Rough Waters

by Nikki Godwin

  “Yeah, that’s good,” I say. “To the stairs.”

  As we draw toward the end of the hallway, I hear voices. I almost keep going until Reed and I stop at the very second we hear the words ‘Drenaline Surf.’ A door opens from somewhere behind us. We conceal ourselves between a plant and the drink machine.

  “Do not mention Jake McAllister, no matter what,” a man says. “If you drop his name, they’ll know you’ve investigated into your son’s life. We want them to think you literally just found him. Pretend you know nothing of his life over the last three years.”

  “Do you want us to avoid mentioning the store too?” a lady asks.

  My body grows cold, the kind of cold you feel when you’re alone late at night and feel like someone is watching you. I turn slowly, as not to make a sound, and look at Reed.

  I mouth the words ‘his mom.’ Reed nods.

  “Just continue the distraught parents act,” the man who mentioned Shark says. “We’ve rehearsed your story enough. They’ll never need to know about the private investigator or the upcoming lawsuit. If my findings are correct, you’ll cash in not only from your son but from the estate of Jake McAllister.”

  “Splendid,” Colby’s mom says. “I’m going to step into the ladies’ room. I need to apply some eye drops and smudge my mascara before I go onstage.”

  I rest my head back against the wall. I can’t see them from my hiding spot, but I wish I could catch a glimpse at the man with them. If he’s speaking of lawsuits and private investigators, he has to be a lawyer – a lawyer who is about to go after Colby…and Shark’s reputation.

  I absolutely have to get out of here. Anxiety smothers my lungs, but I can’t gasp for air at the risk of being discovered. Right now, Reed and I are the only ones who can warn Colby about what’s really going on here. He was right. His parents aren’t here to make peace, and they definitely aren’t here to get their son back. They’re here to ruin him.

  “Alright,” Colby’s mom says. A door shuts behind her. “Do I look the part of a distraught mother who just wants her baby boy back in her life?”

  “Very much so,” her lawyer says. “Lights, camera, action.”

  The elevator dings a few seconds later. We wait, completely silent and motionless, until we’re certain they’re downstairs in the lobby. The increasing noise below us allows me to finally breathe.

  “I have to call Colby,” I say. “Do you have your phone?”

  Reed shakes his head. “I left it at the house. I got excited and rushed out. Where’s yours?”

  “On the charger in my bedroom,” I say. “We have to leave now, before Colby shows up here. We have to stop him.”

  The plant bends over as I push myself off the floor. I don’t wait for Reed. I rush to the elevator and hit the button.

  “We’ll never get out through the lobby,” Reed says.

  “No kidding,” I say. “We’ll have to take the fire escape again and hope no one sees us. This is about to get bad.”

  We make it up to the concierge level and back down the fire escape in what feels like record time. For us to have only done this once, I’d say we are instant fire escape professionals. Reed’s Jeep sits parked on the curb, engine running.

  “I need your phone,” I say, before I even get inside.

  A.J. stares at me. “My battery is dead. I forgot to charge it before the competition today. I figured I didn’t need it now that you were here. You’re the only person I call or text.”

  “Floor it,” Reed says, leaning in between the seats. “Haley’s gotta get in touch with Colby. Something bad is about to go down.”

  When we get back to the condo, I leave Reed to explain details to A.J. while I rush to the guest house for my phone. The screen lights up and tells me I have one new message when I jerk the cord away from it. It’s from Colby.

  You were right. They can’t do a damn thing to me now. I’m going to the hotel to talk to them. Maybe I can catch them after the media show.

  I check the timestamp. Thirty minutes ago. I just fed him to the sharks.

  Chapter Four

  Colby’s phone sends me to voicemail for the fifth time. A.J. gives me the epic face of sympathy when I finally lay my phone aside. I can’t stop the damage that’s being done. Colby is probably already on the hotel’s first floor, hidden away behind locked doors with his parents and their lawyer. I bet he’s saying all the right things, explaining himself and why he did what he did. I wonder if they’ll play along or if they’ll tell him they’re suing him for his net worth and then some.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” A.J. says. “You tried. We’ll know the verdict tomorrow. Colby may live like a hermit, but when he’s pissed, everyone knows.”

