by Nikki Godwin
A few cover songs later, Emily drags Miles out of the booth and down toward Sapphires and Sunsets during their break. She talks to Summer Snow Alex, and Jace buys a beer for A.J. I walk with Topher to the cash register because he doesn’t feel comfortable sending Drenaline Surf’s credit card away without knowing where it is. He’s more responsible than Vin gives him credit for.
“What’s the deal with Jace?” I ask as we wait for a hostess to process Topher’s payment.
He shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean. He doesn’t have a deal,” he says.
“No, not like that. I meant, what’s his story? Who is he? I don’t really know him, just like I knew nothing about Theo until you told me,” I say.
Topher looks back to where Jace and A.J. sit, but he says nothing. A girl swipes the credit card and gives it back to me instead of Topher.
“Jace was born on the wrong side of the tracks,” he says. “He could’ve been like Reed. He could’ve been that All-American guy. But he was a Horn Island boy. You remember what I said about reputations. And he didn’t exactly hang out with the right people. His two best friends were Horn Island’s worst.”
“Do I even want to ask who?” Of course I do, but I didn’t want to sound anxious.
Topher cracks a smile. “He ran with these two wild ass idiots – Vin Brooks and Jake McAllister. Jace was a good guy, though. Still is. He was the best of us, but he grew up living next door to Shark. It’s just sort of how the pieces fell, like it or not.”
I wonder why Shark left Drenaline Surf to Vin instead of Jace. Jace seems more level-headed, more educated, more driven. Plus he actually surfs. If both Vin and Jace were Shark’s best friends, why leave a surf store to the one person who doesn’t want anything to do with it?
Topher looks down at his cell phone when it rings. “Speaking of Vin…” he says. “I’m going to step outside to see what he wants. I’ll be back.”
He answers as he walks through the exit of Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge. I wait a few seconds, hoping he’ll come back inside, but whatever Vin is talking to him about takes longer than I’d like. I walk back toward our table just as Jace is setting back up on the stage. A.J. drinks some of his second beer. Hopefully Jace won’t buy him another.
I slide into the round booth. Emily waves from near the stage, motioning me to join Miles and her, but I point at A.J. and shake my head. Now I see why Topher was so adamant about not going alone with them. The whole third-wheel thing has to get old.
Jace strums a few chords and then asks everyone to grab their special someone and make their way to the dance floor. Is this something he does at every show? If so, I’m making a note to avoid all future Sapphires and Sunsets gigs. Even if Vin showed up, he’d stay the hell off the dance floor. He’s never said so much, but he doesn’t have to.
Jace waits until the area around the stage is pretty full before he starts playing his own twisted, slowed-down punk rock cover of a Bruno Mars song. He seems more comfortable – and passionate – with a guitar in his hand instead of a surfboard. I bet Shark knew that too.
“Hey,” Topher says, putting his phone on the table. He remains standing. “C’mon. Since A.J. would rather drink than dance with a pretty girl, you’re all mine.”
I don’t even hesitate. Maybe it’s morally wrong to dance with your boyfriend’s brother, but I’m tired of being the girl with an absent boyfriend. I strike through all the reasons I should feel guilty and push them to the back of my mind.
I can’t help noticing the smirk on Miles’s face when Topher pulls me against himself. I look away because my scarlet letter is probably showing. I wonder if A’s letter was truly meant for me, like maybe the dress chose me instead of me choosing the dress. Maybe she knew that someday a confused girl would walk into Lorelei’s Second Stop, be drawn to the little black dress, and it would lead her to something big – because the dress expects it.
“You know, you should just ditch my brother since I’m the one who always ends up dancing with you,” Topher says. He laughs, but I’m not sure if it’s really a joke.
I try to think of some witty comeback. Nothing. Then I aim for a defensive but lighthearted remark to protect Vin’s name. Nothing. So I say the only thing I can think of.
“Who knew Jace actually listens to Bruno Mars?” I shout over the music.
