Unleashed

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Unleashed Page 8

by Patrick McLaughlin


  Chapter 6

  Drake entered the surfer bar and grill in Kapaa like he was walking onto a yacht, but his attitude was hubris, not happiness. With Frisco at his side (although dogs were not allowed in restaurants and bars, Frisco was the island exception), the chicks checked Drake out and the dudes hoped he would extend congrats on a wave well surfed. Drake gave one guy a high five, and the surfer, totally stoked, exclaimed, “Man, Drake Powers was jammed on my ride!”

  As he passed a blonde surf babe, or lovely “Lisa,” as Drake liked to refer to beautiful ladies, she announced to all in the bar, “Enter Drake Powers, three time world champion and the first man ever to land a three sixty power roll at Pipe!”

  Drake was then enveloped by the crowd’s local chant of praise, “ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo!” which subsided only when he raised his fists in his signature stance of victory.

  By the time Drake sat down next to him, Shawn was well into his third Komonawana-drinka island brew or whatever the hell they called this swill. After assignments to Ireland and Australia where they drank real beer, he downed Hawaiian draft solely to quench his thirst, not for taste or buzz.

  Having never left Drakes side, when Frisco caught sight of Shawn who was his second favorite person of all time, he rose on his hind legs for the obligatory double-behind-the-dog-ears scratch session.

  “My Frisco Nabisco Biscuit,” Shawn cooed, “always happier to see you than your mongrel of a master! You are the best Frisco de la Bisco a man could ever know!” (Shawn had dozens of name combinations for Frisco and no two were the same!)

  When Frisco was satisfied his ears had been well attended to, with so much to do, he pranced off for his rounds of the bar to collect additional pets and kisses from the ladies.

  “Check this out Señor Drakster!” Shawn mocked, turning his photo viewing tablet towards Drake while spinning through today’s pics.

  Drake’s gaze reluctantly shifted from a fresh-spotted “hottie” across the bar to Shawn’s display. After seeing the first of a few spectacular images from the day’s session, Drake exclaimed, “Brah, I’ll say it again, that sentence, or century or whatever you call that camera is sick, like 3D. You could walk into those pictures, right down the barrel and to the back of the shack! Hell my Bruddah, I do believe I can see the Pope’s living room tucked away in the way back machine!”

  Shawn loved the way surfers described the skill of tucking up so far back into the tube of a wave no one on shore could see you. Other names for it were “getting tubed,” “the green room,” “getting barreled,” or as Drake put it, “the Pope’s living room.” Drake used this analogy to describe being even further back in the tube than most surfers. Once, when he was barreled for a very long time on a wave and asked what it was like, he said, “Mmm, spent some time chatting with the Pope, even got to kiss his ring!”

  After a few more minutes viewing images, Shawn suddenly flipped off the display. He hated showing unedited photos. He considered them “unfinished works of art” and he still wanted to explain to those gathered around how his Sentient captured light in three dimensions.

  “Like a hologram,” Shawn said, “it captures the entire subject, from front to back, not just its surface. With the addition of my incredible lenses acting as giant light magnets, for the first time ever, data from the subject isn’t lost due to the limitations of the camera’s sensors.”

  Although he wanted Drake and the girls to understand the science, he was fairly sure it was lost on them. So, purely for his benefit and enjoyment, as he loved to talk photography every chance he got, he continued, “Now, one or two camera companies have come up with innovative cameras which allow you to change your focus point on the computer after you take the photo as the lens captures the entire light field, but the Sentient goes further. It has biogenic sensors which can read beyond the visual surface of the subject, like an x-ray, capturing light particles within the subject on what my old girlfriend Sally calls the “quantum level.”

  Finally tiring of talking to himself, he paused then concluded, “Yeah y’all, this new camera is genius and all Sally would tell me is they invented it to find bad guys from an airplane!”

  Just then two of the more aggressive Drake groupies primped up and made their move. “Excuse us,” one asked, arching a brow, “maybe you could help us settle an argument?”

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” Drake responded, sensing an opportunity.

  “Well, I think Drake Powers is the sexiest man on Kauai, but Susie here says it’s Shawn Pérez. Which of us is right?”

