Maverick

by Cruise, Anna

  “Gee, thanks,” I said. “Way to put me at ease.”

  Her cheeks flushed a little and I smiled. About time she showed some kind of reaction, even if it was just embarrassment. “You look good,” she said again. And then she quickly clarified. “I mean, the suit looks good on you. It fits well. And you look comfortable in it.”

  “I'm not,” I said. “I'd rather be in shorts.”

  “Me, too,” she admitted.

  I didn't want her in shorts but didn't say this out loud. I stole a couple of glances at her as she fiddled with stuff in her purse, making sure she had her phone, shoving the copy of my speech into the main compartment. Her dress was black, soft and clingy, with a neckline that plunged just low enough to show off her cleavage. Not in an exhibitionist way, but more subtle, more feminine. She'd pulled her hair up into some sort of bun, but it was loose and messy, like it might fall out any minute. The same diamond studs she'd worn earlier winked at me, along with a smaller, matching pair pierced higher into each earlobe.

  “Alright,” she said. “Let's get going.”

  I followed her out to her car and within minutes, we were on the freeway, heading south. The traffic wasn't awful until we hit Oceanside and then it started to bog down. The late day fog had finally started to burn off and the Pacific was a deep blue off to my right.

  “So,” I said, leaning back against the head rest, trying to get comfortable. “Are you gonna tell me where you lived? Is it somewhere around here?”

  She shook her head. “Already again with the questions.”

  “Hey, I put this monkey suit on for you,” I said, motioning to the pants and jacket I was trying hard not to wrinkle. “That should count as an earned question.”

  She shook her head again but this time, she was smiling. “Fine,” she said. “Yes, I lived here.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Here? Right here? On the freeway?”

  She turned to look at me, a pointed look on her face, and I grinned. “Well...?”

  “No, not on the goddamn freeway.” She changed lanes and pushed down on the gas. “Encinitas.”

  The surf spots in Encinitas ran through my head. Swamis, a point break with nice hollow rights. Beacons, a good outside break, rarely crowded. D Street, fast and hollow. And other ones up and down the coast. Blacks in Del Mar, one of the most unforgettable breaks in SoCal. Ponto in Carlsbad, some of the best summer surfing on the West Coast. I'd been to all of them, more times than I could count.

  “Really? Cool. How long?”

  “My whole life, pretty much,” she said. “Lived there as a kid and didn't leave.”

  “You like it?”

  She nodded. “Mostly. Beats L.A. or Orange County. No offense.”

  I shrugged. “San Clemente doesn't feel like Orange County.”

  “I agree, it doesn't,” she said. “Anyway. My company has offices in downtown San Diego and L.A. So I can get to either. It works.”

  “Do you get to travel a lot?”

  “Not like you,” she said. “But enough.”

  I nodded. I'd gotten to travel to places I'd never thought I'd be able to visit. “You have family down here?”

  She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

  I waited, but she didn't say anything. She looked uncomfortable but I wasn't going to stop with the questions. She'd kept answering and I intended to keep asking.

  “Parents? Sister? Brothers?”

  She squirmed again in her seat. “Parents are both dead. Two brothers. What about you?”

  “My parents are alive,” I said. “They just moved to Florida. My dad was big on the whole no tax thing and couldn't wait to get out of here. No brothers or sisters.”

  “Just you?”

  “Just me.”

  “Was that weird?” she asked. “Growing up?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. Was all I knew. My parents were decently cool. And I didn't mind not having an older brother knock me around.”

  I laughed, but she didn't. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and the veins in her neck popped. I couldn't tell what it was I'd said that she was reacting to, but it was definitely something.

  An awkward silence fell between us. I wanted to keep talking, to find out more about her, but she'd turned her attention fully to the road in front of her, effectively putting up a wall between us. So I sat there and fidgeted in my seat, trying not to tug at the tie choking me.

  I didn't say anything else and neither did she as we drove through Oceanside and into North County. We approached the first exit for Encinitas and I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't be tempted to ask her anything more about where she lived. She flew past the Encinitas Boulevard exit and I pictured the drive down the road to the beach, to the D Street break and I wondered if she'd ever gone to watch guys surf there. If maybe, at some point over the last ten years, she'd been there when I was out in that water.

  She fiddled with the knob on the radio and the car filled with some alternative song I'd never heard. And once again, I found myself surprised by the kind of music she listened to. It shouldn't have, I realized. There were a lot of things about Gina Bellori that had caught me by surprise. Her no-nonsense, take charge attitude. Her smart ass sense of humor. The fact that she didn't back down—ever—from me, even when I gave her shit. Her vulnerability, usually when I least expected it. Those were all things that I hadn't expected, hadn't anticipated when I'd sat down with her just two days earlier in that hotel lobby.

  I also hadn't expected to be so insanely attracted to her.

  I swallowed and shifted again in my seat, this time trying to adjust the bulge growing in my pants.

