Switch Stance

by M. E. Carter

  “Dammit, Kate.”

  “Is that the woman’s name?” Jimmy asks, drawing my attention from the phone.

  “What?”

  “In the picture. Your woman. Is her name Kate?”

  “First, how have I been here an hour and you haven’t said anything about this shit? Two, she’s not my woman. And three, Kate is my sister. Or was. I may kill her. I’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

  Laughing, Jimmy motions for me to lie down. I do as instructed and try to regulate my heartbeat as a million thoughts about the shitstorm this is going to cause runs through my head. As he stretches my leg, my phone rings. Freddy.

  “Hello?” I answer tentatively.

  “This is fucking gold, Garrison. I’m already talking to her people, and we’re going to ride this out for some major promotion. Now, finish up and get to my office. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Without letting me get a word in, the line goes dead and I toss my phone to the side with a groan. No promotion. I don’t do promotion.

  Chapter 9

  Aggi

  For a homebody, I enjoy traveling a lot. I know. I’m a walking conundrum.

  But I love exploring new places and getting to experience new cultures. Venice Beach is certainly turning out to be a culture all its own.

  I’ve been walking up and down the boardwalk for a couple hours, fascinated by the sights and sounds. The architecture alone is beautiful. With colorful arches and murals painted on buildings, it’s a visual experience like I’ve never had before. My favorite is the giant mural of a skateboarder. I have at least two dozen pictures of it at different angles with different filters. Thank goodness for the cat fight over this Nikon during the after-Thanksgiving sale last year. While two grandmas decided to throw down, I reached around them and grabbed the last one and the extra lenses that were on sale. I may have then run to the cashier as fast as I could before they realized the item they were fighting over was gone.

  It was the most exciting conflict I’ve ever been involved in, but so worth it for the pictures it’s taken of this mural.

  Wandering around the beach, I’m hoping to catch some surfing inspiration. Except for one or two people on boards who aren’t very good, it’s mostly just beachgoers. It’s disappointing to say the least. Writer’s block continues to kill my ability to get this manuscript done and the longer this goes on, the more off-track I’m getting.

  I’ve already had one hard conversation with my publisher begging to push my deadline back. I highly doubt I’ll get another extension. Sure, this release is well over a year away, but publishing houses love having everything in the can early, so they can market it for months. I understand the whys of it, but knowing does little to take the pressure off.

  The water is beautiful, and I could stand here and take pictures all day, but this isn’t helping me through the block. So, I pull up my GPS to chart a course to the place I know I’ll be inspired—Venice Skate Park. If anywhere can help me sort the words out in my brain, that’s probably it.

  Heading back up to the boardwalk, I enjoy the sun on my face and the smell of the ocean. Living in the middle of Nowhere, USA, I don’t hear waves often, so doing it here, with mountains in the distance, is a real treat.

  The boardwalk is like nothing I’ve seen before. Retailers are selling everything from toe rings to medical marijuana to ice cream. All in brightly colored buildings of all shapes and sizes. Dodging a tourist here and there I do my best to walk and take pictures at the same time. Considering my track record for being able to walk and chew bubble gum is already low, I’m impressed with myself. I haven’t fallen or run into anyone. Yet.

  Must be because I’m wearing my pink Converse instead of heels.

  The bright colors really could distract me from my destination, but I do my best to not get sidetracked. There’s so much to see. Although, I admit to taking a small detour when I see some palm trees that are spray painted. The graffiti art is striking against the blue background of the water and is definitely worth taking a few snapshots.

  Finally, I hear the telltale sounds of boards hitting the pavement and my steps speed up. As I come to the railing and look out over the edge, I gasp.

  It’s the most beautiful concrete park I’ve ever seen. There are several large areas shaped like swimming pools but larger and deeper. In between and surrounding the bowls are areas with stairs, railings, and arches, all perfect for an avid skater to use to create magic with their board.

