“We're gonna sue the shit out of you,” he growled at her.
Gina motioned for me to head toward the car. I hesitated, then turned to follow her.
“No one's gonna feel sorry for your ass, just because of your dead friend,” he said. His eyes bulged with anger. “Even if it wasn't your fault. I'm gonna take you for everything you've got and then we'll find you and kick your ass a little more.”
I froze in my tracks, the anger rising in my gut.
But Gina was ready.
She spun on her heel and held out her phone. “Do you know what this is, Mr. Branagan?”
He face screwed up with confusion. “It's a fucking phone.”
“Correct,” she said, walking toward him. “But it's also a recording device. Wanna hear what you sound like on it?”
He blinked and his cheeks began to flush.
“Here, let me just play you a snippet,” she said. She tapped the screen, then held it up again in his direction.
She played back to him the entire conversation from the moment we'd arrived, complete with his threats and calling her a publicity broad.
Branagan's hands balled into fists and his entire face went tomato red. “You fucking bitch.”
“I'm sorry I didn't get that one, too,” she said, dropping her phone into her pocket. “But I'm pretty sure that I've got enough on here to keep anyone in the media interested. I mean, if I need to share it with the media.” She smiled. “But that'll be your call.”
“You think that's going to stop me?” he asked, his fists practically shaking at his sides.
“Yes, actually I do,” Gina said. “Because I think all anyone's going to hear is Mr. Handler apologizing and you acting like a junior high bully. And let's be honest. If your son was honest with you, we both know you don't have a damn thing to take to your...what did you call them? Your legal consultants, right?” She looked past him at his son. “Right, Keith? You told your dad about your girlfriend hitting on Mr. Handler and how he tried to walk away from you and your friends three times, and that you took the first swing? I assume you would've shared that with him since there were nearly a dozen people who witnessed the fight and can confirm that's what happened. Because that's what they told me when I talked to them.”
Keith Branagan's' face turned nearly as red as his father's. I had no idea if that was because he hadn't told his father or because he was embarrassed at hearing the entire thing described back to him. Either way, it was effective.
“Get out of my driveway,” Branagan said, but some of his anger had dissipated.
“Gladly,” Gina said, walking back to the car again. “You have a great day, Mr. Branagan.”
TWENTY
Kellen
“How'd you know he was gonna go off like that?” I asked.
We were back out on the highway, heading toward San Clemente.
“I didn't know for sure,” she said, her eyes on her phone. “It was just a hunch.”
“So you just turned the recorder on?”
“It's on nearly any time I go into a situation that might turn contentious,” she said. She tapped at her screen. “I had it on at the hotel when we talked for the first time the other day.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “Yep. You never know.”
I chuckled and shook my head.
“Someone makes a threat, someone steps out of line, letting them know they can't hide from it is a pretty effective way to take the wind out of their sails,” she said, finally setting her phone down in her lap. “You saw what it did to Branagan. We'll never hear from that guy again because he knows if I ever played that for anyone, any public support he might've had would disappear in a heartbeat. You apologized and he acted like a giant dick. Can't spin it any other way. It's not his word against ours.” She smiled. “It's literally just his words.”
“I think I'm afraid of you,” I said.
Sit was her turn to chuckle. “Please. It's just about being prepared. You have nothing to worry about. And you, once again, came through with flying colors. I just made you look like a hero to my boss and yours.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “Just sent an email to them, detailing what happened. Told them your apology was professional and sincere and that when things got heated, you kept cool and did just as directed.” She smiled. “I thought they should know.”
It had been awhile since anyone had gone to bat for me. She wasn't at all what I'd expected. I thought I was getting a babysitter, but she was more than that. She was an ally. And I was really surprised that she'd done that after getting so angry with me the night before.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don't thank me,” she said. “You handled it all great.”
“I wanted to kick his teeth in,” I said.
“Me too,” she said. “But we won by not kicking his teeth in. Trust me.”
I nodded. I knew she was right. And it actually felt pretty good to be doing the right thing for a change.
“Okay,” I asked as we hit San Clemente. “What's next?”
She shifted in her seat and tugged at the seat belt. “You get a day off tomorrow.”
“A day off? Seriously?”
“Yeah. Totally serious.”
There was something in her demeanor that seemed different, but I couldn't put a finger on it. But I felt like we were back to the night before. “Did I do something wrong? Again?”
She was staring out the window at the coast. “Not at all. I told you. You were great today.”
“So is this because of last night? The day off?”
She shook her head. “No. We said our apologies. Last night is over and done with.”
“So why nothing tomorrow?”
“I've got another appointment.”
“You have another client?” I asked. “I thought I was your only project at the moment.”
“You are,” she said. “I mean, you aren't a project. I hate that word. You're a human, not something to turn in. You are my only client at the moment.”
“So what kind of appointment then?”
“It's personal.”
“Like, family personal? Or something else?”
She didn't say anything for a minute, her eyes glued to the water as we continued driving. “Family personal.”
