“Thanks, kid, you’re good, really good. You earned that win.”
Sam is next. She comes up from behind, hugging and squeezing me.
“You’re the best, Mick. We will find a way, I promise.”
Her reassuring words are all I need to carry on. My life has changed so dramatically in the past few months that all I really want is to have a little bit of money, teach surfing, and have Sam at my side. Moments later. my happiness is broken by the appearance of Jaime.
“Too bad, kid. Looks like you’re all washed up.”
A loud voice calls through the crowd and people begin shuffling out of the way. “Step aside, please, step aside.” Emerging from the crowd are more than ten police officers.
“Jaime Redman?”
“Yes?”
“You are under arrest for grand theft and fraud.”
“What are you talking about? This must be a mistake.”
“We have been investigating you for quite some time. I assure you, there is no mistake.”
I watch, as does the crowd, quite shocked as they cart Jaime away. His ranting and raving continues until he’s put into the car. Later, I learn he’s defrauding his clients out of millions of dollars by stealing the money from trust funds and investments. I’m just one person in a long line of people Jaime scammed.
As the action settles, the TV cameras circle around to interview me. Now it’s my moment.
“Mick, what’s it like to be back surfing?”
I grin. “I can only answer that one way.” Pulling Sam in closely, I bend down on one knee and reach into my wetsuit where I had placed the ring.
“Sam, we have had our ups and downs this past year, but you have always been the one to see me through. You give me the strength and power to carry on the fight, day in and day out. Without you, my life is incomplete. Money will come and go, but our love is forever. Would you do me the honor of being my surf buddy for life?”
Tears well up in Sam’s eyes as she covers her mouth with her hands. Then she leans down and kisses me, whispering, “Yes.”
Chapter 27 Happy ending – Sam
Mick and I have just welcomed our first child into the world, Tobin Anderson, II. He is a beautiful baby boy, and though it is a little tough, sometimes, we make it through our days together. When I return from my maternity leave, I will continue to teach people how to love surfing.
Mick still teaches there sometimes, but he has taken on Blane as a client in his new business representing and protecting surfers. Several other surfers have come to him, asking him to represent them, so that occupies most of his day. Our life is now a simple one, by design. We live in a small house by the water and enjoy the sunsets together, the three of us.
Our love is strong and continues to grow every day, without love we are nothing.
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Run – Chelsea Hunter
Chapter 1 - Run
I watch the gravel pathway disappear beneath my feet evolving in to a dirt road. My feet dodge the rocks as if they have a mind of their own. Here, the wind is cool on my feverish skin. But the foggy environment seemed to be competing with my muddled thoughts. I continue to push myself to run faster. The familiar sound of the leaves crunching beneath my feet allowing me to slip in to my comfort zone. The melodic chorus of a dozen birds singing, serve as a proof that it won’t be long before dawn breaks. The faster I run, the closer I get to the sense of freedom and the welcome distant feeling detaching myself from the world.
My mind wanders, there was that late June afternoon I would never forget. I remember my mother being awfully quiet that day. I knew she had a fight with my dad the previous night, but that wasn’t new or even mildly surprising. Something was different that day and I knew it. There was a calm I wasn’t used. It was completely the wrong affect for the moment. Sure, my parents fought a lot but a new day would always be a new start. They would always go back to stealing kisses when they thought I wasn’t looking, mother giggling like a teenager at some cumbersome joke my dad would always seem to make. My dad would go to work with a smile on his face leaving my mother with the same smile. She would continue her routine singing 80s melodies in a soft tune. Before that day I had never seen him leave without my mom standing at the door, waving goodbye, a smile adorning her freckled cheeks. Before that day I had never heard the front door slam so hard, that it caused the windows to shake and almost shatter. Yes, this was a silence that was most certainly different.
I would not receive the news that they had decided they were going to get separated until much later, but it was the unusual silence and knowing that something was very different in a bad way, that initially convinced me to run. For that was the first day I laid my feet on the pavement and ran. I ran as hard as I could in hopes of leaving the silence behind. My long blonde locks whipping carelessly in the gusts of wind attacking me now and again. I must have looked ridiculous running relentlessly, never stopping to calm my racing heart. I can’t remember what caused me to stop, or what possessed me to start running, but running was the only thing that gave me the feeling that everything was going to be ok, if only for a short while.
I thought back to the images of my dad with someone else besides my mom. That though started to blur into the fee notices from college and having to trek from one job to another, just to make it by. Nobody gives you a job that pays nicely straight out of high school. After my mom died and my dad got remarried, asking him for help was out of question. Working shifts and student loans was the only way I had to get by.