  I find myself gawking as I take it all in. This is a skater’s dream. Not only is the location amazing, but the park is designed for skaters of all levels, from novices to professionals. I’m practically itching to get out there myself. Too bad I threw away my last board when I was in my teens.

  Actually, no. That was definitely the right thing to do. Being taken away in an ambulance when I inevitably got a concussion would ruin the cool vibe happening around here.

  Bringing my camera to my face, I begin snapping shots rapidly. There are only a few skaters out right now, probably because it’s the middle of a work day, but I’m not complaining. I watch through my lens when one particular athlete catches my eye. Tall and lean, he seems to be a favorite with all the other skaters. Whenever he stops at the top of the bowl, they all give him fist bumps and make conversation.

  From here, he appears a bit older than everyone else. And yet, he seems the most comfortable with his skills.

  I snap some shots as he bends down to give pointers to the lone child on the ramp. I can’t hear them, but I imagine he’s saying something like, “Make sure to bend deep on the aciddrop.” Sure enough, the boy with a bright yellow helmet takes a deep breath and drops in the bowl, making it halfway up the other side before coming to a stop at the bottom.

  Obviously, he’s brand new to this, but by the cheers coming from the man who has my attention and the other guys, you’d think the kid just won a medal. I make sure to zoom in on the boy when he raises his arms and bellows in victory. Suddenly, I’m starting to feel more inspired for my story. Maybe Greer was right—maybe it’s time for a single mom story. My surfer could work with kids, right? Maybe he’s retired, and part of his new business includes programs for children.

  I let the idea roll around in my brain while I watch the little dude move out of the way for the next person. The older guy gets in position. Keeping my camera focused, I’m not stingy as I press the button and rapid fire the second he heads downhill.

  This guy is amazing. The way he jumps, and spins and flies through the air. It’s obvious he’s been doing this for decades and just by how comfortable he is in the bowl, I wonder if he aspires to go pro. He certainly could hang with the big names. In fact, the way he moves reminds me a lot of Spencer Garrison.

  I roll my eyes at myself. Give me a break, Aggi. One chance meeting with Spencer Garrison doesn’t mean you’ll ever see him again, then pushing my thoughts aside, I wait for him to launch above the rim in front of me. I’m at the perfect place to capture him mid-flight. With the ocean in the background, this is going to be a great picture. If I ever break my own rule and write a skater book, I could use it for a graphic.

  Just as he comes over the top, I begin rapid firing again. He spins and turns, and his face comes into view.

  Holy. Shit.

  My camera falls from my face at the same time my jaw drops practically to the ground. How in the hell is Spencer Garrison the same place I am? Again?

  Are the stars aligned against me? Was I a terrible person in a past life? It’s because I took the last cheese and fruit box at my favorite coffee shop the other day instead of leaving it for someone else, isn’t it?

  Regardless, I should turn around and leave quickly before he sees me, but of course I’m practically glued to the ground. Because that’s what Spencer Garrison does. He renders me speechless and movement-less. My only saving grace is that he hasn’t seen me. I suppose I can stalk him for a little while longer. Because when will I ever get a chance to see
him skate up-close and personal again? Never. That’s when. Besides, the coifed hair and bright red lips are left behind in my hotel room. Regular Aggi doesn’t look nearly as put together as Adeline Snow, so he’ll never know I’m here.

  Eyes glued to my muse as he makes his way around the bowl it suddenly makes sense why the other skaters have gravitated to the oldest guy out there. From an I-am-a-nervous-freak-of-nature standpoint, this is a horrible moment in time. But from a skating-obsessed standpoint, I can appreciate how exciting this must be for the guys on the other side of the rail. How many people can say they’ve skated with the great Spencer Garrison?

  Probably hundreds, actually. But still. A sighting in the wild is always rare.

  Something like this could be a fun scene for my book. Hmm.

  I watch as Spencer comes back around the curve, pops up over the ledge and jumps off the board. He turns to me and smiles.

