“I spoke to the reps from the papers and Surfer magazine. The local NBC affiliate was going to run the story tonight. The early news.” She looked at her watch again. “I'm pretty sure we already missed it.”
“Okay.”
She was quiet for a moment. She stared out at the water, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I'll talk to Mark and Gavin tonight. Give them a full report.”
“Okay.”
She hesitated. “And we should talk about your next appearance.”
“Okay.”
“Jesus,” she said with such force that I turned to look at her. She'd shifted so that she was facing me. She'd pulled her hair back at some point and a low ponytail hung down her back. Her cheeks were flushed but not from embarrassment. She'd gotten sunburned.
“What?”
“Do you have anything else to say besides okay? Anything with more than two syllables?”
“What do you want me to say?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don't know. Tell me how it was out there. Tell me how stupid it was. Argue with me about your next appearance.”
“You want me to argue with you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I really don't.”
I stared at her. She was confusing the hell out of me.
“I just want you to snap out of it,” she said.
“Out of what?”
“Out of your funk.” She sighed again and plunged her hand into the sand, scooping up a handful of grains. “Out of the funk I caused.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She spread her fingers and the sand trickled out, the evening sun reflecting off it, the grains shimmering like crystals. The polish on her fingernails didn't match the polish on her toes. It was red like her shirt. Like her lips.
“My comment,” she said. “About...about Jay.”
“You didn't say anything about Jay,” I reminded her.
“I know, I know,” she said. She reached for another handful. “But it was there. That stupid comment.”
“I'm fine,” I said. “Shook me for a minute. But I got over it.”
“I know you did,” she said, her voice soft. “I saw you out there, working with those kids. It was like nothing else in the world existed. Just you and them and the water.”
“Pretty much.”
She'd nailed it. It was the reason I could still surf, the reason I could still bring myself to get back into the water every day. It wasn't a choice for me. The ocean was an extension of myself, the only place where I could find solace and peace. And even though I'd lost my best friend to it, I couldn't let it go, couldn't turn my back on it. I couldn't exist without it.
“Anyway,” she said, brushing her hands on her shorts. “I just wanted to apologize. And to tell you that you did a good job out there.”
“You've apologized enough,” I said. “And it was fine. Easier than I thought. So just chill out.”
We were quiet for a minute. I gazed out at the water, at the white clouds hanging above the ocean, trying to stamp out the sun as it dipped toward the horizon. Seagulls squawked overhead, their cries shrill, and a shorebird flitted close to the water line, pecking at something invisible along the sand.
“Why'd you say you don't like kids?”
I glanced at her. She'd pushed her sunglasses on to her head and I noticed that her nose was sunburnt, too. “Because I don't.”
“You seemed to like those kids just fine,” she said.
“Those kids were cool.”
“So you don't like uncool kids?”
“Right.”
“And you make that judgment how?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
I started to say something, then just laughed. I knew I couldn't win. “Whatever.”
She smiled. “You're better with kids than you think. I'll try to schedule a couple more things like this over the course of the month.”
“Alright,” I said, leaning back in the sand. I was tired. Relaxed. This surprised me. I always felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to burst. The only thing that soothed me was the water. And when I wasn't in the ocean? I was drinking.But there I was, lounging on the sand, doing neither of those things. “So what's next?”
“Tomorrow night.” The smile faded. “It's probably going to be a little tougher.”
“Why's that?”
“Because you're going to be surrounded by girls,” she said. “And you won't be hooking up with a single one of them.”
For some reason, her comment got to me. “You know, it takes two to tango,” I said cooly. “It's not just me putting the moves on every single chick I see.”
And it wasn't. I couldn't remember the last time I'd hit on a girl. Part of me knew it was because I didn't have to. More often than not, there was a line of them ready to go, mine for the choosing. But I'd never had the desire to. Not recently, anyway. Every hook-up I'd had over the last six months, I'd been coaxed into. And before that? There hadn't been many. Jay had seen to that. He'd always harped on me about focus, about paying attention to what was important.
“Wow, congrats on using a saying my great-grandfather might relate to,” Gina said. “No one 'tangos' anymore. But yes, I do know what you mean. So let me rephrase. You won't be hitting on a single woman in the room. If they make advances toward you, you will decline. Politely. No matter how hot they are or what they offer you.”
“What does this have to do with me getting in a fight?” I asked, confused.
“Nothing,” she said, glancing at me. “It has to do with your rep as a womanizer, as someone who doesn't exactly treat women with respect.”
“Well, that's just bullshit,” I said, irritated. “I've never done anything like that.”
Gina held up a hand. “Never said you did. And I'm not saying the rep is accurate. I'm just telling you what it is. There's the perception that you treat girls like crap. We need to fix that.”
I didn't say anything. I didn't treat girls like crap. If I did, I would have led on Ch with empty promises and snuck in one last fuck before leaving the hotel room. If I did, I would have forgotten about going back to Mercy's hotel room and pulled her into the bathroom to let her blow me there. I didn't do that shit. Other guys did. Not me. I might have had a rep for sleeping around but at least I was honest about what I was doing. The chicks usually weren't, not even with themselves, but I was. I didn't womanize and I didn't disrespect them. They disrespected themselves.