  That’s exactly what I fear. I don’t want to wake up in the morning and have Hurricane Colby breaking down the walls of the condo so he can sweep me away in his fury.

  “I shouldn’t have talked him into reconciling with them,” I say.

  I pick up my cell phone and stare at the wallpaper for a while, knowing if I dial his number, I’ll just get to listen to his voicemail for a sixth time.

  A.J. stands up. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “Vin sent you. Blame him. I’m starving. Let’s go find something to eat. I think Reed’s already bought groceries this week.”

  I follow him through the connector between the guest house and the condo. Alston leans back against the kitchen island while Reed talks with his hands. I catch Colby’s name and mention of a lawyer before Alston turns and sees us.

  “Hello East Coast!” he shouts before grabbing me in a hug. “When the hell did you get here? And why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  Reed shrugs. “You were busy,” he says. “And then, you know, we sort of got caught up in the Colby Taylor mess…again.”

  A.J. pushes past them and digs through the refrigerator. He turns back with a pack of strawberries and a bottle of Corona. He sits on a barstool and ignores us while Reed finishes giving Alston the details of what went down earlier today.

  “Damn,” Alston says. “Does Vin know about the lawyer? You know Colby won’t tell him.”

  “Vin doesn’t know anything,” I say. “I really don’t think we should tell him. It’ll just make things worse. Maybe once Colby talks to his parents, they’ll change their minds, and this won’t turn into the disaster we’re expecting.”

  Alston laughs. “Haley, Haley. Always the optimist. We’ve been at this Colby Taylor game a little bit longer than you. If you’re expecting a tropical storm, it’s going to be a hurricane. It only gets worse when Taylor’s involved, which is why we’ve found new friends.”

  A smile sweeps Reed’s face. My stomach clenches like a fist at the mention of new friends. Whoever these new guys are, they obviously hang out with two of my three roommates, and I dread the moment when I’m forced to meet them.

  “Joke’s over,” A.J. says before he swigs his beer. “Stop playing with her head.”

  A.J. grabs Alston’s phone from the counter and scrolls through it for a moment before handing it to me.

  “These are their new friends,” A.J. says. “I took this one.”

  The picture is of Alston, Reed, Kale, Topher, and Miles on shores of Horn Island. The collapsed pier sits in the background.

  “Your new friends are my old friends,” I say.

  “Way to ruin the fun, A.J.,” Reed says.

  I study how Alston and Kale have their arms around each other like best friends. It doesn’t shock me. They’re both flirty beach bums who think they’re the world’s gift to females. They should’ve started hanging out a long time ago.

  There’s no way they can let this slip to the Hooligans. If one of them knows, they’ll all know. I can’t afford for Topher to find out and leak the info to Vin.

  “This has to stay with the four of us for now,” I say. “No Hooligans. It’d spread like an STD, and Vin doesn’t need to catch it.”

  A.J. laughs from behind his strawberries. But
Reed keeps a serious face.

  “You’re right,” Reed says. “If Vin finds out, it’ll just blow up worse than it already has. He hates Taylor as it is. You handle Colby, and we’ll just keep it under wraps.”

  I reach over and steal a strawberry from A.J. and tell the guys I’m going to call it a night. Driving for two days is exhausting, and I haven’t even unpacked. I retreat to my room in the guest house, unpack the essentials, and hang Solomon back in the bay window. I’m not sure if he’ll bring any good vibes to me this time around, but it’s worth a try. I feel like I need it now even more than I did last summer.

  I wake up to my phone buzzing against the nightstand. It’s too early in the morning to deal with anyone or anything. I feel around until the vibrations land under my hand and jerk the phone free from the charger. Topher’s name flashes across the screen.

  “Hello?” I say, trying to sound awake.

  “Were you seriously still asleep?” he asks. “Do you know what time it is?”

