Ramping Up

by Zoe Dawson

  “Nice trick, son!” My heart sank as I heard my father’s voice, and my gut twisted with fire as I tried to corral my anger. He was shouting at me from behind the deck and I turned to face him, my expression fixed. I was taking back my life. “Way to go on a damn toy!” When would he get it? It didn’t matter if he did this kind of thing. I was never going to give in. I gave him a taut smile and a salute, and his face went red and mottled. “You’re wasting your talent!” he yelled so loudly that Powell snickered, and people started to pay attention. A cameraman turned his camera on him, and there was my dad’s face, projected on the big screen. I watched as a security guard came over to him and started to talk to him. My dad shoved him, and another guard immediately appeared. They hauled him out.

  Anger clawed through me and mortification at my father’s performance. I banked it, almost had it under control. Then Powell spoke.

  “Nice, Smith. Seems like your dad’s not as thrilled with you as the audience.”

  My fury slipped the hold building in me. I took a step toward Powell, but Ocean blocked me. Then I met Lena’s pleading eyes. I clenched my fists and made a low growl of rage, then got myself under control—for her.

  “If you hit him,” he whispered, “you’ll get disqualified.” He turned and said, “Powell. Get off his back. I haven’t seen you do a basically perfect ollie heelflip lateflip over stairs.”

  “It’s okay, man,” I said to Ocean.

  He slapped my back and said under his breath. “Egomaniac.”

  The crowd was murmuring, and the camera followed my dad out of the arena, assisted by security. The anger spilled over, but I wrestled it down. I was almost full to bursting with it. It was bad enough I had to endure his ugly shouting when I was surfing and losing, but now with skateboarding, my only means of escape from him? It was churning me up inside.

  What would happen if my rage had nowhere to go?

  Chapter 12

  Helena

  I was still reeling after Gunner’s win in DC. He blew the crowd and the LSJ competition away. The only blemish on his stellar performance was his dad getting thrown out of the arena and causing a scene that played briefly on the news.

  It might have been a blip on DC’s radar, but it had affected Gunner, just as the day by the pool had.

  That day, he had been shaken to the core because of what his father said. About how winning was everything. That was something I believed, too. And then I had been shown the other side of the coin, and I was repelled, horrified that if I continued to walk down this road, I would lose all my integrity. I thought of Isaiah Morton and shame washed over me. I might not have manipulated him like Ray, but I had withheld my true thoughts from him. I had subtly steered him toward the NBA because as the number one draft pick, it would be prestigious to sign him. But did that strengthen Mavrick? Did that meet our real core mission? No. I might think it was business, and it was okay to fib a little or tell an athlete the truth they wanted to hear, but that’s not really what my father believed in. I fed myself some BS that we could mold him, be there to make him the athlete he was meant to be, but I knew he would benefit from time in college, to mature as a ballplayer. That would better serve him and the NBA.

  I wanted to be like my dad, and even though I knew in my heart that he would never have told Isaiah to sign, I had withheld my advice.

  Gunner was that kind of man. When I heard him say that winning wasn’t everything, it stirred something in me to examine my own thoughts about how single-minded I was and that it had become the be-all, end-all for me. Winning was only good when it meant something. That’s why he could never push hard enough, because surfing didn’t mean anything to him. His father had beaten and coached whatever love he might have had for the sport right out of him.

  We were pulling up to the Ritz-Carlton for the HeadStart fundraiser. He was on the phone with Falcon Dane. They had been in contact with each other since I’d met him. It was good to see him with a friend.

  The valet got into my car as Gunner ended the call and tucked his phone into the pocket of his very stylish tux. We had spent a frantic hour getting one that fit him and looked good. It wasn’t bad, considering the short notice, and that it was off the rack. We’d have to get him a more fitted one in the future. I couldn’t believe that I had forgotten that detail.