  I look left, then right, then over my shoulder, there’s no one around. Wait. Is he smiling at . . . me?

  Spencer shakes his head and chuckles as he grabs his board and walks my direction.

  Oh no. No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. My breathing picks up and if it doesn’t slow down soon, my heart is liable to beat right out of my chest and gallop away.

  Looking everywhere, except at Spencer, I avoid any eye contact. If I don’t look at him, maybe he won’t see me, right? RIGHT?!?

  “You’re Adeline Snow, aren’t you?”

  Looking away didn’t work like I hoped. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing myself to say something intelligent like “That’s me.”

  Instead, as I open my lids to look back at him, I freeze, mouth wide open. Of course.

  I watch as Spencer comes closer, still smiling at me like I’m amusing. Because no one can pull off the marble statue look like I can.

  Dropping his board to the ground, he places his hands on his hips, and narrows his eyes a bit against the sun, making the corners crinkle slightly. The movement does nothing to make him look less appealing. If anything, it makes him sexier.

  “I’m going to make an observation,” he begins. “For whatever reason, I make you really nervous, don’t I?”

  Somehow, my head moves up and down in response. This is good. It means I might not actually pass out. If only I could take a breath.

  “My sister says you’re a fan of the X Games, so I’m guessing you’ve watched me skate before.”

  I nod again only this time I force my jaw to shut. More progress.

  “Is that why you’re nervous around me?”

  I shake my head and then realize if I had just nodded, he would have written me off as a super fan, not the crazy girl who can’t seem to pull herself together when he’s around. Quick, Aggi, say something! Throw him off the trail!

  “I like skateboarding.”

  I mentally slap myself for sounding like an idiot again. This is not going well. Spencer chuckles while I take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together.

  He’s just a man, Aggi. A sexy, kind, beautiful man you want to jump . . . stop that! You don’t know him well enough to jump him. Maybe just lick him . . . NO! Okay. Breathe. Act normal. Pretend he’s a regular guy. Pretend he’s Todd. Todd has a sexy voice and you talk to him. Just think of Todd . . . Todd . . . Todd . . .

  “Todd is my best friend.” Closing my eyes slowly, I shake my head at myself. Let’s try this again. “That’s not what I meant to say. What I meant to say was, how did you know it was me?” This time I pat myself on the back for sounding somewhat normal and asking a valid question.

  Spencer takes it as invitation to move closer and stand next to me. We watch the other skateboarders as they practice some moves, cheering each other on. “How could I not know it was you?” he admits. “We met a couple times at the signing and then you slammed a door in my face.”

  Despite the playfulness of his tone, I groan at the memory. “I was hoping you would forget that part.”

  “I’ll never forget that. The door actually bonked the porter on the tip of the nose.” I gasp. “Oh, don’t worry. It didn’t hurt him at all. It literally just touched the tip of his nose. It was just so funny because it was perfect. Reminded me of that scene in Home Alone when Kevin is about to get run over by the van and it stops at the exact right moment.”

  “I love that movie.” I also have no idea why I said that, but I suppose it’s better than running away screaming, so we’ll call it a win.

  “It’s a classic. I make sure to watch it at least once every December.”

  I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look, instead keeping my eyes trained on the opposite side of the park. One of the taller guys, a man with long, dark limbs and even longer, darker dreads is picking up speed in the bowl. Around he goes several times before taking off up the side and . . . Holy crap! He just jumped over the kid!

  “Did you see that?” I squeal in disbelief. Getting up over the lip without falling is hard enough. But to launch so high he ends up jumping over a person? “That was incredible!” Forgetting who I’m standing next to, I glance over at Spencer who has his eyes trained on me. My eyes widen, and my skin feels flush when I realized I grabbed his arm in my excitement. Quickly, I pull my hand away like I’ve been burned. He doesn’t seem fazed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m trying to get a better grasp on how to talk to you. If we’re going on tour together, I figure we need to be comfortable communicating.”