  I force myself to turn over. The morning light bleeds into the bedroom, but there’s no a hint of sunshine. No pink or purple hues. Just a faint blue light behind the curtains.

  “Is the sun even up yet?” I ask.

  “No,” Topher says. “I guess I’m just used to getting up to surf.”

  And to call me, apparently. I don’t know why he has to get up with the sunrise. I get it – it’s a surfer thing – but it’s not like he has to beat the crowds to the lineup. No one surfs in Horn Island but the Hooligans.

  “Are you coming to the store this morning? For the meeting?” he asks. “I figure Vin told you about it, but he’s so wrapped up in Drenaline stuff that he hardly talks to me these days.”

  Vin hardly talks to me these days. I thought he’d call last night, after all the chaos died down. I thought maybe he’d swing by and check in or at least check the fluids under the hood of my car. And if not that, he’d call to see if I had any updates on Colby.

  But the only person in the Brooks family who seems to know my phone number is Topher. I don’t know what the meeting is for or about, but I decide to pretend like I do.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say into the phone. “What time is the meeting again?”

  “He told Miles and me to be there at eight, so if you want, you can just meet me in the back parking lot a few minutes before,” Topher says. “See you then, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “See you then.”

  After spending another half hour tossing and turning, I realize there’s no chance of falling back asleep. I get up, shower, and throw myself together just enough to look like I have a little bit of life in me. Then I head for the kitchen. Reed’s Jeep is already gone. Alston sits shirtless in the kitchen when I walk in.

  “Morning,” he says, a bit too chipper for sunrise hours. “Reed went down to the bakery. He’ll be back in a few, though.”

  I just nod and slide onto the barstool next to him. It’s awkward, really. I didn’t have much to say to Alston last summer. He was just good for keeping Linzi out of my way while I continued digging skeletons out of everyone’s closets. Now that we’re roommates and I don’t have Linzi, I really don’t know how to deal with Alston.

  He doesn’t say anything else and pays more attention to whomever he is texting. A minute later, he laughs and hands me his phone.

  Kale: Surf later?

  Alston: Sounds good. Waiting on breakfast! Haley’s with me.

  Kale: She doesn’t know what she’s missing!

  And there it is – shirtless Kale waving the shaka, sticking out his tongue. He must think this whole tongue-out expression looks good on him.

  “So is Kale your new BFF?” I ask, handing Alston his phone.

  Alston shrugs but half-nods. “We hang out a lot,” he says. “Miles is always training, and Topher goes everywhere with him. Theo and Jace work, so Kale started coming around more. I don’t know why we didn’t hang out before.”

  Reed comes in through the kitchen door with a bag from Crescent Cove Bakery. He puts the bag on the counter and goes back to his Jeep for coffee. He’s already dressed in his Strickland’s Boating shirt and a pair of khakis.

  “Soy latte,” he says, handing the cup to Alston. “And vanilla frappe for the girl,” he says. “Please tell me I remembered that correctly.”

  Yes, Strick is still the perfect housewife. I nod, grab the frappe, and snatch a cheese biscuit from the bag before Alston wakes A.J. I’ve never lived in a house of boys before, but I’m pretty sure if I don’t eat while it’s there, I won’t eat at all.

  “Let A.J. know I’m at Drenaline Surf if he needs me,” I tell them. “Topher said there’s some big business meeting going on this morning. If Colby shows, maybe I can intervene before Vin gets to him.”

  Topher sits on his tailgate waxing a surfboard when I pull up next to him. He tosses the board aside and walks over to my car. He opens the door before I have a chance.

  “Sorry I woke you up this morning,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking. I forget that people actually sleep past sunrise. I’m glad you came. I hate my brother.”

  He says everything in one breath. Nothing really matters, though, except that last sentence.

  “Why do you hate Vin?” I ask. I lock the car behind me and slip my phone into my pocket.

  Topher sits back on his tailgate and motions me to sit next to him. He slides his board between us and picks up where he left off with the surf wax. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, like he’s deep in thought. It’s weird to sit in silence with him. He’s been blowing up my phone for the last year. He always has something to say.