  Within minutes, we'd exited the freeway. Gina turned right, heading toward the UCSD campus. I'd been there a handful of times, mostly just driving through as Jay and I made our way to the cliffs to check out the breaks just west of the campus. I'd never really seen much of the school other than the parking lots at the Scripps Institute that led down to the beaches. She navigated her way through the campus as if she'd driven it a hundred times before, passing the giant glass structure that passed as a library, past dozens of nondescript classroom buildings and residence halls. She finally pulled into a parking lot near another glass and stone structure, this one smaller, less birds nest-like.

  “This is it?” I asked.

  She shoved her keys in her purse. “Yep. International House. The banquet is in the Great Hall.”

  The Great Hall. It sounded fancy. Formal. And suddenly, I wasn't thinking about Gina and how hot she was or about the questions I still wanted to ask her. I was thinking instead about the fact that I had a speech to give, a speech I wasn't entirely sure I was prepared for.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, right on cue, as we walked across the lot toward the building. “About tonight?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I said. At least I was trying to feel okay about it.

  “Just be yourself,” she said. “I'm not going to hover, but I'll be around in case you need me.”

  “I thought you were my date. You're just gonna leave me?”

  Her cheeks colored and I bit back a smile. I loved that I could crack her professional demeanor. “I believe we're sitting together at dinner. I'm not sure if that's a date or not.”

  “So I should introduce you as my date, then?”

  “You can introduce me however you'd like,” she responded, pulling her purse tighter to her body. “Manager might be better, though.”

  “You're a hell of a lot better looking than Heath,” I said and she blushed even more. “Maybe I'll stick with date. Makes me sound less 'available'.”

  “Whatever you need to do.”

  We walked through the doors of the building and I wiped my hands down the sides of my suit. I didn't think I'd ever get used to the feel of the fabric, how constricting the pants and the shirt and the jacket felt against my skin. A group of girls approached from the other direction. Tan, athletic girls, girls who'd traded their rashgua
rds and bikini bottoms for strapless dresses and heels. They didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as me.

  Gina noticed me staring at them and immediately got the wrong impression. “No hitting on any of the girls.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What about their moms?”

  “No one!”

  “I was kidding. Jesus. Relax already.”

  She was still shaking her head when we walked into the banquet room. The back wall was a sheet of glass, the Pacific off in the distance, glistening in the late day sun. Round tables decorated with flowers and place settings filled the room. By my count, I saw about a hundred people huddled in small groups, laughing and talking. More college-aged girls in tight fitting dresses, surrounded by their dressed-up parents. A few boyfriends, most not looking nearly as uncomfortable as I felt in my monkey suit. A few heads turned toward us as we stepped through the doors, accompanied by widened eyes and a few whispers. When I'd first made it big on the surfing scene, my face splashed all over magazines and surfing sites, the attention had stopped me, confused me. After a little while, though, my chest had swelled and I'd felt like a big shot.

  Now, I just smiled and nodded and didn't say anything.

  A tall woman with bright blond hair approached us, a smile just as bright plastered on her face. She was older, probably pushing forty. She wore a black dress similar to Gina's but it didn't look nearly as good on her. She nodded at both of us, then extended her hand to me. “Mr. Handler. We're so happy to have you here tonight on such short notice. I'm Ellen Burgess, the head coach.”

  I shook her hand. “Thanks. Call me Kellen.”

  The smile increased and she looked at Gina. “Ms. Bellori, right?”

  Gina nodded and they shook hands.

  “Thank you so much for setting this up,” Ellen gushed to Gina. “We were so thrilled to get your call.”

  I wondered what they'd had planned for the evening before Gina had called, before I'd been ordered to do a month's worth of appearances and community service. Maybe Ellen had been scheduled to deliver the dinner address. Maybe that was why she looked so happy to see me, because she'd been relieved of her duties for the evening.

  “Kellen was thrilled to have the opportunity,” Gina said.

  There was silence and I realized they were both staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Ellen smiled again and gestured toward the room. “We have you seated at the coaches table. You'll be sitting with me, two other coaches and our assistant athletic director.”

  I nodded.

  “Dinner will start in about half an hour. After we're finished, I'll do a quick welcome and introduction and then you'll be up. Then we'll have some awards and things like that. The entire thing shouldn't be longer than three hours.”

  Three hours? My stomach jumped.

  “In the meantime, feel free to mingle, talk to our girls,” Ellen said. “I'm pretty sure they're going to make a beeline for you. Can't think of a time when we've had someone this big in the surfing world at one of our events. And please let me know if there's anything I can do.”

  Gina thanked her and she headed off to the other end of the room.

  I turned to Gina. “I need a drink,” I whispered.

  “Water or tea?”

  I nodded toward an older guy holding a glass of wine. “I'll have one of those. Or three.”

  “Water or tea,” Gina repeated, her voice firm. “Those are your choices.”

  “One drink,” I said. “Just to loosen me up. I have to give a goddamn speech, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said, fighting a smile. “I helped you write it.”

  “Please,” I said. I tried giving her a look to soften her up but it didn't work.

  She shook her head so hard, her hair almost bounced out of her bun. “Nope.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Water.” And then, under my breath, I said, “Hard ass.”

  She laughed as she sauntered off. “You have no idea.” She stopped, then turned to look at me, her eyes narrowed. “Here come the girls. Best behavior.”

  Before I could say anything, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowded room. Three girls headed straight for me, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and awe.