Topher says something, but I can’t hear him over the song. He holds me tighter and leans down to my ear.
“I got him to learn it,” he says, a bit too loudly. “You said Bruno was your favorite.”
I tighten my arms around Topher and hug him with all I have in me. Right now, he’s my favorite.
A.J. stumbles into my bedroom an hour after we get home. Reed and Alston are already asleep. I’m surprised A.J. hasn’t passed out already. He sits on the edge of my bed and doesn’t say anything. I don’t move from my spot on the floor. I’ve been unpacking boxes and sorting clothes to keep myself from thinking about the scarlet letter in my closet.
“I’m going to say this one time,” A.J. says. “Then I’ll never mention it again. I wish I was more drunk so I could blame it on the alcohol. But you’re dating the wrong brother.”
I avoid the box of bras and grab a stack of tank tops to busy myself with. I don’t even know how to respond to A.J.
“You know I’m right,” he says. “Did you know we had this bet going before you moved here? It was just for bragging rights, but Topher and I kept up with how many texts each of us had from you. Friendly competition.”
“Who won?” I ask, not looking up.
A.J. laughs. “He did, by a long shot. I didn’t realize you actually talked to him that much. I figured I would win easily, but he had proof. I was impressed. He likes you. A lot.”
I sigh. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because you actually seem happy when you’re around him,” A.J. says.
I dare to look over at him. He just shrugs, like it’s not that big of a conversation for us to be having. This is an effing huge conversation, A.J.!
“I’m just saying,” he says. “Vin’s not coming around any time soon. He’s been like this for months. We never see him. Maybe he’s just in a bad place mentally or something. I don’t know. But Topher’s been here nearly every day, and Vin has yet to look under the hood of your car, and if I know anything about Vin Brooks, it’s that cars come before all else. So that’s saying something.”
It’s definitely saying something. I don’t tell A.J., but I’ve heard Vin’s message loud and clear.
Chapter Eleven
Vin grabs a stack of papers off his desk, steadily talking himself through whatever it is he has going on today. It’s a typical Monday morning at Drenaline Surf. He checks his watch and then grabs the phone. I’m not sure whose number he dials. I just linger around in the office because I have nothing better to do.
“Where the hell are you? We have to leave in less than ten minutes,” Vin barks at the person on the receiving end. “Speed up then. I don’t have time for this.”
He slams the phone down and digs into the middle drawer of the desk to find Drenaline Surf’s checkbook. Then he gathers all the many papers he’s collected this morning and puts them all into one folder, checkbook included.
“I have to go,” he says. “I have a meeting about two hours north of here with a photographer who wants to shoot some free surfing photos of Colby for an upcoming article. And of course, they want to meet him, so he’s the guest of honor that’s tagging along with me.”
Vin sounds less than thrilled. Colby’s been in hermit-mode ever since the tabloid incident of him and the coffee table. I texted him a few times after that, just to see if he was okay or needed anything, but he never texted back. Reed eventually took some groceries over to Colby’s house. I’m not sure if he’s embarrassed, angry, or maybe just avoiding Vin. But no one has seen him out and about since that night at Dominic’s party.
“Do you need another tag-along?” I ask. “You know, in case
Colby needs someone to reel him back in?”
He laughs and then gives me a one-armed hug as he begins to leave. “I’ll handle him today,” he says, crushing my hopes of maybe going along. “These photographers don’t care about his bad reputation or the tabloids. They say all publicity is good publicity, and they figure no one else wants to work with him right now, so they’re taking advantage of it.”
Vin rambles on as he heads out toward Topher’s truck. I follow him into the parking lot. We’ve all tried to convince Vin to get an actual vehicle – aside from his motorcycle – but he swears he doesn’t need one. If these business meetings keep up, he’ll need one. I know Topher is tired of sharing. Vin needs to invest in a Drenaline Surf company vehicle. The store could easily pay for it.
I scan the parking lot for Colby’s truck, but he isn’t here yet. I feel for him. He’d probably rather face his parents again, lawyer included, than to take a four-hour roundtrip with Vin anywhere.
