“Mick, surfing and teaching surfing are two different things. You don’t have the intelligence or patience to teach.”
He narrows his eyes. “Anyone can do it. In fact I am sure I can do a hell of a lot better than you.”
I take a step back so I don’t lose my cool. “Okay, then. Put your money where your mouth is.”
“Gladly, what’s the bet?”
“I bet I am a better instructor than you. How about this: if I can teach more people how to stand up on a board tomorrow than you can, then you have to publicly endorse my surfing school.”
“And what do I get if I win?” he asks.
I hesitate. “Well, what do you want?”
The corners of his mouth curl up in the most unnerving of ways. If I didn’t know better, I could swear he is undressing me with his eyes. I am starting to feel naked and uncomfortable.
“Well, what?” I stammer.
“I will think of something and let you know.” Mick looks away with that same smirk on his face. I don’t trust it, but regardless, there is no way he was going to win this bet.
“Okay. So we have a deal?”
Mick obnoxiously shakes my hand too hard. “Deal.”
I can’t believe he agreed to that. Mick is not able to focus on anything for more than two minutes. He has no idea how to teach and no patience for anyone. This could really be a big deal for my school. Everyone knows Mick Anderson. His endorsement could make me a very wealthy woman.
“How will I find you?” Mick asks.
“Meet me at the pier tomorrow at two p.m.” I raise my chin.
His eyebrows suddenly lower. “Okay, Sam, but this is ridiculous. I’m the best surfer in the world. You’re just a low-level instructor.”
I stand up to leave. So many of my interactions with Mick end this way. He makes me so angry, and I am not about to make a scene. Not here. I walk past Mick face to face, thinking angry thoughts. His eyes are so beautiful. Wow, I never really noticed. Has he always been this good-looking? I shake my head, both in disappointment at myself and at him. Focus, Sam. Focus.
“Fuck you, Mick.” With my finger held high, I make sure he knows how I feel as I walk past him. “If you don’t show tomorrow, I will consider that your admission of failure and endorsement of my school.”
Chapter 3 - Mick
I step out into the cool morning air and notice the sun rising up over the horizon. Resting my arms on my balcony, I welcome the new day. I love my place, which I should, considering it cost me a king’s ransom. Right now I have lots to spend, so it doesn’t matter. After all, no one lives forever.
As I breathe in the ocean air, a deep sense of calm shivers through my body. I am now ready for the day.
Delia yells at me from inside. “Mick, stop being and idiot. Why are you always staring at that ocean? Come back to bed.”
What the fuck? Sometimes, I can’t deal with that chick. How someone so beautiful can be so ugly, I will never know.
I shout angrily back to her, “I will be in soon, just go back to bed.”
Our relationship has changed a great deal since she moved in, and I am not sure where we’re headed. When you get into a relationship, everything seems so perfect, but when the honeymoon stage is over, you end up in a far different place. Sure, she’s hot, but there should be more than that. I think. My phone ringing brings me out of my contemplation.
“Oh, please, Mick, let it ring,” she yells.
I ignore her now. She is happy to live the lifestyle that surfing afforded me, but she is not willing to let me work. It isn’t even that she wants to spend time with me—she just wants to be in control. Man, I am getting sick of sleeping with her. At this point, that is all it is. Sleeping.
I pick up the phone. “This is Mick.”
“Hey Mick, its Jaime.”
Jaime Redman is my agent. He always makes sure I’m busy. His persistence is often tiring, but I knew I truly needed him to help with my career.
“Hey, Jaime. What’s on the agenda today?”
Jaime goes through the long list of interviews I have to attend and the endorsements we’re working on. I also have to film a commercial for the upcoming surf tour event. We won’t get paid for it, but Jaime says it’s more about the exposure. It’s all about who knows you and staying current.
I yawn. “Okay, Jaime. Am I driving, or is someone driving me?”
“I’ll have the car pick you up in an hour. Do you need breakfast?”
“I’m okay, but I have some personal business I need to attend to this afternoon at around two, so I need that time to be free.”
“That’s not going to work,” Jamie says. “We have an interview at two.”
I sigh. “Well, you’d better get me out of it, because I won’t be there.”
“Can’t, buddy. You are on. This is the biggest time of the year for you. You need to be working.”
I raise my voice to ensure he knows how serious I am. “Figure it out, Jaime! That is what I pay you for.”
“Let me see what I can do,” he mutters, “but it won’t look good if you are not there.”
“Figure it out!” I snap again, slamming the phone down.
Damn it, why do I have all this money if I can’t do what I want? The truth is, though the life I lead is truly an amazing one, it’s just not my own. Sure, this is the most important time of year for me—well, for my career—but who cares? I want to enjoy myself.
