The Surfer Solution

by Cathy Yardley

  Sean sighed. “Guess that’s what I have to look forward to, then.”

  And he waited.

  Gabe’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “You’re agreeing to take a job with Lone Shark?”

  Sean took a deep breath. He hated the idea of being locked inside an office all day. Hated it with a passion. On the plus side, he liked eating, drinking and living in a house.

  And he really, really liked Allison. If he had a steady job, and all the stuff that a steady job could bring, he wouldn’t be in such limbo. Which would mean that he’d have a much better shot at lasting with Allison, the girl who liked her answers in black and white, her dates on a calendar and her life in alphabetical order.

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Sean said. He took a deep breath and continued. “I know that I haven’t been all that interested, but I had some questions about the position.”

  Gabe smiled, nodding thoughtfully. “Shoot.”

  “What would I be doing, exactly?” Sean didn’t mean for his voice to sound so suspicious—and so ungrateful. So he modified it. “I mean, I want to make sure that you’re getting the right guy for the job, you know?”

  “Lone Shark puts out a bunch of products. Wet suits, clothing, stuff like that,” Gabe said. “So you’d be a sales rep. You’d have a book of business. You’d send out catalogs, take orders, work your way up to more locations.”

  Sean smiled. “You mean, like Darren, our Lone Shark sales rep?”

  “Like that exactly,” Gabe said. “You could do that, easy. Hell, you know all our products because of all your time in the surf shop.”

  Sean fell silent for a minute. As a general rule, he really liked the products. Lone Shark was a good company, and they didn’t skimp on quality. Still, all they put out was clothing. It was fun to help people figure out which sort of wet suit worked best for them, but the rest of it was all pretty boring. People bought the clothes because they wanted to look like surfers or to show they were locals.

  “I don’t suppose you guys are considering making any surf gear?” Sean asked hopefully.

  Gabe frowned. “What, you mean like surfboards? No. Not really. It would dilute the brand too much.”

  Sean nodded. He knew that it would seem too dumb for a clothing company to put out boards, but it was worth asking. “Well, at least I won’t be in an office much,” Sean said.

  “Actually, you wouldn’t be in an office too much at all,” Gabe said. “You’d be traveling a bit, though. I think your territory would go all the way down to San Diego.”

  “How many surf shops are there? Sounds like a lot of ground.” That could be fun, Sean thought. He’d been to surf shops whenever he saw one, usually to see how they did business and to talk shop. Surfers hung out with other surfers.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Actually...you wouldn’t be covering surf shops. Or at least, not just surf shops.”

  Sean looked at him blankly. “If I’m not.... Wait a sec, where would I be selling stuff to?”

  “Well, malls, actually,” Gabe said.

  “Malls?" Sean said, horrified.

  “And sporting-goods stores, stuff like that,” Gabe added hastily. “Places that sell wet suits.”

  “You’re selling wet suits in malls all of a sudden?”

  Gabe sighed. “No, we’re selling clothing in malls. The women’s-sportswear line is selling well in those women’s stores, so we’re pushing to sell more aggressively there.”

  Oh, ugh, Sean thought. He wouldn’t even be working with surf shops. He’d be hanging out with teenage girls and trying to push sleeveless hoodies at those places that sold clothes that made thirteen-year-old girls look thirty-five and headed for their second divorce.

  “Listen, I know it’s not optimal,” Gabe said. “But it’ll pay twice what you’re getting paid now. Maybe three times as much.”

  Sean nodded soberly. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. It’s just... a change. That’s all.”

  A big, hairy, hideous shock of a change. He shook his head.

  Gabe sighed again. “Why don’t you think about it for a while, before you jump in? I mean, I know you hate to rush things.”

  “How long do I have to think it over?” Sean asked before he could stop himself, gripping at the chance to take a breather before committing himself like a man clutching at straws.

  Gabe grimaced. “Well...not much longer than a week. The guy in charge of sales is new, and I know that he’s going to want that position filled soon, now that he’s got the budget for it.”

