"Malia." Her eyes rolled up, slowed by the alcohol. She stared at me for what seemed like the rest of the night.
"Hey," said Malia.
"What are you doing in Kanu'a? We got a memo that said you were real sick." She started to laugh like it was the first time she laughed and hadn't learn to control it. She cocked her head back and turned around 360-degrees. She was laughing so loud her girlfriends tried to usher her off the dance floor and back onto the sand.
"No, that's my friend," said Malia. They pulled her back to the sand.
"Wait," said Malia, "That's my friend. I wanna talk to my friend." It took me a few seconds to realize friend meant me. So I followed Malia and the two girls onto the sand.
"It's ok we work together. I just wanted to catch up."
"She's had a few," said one of the girls.
"So have I. Let me talk to her right quick."
"Yes," said Malia, "I want to talk to this girl." Malia reached over and grabbed my hand.
"Let's take a walk," said Malia. Malia began to lead me down the beach. She suddenly seemed more sober.
"How are you?" asked Malia.
"Good."
"You like your new promotion?" asked Malia.
"How did you know about that?"
"Sweetheart," said Malia, "I'm the reason you got it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I didn't want it," said Malia.
"Didn't want it how?"
"Desk surfing," said Malia, "Hank, fucking you stupid on his desk. You looked like you were howling at the moon or something."
"What?"
"You realize while you were going at it with Hank, you were being filmed," said Malia.
"What?"
"There's video of the two of you on his desk," said Malia, "It's even date stamped, Tuesday last week."
"But I made him close his laptop. I didn't want the lens on me."
"That's a ruse," said Malia, "Like a magician's distraction."
"Then where's the lens?"
"Somewhere in the ceiling," said Malia, "From the angle it's over the door. It's a security camera."
"Really?"
"Yep," said Malia.
"Really?"
"That's how he tries to keep us in line," said Malia, "There's fucking the boss and then there's desk surfing. Desk surfing means you're trying to score points like with regular surfing. You're trying to score a promotion or more money, a field trip--whatever the hell. But Hank is smart, so he actually records it when he's fucking his staff. If you try to ask for favors he says he'll leak the video on the internet, edited so that your face is seen but not his. You can become an instant Youtube sensation and social pariah all in the amount of time it takes that shit to go viral."
"How do you know this?"
"Because Hank did it to me," said Malia, "But I had a friend hack his computer to get his AVI files."
"So you have mine."
"I have yours," said Malia, "And all the others. There are nine if you were wondering, including you and me."
"What are you going to do with them?"
"Keep them," said Malia.
"Why?"
"Leverage," said Malia, "Aren't you wondering why I was late that night we went for happy hour? I stayed behind to talk to Hank. I let him know I had his AVI files. And I made him a deal, ten million and I won't leak the tapes. I could leak all but mine and it would still be enough. I got five million upfront and the rest is two million for two years and a million the third year."
"Why do it that way?"
"To keep him from getting vicious," said Malia.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," said Malia, "If he pays me everything upfront he could always freak out that maybe I show up in five years needing money and ask for more. So maybe he uses his influence against me somehow or hires someone to take me out. But if our deal is a long one, he doesn't have to worry about stuff, so long as we're both sticking to the deal. You have to buy yourself time, Sweetheart. Desk surfing isn't just about a promotion, unless all's you want is a promotion. You gotta think big, Kid."
"So you just let him buy you out?"
"What?" said Malia, "You're knocking boots with a billionaire and all you think about is a promotion? You don't desk surf just to play the game," said Malia, "You do it so you can rewrite the rules. It's a game not a sport. The world you're living in is expired." I felt the period at the end of her sentence. She gave me a five-second stare without saying anything. Then she turned away and marched off on the night sand.
"Good luck to you, Kid," said Malia. But she didn't turn and say it. She said it as she kept going. But then she stopped and turned around.
"By the way," said Malia, "How'd you like his Longboard?" And that's how I came up with the nickname for Hank. Malia didn't wait for an answer to her question. I stood there on the beach confused. I understood every word she said but I didn't know what it meant. It made me feel like just staying on the Island of Kanu'a, one-hundred miles from Honolulu. Out of everything she said, the grounding part was that I was on a sex tape, somewhere. There was video of me having sex on my boss's desk that wasn't in my sole possession. I didn't know what to do. I could think of three things: Chase Malia down and get medieval on her ass, until she gave me the AVI files; go back to my girl Jessie and try to strategize my next move, or run back to the hotel room, lock the door and check the internet for any footage of me screwing my boss. I wasn't just thinking about having sex with Longboard. I got paranoid. I started wondering if there was any video of me having sex with anyone, any time. I had those three choices and I didn't know which one was the top priority. Going back to Jessie seemed like the bottom one.
Longboard (Desk Surfing Series Book 1) Page 11