Swell (8 page)

‘Well it must be hard to deal with losing a world title, not to mention a multi-million dollar bonus, Chuck.’

‘What
EVER
. Like I lost fifteen percent of that bonus, but, you know, get over it, dude. Move on. Make a different few million. Don’t just be a freakin’ loser and give up.’

‘Well I guess Jason has been doing this for a long time. He’s been a pro surfer since he was, what, seventeen? He’s won a dozen titles. Maybe he’s just had enough and wants to relax for a bit.’

Chuck clicked his tongue.

‘Bullshit, Jason doesn’t do relax. This is his life, man. The fame, the competitions, and the travel. He’s not ready to settle down and especially not with you know who. Without the tour, he’ll fall apart, for real. B, if we don’t sort this right now we are fucked with a capital F U C K E D.’

‘We? What do you mean
we
?’

‘Well for one you won’t get a year on tour on the world’s best beaches.’

‘Bugger.’

‘And for two if he can give up on the tour just like that he can give up on the book, you know what I’m sayin’? He’s in a bad place right now and I know Jason. When he’s in a bad place he closes in on himself. He’s not gonna wanna go shouting about his life in some book.’

‘OK I’m listening.’

‘Portia’s in his ear like the freaking devil on his shoulder telling him this and that and shit and asking him to quit the tour to go hang out in Hollywood. I know it, for real.’

I stood up and gazed out of the window at the view. The reflection of the full moon floated on the glassy ocean. I should have known a life like this was too good to be true, especially for a girl like me who was not genetically predisposed to tanning evenly.

The day was turning out to be a disaster but I was not willing to let Jason give up on our book just on a whim and I was damned if I was going to let Portia get her way.

‘Portia doesn’t like me, B, but she sure as hell hates any other woman having an influence over Jason. Especially one as smart as you,’ Chuck said as if reading my mind.

‘Well I am not giving up that easily Chuck. I need this job.’

‘Now you’re talking, girl. Look I’m at the airport collecting him from the Kona flight. Thank God the bitch has gone back to L.A. for Botox or an ass reduction or some shit. We’ll be an hour then we’ll swing by and treat you to dinner up at Turtle Bay. You gotta help me fix this thing fast.’

Dinner at a posh restaurant and a battle of wills was the last thing I felt like doing, but if I was going to salvage anything from the day I had to help Chuck.

‘I’ll be waiting,’ I said.

I suspected changing Jason’s mind about anything would be like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands but I could be just as determined as him. My career was all I had and success was not going to find me like a bee looking for pollen on a sedentary flower. I had to be the bee and find my own sweet reward.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We were shown to the best table at a beautiful open-sided restaurant on the beach. Flaming torches lit the ocean in the sheltered bay and relaxed waves drifted lazily onto the shore. Palm trees sheltered the glass ceiling like umbrellas that had been shredded in the wind. When Chuck walked into the restaurant the manager stood to attention. When Jason strolled in behind, the manager bowed so low I thought he might pull a hamstring. I was a nobody to them of course but I was happy to enjoy the kow-towing-by-proxy.

‘Champagne, Madame?’ asked the manager, proudly displaying a bottle of Cristal.

Would anyone refuse?

I sipped the golden liquid. It tasted as if each bubble had been individually wrapped.

‘How much is this per bottle?’ I whispered once the manager had finished lavishing us with complimentary small talk and had scurried away to bully his staff into making us feel even more special.

‘That, oh I dunno about three fifty,’ Chuck shrugged.

I spat the mouthful across the table.

‘Three hundred and fifty dollars?’

Chuck hooted with laughter.

‘Yeah so that’s like thirty bucks you just spat out.’

Jason grinned.

We clinked our glasses together and drank a toast.

‘To the team,’ said Chuck.

‘The team,’ said Jason quietly.

We had all been unnaturally bright and jovial on the way to the restaurant, skirting around the issue we were there to discuss as if it were too hot to handle and we had to wait for it to cool.