  One girl, a blond wearing a strapless blue dress, approached first. “We just wanted to say hi,” she said. She wore blue eyeliner and nail polish, both the same color as her dress. I'd never seen a chick so color coordinated.

  “Hey,” I said. “I'm Kellen.”

  I shook her hand and then offered my hand to the other two girls, as well. They were more nervous than I'd originally thought, laughing and stammering as we chatted a little about surfing. None of them seem particularly interested in hitting on me, which took me a little by surprise. Not because I thought they would but because that was how most chicks reacted to me. But then I remembered where I met most girls. In bars and a competitions. Those girls were looking to hook up. These girls were just looking to talk.

  With the ice broken, more girls wandered over. Soon, I was surrounded by a couple dozen girls, all of them asking me questions about surfing. Not about what it was like to be famous. They wanted to know about where I'd surfed and where the best breaks were and what board I used for surfing the local breaks. Several asked me to sign their banquet programs. One mentioned she liked my tie.

  At one point during our conversation, I scanned the room. Gina still hadn't come back with my water. I spotted her next to the cash bar set up in the corner, standing next to some guy, smiling and laughing. I felt a surge of irritation as I watched her talking animatedly, using her hands to emphasize something as she spoke. I didn't want her to talk to someone else like that. And I didn't like seeing it.

  Ellen pushed her way through the crowd of girls surrounding me. “Time to take our seats,” she said, ushering the girls to their tables. I followed her to the coaches table at the front of the room and took a seat next to her. Gina appeared a minute later and handed me a glass of ice water.

  “I didn't want to interrupt,” she said.

  “I could have said the same thing.” I grabbed the glass and downed half of it. “I think I'm dehydrated.”

  “No, you were talking a lot and you're nervous,” she said, her voice low so Ellen couldn't hear. “Just drink. But not too much. Wouldn't be good if you had to pee while you were giving your speech.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “What?”

  “The dude.” I tried not to sound like some jealous asshole but I wasn't sure I was succeeding. Not that I had any reason to be jealous. But it didn't matter.

  “Wyatt?” she asked and the name came out so casual, so familiar, that I clenched my jaw to keep from spewing out something I might regret later. “He's one of the assistant coaches. The guy I initially spoke with to get this set up.”

  The irritation disappeared and I felt like an even bigger asshole. She was just doing her job, making sure she and I both came off looking good. And here I was, stewing like some miffed boyfriend.

  If she noticed my attitude, she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned to Wyatt, who had just taken his seat at the table, and began making introductions. Wyatt and the other assistant, a bald guy named Beau, seemed genuinely happy to have me there. The administrator, a dark-haired woman dressed in a navy blue pantsuit, didn't appear to have a clue who I was, which was just fine with me.

  A server arrived with our salads.

  “So,” Wyatt said to me. I pegged him at about thirty. Brownish hair, friendly green eyes. “It's seriously cool that you're here. Girls were really stoked when they found out you'd be speaking tonight.”

  “Thanks again for having me,” I said, drizzling dressing over the pile of greens on my plate.

  He finished chewing his bite of salad. “I was a little surprised,” he said. “You had kind of a rough weekend.”

  I set the dressing back on the table and fiddled with the
napkin in my lap. “Yeah. Surfing was good, the rest wasn't.”

  The administrator was seated next to Wyatt and she squinted at me. “Did something go wrong? I was told you won some big competition. I apologize for my ignorance.”

  Before I could say anything, Gina stepped in for me. “Kellen is a target when he's out in public sometimes. Like any person in the public eye. Nine times out of ten, people are friendly and just want to say hello. But that tenth person can sometimes be looking for trouble. The tenth person showed up this weekend.”

  The administrator winced. “Ah, I see. Yes, I'm sure it can be difficult discerning who wants to be your friend for the right reasons.”

  “Sometimes, yes,” I said, burying my fork in the salad.

  Wyatt asked some more questions about The Open and fortunately didn't bring up anything more about the bar fight. He seemed knowledgeable enough about surfing and talking to him was easy. The administrator struck up a conversation with Ellen and Gina and, with their attention off of me, I relaxed a little.

  Our salads were cleared and dinner was served, a plate with fried chicken, roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables. None of it looked appetizing but I also wasn’t hungry. I chalked it up to nerves. I ate a few bites of chicken and ended up pushing the rest of it around on my plate. There was more polite conversation about surfing, about their season, about San Diego, about beaches. If anyone noticed I was avoiding my food, they didn't say anything.

  Twenty minutes later, we were waiting on coffee and dessert. I was the only one at the table to decline both.

  Wyatt rested his elbows on the table and turned his attention back to me. “So, I've got a question for you.”

  “Alright.”

  “Is there any break you haven't gotten to surf yet? Any place you'd like to go?”

  I thought back to what Gina had said in the car, about the traveling I'd done. I flashed through some of the more epic surfing trips and competitions I'd experienced. Mexico. Hawaii. South Africa. Thailand. “I don't think so. I've been pretty lucky. I've gotten to go pretty much everywhere.”

  He nodded and his smiled faded. “Would you...do you think you would ever go back to Maverick's?”