Rough Waters

by Nikki Godwin

  “I don’t know,” Vin says. He twists back and forth in the chair, analyzing me in his head. “I don’t want you to get sucked into this place like I have. It’s my entire life, and I never asked for this life. I’d give it back in a heartbeat if I knew it’d come down to this.”

  Give it back? To who? Shark is gone, and Joe can’t handle this place on his own. Whatever. Vin is just mouthing off because he’s stressed.

  “I can do this,” I say, pressing the issue. “I can be your damage control for Colby. If nothing else, it gets him out of your daily work. It’ll be one less thing to deal with. I already have to watch out for him anyway.”

  “Alright,” he says, looking at the computer screen instead of me. “Just for the summer. You’re not giving up college to clean up Taylor’s reputation, and you’re definitely not making a career out of being Drenaline Surf’s damage control girl, but for the summer, I’ll go with it.”

  I really wish he’d look at me instead of his e-mail inbox while he talks. I don’t like for him to make choices and decisions for me, either. I know he’s overworked and underpaid and stressed to the max, but that doesn’t give him the right to tell me what to do with my future. I left North Carolina to make my own choices, not to let my boyfriend make them for me.

  Someone knocks on the door. Reed pokes his head in and realizes it’s just us, so he comes inside. I’m thankful to see him. There’s no way I’d go off on Vin in front of Reed. Vin doesn’t know how lucky he is right now.

  “Hey, dinner date tonight. Don’t forget,” Reed says.

  “Can’t make it,” Vin says to his inbox. He looks over at me, then to Reed, and back to the computer. “I have to get these merch orders filled or we’ll be out of stock for Logan’s signing and the sale this weekend.”

  “Oh,” Reed says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “Do you need any help? Or want us to reschedule?”

  “Nah,” Vin says. He pushes his chair back and looks at us, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal. “I’ve just been swamped, and they just sent me a final reminder for orders. If I don’t get this stuff in by five o’clock, I won’t get it in time. I have to check inventory before I can order, but I’ve got it. You guys go tonight. I’ll catch the next one.”

  Reed and Alston wait in the back corner booth when we get to Shipwrecked. This was the place where I officially met Vin last summer. Chills rush over me just as they did then, when I realized the con artist from The Strip was the final guy I’d have to get through to meet Colby. But I’m not with Vin tonight. Instead, his brother gets out of my passenger seat.

  “You don’t think they’ll care that I came along, do you?” Topher asks.

  I really don’t know, but I figure if he hangs out with them and surfs with them, they’re probably cool with the fact that he tagged along in Vin’s place. If they don’t like it, well, it’s too late to back out now.

  Topher slides into the booth and sits across from Alston, leaving me the open seat across from Reed. A.J.’s empty chair sits at the end of the table. Alston says something about the swell this morning, and Topher dives right into talking about the sets and how high the waves were.

  “You find replacements on short notice,” Reed says to me, covertly nodding toward Topher.

  “Shut up,” I mutter. I hope he doesn’t think I’m moving from one brother to the next. That’d just be awkward. I change the topic instantly. “A.J. here yet?”

  Reed shakes his head and asks Topher something about a party at Kale’s. Apparently it’s after the big Drenaline Surf celebration sale this weekend. Topher says something about keeping it under wraps so a ton of people don’t show up, and Alston says he’ll never meet any hot chicks as long as the Hooligans keep throwing exclusive parties.

  “Oh, you’re invited, by the way,” Topher says, elbowing me. “I know you don’t drink, but you can hang out with the one sober kid there.”

  I smile when Reed corrects him and says that there will be two sober kids there. Reed may be too nice, and Topher may be hyper most of the time, but parties make me thankful for people like them. It helps me look less awkward. Reed points to the door, and I turn my head as A.J. jerks his chair out from the table.

  “Whoa,” Topher says. “Who the hell pissed you off?”

  A.J. props both hands on the edge of the table. “The fucking city of fucking Crescent fucking Cove!”

  He pushes himself back like a blast from a rocket ship, sending him into space. He balls his hand into a fist.

  “Hey, breathe,” I say. “What happened?”

