyebrow.

‘Goofy? Cheeky bastard.’

‘It means do you surf with your right foot forward?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘How would you skateboard?’

‘Jason, do I look like the kind of girl who skateboards? I know you live in this world where grown adults play in the ocean, eat Brazilian berries for breakfast and look presentable in beachwear but I am a novelist from England. As a general rule we don’t skateboard.’

Jason lifted both hands in surrender and laughed.

‘Hey, I’m just trying to turn you into a surf chick.’

I tapped my nose.

‘Tell you what, why don’t you stick to the surfing and I’ll stick to the writing?’

‘Fine by me.’ Jason paused and glanced over at the beach. ‘Speaking of writing, can I borrow your pen?’

Jason took the pen, turned and walked out of the garden and onto the beach. The reaction of the people gathered there was as electric as if the Dalai Lama had just sauntered into Tibet. Girls fiddled with their hair and hurriedly applied lip-gloss. Grown men walked boldly up and shook his hand. Pushy parents grabbed their children and shoved them to the front of the excited throng.

‘He’ll be kissing babies next,’ I laughed to myself.

My smile faded when Jason moved on from signing autographs on everything from books to bodies and made his way towards the yoga-tastic bikini babes.

‘Or more likely making babies,’ I tutted.

I turned away and headed for the hot tub to spend yet more hours busily doing nothing.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was the day of the contest final. After a year touring the world to compete for the world title, Jason and his fierce rival, Cain Ohana from Oahu were nail-bitingly close on points. The crown was about to be decided in the final heat of the very last event and by the end of the day Jason could have claimed his place in the sporting hall of fame by winning a record-breaking thirteenth world title.

‘So tell me about Cain,’ I said to Jason that morning over a fruit smoothie and a bowl of muesli.

Jason chewed slowly and meticulously like a wise old horse.

‘What’s to tell? He’s an arrogant prick who got lucky and won two world titles.’

‘So he got lucky twice?’

‘Yes and he thinks he’s going to get lucky again.’ Jason held up a finger and tilted his head. ‘Correction, he thinks he is talented enough to deserve another world title this year but he’s not and he won’t.’

There was an angry edge to Jason’s voice. I could instantly tell Cain Ohana was one competitor who, beneath Jason’s calm demeanour, really had him riled.

‘He’s Hawaiian isn’t he?’

‘Yeah well sort of. He grew up on the west side, Makaha. They make them tough over there but Cain was a haole.’

‘What’s a haole?’ I asked. The word was pronounced ‘howly’.

‘A white guy. He was an orphan from California but adopted by a Hawaiian couple. They brought him here and the dad taught him to surf. He took to it straight away,
stood up first time and all that jazz. They had no money but the mom worked like three jobs so Cain could do the contests. He owes them everything, you know, but he’s still got a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder. He’s dark. On the inside and the outside. He’s tanned his skin so much to fit in, he’s darker than most of the locals.’

‘Wow, that’s quite a story,’ I said.

Jason inhaled sharply.

‘Really? You want to go write his story instead?’

‘Of course not, I just need to know everything about you for the book and your rivals are very much part of that.’

He nodded and lowered his eyes.

‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘I guess I’m a little tense.’

‘Understandable on a day like this,’ I said, even though I still knew very little about what to expect from the final of the Pipemasters.

‘Basically they love Cain Ohana on this island. I will definitely be the underdog today.’

‘Interesting. A reigning twelve-times world champ as the underdog. How does that work?’

Jason moved his tongue slowly around his mouth and peered up at the ceiling fan whirring above our heads.

‘Intimidation, tactics, local advantage. Cain has his posse on the beach who cheer and holler so the judges hear it and it influences their decision. The judging is subjective in these comps so often the local guy gets a bit of help if you know what I mean?’

‘Isn’t that cheating?’

‘Sometimes it works for you, sometimes against you. I’ve just got to make sure I surf twice as good, right?’

‘Right,’ I smiled. ‘No pressure.’

‘Only what I put on myself. I’m fit, I do good at Pipe so I’ve got nothing to lose.’

Other than a world title and an alleged five million-dollar bonus
, I thought to myself.

‘By intimidation, do you mean they threaten you?’ I frowned, pulling my legs up underneath me on the chair.

‘It happens but I have to ignore it. If Cain wants to send his gang to break my legs I can’t stop him but so far it hasn’t gone beyond words. Apart from one time but I won’t go into that. You know, I can deal with it. It always comes down to just the two of us face to face in the water and I can definitely deal with that. I was injured earlier this year in Tahiti, so Cain got a result there. He jumps in when my luck or my confidence slip. He’s shrewd like that, but he doesn’t yet have his talent honed.’

‘Not that I know much about the technique yet but I have to say he looked talented enough on that DVD,’ I said, testing him for a reaction.

‘What DVD?’

‘Over there on the television. I found it on the front step this morning.’

I nodded to an open DVD case. Jason pushed himself up from the table, his biceps bulging, and walked over to pick it up. He silently read the blurb on the back.

‘Cain must have had it sent over as a gift,’ he said, nodding sagely. ‘Nice touch.’

Jason ejected the DVD and snapped it in two. He then returned to the table, plonked himself down and returned to his laboured chewing. I watched him for a while,
making mental notes for my book. I decided I would have to interview Cain Ohana if I were to truly understand the rivalry but I chose not to upset Jason’s mental preparation any further at a time of mounting pressure. He had been quiet all morning so I guessed he was nervous but I did not yet know him well enough to know what made him tick. I wanted Jason to win, certainly because a record title would be great for the book, but also because I was already growing fond of him as a friend. I could sense the result meant the world to him.

