Swell (19 page)

Jason was gracious in defeat. He climbed on the back of the jet-ski to make the journey to shore and raised his arms above his head to applaud Sylvain who was beaming like the cat who had got not only the cream but also a big cake to go with it. Back at the camp Jason pulled Sylvain into a hug and congratulated him.

‘I am sorry to beat you, my friend,’ said Sylvain in a French accent laced with Australian and American. ‘I really want you to be the world champion again and I hope this does not destroy your chances.’

‘No problem, Sylvain, you totally beat me fair and square. Just do the same against Cain and I’ll let it slide,’ Jason replied half joking in full earnest.

The photographers went to town taking pictures of the two generations of talented surfers embracing, and then, while Jason sat in a corner of the competitors’ area and contemplated his loss and its repercussions for the title race, they snapped endless pictures of Petit Sylvain like paparazzi stalking the famous guests at the Ivy. I glanced over at Jason who had one towel wrapped around his waist and another draped over the top of his head. His eyes glistened with disappointment. My heart sank for him. I wanted to offer my condolences and more than anything to shake him and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing but I dared not for fear of having my throat cut with a diamond-encrusted nail file.

Rory on the other hand, progressed to the semi-finals of this the fourth contest of the year, which jumped him up the rankings and set him in good stead for re-qualifying for the following year. The fact that Rory lost to Cain who then went on to win the final was not enough to wipe the smile from Rory’s sunburned lips. He had a solid points score, he had his delicate young fiancée supporting him with the fervour of an army of football supporters and he now had a big prize cheque in his pocket with which to buy her the Tahitian black pearl and diamond engagement ring he had always dreamed he would buy for the indisputable love of his life.

Jason received a cheque and points for his joint fifth place but it was little recompense for having to watch Cain lap up the glory on the podium. It was probably fortunate that Jason had not made it onto the winners’ podium because the prizes were presented by a curvaceous Tahitian beauty dressed in a blue flowery mini skirt and a
skin-coloured tank top with a yellow flower adorning her luscious black curls. Portia would have executed her on the spot with the winner’s trophy, which was a hand-carved wooden sword. Cain raised the sword heavenwards in a manner reminiscent of Arthur extracting Excalibur from the stone.

‘I want to thank my ohana the Tiger Sharks,’ he boomed into the microphone, ‘I love you guys. Thanks to my sponsors and to Sylvain for a great final but I gotta say the best guy won.’

‘Dumb prick asshole,’ Chuck muttered in his usual loud whisper, causing Rosario, Orca and the rest of Cain’s gang to edge a little too close to us for comfort.

Cain exchanged his microphone for a bottle of champagne, which he shook up and sprayed all over Sylvain and the crowd. I could just imagine my mother leaping onto the stage and whacking him around the head with the bottle for wasting valuable alcohol. Cain then returned to the microphone, his mouth frothing with spumous champagne and adrenalin.

‘And a big shout out to Jason who we all know is chasing my world title. I’m on a roll now, Brah, so bring it on, baby, bring it motherfuckin’ on!’

‘What a delightful speech,’ I said, ‘he should do after-dinner functions.’

After four events Jason was still leading the rankings but, having come runner up to Jason’s three wins and now with a win under his belt, Cain was second by only a slim margin. I would hardly describe one win out of four as a roll but he was right in saying the world title race was out of the starting blocks and too close to call. The best eight out of ten results counted towards the world title so there was scope for two less than perfect performances but Cain’s confidence was palpable and once he was on a roll, he would be
a hard man to beat. I could already feel the happy ending to my book slipping from my grasp and Portia’s presence was not helping.

‘You gotta help me out, dude,’ Chuck pleaded. ‘We gotta get rid of her.’

‘I don’t see how it’s my business, Chuck.’

‘It is your business. This is all business,’ he said solemnly, ‘and that witch has the spell to make the share price plummet for shizzle.’

‘OK, I admit she’s an unwelcome distraction but I really don’t see how I can help.’

‘You’re a woman,’ he said with a conspiratorial wink, ‘and women can always find a way. I may not be a Casanova with the chicks but I know enough to know that much, you know what I’m sayin’?’