  As we entered the Ritz, I saw Trista in a dazzling midnight-blue gown and Hannah, pretty in pink, standing next to a very stylish Max while deep in conversation with him. Then I saw Keke with Star and Az talking to them. As I approached, Keke saw me and beamed. Even in her forties, she still had that timeless beauty, her part-Hawaiian heritage clear in the bone structure of her face. She was fit and trim from all the surfing and skating she still did. That was a Hall of Famer for you.

  Star saw me and squealed, and I smiled and waved to her. Her features were more pronounced than her mom’s, her dark eyes and long black hair stunning. Then there was Az. He was gorgeous, muscular without looking overblown, almond-shaped eyes, his jet-black hair long and ragged and just touching his shoulders. All three of them were stunning—similar in their black-and-white evening wear, but true to their separate personalities.

  “Hey,” Az said when he saw us. “You ripped it in DC.”

  “Gunner, this is Azriel Shima, but we just call him Az or Z. Star, his sister, and Keke, his mom.” Gunner knocked fists with Az and smiled at Keke and Star.

  After the introductions, Trista touched my shoulder and motioned with her chin. “Your dad is here.”

  I turned to see my father striding across the lobby as purposeful as ever, and I felt a twinge of guilt that I was breaking his rules with Gunner and that I hadn’t been true to our mission statement when I’d first met with Isaiah. He hadn’t contacted me since I saw him in New York. Dad’s eyes flowed over the knot of us standing there and then stopped on Keke. Lingered on her, almost bumping into someone because he was distracted.

  That was interesting.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, giving me a quick kiss and greeting the rest of the party.

  I introduced him, and Keke offered her hand to him. His eyes twinkled when he shook it. We all went into the ballroom and found our seats for dinner. Gunner sat next to Max, and I made a point to put Trista between us. I noticed my dad settled next to Keke, and she smiled at him in a way I hadn’t seen her smile at a man. She was very reserved at the many fundraisers I’d attended for Max.

  My smile faded when I saw Ray Canton slither through the door, smirking at me as he passed. He leaned down and briefly spoke to my dad, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My dad’s mouth tightened in response, and he glanced at me. Instantly I was nervous. What could Ray have to say to my dad?

  It was bad enough that Ray was angling to steal Gunner away from me. This was unexpected. I couldn’t figure out what his game was. Did it have to do with Gunner’s father?

  The event went off without a hitch. There were at least one hundred people attending, all California movers and shakers, including several high-profile athletes from our agency. It was for such a worthy cause.

  A quartet from the San Diego Symphony was playing, and people were dancing.

  I met Gunner’s eyes, and he rose and stepped over to my seat. “It’s been a long night,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Care to dance?”

  I glanced over and saw that my dad was out on the floor with Keke, holding her close for a slow song. I rose and took his hand. “As long as you behave.”

  “I am the poster boy of good behavior.”

  “Sure you are.”

  His hand was warm in mine, and I could only think how much I wished we could go so I could be alone with him.

  “You look beautiful tonight, McHotstuff.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my distance from him, but it was so hard.

  “You coming over tonight?” he said.

  “Where is he? My wayward son!”

  Horrified, I stood rooted to the spot; the only sound penet
rating my senses was the buzzing of the crowd. I couldn’t believe this was happening again.

  Gunner’s head whipped around at the sound of his father’s voice. Less than a day after he’d disrupted Gunner’s competition, he was back.

  My eyes went straight to Ray, who was standing by the door, a smug, mock-innocent look on his face.

  Mr. Smith was halfway into the room, and it was clear this time that he wasn’t drunk. His walk was steady, and his words were as clear as a bell.

  “You stay here,” Gunner said.

  “No—”

  He grabbed my upper arms and said harshly, “Yes. Let me handle this.”

  He left me and walked across the dance floor and tried to take his father’s arm, his voice low and conciliatory. But his father ripped his arm free and started to shout. It was clear he’d had time to stew about the significance of Gunner winning the LSJ competition.