It wasn’t all bad, but at times things would seem so impossible that I sometimes had to find a place away from prying eyes to scream to the world to give me a break! These are the times that running becomes something significant for me. To be able to clear my head and let the noise of the wind in my ears calm me down enough to sort out my conscious feelings and thoughts.
I slow down to a moderate pace as the clearing comes into view. I avoid the wayward branches protruding from the natural opening and duck down to enter. Standing upright I take a deep breath and let my eyes adjust to the alluring view of the landscape before me. The meadow was a part of me that had remained constant since my very first breakdown that day. That was the day I found this place.
I was frantically running through the forest, trying to force my parents cutting words out of my mind. Trying to forget the lack of apology and foreboding silence afterwards. I recall panicking, scared for my life as it seemed I had come to a dead end. But then as if to lead me to the place I needed a squirrel dashed in to what seemed like a network of interlaced branches. Following him I discovered the entrance to the meadow nestled in bushes, as if purposefully hidden from the world to preserve its beauty. It was everything you would imagine to be in a fairy-tale and yet everything that you would never dream of ever finding in the New York City. I let this be my own secret, something that came out undamaged in the years that the world crippled my innocence and naivety. I lay down to breathe in until the erratic beating of my heart returns to a more reasonable pace. The air is gently brushing my damp skin cooling and calming as it goes. At times like these I let myself dream of a better world, a world without worry or responsibility. The very first glimpses of the sun rays are enough to melt my eyes shut, allowing me to lay in state for several minutes.
As I begin to drift off to sleep I remember my day is just beginning and my bills will not pay themselves. Jumping to my feet, I take one last look at my urban oasis and turn to run home. I always feel when I leave this place that it is watching me leave, with sadness. Somehow I feel as though this place is a part of me.
Not soon after I leave the beauty of nature I am back on the hard concrete streets. I pass a couple alleyways taking the cobblestone lined route to the subway. Only in New York will you see people lining up on the subway at the crack of dawn. I go through a back
alley to finally reaching my apartment block. The apartment itself is just adequate enough for survival. The looming building, as described by my landlord has a historical significance. I think that is just his way of not having to fix it. Apparently it was originally built as a hotel around the 1930s as a place for gangster and prostitutes and any other sort of 1930’s characters. Some say Albert Einstein himself had stayed there on more than one occasion perhaps making phenomenal discoveries or maybe just getting laid. Sincerely, to me these seemed like stories made up in order to convince people to live in this otherwise dilapidated building.
I take the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Going down the hall I stop in front of a black wooden door, the gold plaque glinting in the light from the hallway number 21 standing out proudly. Quietly I take out the small key hidden in my back pocket and twist softly after plucking it in to the lock. The door opens with a subtle click and I shut it delicately as to not make much noise.
I turn on the lights to be welcomed by a messy living room very much in the same condition as I left it an hour ago. The door to Sarah’s room was closed shut letting me know she was still asleep. I catch a glimpse of myself in the Victorian styled mirror which hung in the wall near the entrance. Covered in sweat from head to toe, I do not look even slightly presentable. My hair is still huddled in a tight pony tail on top of my head, now disheveled from the run. My pale skin was standing out even more because of the prominent blush on my cheeks, undoubtedly from running. I had my mother’s huge sapphire colored eyes and blonde hair. My straight sharp nose was the only feature I inherited from my father. Everyone always thought I resembled my mother way more than my dad and even after she died they would associate me with her. It was something I liked, a connection to her that no one else had. However, after she passed away looking at the mirror became a bitter reminder of her death. I missed my mother a great deal and am not sure if I will ever be able to reconcile my feelings about her passing.
I take off my shoes and flop down on the recliner. When Sarah and I were decorating we both agreed to have as little furniture as possible in the main room. We convinced each other it was because it made the room look bigger, but really we had no money for much else. The recliner and two couches with a glass table pretty much sums up all the furniture in the living room including a 32 inch LCD TV. Hardwood floors lined the whole apartment.
When I first looked at this apartment, the flooring combined with some insistent words from the agent caused me to finally seal the deal. Easy to clean and overall they gave the place a more modern look. We decided to not personalize the living area much so we just ended up putting up a few framed pictures of us together and a wall clock. Picking up my phone from the coffee table, I hunch back my shoulders to be able to hold it up while lying down on my back. I check my email as my phone rings abruptly. The phone falls from my hand and hits me in the face, making me grunt and rub my nose. I scramble to my feet pick up the phone and quickly and check the caller ID. ‘DAD’ it says in block letters. The shrill sound of the phone ringing dies as I pick the call up. The familiar voice of my dad comes through from the other end.
“Hello. Isabelle?”
“Hey dad is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I wanted to invite you to the dinner we are hosting tonight. Will you be able to come?”