I wasn't sure I believed her. It still felt like it was about the kiss. There was an edge to her voice and even though I had a million more questions, I closed my mouth until we got back to my place.
“Car keys are yours,” she said, when I turned off the engine. “You've earned your freedom.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I'm serious,” she said. “You've done everything I've asked. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“You're welcome, I guess,” I said.
“So don't screw it up,” she said, getting out of the car.
I took the keys from the ignition and got out, too. “I'll try not to.”
She hesitated for a moment. “What I said last night, about you wanting to screw up. I didn't mean that. I don't really think that. I was just...I don't know why I said it. But I don't think that at all. I shouldn't have said it and I'm sorry.”
I shrugged. “Like you said, it's over and done.”
“Alright.” She walked around the front of the car. “Don't go out tonight. No clubs, no bars. If you need to go get dinner, get takeout. Be a homebody.”
“Good thing I have a car,” I said, leaning against it.
She gave me a tight smile. “At this point, I trust you. But I don't trust other people. I don't trust idiots like Branagan. People see you and they see a challenge. You don't need to put yourself in that position.”
“I don't wanna be a hermit,” I said, frowning.
“You won't have to be,” she answered. “But for right now, let's lay low. I think your tour bosses might be willing to pull back on the thirty days if we keep you out of trouble.”
“Really?”
She
nodded. “Yeah, I think so. You've had three good days. Word will filter out. If I tell them that you're on the right path, I think they'll listen.”
When I'd first been told about the suspension, it had seemed like it was going to last forever. Now she was talking about it coming to an end before we hit the full thirty days. I wasn't sure how I felt about any of that. And I wondered if she was pushing for the end of the suspension because she wanted to be rid of me.
“Okay,” I said. “So you're leaving now?”
“Yeah. Unless you need something?”
I shook my head. “No, I don't need anything. I just...I don't know.”
“What?”
“Well, I just wondered if you might want to...I don't know...go surfing or something.” It sounded lamer than I'd intended. But she'd said she used to surf. And it was something I kind of wanted to do with her.
She stared at me for a moment. “We need to keep this professional, Kellen. I thought that...”
“It's just surfing,” I said. “I didn't say make out.”
She frowned at me. “You know what I mean.”
I did, but that didn't mean I wanted her to leave. I was still attracted to her and I couldn't shake the memory of kissing her – and the fact that she'd kissed me back. She hadn't said a word about that and I didn't want to bring it up because I thought she might go off on me again.
“I just thought you might wanna go out on the water,” I said, lamely. “That's all.”
She shook her head. “I don't surf, Kellen.”
“But you used to.”
She sighed. “Used to, yeah. I haven't in years. I don't even go in the water anymore.”
“You don't go in the water? That's insane. Why?”
She looked away from me, searching in her purse for her car keys. “It's complicated. I just don't. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
She pulled the keys out of her bag. “I just don't, okay? It's just not for me.”
I could tell there was something she wasn't telling me, even if I didn't know what it was. Any time I got near a subject she wouldn't open up about, her entire body language changed. She fidgeted, unsure of what to do with herself. It was the opposite of how she acted when she was telling me what to do. And her entire face clouded over, like she was sad that I'd even asked her a question. It was baffling to me.
“I'll call you later on, alright?” she said, opening her car door. “Stay out of trouble.”
I watched her drive away.
I was going to stay out of trouble. That wouldn't be a problem.
But I was going to figure out what Gina Bellori was hiding from me.
TWENTY ONE
Kellen
I spent an hour in the water, but the waves were mush, toppled over by too much wind and not enough swell. Still, it felt good to be in the water after a couple days where I hadn't gotten near it, my muscles a little sore by the time I trudged back up the sand.
I showered and made a sandwich after realizing I never ate lunch, then grabbed my laptop and stretched out on the couch. I wished that Gina had stayed. I knew it was unlikely, given what had gone on the night before, but I just couldn't shake the feeling I had when I kissed her. And as much I'd hated the apology to Branagan, I was glad I'd had to do it, because I'd at least gotten to spend time with her.
I thought back to the questions I'd asked her. Any time I asked her anything even close to personal, she completely shut down. That was even before I'd kissed her. I wanted to know why. It was pretty clear that she wanted to avoid my questions, so I thought I'd turn to the one place that always had answers.
The Internet.
Typing her name into the search engine didn't get me much. A locked down Facebook account. A benign Twitter feed. A generic profile from her company's website and several quotes she'd made on behalf of former clients. Nothing that really told me anything about her. I tried typing her name in and adding Encinitas, but it was just more of the same.
I was scrolling through the third page of results, mostly things that had nothing to do with her and seemed to just be pulling up random pages, when one entry stopped me.
“Bellori wins at Swami's.”
I clicked on the link. It was a two paragraph summary from a local surf contest, dated six years earlier. The winner was a guy named Leo Bellori and he'd apparently beaten out a few locals at the north county San Diego break. Not much more information than that.