“Can you do me a favor?” Vin asks, not looking at me but around the parking lot.
Please don’t ask me to pass out flyers. “Sure. What’s up?” I ask instead.
He motions me back into the store. I follow him to the front register, where Topher sits reading the latest issue of Shaka Magazine.
“I’m leaving Haley here with you,” Vin says to Topher. “That way you won’t have to run the place alone. Meeting the photographers will be about an hour, and then I have to pay Colby’s and Miles’s entry fees for the Sunrise Valley Tournament. So I should be back in six or seven hours, if Colby and I don’t kill each other first.”
Topher’s eyes widen, like a puffer fish. “Dude, you have to let me compete there. You can keep my paycheck for the entry fee. I’ll pay it back,” he says, pleading with his big brother.
“No,” Vin says, shaking his head. “We’re not having this argument again. Unless you can find the money and take it to Sunrise Valley yourself, then you’re not competing. End of story.”
With that, Vin turns and exits through the back office, assuming I’ll stay and help Topher. From now on, I’ll be sure to stipulate that it depends on what favor he’s asking. He knew damn well I wouldn’t abandon Topher or Drenaline Surf, but it’d be nice to be shown a little appreciation now and then.
Topher slams Shaka Magazine against the counter and buries his face in his hands. I wonder for a second why Logan isn’t competing at the tournament, but it’s probably not best to ask Topher. Especially right now.
“I hate him,” Topher says. He looks over at me. “Every big name in the surf world is going to be at this event – media, sponsors, magazines. Every kind of sponsor too. I’m talking wetsuits, boards, energy drinks, clothing lines, shoe companies – the whole works.”
He takes a drink from his bottle of Ocean Blast Energy and pushes himself away from the countertop. “This would be my chance to prove I’m up to being a real deal surfer. If I could show them what I’m made of, maybe someone would want to sign me, and then Vin would realize how good I am and finally offer to sign me here instead.”
I seriously wish there was a way to hug his heart because I swear, he has the sweetest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Every surfer along the California coastline will be at this event, trying to catch the eye of someone who matters. Topher just wants to prove to his own brother that he’s what Drenaline Surf needs.
“I’m not going to do this,” Topher says. “He can’t just expect me to sit around here and babysit the store so he can go build everyone else’s career. Can you watch this place for a while? I need to get out.”
He leaves me signed in under his employee login on the register, leaves me the key to the safe in the back office, and tells me he’ll love me forever for doing this for him. A.J. walks through the front entrance of the store as Topher leaves. Topher grabs A.J. by the arm and tells him that he needs him. He probably needs a vehicle since Vin took his. I should’ve given him my car. A.J.’s car won’t make it very far.
A few hours later, Emily comes in and interrupts my research of professional surfers. At least I can participate next time the guys argue over who is a better surfer – Nat Young or Taj Burrow. I still think I’ll just side with Topher, though, and vote for John John Florence.
Emily grabs a stool from the back office and joins me behind the counter, which I’m sure is against all Drenaline Surf policies to have a non-employee back here, but I really don’t care about the rules at this point. I’m just thankful for some company. She rambles on about surf world stuff, the Hooligans, and different mascara brands for the most part.
“And rumor has it that Strings and Starlight is going to be closing probably in the next year,” she says. “I’m surprised they’ve been able to stay open this long. Jace better be glad he has friends who can hire him on pretty quickly.”
“Jace works there? At the music place near the hotel?” I ask, trying to refresh my mind. I’m not quite sure if I knew that. I feel like I did. Maybe? I remember passing the store last year with Linzi on our quest for food.
“Yeah, he practically runs the place,” she says. “He gives guitar lessons, fixes broken instruments, the whole bit. He knows his stuff. Alex told me about it, so it’s not anything official, but I’m pretty sure Jace will be job hunting soon.”
The phone rings before I can dig in and ask more questions. Maybe Jace will end up in the ‘official’ Drenaline Surf family after all. He’d be a great counterpart to Vin. They could handle this place together, and I think Vin would trust Jace enough to actually let him help.