‘Is there a champ in the building?’ hollered Chuck from behind the screen door.

He burst into the room and immediately overwhelmed it with his presence. He was tall and skinny but everything about him clamoured for space from his huge personality to his loud voice and his even louder red and green Aloha shirt. Out of L.A., Chuck discarded the sharp suits for colourful fashions, looking as if he had dressed by falling headfirst into his washing basket.

‘It’s all firing up out there, dude. Ready to see this guy blow up, Bailey?’

He made a fist and jabbed it towards me. I self-consciously returned the gesture.

‘It’s time Jason. They’re ready for you out there. Man the crowd is buzzing. I’d say the girls are so wet with anticipation the tide just came in. No offence, B.’

‘None taken,’ I grimaced.

While Chuck and Jason discussed the plan of attack, I took the opportunity to slip away and prepare for the day ahead. I smoothed on enough sunscreen to protect me from a meteor shower, pulled my liquorice coloured hair into a low ponytail and topped it with a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Chuck had left the house and Tyler was nowhere to be seen. I intended to grab a glass of ice-cold pineapple juice and then settle down in the
quiet sanctuary of the garden to concentrate on the final. However, a wave of noise hit me when I opened the door to the terrace as if a tsunami had suddenly crashed into the house.

Our garden was packed with entrancing people whose bodies were built to be flaunted in skimpy beachwear. They were sipping beers and glasses of champagne. I immediately knew I was among the movers and shakers of the surfing fraternity. The ego in the air was palpable.

‘Who’s that?’ I heard a girl say.

She had the sort of squeaky voice that made fingernails on a blackboard sound pleasant.

Her friend turned to look at me, her cat-like eyes searching me up and down for a clue. Portia. I had not expected to see her again. My heart thumped as if I was the one about to surf Pipeline.

‘Oh her,’ said Portia nonchalantly, wafting a delicate hand in my direction, ‘she’s Jason’s bio whatsit. I mean she’s writing some story on him or whatever. She’s nobody important.’

She had a way of making a girl feel special.

Angry retorts and smart comebacks fizzed and popped behind my eyes but I was too new to the scene to react in the way Portia deserved. Stamping her book for a later date, I raised my chin, looked straight through Portia and proudly negotiated my way through the intimidating collection of surf stars, rock stars, movie stars and people whom I did not know but whose sunglasses were too large not to be concealing a star of some kind.

I picked out Chuck just by the colour of his hair and took my place beside him.

‘It’s action time, B.’

He handed me a beer and clinked his own bottle against mine.

‘It’s gonna be a showdown to remember, you know what I’m sayin’?’

We looked out at the beach. It was packed with an eclectic mix of locals, travelling surfers, tourists and media all straining to see the waves over the pack of hungry photographers three deep on the shoreline. The contest arena was empty yet the majority of the crowd sat with their eyes trained on the breaking waves. I had of course seen waves before, lolloping onto the shingle of south coast British shores but Pipeline was like nothing I could have imagined. Having to look
up
at the crests of waves took my breath away.

The powerful barrelling wave broke on dry reef. Within this reef, I had been told, lurked a maze of dangerous caves that could trap a surfer while waves powerful enough to wash away houses landed on them from above. Pipeline claimed lives. Only two days before I arrived, a twenty-five year old surfer from Brazil had paddled out at dusk for a few last waves before dark and never returned. His broken surfboard washed up on the beach the following day but his body had still not been found.

‘Our four surfers have five minutes to paddle out into position then they have thirty-five minutes for the final,’ explained the commentator, Rock O’Rafferty, to the assembled crowd of thousands on the beach and the millions watching the live online broadcast around the globe. ‘The wave is scored according to its size and the manoeuvres completed by the surfer in what we call the most critical part of the wave. The two best waves of each surfer count as their final score. Today we will mostly be seeing tube rides
but surfers of this calibre can be full of surprises. How could we forget the perfect ten-point ride Jason Cross scored here in the Pipemasters’ final last year? The best surfing has seen since the glory days of Kelly Slater. Hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen, the heat is on.’

A klaxon wailed from the top of the judging tower and what sounded like a Red Indian war cry erupted from a house further along the beach.

‘What the hell was that?’

Chuck tilted his head down almost onto my shoulder and muttered - ‘The Tiger Sharks, Cain Ohana’s gang. Man those guys will have been drinking since dawn. They’ll be so stirred up, if Cain goes down, they’ll go off.’

I turned towards Chuck.

‘
When
Cain goes down you mean.’

‘Goddammit I hope you’re right, Bailey Brown. If our guy loses it could be the end of my career.’

‘What about his?’

‘Yeah yeah, that too.’

‘Don’t worry, Chuck,’ I said, glancing out to the four figures sitting on their boards in the ocean waiting patiently for a wave, ‘I have faith.’

‘I had faith too ‘til that bitch turned up.’

He nodded towards Portia.

‘She’s got no business coming in here stirring him up before the final. Hell she’s only here so she can get her stupid face in the Press if he wins.’

‘For a stupid face, it’s a rather pretty one.’

Chuck shook his head.

‘That girl is living proof that real beauty is on the inside you know what I’m sayin’? She may have a pretty face, but once you get to know the inside, man is she ugly.’

I had underestimated Chuck. He was very likely the only man in the vicinity who was not even tempted to jump Portia’s dainty bones.

I rubbed his arm reassuringly.

‘Come on, Chuck, Jason won’t let her upset the apple cart.’

‘I got no clue what that means, dude, but I’m with you girl. You’re on our team,’