SOUTH AFRICA

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The tour moved on like a travelling circus to Jeffrey’s Bay in South Africa, seventy kilometres south of Port Elizabeth. The peeling right-hand wave was perfectly suited to Jason and should have guaranteed a good result for him but with Portia attached to him like a ball and chain, Jason surfed way below his best.

‘Like if that witch doesn’t drop dead of natural causes in the next week I swear I will feed her to the motherfuckin’ tiger sharks. The real ones, you know what I‘m sayin’?’ Chuck seethed.

Real tiger sharks had been spotted circling the contest, their huge fins slicing through the surface of the water to give an indication of the size of the man-eating giant concealed beneath the surface. I was tempted to help Chuck carry out his threat but if anyone could scare a man-eating shark it was Portia. It was, however, an enjoyable fantasy to pass the time.

The night before the finals, I overheard Portia shouting at Jason in the adjacent room. The argument continued until the early hours and her voice was so loud I could make out almost every word.

‘That pathetic little Australian girl has got an engagement ring and I am way hotter than her,’ Portia screamed. ‘If you loved me you’d buy me a ring. I’ve supported you for years, you bastard. The diamonds here are the best ever and I could have a totally gorgeous pink one like on
Blood Diamond
?’

I laughed out loud. I think she’d missed the point the film was trying to make. I held my breath when Jason’s voice rang out clear and calm.

‘But I don’t love you, Portia, I’ve told you a million times. I don’t want you here.’

I pressed my hand to my mouth and realised I was smiling.

‘I’ve told you, Jason, if you make me go I will sell my story to the Press and I will ruin you. I promise you that.’

‘What with, lies?’

‘Of course but lies sell, baby and I have got one hell of an imagination. You need to keep me on side, Jason, or you will regret it. You owe me too much. I will not be thirty-five and single. Who else have you got? That pasty, sarcastic English bitch? How pathetic.’

‘Go back to your room now, Portia, I can’t stand the sight of you.’

I sat down heavily on the bed and clicked my tongue. I had suspected there was a reason why Jason had not sent Portia home but the mistrusting part of me had put it down to him being a man who could not resist a sexual creature like Portia. I closed my eyes. Jason deserved more credit than I had given him and I knew him too well to really believe he could be so shallow. The truth was, Portia was a dangerous woman who would have been more suited to Cain than to Jason. She was blackmailing him. A man whose public image was everything. I had to help. I had to make her want to leave of her own accord. The problem was the one card I had to play was the one that could in fact ruin Jason’s reputation; Harrison. Oli had cunningly managed to suppress the story. However, I had to hope Portia would choose to walk away from the responsibility of a child and would be too proud to reveal to the Press that she had not been Jason’s first choice when it came to procreation. The gamble depended on how I played my card. I hated gambling but, for once in my life I knew it was a risk I had to take.

Jason lost the contest in the two to three foot surf of the semi-final, this time and for the first time ever, to Rory whose surfing seemed to be going from strength to strength.

‘I’m sorry, mate,’ said Rory when they embraced after the heat.

‘Don’t apologise, you surfed like a champ, he surfed like a chump,’ said Chuck with undisguised disgust.

‘Are you going to let that asshole speak to you like that?’ Portia hissed.

Jason clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew his manager was right and he was not too proud to accept the fact.

Jason then had to endure another winning performance from Cain who defeated Rory with a ten-point ride in the final five minutes of the contest. Rory was secretly delighted with his highest placing yet on the world tour, although he would have liked to have prevented Cain gaining the maximum points if only to assist Jason in his pursuit of the world title. With five contests surfed and five to go, we were half way through the tour and Cain had stolen the lead in the rankings from right under Jason’s nose. One year as runner-up after twelve world titles was acceptable but two years in succession was enough to signify a slip into retirement. Loyalty in business was a concept knitted together by delicate silk worms. If it looked like the number one rider was losing his touch, Poseidon would turn their attention to the next big thing, Petit Sylvain or Rory, depending on who was performing better, and all the marketing budgets and support network would be thrown their way. Jason would always be a surfing legend and a wealthy ex-champion, but the surfing limelight he basked in would quickly dim whether he wanted it to or not.