I sipped what might as well have been liquid platinum and smiled my thanks to our waitress who nervously delivered a plate of raw fish poke to the table. A mouthwatering aroma of sesame and coriander wafted into my nostrils from the dish of thinly sliced tuna adorned with fresh purple orchids. I grabbed a generous portion with my chopsticks, popped it into my mouth and rolled my eyes at the taste that was nothing short of heavenly.

Chuck nudged my foot under the table and waggled his eyebrows, urging me to speak.

‘Say something,’ he mouthed.

I grimaced.

‘Shame, I was so looking forward to sampling wonderful foods like this around the world on tour with you next year,’ I said eventually.

I looked pointedly at Jason.

Sensing the intensity of my gaze, Jason lifted his head and looked at me through a lock of blond hair. He lowered his chopsticks to the table.

‘So Chuck told you.’

‘Yes Chuck told me. So let’s talk about it.’

Chuck clapped his hands.

‘Why do you want to retire now? Because you lost? I thought you desperately wanted the thirteenth world title.’

Chuck shoved a huge mouthful of poke into his mouth and his eyes bulged.

‘I did want it but I don’t need it. I’ve got twelve and that’s enough.’

‘Nine might be good, brilliant in fact but twelve is not thirteen. Thirteen is a record-breaking number; it’s never been done before. That’s what drove you. Pardon me if I got it wrong but I thought you wanted to do something remarkable.’

Chuck’s eyes bulged even more. I was goading Jason on purpose because, from what I knew of him already, I thought I had to challenge him. I almost had to dare him not to retire to have any hope of changing his mind.

I took a sip of champagne. Jason weaved his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table.

‘Are twelve titles not remarkable enough? Where does it end?’ he said.

I shrugged. ‘Of course. It ends when you want it to end but won’t it be an anticlimax slipping away quietly after losing to your Nemesis?’

Tyler visibly bristled. ‘It’s not healthy to just focus on getting thirteen world titles. What if I never get there?’

‘What if you do?’

Jason ran his tongue across his lips and stared intently at me.

‘So you think you know how I tick already?’

‘Isn’t that my job?’ I paused and took a breath. ‘Or are you going to give up on that too?’

‘No of course not. Retirement is the perfect time to release a book and anyway I am not giving up.’

He made inverted commas with his fingers.

I raised one eyebrow.

‘Looks that way to me. What do you think, Chuck?’

Chuck looked like he might choke.

‘Yes, Chuck, what do you think? It’s not like you to be so quiet. Join the game.’

Jason’s mouth was set in a firm line. The waitress approached the table to clear the plates but Jason raised his hand and said – ‘Leave us, please.’

She scurried away as quietly as she had approached.

‘This isn’t a game, Jason,’ said Chuck. ‘Why do you wanna go listening to Portia at a time like this? Why give all this up?’

He waved his long arms wildly, almost decapitating a passing waiter who apologised as if it was his fault for taking up too much space in the world.

Jason sat back in his chair and smoothed his hands through his hair.

‘I’ll say it again. I am not just giving up and I sent Portia home. This has nothing to do with Portia.’

‘Does too.’

‘Does not.’

‘Does too.’

‘Does not.’

My God, how old were they, twelve?

‘Whether or not Portia is instrumental in your decision to retire is not the issue here. We just have to make sure it’s the right decision for you and that you won’t look back and regret not trying for the title again.’

‘I don’t do regret.’

‘Really? Or do you just tell yourself that?’

My toes curled at my own regret over what I had done with Cain just hours earlier. When I had first seen Jason in the car I had hardly been able to look him in the eye. He despised Cain and Cain’s victory was the reason we were there. I had literally slept with the enemy and now here I was ensconced in Jason’s camp, acting as his confidante. I was disgusted by my own disloyalty but I knew it was a moment of madness that would never happen again. I too would not live with regret.

We sat back silently while the waitress approached the table and cleared the plates for the main course. My choice was a succulent butterfish on a bed of sweet potato and edamame beans. The first mouthful was so utterly divine I closed my eyes and prayed we would be continuing our world tour.

‘Look, I appreciate your efforts, Bailey, but my mind is made up. I don’t just want to focus on the world title and keep getting my ass kicked at Pipe, I want a new challenge.’