“Drenaline Surf, this is Haley,” I say into the cordless phone.
“Hey…I have a problem,” Topher says through the earpiece. “Um, I kind of need you to come get us.”
Great. I knew A.J.’s car would break down. Hopefully they didn’t run off too far in it.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Um, that’s the thing. Uh, we’re at the police station,” Topher says.
The police station? Oh my God. My heartbeat speeds up like the Titanic trying its damndest to avoid that iceberg, but I know it’s about to hit, and I can’t stop it. Breathe, Haley. Just breathe.
“Look, this is what I need you to do,” Topher says. “I’m fine, but they impounded Reed’s Jeep. He’s going to have to come with you to get it back. Tell him to bring his insurance card. And I need bail money because they hauled A.J. in just for being with me.”
“Topher,” I say through my teeth, turning my back to the register so no one in the store will hear me. “What in the hell did you do?”
He sighs and it’s clear that he doesn’t want to tell me. “I was speeding…a lot. Pittman pulled me over, and he gave me a ticket. But then he saw A.J. and wanted to make a statement, so he had the vehicle sent to impound and brought A.J. in because of his record.”
I scribble down all the information Reed will need to get his Jeep back and call him as soon as I hang up with Topher. My hands won’t stop shaking. Fortunately, Reed says he has enough cash to post A.J.’s bail so I won’t have to borrow from the Drenaline Surf safe.
Emily doesn’t say anything until I’m officially done with phone calls and a panic attack. “How can I help?” she asks.
I should be more hesitant, but I hand her the key to the safe, show her quickly how to work the register, and ask her to watch Drenaline Surf. She tells me to consider it done.
“Give me your keys,” Reed says as soon as I meet him in the back parking lot behind Strickland’s Boating and Drenaline Surf. “I’m better to drive. And I know where the police station is.”
Reed is much too calm on the drive over. He talks about how A.J. needs to fight this charge because Pittman can’t use his juvenile record against him now that he’s eighteen and that A.J. shouldn’t have even been picked up when Topher was the one driving.
“He probably said something stupid to piss Pittman off,” I say. “God, I hope he didn’t. I can see it now. Disrespecting an officer of the law. Resisting arrest. Somet
hing fabricated. I’m sorry about your Jeep and all this mess.”
Reed laughs it off like it’s no big deal and it’ll all work out. I wonder if the Hooligans have been drugging him. He’s like a brand new person this summer. He’s still the same Reed who thinks things through and has a mature head on his shoulders, but he’s more…his age. He’s not so overly grown up and Mr. Nice Guy. He’s finally living life instead of letting life control him.
I let him lead the way into the police station when we arrive. An officer with a beer gut comes over and shakes his hand, apologizes for the hassle, and then asks how Reed’s dad is doing. They make small talk while the officer gathers whatever information Reed needs to fill out to collect his Jeep.
“And I need to post bail for A.J. Gonzalez,” Reed tells him. “I have cash. And can you make sure you give him a copy of all his paperwork? He won’t keep up with it, but I will for him.”
The officer nods. “Let me go find Pittman to sign off on his side of the paperwork and I’ll get the boys for you.”
I sit and wait with Reed while he fills out papers and complains about the clipboard. Even though it’s probably not even two minutes before I see Topher and A.J., it feels like two hours. My heart pounds the entire time. I feel it in my throat.
“Haley,” Topher says, the moment he sees me. He rushes over to me, and I stand up to meet him. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tightly. “Pretend you’re my girlfriend.”
“What?” I ask, pulling back to look at him.
He jerks me back toward his chest. “Seriously, hug me. Like really hug me, like I’m your favorite person on Earth and you’d die without me. Please.”
I squeeze him and try to channel how I felt the other night at Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge when, for a moment in time, Topher really was my favorite person on Earth. I remind myself to just be happy that he and A.J. are back in my custody. I can curse him out later.