As if to emphasise the point, Oli, who had stayed behind at the head office in Irvine, had a bottle of champagne delivered to Rory. We were all present when he picked it up from reception.

‘There is also a delivery for you, Mr. Cross.’

The receptionist handed Jason a similar box sent by Oli. Inside was a bottle of cheap white wine to emphasise his point.

I knew it was time to execute my plan. Time was of the essence if Jason was going to get his title challenge back on track. Short of throwing Portia off the nearby world’s highest bungee jump without a cord, I had to resort to a cunning plan. My plan may have more readily qualified as vindictiveness but it was all I could think of under pressure. Otherwise the extensive list of potential book titles I had come up with based around the record thirteenth world title would have been a complete waste of time.

Portia was sipping a cosmopolitan cocktail at the hotel bar when I approached her. She was as immaculately dressed as ever in a black Gucci shift dress and silver Manolos. Her elegant neck was adorned with a choker of huge black pearls. They were a new addition to her wardrobe and an obvious ploy to overshadow Ruby’s single black pearl engagement ring. She eyed the barman flirtatiously and slipped her change into her Fendi clutch bag. Her thick eyelashes only stopped fluttering when she saw me approach and her body language became instantly defensive. If I were not so modest I would have come to the conclusion that the girl found me threatening.

I had in fact selected a very unthreatening outfit in which to carry out my task. I wore boot cut jeans, a simple fitted white shirt and my cowboy boots. My hair was in a
ponytail and I wore the minimum amount of makeup without baring myself entirely. I had my limits.

The barman gave me a warm smile when I approached the bar and his eyes traced the line of my body approvingly. Portia, however, did not smile.

‘What do you want?’ she spat.

I nodded at the barstool beside her and slid onto it before she had a chance to protest.

‘I love your necklace. Did Jason buy you that?’

Her pointed fingers moved over the pearls.

‘Yes, well in a way. I have his credit card. He owes me.’

I was not surprised and I forced my brow to remain smooth.

‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ I said to the barman.

‘I bet you would given half the chance,’ said Portia in a loud whisper.

But you’re not having it, I wanted to counter, and anything you are having you’re stealing.

‘Would you like another drink, Portia?’ I said through a forced smile.

She sniffed and nodded. The barman acquiesced.

The cosmopolitan was smooth and tangy. I took several sips to calm my nerves and ran my tongue over the slice of lime. The sourness made my lips pucker. Much like the sour woman sitting beside me.

‘So have you enjoyed South Africa, Portia?’

She shrugged a bony shoulder and stared straight ahead. I did not speak again.

‘It’s alright I guess,’ she said after a lengthy pause, which indicated I made her nervous enough that she felt the need to fill uncomfortable gaps in conversation, ‘but it’s a bit poor and dirty for me.’

‘The beach is lovely though. Did you see the pod of dolphins surfing the waves during the final? They leapt over Rory’s board.’

‘Dolphins are boring.’

I felt as if I was trying to mollify a moody teenager.

‘The flamingos flying past were gorgeous. I’ve never seen flamingos in the wild before have you?’

‘What is this, a fucking wildlife appreciation club?’

There was certainly a wild cat on the loose, I wanted to reply, and judging by her body language she was just waiting for the chance to rip me to shreds.

I steeled myself to continue.

‘Look, Portia, I wanted to set the record straight. I think we got off on the wrong foot together.’

She finished her drink and glanced down at my feet.

‘Maybe because mine fit into Manolos and Choos and you have these big feet that you have to hide in men’s boots,’ she said with dry laugh. ‘Just my little joke, Bailey.’

I laughed even though it pained me to.

‘Very good, Portia. Another drink?’

I gestured to the barman. The cost of a few cocktails was a small price to pay for what I intended to achieve.

‘I’ll have a royal cosmo’ this time,’ Portia said when he reached for the glass.

I would even pay for the added champagne if it sweetened the pill enough for her to swallow it. I waited for the drinks to be prepared.

‘I want you to know, Portia, the incident in Tahiti was completely innocent. My interest in Jason is purely professional. I had been working on his book and he wanted to read some but he fell asleep because he was so tired after surfing Teahupoo.’