  “They’re tearing down my carnival.”

  Chapter Eight

  There are three ways to have fun at a Horn Island party. 1) Get so drunk that you pass out on Kale’s bed, as A.J. has. 2) Snuggle up next to Miles Garrett and make out with him all night, as Emily has. Or 3) Sit around with all the other guys, drinking beer, arguing over Billabong versus Hurley. I still vote Hurley, but no one asked for my vote.

  Reed grabs another Pepsi from the cooler and hands a beer bottle to Theo. Jace says something about a kid from Santa Cruz named Nat Young and how he’s the next big thing because he’s already proving himself on the world tour. Theo argues and says that Aussies will always be the best and that no one can touch Taj Burrow. Apparently I need to brush up on my famous surfer knowledge because I’ve never heard of Nat Young or Taj Burrow.

  I grab my water bottle and head toward the door. Reed’s expression halts me, so I motion that I’m going to walk outside for a minute. All this surfer talk is boring when the only surfers I know of are the ones who surf for Drenaline Surf or are linked to it. Well, them and John John Florence because Topher is obsessed with him.

  The screen door slams behind me, but A.J. is the only one asleep in Kale’s house. I sit on the porch swing and study the tiki man carved into the wind chimes. Kale’s parents definitely know how to decorate in a way that brings Hawaii to California. Hibiscus flowers sit in the flower beds. Maybe they’ll bring back more awesomeness from their trip back home. And maybe A.J. will have sobered up and gotten out of Kale’s bed by then. For now, it’s better that he sleeps because all I’ve heard about lately is how he’s ready to destroy Crescent Cove for destroying his carnival grounds.

  I sort of wish I’d just stayed at Drenaline Surf instead of coming here tonight. Emily begged me to so she wouldn’t be the only girl, but she and Miles have been glued to each other since we got here. If it wouldn’t ruin the guys’ night by making them feel like they have to leave, I’d bail and help Vin with those invoices he had left to do. But since I don’t want to worry Reed, I decide to take a trip down to the shoreline.

  I’m not sure if it’s Kale’s house or just something in the air tonight, but Horn Island seems prettier, cleaner, just all around better. It clearly has to be Kale’s house. There’s nothing clean about Horn Island.

  “Hey!” someone shouts from behind me. Topher runs through the sand to where I sit. “Feel like company?”

  He doesn’t give me time to answer. He settles in next to me with a bottle of Ocean Blast Energy and a bag of sugar cubes. How typically Topher. But it makes me smile.

  “Some party, huh?” I say.

  “Well, if you like talking about surfing and drinking beer all night, then yeah,” Topher says. “I mean, I like to talk about surfing, but there’s other stuff to talk about. I bet Vin’s having more fun with his tax documents than he would’ve here.”

  “Taxes? He told me he was paying invoices,” I say.

  Topher looks at me like I’m crazy, says something about Vin paying the bills last week, and then he says maybe Vin got them mixed up. We both know the truth, though. Vin’s lying to one of us or just outright making up excuses and not being able to keep his stories straight. If he didn’t want to come, he should’ve just said it. Topher and I aren’t little kids, but Vin sure as hell has a way of making me feel like one.

  “What are you doing out here alone anyway?” Topher asks, changi
ng the subject.

  “Eh, got tired of listening to the Billabong/Hurley battle in there,” I say. “Do you know Nat Young or Taj Burrow?”

  Topher swigs his blue liquid and then laughs as he caps the bottle. “Not personally, no. I wish,” he says. “Taj is one of the biggest names in the world. Nat’s a Cali guy, surfs for Hurley like John John does. Taj has been on the world tour for a while, but Nat’s an up and coming surf star.”

  I look back out at the water. The whitecaps glisten in the moonlight, but that’s about all I can see over the black water.

  “Do you think that’ll ever be you?” I ask. “You know, world tour, surfing the best waves on the planet with the most elite surfers on Earth?”

  Topher laughs. “I’m not that good,” he says. “I’m the best in Horn Island, maybe even Crescent Cove. But it would take a lot of training, preparation, and tons of events to even get close to where they are. And you know, it’d help to have a sponsor because God knows I can’t afford the entry fees.”