  I looked at my father, but there was nothing but concern and sympathy in his eyes. I held his gaze for a split second, then moved toward Gunner. I had to fix this or at least get Mr. Smith out of here so that the fundraiser wouldn’t be entirely ruined. This was also a contractual agreement between Max and Gunner. I had to consider the ramifications of my client causing this kind of scene at a professional appearance.

  Gunner looked so calm. I didn’t know where he was finding this kind of strength. So far, I hadn’t ever seen him lose his cool except when I’d been threatened that day on the pool deck. It seemed that Gunner’s anger only came to the fore when he was protecting someone. Never to protect himself.

  “Dad, stop this. It’s not the place.” His voice was low and urgent.

  “Well, I’m making it the place.” He gave Gunner a warped smile.

  As I approached, Mr. Smith saw me, and his look was enough to churn my stomach into knots. I realized that this man hated me.

  “Look, Dad, we can talk about this later.”

  “Later? Are you just saying that to get me out of here?”

  “I will discuss this with you later. Not here and now. I don’t want you to disrupt Mr. Wilder’s fundraiser. This is a charity function, and you’re acting completely inappropriate. Leave now.”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith. Please go,” I said. “We don’t want to have another security incident.”

  There was no response for a moment, then he raised his head and looked at me, a hard, cold expression on his face, his jaw set, his eyes flat and hostile.

  “Dad, just go. I promise we’ll talk.”

  He let out a mean laugh. “You just traded one master for another, Gunner.”

  He turned and left, but the murmurs continued after he was gone.

  “I’m going to apologize to Max,” Gunner said and walked over to where he was.

  “That was unfortunate,” Ray said, sidling up to me.

  I turned and glared at him. “You orchestrated that.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with Gunner and his father going at it here. I’m merely an instrument.”

  “You are slime,” I hissed.

  “Name-calling. That is so unprofessional, but I guess that’s no surprise. I heard about Mr. Smith showing up in DC. Bummer. I guess now that Gunner has won, his father will know where he’s going to be for the next LSJ competition. That kid’s got it. Weren’t you the lucky one to sign him?”

  “You had him, Ray, and you let him go because you didn’t believe in him. Now you want him back to profit off him and as a bonus to shove it in my face. Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  “From what I’ve heard, you’ve had him, too. That’s so tacky.” My heart jumped. How could Ray possibly know about my relationship with Gunner? He had to be fishing. I kept my face completely impassive.

  “Why don’t you keep your comments to yourself?”

  “We’ll see, Helena. Have a good rest of the night.” He gave me one last smirk and left the room.

  —

  The minute we stepped out of the Ritz, I could feel Gunner withdraw into himself, and we walked in total silence to the curb.

  As we approached my car, I thanked the valet, and we settled inside. I cast him a glance as I reached out and clasped his hand. I couldn’t see his face that clearly, but I sensed he was suddenly exhausted beyond words.

  How did he manage all this on his own? He was faced with an overbearing and controlling father with misogynistic tendencies. Where were his mother and sister? What happened to them? Now that he’d finally found something good, would his father ever leave him alone to enjoy it and get on with his life?

  As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced over at him again. He was slouched in the seat with his head back and his eyes closed. He wouldn’t sleep; he was simply shutting himself off. This way he wouldn’t leave himself open; he wouldn’t have to talk. I was torn between wanting to shake him and wanting to stop the car and simply hold him.

  Once we reached his house, he went upstairs to change, and I wasn’t sure he wanted me to stay. So I ducked into the small bathroom downstairs and changed out of my dress into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. When I came out, my stomach did a funny little lurch. Gunner was standing at the sliding glass door, looking out to the brightly lit pool area, his hands stuck in the back pockets of his jeans. As I approached, he turned, leaning his shoulder against the door. He met my eyes with a steady, unnerving look.

  There was an awkward silence, and suddenly the companionship we had shared seemed like a distant memory. For one heart-stopping instant, we stared at each other, invisibly linked by an acute awareness, then Gunner’s expression altered dramatically. Looking suddenly very unsettled, he turned away.