  Somewhere in the background noise in my brain, a record player scratches to a stop. “We’re doing what?”

  “Going on tour?” I look at him blankly, half shocked by his words and half impressed I’m not babbling like an idiot. He looks confused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Pulling out his phone, he looks at the screen before answering. “Yeah. Right here. My agent texted this morning. We’re supposed to go on tour.” I continue to stare at him. “I take it you know nothing about this.”

  I shake my head. This is bad. It’s so, so bad. I can’t go on tour with Spencer Garrison! I barely made it through the last signing when I saw him for all of five minutes total. Hours upon hours, days upon days, I’m likely to forget how to breathe completely. Or I’ll barf on his shoe.

  “I just found out about it today. I wouldn’t normally agree to something like this, but it’s right after the holidays, so I’m free. And they have us hitting a lot of the cities both the summer and winter X Games have been held in, so it sounds cool. Philly, Minneapolis, Austin, and then we head back to the West Coast. Your agent hasn’t told you yet?”

  “I’ve been offline today. I took the day off to try and push through my writer’s block.”

  “By coming to Venice Beach?”

  I shrug. “I was looking for some surfers.”

  He gets a strange look on his face before adding, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  I shake my head, still stunned that I’m supposed to go on tour. With Spencer Garrison. How am I supposed to sleep with him in the room next to mine? There’s no way.

  Spencer runs his hand through his hair and smiles again. “You’re never going to find the inspiration you’re looking for here.”

  I hold myself back from snorting a laugh. Jokes on him. My muse showed up unexpectedly and currently I’m having all kinds of inspirational fantasies I will never tell him about.

  “Zuma is where you need to be. And there’s a great place to eat on the way there. Can I show you?”

  As much as I want to say no and run away, I find myself nodding. I have clearly lost my mind if I’m agreeing to this but at this point, he’s the only one with information about this alleged tour. Well, other than my publicist and once I get on the phone with her, I may never get off. Plus, I could eat. Besides, if history is any indication, I’m not going to win the battle against my agent about this tour. If I’m going to make it through, I probably need to learn how to breathe around him soon.

  Th
en again, maybe passing out will get me a note from my doctor on why travel is a bad idea.

  No, Aggi. You can do this.

  My new book and fulfilling all my contractual obligations might just depend on it.

  Chapter 10

  Spencer

  “I thought you said we were going to eat on the way to Zuma?”

  Smiling, I open the door to my favorite bar and grill on the boardwalk and motion for Adeline to enter first. She hesitates for only a second as she peers up at me through her dark lashes. I could tell she was nervous earlier, not unlike she was in Chicago, but right now standing in front of me, she looks slightly annoyed. I like it. Her. I like her.

  “Hiya, how many?” the hostess asks as I step behind Adeline. “Two. A table on the patio if you have it, please . . . Natalie,” I say, using the hostess’s name with my big, mega-watt smile that the sponsors love in their ads.

  Blushing, Natalie says, “Let me clear off a table for you.”

  Turning on her heel, Adeline looks up at me, but we’re standing so close she has to crane her neck so far, and she stumbles a bit. Reaching out, I grab her before she hits the ground.

  “Careful, Adi,” I say with a chuckle as she rights herself and brushes hair from her face. Damn she’s adorable. “It’s okay if I call you Adi? I saw that your agent used that for your name on the email.”

  “What? Oh, my name. Of course. Why are we here again?”

  “To eat?” I know what she means and I’m being a little ornery right now, but the way she contorts her face as she processes my simple answer is too amusing to stop.

  She crosses her arms over her chest and I’m not sure if she’s about to give me a tongue lashing or run away. I don’t get the chance to find out though, because the hostess returns and offers to take us to our table. Adi turns but hesitates before moving. I place my hand on the small of her back to nudge her forward. The moment my hand touches her back, she lets out a small squeak before walking.