  A week. Everything in his life seemed to be converging in one big week. “I do appreciate this,” he said.

  Gabe seemed to relax, shrugging easily. “Hey. You’re family. And besides, I trust you. When you give your word to do something, you do it.”

  Sean nodded. Which was precisely why he didn’t want to just agree to this, when his gut was sending all kinds of warnings. “Maybe we should talk about something else for a while,” Sean said, feeling tension in the back of his neck.

  Gabe leaned back, smirking. “Okay. How’s Allison and the surf lessons going?”

  “How about we talk about a different something else?” Sean suggested.

  Gabe laughed. “I’m just asking about surf lessons, not about whether or not you’re hooking up with a short blond hottie that it’s obvious you’re completely crazy about.”

  “I’ll tell Charlotte you just called Allison a hottie,” Sean warned. “You’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week.”

  “One, she’d call Allison a hottie herself, because it’s just a fact, not an opinion,” Gabe said. “Two, Charlotte knows there isn’t anybody else in my life who could ever tempt me. And three, she knows that anybody who even looks at Allison cross-eyed would probably get murdered by you, so no worries there.”

  Sean groaned, covering his face with his hands. “She’s...complicated,” he said. “God, that’s an understatement. I have no idea what’s going on with all of that.”

  “What’s the problem? You’re crazy about her, I’d venture a guess that she’s very into you, so what’s the holdup?”

  “My life is in a complete shambles right now, Gabe,” Sean pointed out. “It’s not exactly the perfect time for me to get a girlfriend.”

  “News flash: if you wait for the perfect time, you’ll never get a girlfriend,” Gabe said sagely. “Jeez. No wonder you’ve been single for so long.”

  “Cheap shot,” Sean said with a grin. “This is different, anyway. She’s really busy, too, and her life is crazy. She’s got this really big presentation in the next week, and her work...” He thought about it. “It makes her nuts, and it’s obviously crucial to her. I don’t know where I’d fit in to all of that. And I hate the idea of waiting by the phone—just waiting for her to have a second where she can squeeze me in.”

  Gabe laughed. “Metaphorically speaking.”

  Sean winced. “Unfortunately, only metaphorically speaking so far.” He closed his eyes. “And I don’t know that you need to share that one with Charlotte or the guys.” “Figured. You’re way too wound up to have gotten laid.” “Maybe we should talk about the job again,” Sean said sourly. “At least that’s less stressful.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault your monastic streak is still holding strong,” Gabe said, needling him like they were back in high school. “The guys would’ve bet on it, but I actually thought you would’ve closed the deal by now.”

  “I could score, believe me,” Sean said sharply, then abruptly realized the rest of the cafe was now staring at him. He grimaced, then took a swig of his soda. “But that’s not the point here. She’s special, man. She’s not somebody I’m just trying to hook up with.”

  Gabe smiled, a Buddha-like smile of contentment and wisdom.

  “Which is exactly what you were trying to get me to admit,” Sean said, rubbing his temples. “You might want to wipe that smarmy smirk off your face before I kick your ass.”

  “Whatever he
lps you sleep at night, grasshoppa,” Gabe said smugly. “The important thing here is, you’re finally getting out of your slump. You’ve been stuck in neutral for a decade, man. It’s time you started making changes. It’s time you stepped up to the plate.”

  “I haven’t been stuck in neutral, damn it,” Sean said in a low voice. “I like the surf shop. My life’s been pretty good. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing,” Gabe said. “But you’ve been just resting comfortably. You’ve been atrophying. Now you’ve got stuff at stake and something to risk. Something worth taking risks for. Are you going to just sit there and watch the pitch fly by or are you going to take a swing?”

  Sean gritted his teeth. He hated feeling pressured. Hated the sensation of going against his instincts, of rushing, of being forced.

  But do you hate the idea of losing Allison more?

  He grimaced. “Set up the interview,” he said. “And let’s order some damn lunch.”