  “I’m going to skate,” he said gruffly. I felt as though he was severing a vital link as I watched him slip out the door and head across the pool deck. The lights came on in the park.

  “No,” I said softly. Closing my eyes, I dragged my hair back, frustration and a sense of helplessness raging through me. This was crunch time. This was the time when I needed to do my job. He wanted space so he could figure out a way to handle this alone. He was so afraid to lean on me. Afraid that one day I wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t stick around.

  I went out the door and skirted the pool. He was rolling around the hills and dips of the park. He attempted a ledge trick and fell. But he didn’t move. He didn’t get up, and it scared me. I felt as if my heart was breaking. One of the lights was shining down on him, and I started toward that patch of illumination, my pulse heavy in my throat. Wiping my hands down the front of my shorts, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He was stretched out on the ground with one arm draped across his eyes, a grim set to his mouth. He seemed so alone. He was choosing to be alone.

  The halogen lights cast the area surrounding us in heavy shadows, and a cool breeze filled with salt wafted in from the ocean.

  “Gunner?”

  “Lena, please just leave me alone.”

  “No. Because that’s not really what you want.” He removed his arm and stared up at me. Even from a few feet away, I could sense the barely controlled fury in him. Knowing I was moving onto forbidden ground, I steeled myself. “Whether you like it or not, we’re going to have to talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Oh, yes, there was. Reams and reams of things to talk about, but I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t going to have any of it. I was a Mavrick, and I didn’t back down from a fight, especially when it meant more than I could put into words. Winning, in this case, did mean something. Something for Gunner and me. I wanted that.

  “Listen to me carefully. I know you think your dad is never going to give up. But you can’t let him get the upper hand here. This is your life. Your decision.”

  He got up from the ground and kicked his skateboard. It slammed against the stairs and bounced off, careening into the night. He stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching, and my heart broke some more for what he’d had to endure his whole life. Well, that was going to change.
I would wait this out because he had a right to feel this way. No one was going to hurt him again. Not on my watch.

  He paced away, jammed his hands on his hips, and tipped his head back, trying to level out his rapid breathing. Finally, he exhaled sharply and turned to face me, and the rage exploded in a growl from low in his chest. His face carved with lines of disgust, he started kicking the low concrete wall, losing it, his jaw clenched, and guttural sounds broke from him until he was screaming and swearing until the air was blue. His eyes blazing, the veins in his neck distended with fury, he bent over, trying to get himself under control.

  I stood there and let him experience all that rage. It wasn’t directed at me.

  He turned around and plopped down on the wall, breathing hard, covering his face with his hands. That was all I could take.

  I rushed over to him and covered his hands with my own and drew them away from his face. “I’m here for you. I’m never going to give up or walk away, no matter what happens. I promise you that. I know the people in your life have disappeared. But I’m not going to do that. I’ve seen you, Gunner. I know your heart and soul.”

  “I’m afraid, Lena. Afraid of what he will do if I don’t agree. I will not stand by and have him hurt you. I saw the way he looked at you. He blames you. It would be easier—”

  I covered his mouth with my hand. It was a moment before I was able to frame the words, my voice thick when I whispered, “No, it wouldn’t be easier. Not for me and not for you.”

  He looked away, the muscles in his throat convulsing, and I nearly broke down before I got the rest of the words out. “I know you have the courage for this. I saw you tonight. You’ve lived this way too long. We can’t let Max down. He is depending on you, Gunner. I promised to take you all the way, and that’s just what I’m going to do. Do you realize how many sponsors approached me yesterday?”

  His eyes widened at that. “They did?”

  “Yes, they’re watching you. Some are already jockeying for position. You’re going to be huge. I’m going to get you sponsors—shoes, grip tape, trucks, bearings, and boards. I’m going to get you Nitor. I don’t have a moment’s doubt about that. It’s just a matter of time. You were born to do this.”