But there was a picture.
Bellori was standing on a makeshift podium, hair wet, medal around his neck, a disinterested look on his face. The two guys he'd beaten were standing on blocks on either side of him.
I leaned in closer to the screen.
He looked very much like Gina. He had to be related. Same eyes, same hair, same skin color. She'd told me she'd watched her brothers surf. He had to be her brother.
I thought for a moment, then grabbed my phone and punched in Matty's number.
“I thought you were on lockdown,” he said when he answered. “You getting time off for good behavior?”
“Something like that.”
“How's it going with the publicity chick?”
“Pretty good, actually,” I said. “She's cool and it's been alright so far.” I wasn't going to tell him about the kiss. I wasn't going to share that with anyone.
“Yeah?” he said. “Or is she sitting right there?”
“She's not here,” I said. “Truth. Been alright.”
“You actually sound sober, so that's a good thing,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, not in the mood for a lecture. “Listen, I have a question for you.”
“You got five minutes before a pizza calls my name.”
“You ever hear of a guy named Leo Bellori?” I asked.
Matty was a wealth of information when it came to surfing in Southern California. He'd hung around the scene since he was in elementary school and he knew anybody who was anybody. He could find you every secret break along the coast, too, but it was people he knew. Never forgot a name or a face.
“Sure,” he said. “San Diego kid. Think his home break was Moonlight? Maybe Swami's? North County San Diego, anyway.”
“He could surf?”
“Pretty good,” he said. “Better than a lot of the locals. Had some local sponsors, but nothing big. Never broke out because he was an asshole.”
“Like how?”
“Like he ran with some small crew,” he answered. “Like he liked to go around and act like he owned whatever break he was at. You know what I mean. Assholes that act like beaches belong to them because their parents had enough cash to buy a house there.”
I did know what he meant. It was that locals only mentality that prevailed at certain beaches up and down the coast. If you weren't known to the guys who surfed there every day, then you weren't welcome. And rather than explain the local rules to a new guy, they'd just chase him away and more often than not, it was with violence. Intimidation. Threats. Punches.
“I saw him surf a couple of times,” Matty continued. “He was pretty decent. Good feel for the water. He had a brother that was actually better than he was, but not sure what happened to him. Hopefully not the same as Leo.”
“Why?” I asked. “What happened to him?”
“Seriously? I thought you were asking because you already knew.”
“I don't know anything about him.”
“Oh, man,” Matty said. “Alright. So think it was maybe three years ago? Not exactly sure. Anyway, he and a couple of his buddies in his little asshole crew have some beef with another guy apparently. Don't even know what it was about, but was probably just Leo being an asshole. So they run into the guy they don't like one night at a party. Everybody starts mouthing off, pushing and shoving, blah blah blah. Bunch of dumbasses swinging their dicks around. So the guy leaves the party, but Leo and his pals aren't done and they go after him. Got ugly.”
I shifted on the couch, stretching out my legs. Thre
e years ago. I'd been in Australia with Jay for the better part of the year, with a stop in South Africa for a couple of tourneys. “How ugly?”
“Ugly as it can get,” he said. “Think it was Leo and two other guys. They apparently jump the other guy in the street. He fends off the two other guys, but not Leo. Leo takes him out with one punch that busted his jaw.”
“So just a street fight,” I said.
“I didn't finish,” Matty said. “Leo knocked the guy out. The guy fell down and cracked his head on the pavement. Guy died.”
“Aw, shit,” I said, wincing.
“Right?” Matty said. “Why you think I get freaked out every time you get drunk and start doing stupid shit? That shit happens. Leo was an asshole, but I doubt he meant to kill the guy. He was drunk and he was being stupid.”
“What happened to him?”
“Other two guys testified against him,” he explained. “Said he was the one who instigated everything, was the one that hit him and took him out. That all of them ran from the scene.” He paused. “He's doing twenty five years down near Otay.”
My stomach sank. “Serious?”
“Yep. Can't remember what they charged him with, but it was like manslaughter or some shit like that,” Matty said. “And he'd had other convictions, too. Small time stuff. So he's down there for awhile.”
I flashed back to my fight with Keith Branagan a few nights earlier. If a couple of things went a different way, I could've been in the same spot as Gina's brother. One punch and the rest of your life disappears because you couldn't stop and think straight. I'd put myself in those spots all too often. I'd gotten lucky. Her brother hadn't.
“Where'd his name come up?” Matty asked.
“I was just screwing around on the Internet,” I said quickly. “Saw his name as a winner at Swami's. Just curious.”
“Right,” he said. “Alright my pizza's here. Gotta roll. Call you later, kid.”
We hung up and I set my phone on the table next to the couch. I typed Leo Bellori's name into the search engine and several articles from the San Diego paper immediately appeared, detailing the assault, the death, and the sentencing. The first one I clicked on featured a photo of Leo, sitting in court in an orange jumpsuit, staring straight ahead, expressionless.
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