  “He signed Logan Riley this morning,” he says. He turns and chucks the bar of wax behind us. It hits the back glass and falls against the metal bed. “I knew he wanted to, eventually, but I just thought he’d sign me first. I’m his brother. Shark wanted me to be Drenaline’s first surfer, but he signed Colby because I was too young. Colby was practice to make sure Shark knew what to do and not to do with me. I was supposed to be Drenaline Surf’s star surfer.”

  Vin was so excited when he first told me about Logan last summer. Logan was the answer to all of his prayers. Logan was going to be the nice guy Vin always wanted to represent Drenaline Surf, the polar opposite of Colby and a cleaner image than Miles.

  I take a deep breath and try to come up with a line that Topher might believe, but he’s not stupid. He knows anything I say is just something to make him feel better. He knows that I want him riding for Drenaline Surf more than I’d want any surfer in the world to ride for them. Topher deserves it more than anyone else.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It should’ve been you.”

  “Exactly,” Topher says, standing up and pushing his surfboard into the bed of his truck. “It should’ve been me, but Vin expects me to go in there and smile and be all ‘nice guy’ about the whole damn thing.”

  I stand up and push the tailgate up behind me. “Where’s Miles?”

  Topher nods toward Drenaline Surf. “Meeting Logan, welcoming him to the ‘Drenaline Surf family,’ because you know, Miles is part of this whole deal too even though I taught him how to surf in the first place.”

  He kicks at a rock in the parking lot and fixates his gaze on the pavement, but the disappointment reflects in his bright blue eyes. I wish I could drain the sadness from his face and toss it overboard to be lost at sea forever.

  “I can’t go in there,” he says. “I’m just…not. I don’t care if Vin gets pissed. I know it’s selfish, but I’m sick of it being about everyone but me.”

  I reach out and pull Topher to me. I wrap him up in a hug and rest my head against his chest. I swear, he really is taller than he was last summer. He’s still the same hyper sugar cube addict, but there’s something a little more solemn about him, a bit more serious. It’s like he’s starved for something he isn’t getting, malnourished in the realm of life experience.

  “One day it’ll be all about you,” I assure him. “And e
very day after that will be about you, and I plan on being there for every single day of it, okay?”

  He squeezes me and mumbles something about ‘not soon enough.’ I wish today could be his day instead of Logan’s day. I wish that had been Topher’s name typed onto that contract. We should be celebrating his sponsorship, not one of an outsider who I haven’t even met.

  A rumbling engine interrupts my inner angst. I pull myself away from Topher’s chest and look around for the roaring vehicle. Colby’s black truck whips around and parks at an angle in what I’m sure isn’t even a parking space. He slams the door behind him and ignores us across the parking lot as he heads toward Drenaline Surf.

  “You better go,” Topher says. “Colby’s going to be as pissed as I am, but he’s not going to hide it. And since he’s not home, that means no one is surfing behind his house, so that’s where I’ll be if you need me. But don’t tell Vin where I am.”

  I hate leaving Topher behind when he’s upset. It’s rare to see him so down. But I nod and follow Colby’s footsteps.

  Chapter Five

  Colby lingers outside of Drenaline Surf, under the giant wave hovering over the entrance. He studies his cell phone but looks up when I approach him.

  “I told you,” he says, jabbing a finger toward me. “I told you they were here to ruin me. Why the hell did you have to get in my head and try to convince me that this might be a good thing?”

  Umm. Good morning to you too, Surf Star. I glance into the store and catch a glimpse of Miles’s dreadlocks. Letting Colby go inside isn’t an option right now. The Strip is dead at this hour of the morning, so I grab his arm and drag him down the sidewalk with me, past the closed vendor stands.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know they were here on a get-rich mission. When I found out last night, I tried to call you, but I got voice-mailed every time. But don’t you dare accuse me of getting in your head. You’re the only one in there, so don’t try to redirect the blame.”