  Shawn rolled out with his best, yet terrible southern drawl. “Damn, my little honey, that’s a tough one. I’m always preferential to my good looks.”

  But Drake struck back, “hey check this rig,” turning his body from side to side, “youth and beauty wins over worn and weary, hands down!”

  While the girls were undressing both men with their eyes, Susie slid next Shawn. “I don’t know, my mom says the making of a good man, like good wine, takes time.”

  Her girlfriend shot back, “So maybe you should bring your mom next time and she and Shawn could hook up. He looks like he’s got another year or two left in him, if she goes easy on him.”

  Susie latched onto Shawn’s arm. “Well, how about we get some steaks, some new wine, and some older wine, and you guys come back to our place for a little research on the subject.”

  Drake, with his cat-ate-the-canary grin joined in, “I am digging this so let’s go! Hot damn, a Lisa for you, and a Lisa for me!”

  Shawn slid his arm from Susie’s embrace, explaining, “Ladies, as much as I’d love to….” He then motioned to Drake and elaborated, “I’ve got to smash today’s shots of this photo hog into one spectacular image. His sponsor’s in Cali-forn-i-a are waiting for a totally different kind of upload.”

  “Aw come on, don’t be a party pooper. Can’t it wait till tomorrow? Uploading with us is a hell of a lot less work — and definitely more fun!”

  “No offense to you two lovely beach Betties, but the work I have to do tonight will blast the surf world into another dimension. I’m making a life-size hologram of Drake buried and upside down in the barrel of a wave.”

  “You bet, it’ll be nutz,” Drake added. “See this slammin’ camera? It’s like the future of photography. But Shawn would rather have sex with it instead of you tonight. C’mon Shawn, before you bolt, snap some pics of me and my new best friends before we mess up our hair. It’ll remind you of how much fun you might’ve had. Snuggle up honeys, you’re about to have your picture taken by the world’s best!”

  Shawn picked up his bag to remove his camera, “Yeah, yeah, right. Go ahead, slide in there with Mistah Par Tee Power’.”

  Frisco, who must have completed his rounds, came from nowhere and on cue jumped up on Drake’s lap while Susie and her friend wrapped their arms around them both, forming an impressive Drake-Frisco sandwich. As the girls playfully swooned over Drake, Shawn snapped out a handful of “night to remember” pics. After he took about twenty or thirty photos Shawn put away his gear and while zipping up his camera bag, Susie handed him a bar napkin with her contact information on it.

  “You might want to hand deliver me a copy of that photo, Mr. Pérez, and I’ll give you something to really remember me by. I mean, who has a picture with Drake Powers taken by Shawn Pérez? I want to be able to thank you the right way, up close and personal.”

  She then added, “And don’t you forget us and delete any of those pictures.”

  Drake poked Shawn in the chest and said to the girls, “No need for worry where that’s concerned. In all the years I’ve known Shawn, he has never, ever deleted one of his photos with a person in it.”

  Drake went on to harass Shawn by retelling the story of their near-spearing by the tribesmen and Shawn’s resulting superstitions.

  “It’s wack, I know,” Drake said, finishing his thought, “but he believes if he deletes a photo, he erases a piece of a soul — an
d Shawn’s a guy who doesn’t like to take chances with other people’s lives and shit.”

  “C’mon Drake, told you a million times, not saying I believe it 100%, just playing it safe. Shit, more than anyone you should appreciate it. Hell, there’s so little depth to you, if I started deleting your images, you’d disappear!”

  “Yeah sure, but you know the true reason you don’t delete my pics? It’s because you and me are the tightest Brahs ever … except for me and Frisk of course.”

  They gave each other a fingertip-sliding handshake, and then Shawn pushed Drake towards the women.

  “Ladies, just keep D.P.’s mouth filled with food or booze and less stupid shit will come out. Tonight I will be busy creating the most realistic hologram ever. Too bad it must be of this sorry-ass gringo.”

  Shawn pointed at Drake, smirked and walked out, leaving one slightly disappointed girl at the bar, a forlorn Frisco, and a very happy Drake kicking it into “Par Tee” mode.

 

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