“Yeah sure I get off from Lindsay’s at six. I’ll be there by seven”
“Ok honey. And make sure to dress up properly alright? Not like last time. Now I have to go. I love you “
“Sure” I am about to say I love you too but the dial tone confirms he has hung up. My father always had a way of insulting me unintentionally that was just the way he was.
Chapter 2 - Reunion
I sit in quiet contemplation regarding the prospect of a family reunion. A family reunion for our family is a far away concept, a myth that may occur once in a blue moon. Honestly speaking, they are not my family. They are a family I was married into. For them, the Fosters, family reunions could only mean one of the two things depending on how successful you are in your life. Either it could be a great opportunity to brag about your perfect job and career or it could end up being a dreadful evening filled with merely disguised remarks criticizing your life choices from people who have never so much as picked up a phone to wish you a happy birthday. The latter was the fate of those with a mediocre job or career. I never felt worse at these events and could only take solace that it would be only for one night.
I lay down on my back and start counting to calm myself down. It doesn't work, it rarely does. More internet mumbo jumbo. I close my eyes and sigh loudly. Now don't get me wrong, my dad wasn't a person who would purposefully try to make anyone's life miserable let alone his own daughter's. He may have refrained from inviting me in the first place if he actually knew about my living conditions, if I had actually told him about them. A swift click followed by the creaking of the door hinges announces the arrival of my housemate and best friend Sarah Finn.
I don't bother to turn around as she drags herself to the couch and settles down holding her head in her hands, with her hair ruffled and a mighty frown causing her expression to contort into one of displeasure, she looks like she is in extreme discomfort. The action is so absurdly recognizable that it makes me crack a smile.
"Nursing a hangover again, Finn?" I say in a tone that screams I told you so.
"I hate you too, Foster" she spits out.
I chuckle on her not so smart comeback before making my way to the kitchen to get her an Advil and some water. Sarah has a weekend routine. She stays up until late partying and getting wasted and wakes up the next day with a vow to never drink again, between her throwing up and getting migraines, suffice to say just witnessing her in this condition has killed any desire I might have ever had to get drunk.
I enter the kitchen which follows the same color scheme of red and tan as the living room. Furnished with stainless steel cabinets and marble countertops, it looks like any other American kitchen you would see anywhere else, just another thing that conflicts with the supposedly antique background of the building.
Back in the living room, I hand over the Advil to Sarah. She smiles gratefully at me before gulping down the water with the tablet in one breath.
"Why do you look like someone just killed your cat?" She inquires raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me.
I roll my eyes at her inquisitive demeanor. Sarah is studying to be a lawyer, even if she wasn’t, she has always been a great observer; meaning that it's impossible to hide anything from her for long.
"Dad called. He's hosting a family dinner" I mumble not even pretending to sound like I was happy about it.
"Ah, that explains it. Do you remember the last time?"
Her question is immediately followed by a howl of laughter and then a series of failed attempts to speak between her chortles. I fix my eyes on her with an impassive glare which quickly transforms into an amused smile.
"Oh come on! It's not that funny" I exclaim trying to force the embarrassing events of that night away.
It was two years ago, my dad had hosted yet another one of his parties but this time it was in the honor of me graduating high school. There are some memories that you want to hold on to forever and then there are some that you want to desperately forget like they never happened and yet they stay vivid in your mind. So it's no coincidence that I remember that day with a striking precision. You see my stepmom loves making desserts and that day was no different. She had baked a dazzling cake and unfortunately trusted me to take it to the dining table. Next thing you know my 4 inch heels are slipping from underneath me and I am falling face first on the floor the cake being the only thing to cushion my fall. The people at the table all stared at me like I was some bizarre species before they started laughing at my demise, all of them except for one. My step brother. My Step Brother’s mouth was curled in a snarl, eyes dancing with disguised humor.
Suddenly the puddle of lem
onade on which I slipped and him being the only person drinking lemonade in the whole room didn't seem like just a stroke of my bad luck anymore. Needless to mention I didn't hear the end of it in all of the dinners that followed that fateful night.
"Yeah you're right. It’s not funny. It’s hilarious!" She replies sobering up.
"You're not helping" I say reaching for the remote control of the TV.
I turn it on to some MTV news reporter discussing about a hot hunk of a bachelor officially becoming the youngest billionaire in the world because of his ever extending business empire. Her voice drowns away as Sarah turns off the TV.
"Why did you do that? They were talking about my future husband"
"Yeah right and Madonna is my next door neighbor" She says sarcasm dripping from her voice.
“But that’s not true...” I state playing along.
“Exactly, I thought we were listing off impossible things” She says in a matter of fact tone.
Vain: A Stepbrother Romance Page 13