“It's end of season for the UCSD women's surf team,” Gina said. “They had a pretty good year. So they're doing their end of season dinner and banquet. And you are the dinner speaker.”
“The what?” I wouldn't have been more surprised if she'd told me I was having dinner with the President.
“The dinner speaker,” she repeated. “You'll give a nice little speech about life and surfing. Or something like that. Oh, and you'll wear a suit.”
“I don't even own a suit.”
She nodded. “I kinda figured. One will be delivered to you tomorrow,” she said. “And, yes, you're paying for that, too.”
I cut my eyes away from her. She was doing a great job of ruining what hadn't been a terrible day. But now it was turning into a nightmare.
“I'm not good at speaking in front of groups,” I said.
“It doesn't need to be anything formal,” she said. “Just simple, personal, relaxed.”
“About what?” I asked. “What the hell am I going to talk about?”
“Whatever you want,” she answered. “How you got into surfing, what you love about it, what they should hope to get out of it now that they've had experience in the water. Just tie it to surfing somehow.”
I dug my toes into the sand. “I'm not a very good writer, alright? If I have to write it, it's gonna suck.”
“Tell you what,” she said. “Let's talk about it on the way home. We can hash it out.”
I looked at her. “Home?” For one split second, I thought she was taking me to her house and I f
elt something spark in my gut.
“I'm driving you home. Your house,” she clarified. “I was told you didn't have a car up here.”
The spark died. She was right. I didn't have my car. Heath had picked me up and driven me to the hotel, probably because he was worried I might not show up at all.
“I can catch a ride home,” I said.
She shook her head. “No. You'll ride with me.”
“Why?” I asked.
She stood and brushed off her legs. “So I know you go home and nowhere else.”
I squinted at her, the sun breaking free from the clouds and glistening behind her. “I could always leave.”
She smiled and nodded. “Except I'm going to confiscate your car keys.”
TWELVE
Kellen
The drive south to San Clemente was slow and snarled with traffic. The 405 was jammed and bottlenecked as we merged onto the 5. If the slow pace bothered Gina, she didn't show it. We inched along and she peppered me with questions, trying to find things I could talk about the following night. Nothing sounded good to me and I certainly wasn't much help because I was already anxious about the idea of getting up and talking in front of a bunch of people I didn't know.
Her cell rang and she hit the speaker button her phone. “Gavin,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I'm with a client.” She didn't elaborate and he didn't ask.
She hung up and glanced at me. The day on the beach had changed her appearance. Not just the pink cheeks and nose, but the casual ponytail she wore, dark hair escaping from the little elastic she'd used to pull it back. Most of her make-up had been erased by the heat and wind and she looked better without it. A little wild, a little wanton. I thought about what it would be like to kiss her, what her hair would feel like. What she would feel like. I shifted in my seat, tugging on my board shorts, trying to adjust myself. Just thinking about it was getting me hard.
“Look, the easiest thing would be to talk about your first time,” she said, waving a hand in the air, keeping the other on the wheel.
“My first time?” I blurted out. My first time had been in Sunny Winslow's pool house, fumbling and rushed and awkward. I'd unloaded in twenty seconds. “Wouldn't that be...a little inappropriate?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What your board was like. What the water felt like. How bad you wiped out. That first time.”
I shook my head. I needed to get my mind out of the gutter, especially when it came to her.
“Kellen? First time surfing? Hello? That would work.”
I looked back at her. “Right. I know. That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long,” she said. “You're what? Twenty-four?”
I nodded. It felt like forever ago, but I didn't say anything.
“Just talk about something you know,” she said, changing lanes, glancing in the rearview mirror. “You'll be more comfortable that way.”
“I'm not gonna be comfortable,” I said. “I'm gonna suck.”
“Maybe,” she said, shrugging. “But you might be okay, too.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She threw a quick look in my direction. “If you think you're gonna suck, you will. If you think you'll be okay, you will be. Pretty simple.”
I looked out the window at the other slow moving cars and tried to think about something that didn't involve speaking in front of a large crowd or sex with my public relations manager. I spent the next several minutes studying the cars that surrounded us on the freeway. Beemers, Mercedes, the kinds of cars my dad had driven over the years. Most were occupied by guys in suits and I imagined what their lives must be like. Commuting home after a long day stuck in a windowless office. No ocean, no air, just a box for a room. Like my dad. I'd figured out early on that I didn't want to end up like him, always busy, always working, stressed to the max. I'd found something to keep my centered – the ocean – and I'd been determined to make that my life. I'd gotten lucky.
But then I thought of Jay. I'd gotten lucky for a few years, anyway.
“Don't stress about it,” Gina said, snapping my attention back to her. “Remember, most of these girls are going to be starstruck when they see you. They may not even hear a word that comes out of your mouth because they'll be so busy drooling over you.” Her tone was still light but there was an edge to her voice.