       

  ALLISON SAT AT HER DESK, staring out the window. Still, she wasn’t looking at her view of the freeway or the trees that lined the parking lot. She wasn’t really looking at anything. She just stared, a funny little smile plastered on her face.

  That kiss.

  She couldn’t stop replaying it. It was a fixation. She knew that the big presentation was just days away.. .that it was going to be the biggest New Year’s Eve of her life. She needed to focus.

  She had her computer playing internet radio because she loved music while she worked, and a love song started playing. She sighed.

  “What is with you?” Gary said, walking in and wrinkling his nose with an expression of disgust.

  “Huh? Oh. Nothing,” she protested, even though she knew that was anything but true. “I’m just...thinking.”

  “You’ve been ‘thinking’ for the past two hours,” Gary said. He didn’t sound irritated, exactly, but he did sound frazzled. “We need the final revisions on the deck for the promotion, design still hasn’t gotten the posters right, and you’ve still got your regular stuff... something went wrong with one of the Super Flashlight ads, didn’t run in the newspapers we said, and I’ve been fielding about eighteen different calls from some of your other clients,” he explained.

  She sighed. “I thought nobody worked during the holidays.”

  “Apparently these guys do.”

  She looked at him. “Gary, do I thank you enough for all the work you do for me?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’m serious,” she said.

  “I know you appreciate my work, boss. And just having the job is thanks enough.”

  “You do an amazing job. I’d be out of my gourd if it weren’t for you. In fact, I’ve been thinking about suggesting you get promoted to the account team, and I’ve let myself get too swamped to do something about it. You can’t keep yourself stuck just because of your past, Gary.”

  He looked as if someone had hit him in the back of the head with a two-by-four. “Uh.. .thanks, Allison.” He sounded like he had something caught in his throat, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “That’s the phone. I’ll go get it,” he said, even though she had heard no ring.

  She meant every word. She’d miss him because he was really someone she leaned on.. .but at this point, she wanted him to move forward. He deserved to do more with his life than what he was doing, even though she had to say she’d never met anyone who took care of her and supported her as much as Gary.

  Except possibly Sean.

  “Allison, what have you been doing?” her boss said without preamble, busting into her office.

  Since her last thought had been of Sean, she felt pretty sure she was still wearing the same goofy grin that she’d been wearing all morning, and she quickly tried to school her expression to something a little more sober and businesslike. “What can I do you for, Frank?”

  “It’s, what, two o’clock on the twenty-ninth, and you’re asking me what you can do me for,” Frank said, his voice the operatic heights of drama. “How about the bloody presentation, for starters!”

  “You know, one of these days, you’re going to blow a gasket,” Allison tried to joke, even as she felt her own blood pressure start to rise in typical fight-or-flight instinct. The tickles of adrenaline started. “Gary’s already told me what’s on my plate. I’m getting it handled. So how, exactly, is yelling at me getting you anything that you want?”

  Gary had been standing in the doorway, and his eyes widened like saucers. Frank looked as if she’d turned purple and grown wings.

  “Allison, I know that we’ve worked together for a couple of years now, and I know that you feel pretty confident. I’m sure I contributed to that a bit—I mean, everybody knows I’ve favored you. But you’re crossing the line.”

  She swallowed, hard, and felt her heart start to pound in her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Just shut up,” Frank said, and she felt a small part of her soul shrivel up. “This is too important for you to snap on me. You say that you can get this done, well, it’s time for you to put up or shut up. Meet me in my office at five o’clock. No doctor’s appointments—which I know was baloney, by the way—no excuses, no nothing. Have all the final details for the presentation on my desk for review at three o’clock, we’ll do a practice run-through tomorrow, then we lay out the presentation on the thirty-first. Is that clear?”

  She nodded, looking down at her desk, suddenly feeling fourteen years old again. Tears started to sting her cheeks, and she wanted to just curl up in a ball under her desk. “Fine.”