  He pops a sugar cube into his mouth and stares out across the water. I wish we were texting instead of sitting on the beach. Topher is always so vocal and open via text message. He rambles on until his battery dies. In person, lately, he seems more solemn. At least he has the sugar cubes tonight.

  “Vin has to sign you eventually,” I tell him. “There are only so many people he’d want representing Drenaline Surf. I think he just wants you to go to college and give reality a try first.”

  Maybe that’s what Vin wants for me too. Maybe he wants me to go to school, meet people, take classes, write papers, and get some fancy little degree that means nothing in today’s economy. Drenaline Surf is a business. It’s a reality. It’s good enough for me.

  “You know, I don’t think he’ll ever sign me. It’s stupid because he tells me how in ten years, I’ll be the next local legend. Kids will remember me the way we all remember Shark, but he won’t sign me,” Topher says. “He went as far as Florida to scope out Logan. I don’t know the guy like I know the Hooligans, but I just know, in my gut, that he’s not right for us. He might have this image that Vin likes, but he never knew Shark and he doesn’t know what Drenaline stands for. He doesn’t belong.”

  That alarming feeling of exile invades my stomach. I tuck my legs up closer to me, my knees to my chest. Maybe Logan, Colby, and I should all just go back to the east coast where we came from. Topher’s eyes grow wide when he realizes what he just said – and how I took it.

  “Shit,” Topher says. “I didn’t mean it like that. You belong here. Hell, Colby even belongs here in some ways. I just think Logan doesn’t have Drenaline Surf in his heart. You do. I know you do. If Drenaline Surf was the ocean, you’d be the moon. You balance everything.”

  “Nice save,” I tell him. “How is it even possible that you don’t have a girlfriend when you use lines like that?”

  He looks away, like maybe he’s embarrassed or just super shy about girls. I really don’t get it, though. Topher is completely adorable, has the best heart in the world, and he’s a surfer.

  “Girls don’t like me,” he says. “Horn Island guys have a reputation. They think we all look like Miles and act like Theo. It hurts the good guys like Jace and me.”

  “But Miles has a girlfriend,” I remind him. “And Theo does, right?”

  Topher shakes his head. He tells me how Theo’s girlfriend broke up with him because of his drinking habits. From what I’ve heard, he’s drunk more often than he’s sober.

  “He was actually suspended for three days at work last week,” Topher explains. “You can’t be a drunk lifeguard. After what happened, they just feel sorry for him and give him a lot of extra chances.”

  Topher shifts in the sand as he talks. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but I have to dig deeper. I hardly know Theo. I’ve seen him a few times with the Hooligans, and I know he lifeguards, but that’s pretty much the gist of it.

  “What happened?” I ask. “To Theo,” I add for clarification.

  He waits for a minute before he speaks. He doesn’t look at me. He just stares off into space, somewhere above the ocean but under the sky.

  “Theo had this dream of being a board shaper,” he begins. “He wanted to make surfboards for Shark. They used to joke around about having a side shop where Theo made the boards and Shark would sell them. He actually took a few classes on how to do it, but it was expensive, so he needed a real job.”

  I sip from my water bottle and keep my eyes on Topher, hoping he’ll just ramble on and on. He pops another sugar cube into his mouth and chases it with a drink of Ocean Blast Energy.

  “So Shark convinced him to give lifeguarding a chance,” he says. “That way, Theo could be on the beach all day, and he could always find jobs at pools or gyms. You can’t keep Theo out of the water, so it was pretty much perfect for him.”

  Topher props his elbows on his bent knees and runs his hands through his hair. His anxiety radiates off of him.

  “Theo wasn’t like this, Haley. I swear. He had things going for him,” he says. “He was smart and driven. He was going to be someone, you know?”

  I can’t bring myself to actually speak so my voice comes out in a whisper. “What happened to him?”

  Topher sighs. “The first time he had to save someone’s life, he failed. He fell apart after that. He drank to forget, and then he’d get so drunk that he’d remember, and then he’d cry until he passed out. He still has nightmares.”