I frowned. Did it piss her off that chicks were going to be drooling over me? Doubtful. My reputation with women was what probably pissed her off. I hated that I had the rep and I hated that it bothered me that it might bother her.
“Doubtful.”
She gave me a pointed look but said nothing.
“It doesn't change the fact that I'm gonna be dressed up like a monkey and forced to talk into a microphone. And say shit I don't want to say.”
“You'll deal.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, down through Laguna and Mission Viejo, the traffic finally loosening as we hit Dana Point. We crested the big hill as we passed the harbor and I directed her off the freeway in San Clemente.
I'd lived in San Clemente for almost three years, finally springing from my parents digs in the hills above Laguna. San Clemente had a different vibe than the rest of O.C. It hadn't been polished and spray-tanned like all of the other cities in the county. It still felt old, a little rugged, a little sunburned. There was nothing pretty or cleaned up about it. At its core, it was still just an old beach town, what the other cities up the coast wished they were.
I'd found a small bungalow just off the sand, paid cash for it from endorsement money I'd saved up, and for the first time in a long time, felt like I'd found a home. The break out my back door was strong and Trestles wasn't too far to the south. But the best thing about San Clemente wasn't the waves. It was the fact that no one cared who I was. I was just another guy with a tan and a board and no one gave a shit about what I did.
I gave her directions to the bungalow and we pulled up just as the last of the sun's rays disappeared from the horizon.
She cut the engine in the driveway and surveyed the house. “Nice place.”
I watched her as she took in the weathered shake shingles, the concrete slab that took the place of a front lawn, the dwarf palms and hibiscus that didn't seem to care that I had two brown thumbs.
“Works for me,” I said. I sat in her car for a second, studying her. “I assume you're serious about taking my keys.”
“Completely.”
I sighed and opened the passenger door. I grabbed my stuff out of her trunk and she followed me into the house.
A small, black cat came skittering across the floor as soon as I stepped into the entryway. He let out a piercing meow and attached himself to my ankle. I picked him up and he was already purring like a machine.
“He's cute,” Gina said, reaching out and scratching him behind his ears. Her hand brushed my arm as she pet him. “What's his name?”
“Rip,” I said, dropping my duffel against the wall. “Found him in the water.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “We were on our way in from a crappy session. Riptide was destroying the swells, so we were paddling in. We hear this howling and he's just right there in the water, paddling like crazy, just soaked, his eyes bugging out.” I smiled as he pushed his head against my neck, his wet nose tickling me. “Jay scooped him out of the water and set him on his board and we came in. He's lived here ever since.”
She cleared her throat. “Jay lived here with you?”
I nodded as we walked into the kitchen. “Yep. Two bedrooms. One for me, one for him. Rip always slept with him. Think he was cool with Jay because he was the one who pulled him out of the water.” I swallowed. “He sleeps with me now.”
I set Rip down on the counter and he pawed at me, wanting to be picked up again. I ignored him, concentrating instead on collecting the empty beer cans that littered the countertops. I dumped them in the trash can under the sink and turned to look at Gina. Rip had climbed into he
r arms and was rubbing his face against her chest. Lucky cat.
She caught me looking and I averted my eyes. I pulled my keys off the counter and held them out to her. “Here you go.”
She took them with her free hand and stuffed them in the front pocket of her shorts. “Thanks. Not my choice, just so you know.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Just part of the deal.”
I nodded. “Whatever. I'm not going anywhere.”
“And alcohol?”
I stepped over to the fridge and opened the door for her. She peered inside. The contents were minimal. A half gallon of orange juice, an opened package of American cheese, some deli turkey. And a six pack of Pacifico.
“Hard stuff anywhere else?”
I shook my head. “I'm out. Hadn't stocked up yet.”
She closed the fridge door. “Okay.”
“You're not taking the beer?” I asked.
“Do I need to?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “No. I won't drink it.”
She shrugged. “So I don't need to take it.”
“You trust me?” I jerked my head toward the trash can. “Considering what you just saw me toss out?”
“Gotta start somewhere or it's going to be a long month for both of us.”
I was surprised, but didn't have anything to say. She was willing to trust me, to believe what I'd said.
“Can I see the view?” she asked, motioning to the back door and setting Rip down on the floor.
I nodded and made my way through the living room. I wished I'd picked up before Heath had whisked me away to the tournament. A blanket was tossed in a haphazard pile on the couch and surfing magazines wallpapered the surface of the coffee table. There were more empty beer cans in here, along with six months worth of dust. Sand crunched under my bare feet and I couldn't remember the last time I'd swept the floors.
I tried not to think about it. It wasn't like I was out to impress anyone. It didn't matter what Gina thought of the place I lived. She was there to help with my reputation, not remodel my goddamn house. But it did matter. I didn't know why but it did. I wanted her to like it, this place that had been both my solace and my own personal hell over the last several months.
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