  Frank strode out.

  Gary walked in, closing the door. “Are you okay?”

  She couldn’t break down. Not now. She simply nodded. “Tell all my current accounts that I’ll handle their stuff after the new year, to their satisfaction,” she said, glad that her voice was able to stay even. “Put out whatever fires you can. Tell design I want the stuff on my desk in the next hour. I’m going to finish the slides myself.”

  Gary nodded. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Just fine,” she said numbly. “And Gary?”

  He turned in the act of opening the door and leaving. “Yes?”

  “Don’t let anybody come in my office, okay?” She was ready to crack. She just knew it. She wasn’t ready for anybody else to see her this way.

  He nodded, understanding written clearly on his face. “You got it.”

  She worked steadily for the next hour. She got the presentation posters, the design mock-ups, the whole nine yards. Went over things until she thought her eyes would bleed. And didn’t cry, even though her throat felt scratchy and she really, really wanted to. At three, she stood up, took a deep breath and prepared to face the lion’s den.

  “You can’t go in there,” she heard Gary saying in as foreboding a tone as his high voice would allow.

  She paused. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn she hated this job.

  She opened her door, prepared to tell off whoever was there. The words died silent on her lips.

  It was Sean, looking amazing in a pair of black slacks, a striped shirt and a tie with a sport coat. He looked like something out of GQ. He was even wearing real shoes, not his usual sneakers.

  He looked good enough to eat, and all the feelings of this morning—the giddy, sugary feelings of happiness—quickly crowded out her feelings of misery, like the sun coming out from behind storm clouds.

  “Sorry, Allison,” Gary apologized, glaring at Sean. “I know you’re off to your meeting...”

  She was. She should be. She took one look at Sean.

  “I just wanted to see you for a minute,” Sean said. “I knew you’d be busy, but—”

  He stopped as she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him into her office. “Tell Frank I’ll be five minutes late,” she said, then slammed the door shut and dived at Sean.

       

  SEAN WASN’T QUITE SURE what stupid impu
lse had brought him to Allison’s office. He’d dressed up, prepped to the gills for this interview that Gabe had set up, and he surely didn’t want to let down his best friend. But as he’d gotten ready, every minute brought an ever-increasing sense of dread. Especially tightening his tie. It had been like taking a step up to the gallows—there had to be something wrong with a job that forced you to wear a noose to qualify.

  You’re doing this for Allison, he’d reminded himself. And when that wasn’t enough, he’d found himself looking up Flashpoint Advertising on the Internet, and then found himself driving over there. It wasn’t too far from Lone Shark, after all. And he knew that there was something about Allison that spoke to him—spoke to his soul.

  And now that he was standing in her office, and she’d leaped at him, suddenly that sliding sense of reality slipping away from him came flooding back in a wash.

  This. This was why he was willing to wear a tie, sing in public, do whatever it took. This woman was worth doing absolutely anything for.

  She pulled away, and he felt the regret of the loss of contact like a stab wound. He held her against him. “Wow. Hi,” he said.

  To his surprise, she leaned against his chest, and he abruptly realized that tears were spilling out of the comers of her eyes.

  “I’ve had the most awful day,” she said. “The most awful week, without the surfing. Without you. I had no idea how much I’d miss all of it.” Her voice broke, a heart-wrenching sound.

  He made quiet, hushing noises, rubbing her back with little circles. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ll make sure it’ll be okay.” He had no idea how, but at this moment, with her in his arms, he’d figure out how to stop the sun from shining if he thought it would make her feel better.

  “I’m sorry, I always keep doing this,” she said, leaning back and rubbing the tears away with one hand. She cried pretty, he had to give her that one. “I… I don’t know. It’s been tough. I can’t seem to focus the way I used to.”

  “You’re working too hard,” he said, stroking the last vestige of tears from her cheek, then leaning down to kiss her softly, just a whisper of a kiss. Before he could go in for something a little more serious, he saw her smile.