  I can’t even imagine. I can’t fathom trying to save someone, knowing that a person’s life is literally in your hands, and not being able to pull them through.

  “If anyone is a broken down mess, it’s him, and people just assume he’s a drunken idiot who parties too much and doesn’t give a damn about life, but when you’ve watched someone literally take their last breath because you couldn’t save them, it ruins you,” Topher says. “I’d destroy anyone who messed with Theo.”

  Hell, right now, I want to destroy anyone who messes with Theo.

  “Anyway, that’s why he can’t keep a girlfriend,” Topher says, steering the conversation back to the original topic.

  It’s obvious that he would rather talk awkwardly about girls than Theo’s situation, so I go along with it and let him revert the conversation.

  “And Miles has a girlfriend because Emily knew him back when he was dating Kristin,” he explains. “Well, sort of. I like Emily, though. She’s good for Miles. She doesn’t like him for his sponsorship, and she doesn’t judge him by his reputation or dreadlocks, like some people.”

  He not-so-secretly fake coughs the words ‘Ocean Blast Energy.’ Sadly, I think they truly believed Dominic would win that day. He looks like a poster boy. Colby looks the part as well. But Miles isn’t the wholesome image you want representing your company. He doesn’t even look like a surfer or an athlete. He’s small but ripped like a Spartan warrior.

  “He’s my best friend, no doubt,” Topher says. “He’s been my best friend since I was like…seven or eight. I’d die for him. But I’ll never understand how he gets girls and I don’t. He’s so awkward with them, and they think it’s cute or charming or something. So lame.”

  I love that Topher doesn’t have to get drunk to be honest. He talks about growing up with Miles and all the crazy stunts they pulled as kids. Then he tells me about teaching Miles to surf and how hard it was because Miles surfs goofy-footed and Topher surfs regular stance. He wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to talk surfing. He’d just rather talk about Shark McAllister and Miles Garrett than Nat Young and Taj Burrow.

  Then he turns toward me and laughs before he even tells me what’s so funny.

  “Did you know I tried to convince Vin to send me in A.J.’s place when he couldn’t make it to your prom?” Topher asks.

  I shake my head. Topher would’ve been easier for Mom to handle than A.J. That’s for sure.

  Topher nods. “I did,” he says. “I pleaded with him for weeks. I j
ust figured I’d be more fun, and A.J. was worried about having to wear old guy shoes. I would’ve been a better sport.”

  “Did you wear old guy shoes to your prom?” I ask, still not completely sure what old guy shoes really are. I thought guys wore the shiny black shoes to proms. I don’t even remember A.J.’s shoes.

  Topher looks away, sort of coy again. “I didn’t go to my prom,” he says. “I didn’t want to go alone. I’ve…never, you know…been on a date or anything. I don’t even own a tie.”

  Bless his little surfer heart. If it wasn’t after midnight, I’d take him shopping on my dad’s credit card right this second. Now I wish Vin would’ve sent him in A.J.’s place, although the shock factor of A.J. was a lot of fun at my dull little high school. Still, Topher would’ve rocked a tux and been cuter than A.J. in my prom pictures.

  “That’s what I’m going to do,” Topher says. “When I finally get signed to Drenaline Surf, I’m going to take that sign-on check and buy expensive clothes. And a tie. And then I’m going to go to some expensive place that I normally can’t afford and celebrate.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” I say. “When that day comes, I expect to see you all dressed up.”

  “Oh, you will,” he assures me. “Because you’re celebrating with me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Yellow construction tape circles A.J.’s carnival grounds. But even the yellow tape can’t take away from the huge sign stating that this is the future home of Florence Gardens Inn. The photo on the sign is of a huge luxury hotel with valet parking and private hot tubs in each room. That’s what the not-so-fine print says anyway. It’s been four days since A.J. flew off the handle and drank his sorrows away at Kale’s house, but he’s still raging.

  “I don’t know who the fuck Florence thinks she is, but I’m going to make that bitch wish she’d never come to Crescent Cove,” A.J. says, ripping away some of the yellow tape.