In my contemplation I began to wonder why the hell I was taking this bet with Sam. Who cares if I can teach people better than she can? As soon as I start thinking about her, her body springs to mind. Sam did look really good. She is everything Delia isn’t. Delia is demanding and lazy. Even though she’s hot, that’s not everything that’s important to me. At least, not any more. Lately, I’ve been questioning the decision I made regarding my relationship with her. Things between us got too hot too fast. But I had a lot on my plate today. There wasn’t time for dwelling on the past.
“Delia, I am going to be out for the day.”
Delia yells, “You are always out for the day!”
“Don’t start with me now. This is my life. I told you, these next couple of weeks are going to be very busy.”
She lowers her voice. “Can I come with you?”
“No, you will be in the way.”
She snorts. “You are such an asshole, Mick.”
“Goodbye, Delia. We can talk about this later.” The last thing I want to do is to deal with her shit this early in the morning.
I walk out to the cabana by the pool to get ready for the day, avoiding my sulking girlfriend. On my way past the pool, I text Jaime and ask him to have a breakfast ready for me. Fuck! I can’t even eat breakfast in my own house!
Then I remember a quote from the Howard Stern show: “No matter how hot some chicks are, someone, somewhere, is sick of fucking them.” Quite honestly, I was at that place with her now. We hadn’t even had sex in over a month. Geez, what am I with her for?
I shower up in the cabana, take out some board shorts and a shirt, and wait for the call from the car. Delia storms into the cabana to find me watching TV. She instantly starts yelling.
“Why the fuck are you in here? Avoiding me?”
I look away. “Delia, I am not avoiding you, I am waiting for my ride.”
The phone rings, and not a moment too soon. Delia shoots me a look that could kill.
“Don’t you dare pick that up!” she screeches.
“Delia, this is business. I have to take it. We will talk later tonight.” I rush past her while she tries to stop me. “Talk later.”
Delia folds her arms. “I may not be here later.”
“That is your choice. I have to go.” I reply coldly.
Her voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t you leave, Mick. If you walk out that door, I won’t be here when you get back!”
There is a part of me that hopes she will leave. Dealing with her has become too much of a chore. She wants the heaven and the stars, but fee
ls she has to give very little to get it. It is a relationship that is no longer enjoyable to me. I never feel free. It is time for her to go.
Chapter 4 Mick - Surfing Circus
As I sit in the SUV and drive to our first appointment all I can think about is hitting the water. I wish I could get out in the surf. Unfortunately, my surfing job often doesn’t allow that. Funny how that is. I decide that I need to hear a rational voice. I call my father. Despite our contrasting lifestyles, he is always a voice of reason. He was also the man who taught me how to surf. I have a great deal of respect for him.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad, it’s me.”
“Hey, son, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay, Dad. You know, busy and all. It’s damn hectic.”
“Yeah? Being busy is a good thing, but are you happy? Remember, we always, always have a choice in life.”
I snap. “Dad, don’t give me that. Without money, we are nothing.”
There is a long pause. Dad never liked speaking about money. He also never liked conflict.
“I will maintain my views as my own,” he says.
“So let’s just drop it, then.”
My father is a bit of a hippie, always has been. He chose a motorhome over a corporate boardroom and now lives in it by the beach. He often reminds me how he lives on just pennies a day and loves his life. I admire that he’s happy with his life—so many people live rich and unhappy, or poor and unhappy, but not Dad. Somehow, he’s poor and happy, which is pretty damn rare. But I also hate him for his lifestyle. That’s really the reason he and my mother divorced. A part of me will never forgive him for that.
I pause for a moment. “Listen, Dad, I need to clear my head for a second. I just need to ask you one question. I’ve never asked you this, and I know you’ll wonder why I’m even asking this right now, but I need an answer. When did you know that you and Mom needed to get a divorce?”
There is a long painful silence. “I… we weren’t happy together. I realized, after a while, that she wanted to be with a guy who made a lot of money. She didn’t just want a companion. And that killed me. Truly. Oh, how I loved, and still love, your mother. But our ideas of happiness were very different. I guess I couldn’t give her that. I wouldn’t have wanted to, Mick. She didn’t want my idea of love. That was okay; we were just different that way. She felt trapped, and I couldn’t live my life knowing I was keeping her from hers, so we parted ways.”
I sit on the other end of the line and feel my eyes begin to sting. I had no idea. They divorced when I was five, when the most complicated thing I knew was how to tie my shoes. I blink several times and clear my throat. I can’t find the words to tell my dad that I love him and that I finally understand why he had did what he did all those years ago. Apparently, history repeats itself.