I blinked at Jason like a chess master considering my next move.

‘I understand but then I am a friend. People on the outside will probably see you retiring and put it down to the fact that you were defeated by a better surfer and you didn’t have what it took to fight him back to the top.’

Chuck choked on a baby back rib. Jason leaned so far across the table his breath blew the steam snaking up from my meal.

‘Cain is not a better surfer than me. He just got lucky.’

I casually brushed my hair back over my shoulder.

‘For a third time.’

Jason inhaled sharply.

‘Look, Jason, I do think you were unlucky but luck, talent, tactics, whatever it comes down to, Cain is still number one and you are number two. That is the way history will remember it. I just want you to realise that.’

A nerve twitched in Jason’s left cheek.

‘How do I know you’re not just saying all this because you want a year on tour?’

‘Because I am honest. I know you want to beat Cain more than anything in the world just like I want to write a bestseller more than anything. Of course another world title would be better for the book but that is not the point. The point is you are a winner, Jason and this is not your style. I am just saying what other people’ – I shot a look at Chuck who was pretending to be engrossed in the wine label – ‘might hold back from saying to you because that is who I am. You can trust me.’

The moment I met Jason’s eyes I knew I had won him over. My victory, however, was fleeting because seconds later, a willowy man and his entourage of tattooed bruisers entered my line of vision and I knew there was trouble ahead. As Cain approached our table with a twisted smile on his face, my own words ‘trust me’ jumped back into my throat.

‘Is this a private party for losers or can winners join in?’

Jason did not have to turn around to recognise the voice.

‘Table for one is it, Cain, or do they serve monkeys in here?’ he muttered, nodding towards Cain’s cronies.

Cain placed one hand on the back of Chuck’s chair and the other on mine. My skin crawled and I stared straight ahead while silently saying a prayer that he would not say anything. Jason tried to ignore the heckles of the Tiger Sharks who were circling us in the manner of the creatures they were named after. I held my breath but the minute Cain uttered my name I knew the game was up.

‘So, Bailey Brown, you couldn’t keep up with us, huh? Decided to go back to the loser’s gang did you, Sista?’

Jason’s head whipped up and Cain’s laughter rumbled down my spine, connecting with each vertebra like a stick being dragged across a xylophone. He bent down until his mouth touched my ear.

‘What’s the matter, Sista, cat got your tongue or did you lose your voice from screaming so much when I screwed you?’

I felt sick.

Jason’s chair legs scraped along the wooden floor and he leapt to his feet. Jason and Cain faced each other, their faces inches apart and I could sense Cain willing Jason to fight him. Cain knew how to fight; it was how he had got to the top.

Jason clenched his fists and breathed heavily. I stood up and placed myself between them. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I had never before truly wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

‘Just tell me it’s not true, Bailey. That’s all I need to hear and then I will sort this creep out,’ said Jason, his eyes unblinking.

I searched my mind for a way out but there was only one direction I could take. The truth. I had told him he could trust me and now was not the time to perpetuate the lies. I said nothing. Jason slowly turned his head to look at me. The hurt in his eyes wounded me more than any words.

‘I can’t,’ I said, my voice breaking, ‘I’m sorry, Jason.’

Jason’s head dropped. From the glint of victory in Cain’s face, one would have thought he had won the world title all over again.

ENGLAND

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘Bailey would you get me another G and T? I’m parched in here,’ screeched my mother who had been sprawled in front of the television since the previous evening.

I unwillingly fixed her a drink in her disastrously disorganised kitchen and took it out to her with a forced smile.

‘Are you going to get dressed, Mother? It’s almost two and Jo and Gerry will be here soon.’

My mother glugged back the gin. She gasped as if she had been marching through the desert without water for three weeks when, in reality, not ten minutes had passed since her last gin and tonic. She handed me the glass with a nod. I stood and looked down at her.

‘What? What are you staring at? Honestly, if a woman can’t relax in her pyjamas on Christmas bloody Day when can she?’

‘Every other day of the year from the look of you,’ I muttered as I stalked back to the kitchen.

‘I heard that.’