“Life is a tricky thing, Dad. I guess that is what I have learned.”
“That is the truth, son. Listen let’s get together soon.”
“Sure thing, Dad. Let’s do that,” I say, knowing just how hollow that promise is.
I roll down the tinted back window of the SUV and look to the ocean. My thoughts drift to Sam. She was so gorgeous yesterday. Her lips are the kind of lips you just want to kiss the moment you see them. What gets me most about her, though, is her confidence. It’s so rare to meet a woman who’s more than externally beautiful. Samantha is different, and she always has been. Even when I’d tease and bully her when we were kids. When I was cocky to her, she didn’t back down. Sam’s the kind of woman who can stand on her own.
Part of me feels a little weird for having all these warm and fuzzy feelings. After all, she is my stepsister. Flushing the thoughts from my mind, I look back to my phone.
I’m checking my Twitter and responding to some fan mail when the driver stops, gets out, and opens the door. Camera flashes and the sounds of screaming girls fill the air. I sign a few autographs and make my way past the throngs of people to the set.
This year, they decided to do the interviews right on the pier. I love the pier—I spent most of my childhood there, learning to surf. Before sitting down, I look over the rail to watch the surfers. All I want to do is surf, but I have far too many obligations. Maybe my father was right—maybe money isn’t everything. I shake the thought and look down in jealousy as one of the surfers grabs a massive wave. How ironic—what I do for a living doesn’t allow me to do what I do for a living.
An overly polished man comes over and shakes my hand. His teeth are so white they glow. “Hi, Mick. Why don’t we get you settled so we can get started?”
I turn around to see the other overly polished guy who was going to conduct my interview. These jackasses never know anything about surfing. They always ask the same stale, irrelevant questions. I have to keep reminding myself it is important to give interviews and maintain a public image.
“Sure, not a problem.” I falsely reply
It takes a lot for me to rip myself from that rail. I could watch the surfers all day. I sit down in the chair as the makeup girl fiddles with my face, almost like she’s painting a mask on me.
I smile and remember that I am going to get in the water today. The bet with Sam. I can’t see how that’s going to happen now, with all this other crap I have to do. There is no way Jaime will let me go. I haven’t even told him what I was doing—if I did, it would make it worse. Or would it?
An idea shot through my mind at a rapid pace. What if I turn it into something that would go viral? Jaime is always telling me to do viral things. What if I told him he could tape the lesson from a distance? That would kill two birds with one stone. I would get the time to see Samantha and I could still be working.
By disguising my appearance, I could teach the group as just another regular surf instructor, show my killer moves, then reveal myself as the famous Mick Anderson and win the bet with Sam. The whole success story would be caught on camera, and I could be proven a great surfer and a great teacher. It’s a win-win all around.
“Mick, are you ready to do this?” the producer asks.
“Can you give me a minute? I just have to make a quick call.” I dial Jaime’s number in excitement.
“Hey, Jaime. Did you get me out of that thing this afternoon?”
He stuttered. “Well, about that… I, uh—”
I cut him off. “Before you answer, I have an idea that I am sure you will like. I’m going to teach surfing lessons to beginners this afternoon
“What?! Why?”
“Stay with me: I am going for a viral video. I made arrangements to have a surfing lesson with this girl yesterday… Anyway, you will set up a camera or two to watch me teaching a lesson. Here is how I see it working. I teach the class how to surf, alongside another instructor. I’ll disguise myself so the class doesn’t know I’m famous. Once I’m finished with the lesson, I’ll reveal myself as the famous surfer Mick Anderson. Then I will go out and catch a wave, showing them how great I am. With all this on camera, I’ll be seen as a great surfer and a great teacher. We’ll have an instant viral video. You can mic me up under my wetsuit—do whatever it takes.”
Jaime pauses. “I think you might have something there. Should we hide your face? What if the other people recognize you?”
“I don’t think they will. If I put my hair back and wear sunglasses and a hat, no one will notice.”
“Why do you want to do this?” Jaime asks.
“Like you said, any press is good press.”
Jaime is pleased. “Ah, so you’re finally listening to me.”
I smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”
“One more thing, man. If this whole thing is really about a girl, be careful. You have a girlfriend—the last thing you need right now is for your life to be complicated while a competition is looming.”
“Jaime, my life is always complicated. You worry about yours, and I’ll worry about mine.”
Hanging up the phone brings instant excitement. I can go see Sam and keep Jaime happy.
She’ll think this whole thing is funny—I look like a hero, we go for drinks, and who knows? Wait, what am I talking about?! She’s my stepsister! Shaking my head in disgust, I go back to where Mr. Polished is excited to get this over with.
Surge : A Stepbrother Romance Page 2
