Always Summer (15 page)

“Good morning, surf fans!” Bridget Parker
says at the beginning of the broadcast. “The last few days have
been crazy on the west coast, and today, I’m joined by Mr. Greg
Carson of Liquid Spirit who’s going to give us the dirty details of
what went down at the recent event held in Crescent Cove.”

I shake my head before he even comes on
screen. Bridget Parker gets on my ever-last nerve, but she’s quite
possibly the face of SurfTube. Sometimes I think she’d be better in
Hollywood, interviewing people on the red carpet and talking about
who designed their clothing. Bridget herself is always dressed in
designer heels with big hair and flawless makeup to match. I can’t
help but wonder how she manages on the sand in her stilettos.

The camera shifts to her sitting under a
tent on the beach, microphone in hand. Greg Carson is on the chair
next to her. She crosses her tanned legs, showing more skin than
most of the surfers.

“Good morning, Greg, and thank you for
joining us so bright and early today,” she says.

“Thank you for having me,” he replies.
“There’s no better way to start the day than visiting with
SurfTube.”

Oh, what BS. Does Greg Carson even know how
stupid he looks right now? Bridget wears a too-short sundress with
bright pink earrings to match. She looks summery. He, on the other
hand, sits in a suit, tie, and dress shoes. I understand being a
professional but c’mon, this is California and you work for a surf
corporation. Suit and tie? Really?

“Some of your surfers were involved in a
physical altercation last weekend prior to the start of the event,”
Bridget explains. “Could you tell us, in your own words, exactly
what happened?”

I flip over onto my stomach and prop my
phone against the headboard so I can actually watch this as if I
were lying in bed watching TV. There’s nothing he can say right now
that I haven’t already anticipated.

“And while I won’t pretend my guys were
innocent bystanders, I will be the first to say that Liquid Spirit
believes in professionalism,” Greg continues after explaining that
Jace threw the first punch.

Sadly, everything he’s said thus far is
pretty much on target. You don’t have to spread rumors or lies
about the enemy when they really did lose control and make their
company look badly.

“I’ve spoken to my boys about watching their
mouths at events and keeping opinions to themselves,” he states.
“This is something we probably should have discussed before
arriving at the event and maybe it would’ve prevented some of what
happened, but at the end of the day, we aren’t responsible for
other people’s actions or how they handle a situation. I’m just
thankful that no one was seriously injured and that we were allowed
to compete that day. Every event opens new doors for our surfers,
and we want them to thrive in this community.”

There’s a piece of me that hates how well
he’s handling this. He says all of the right things. He takes his
jabs without actually taking them. He’s mastered the ‘read between
the lines’ press statements. Greg Carson may be a snake in the
grass who wants nothing more than for us to fail, but he’s damn
good at snaking.

Bridget tucks a loose hair behind her ear as
the breeze drifts under the tent. “So there’s no ill will or hard
feelings?” she asks.

“You know, Bridget, I honestly don’t blame
Jace Hudson for what happened,” Greg says, tilting his head and
staring off at the sand as if in deep contemplation. “It’s not his
fault that he was thrown into a position that he wasn’t ready for.
Drenaline Surf was already coming apart at the seams before he
stepped into that job, and he’s just trying to put out the fires
that were burning before he arrived.”

I sit up on my bed and grab my phone. I
don’t trust this guy, and I don’t trust where this conversation may
be heading. After all that’s happened, personal and professional,
I’m not okay with anyone blaming Vin for Drenaline Surf’s problems
or
for leaving. We’ve all just been doing the best we can to
keep this store alive and to keep Shark’s legacy growing.

Greg Carson shakes his head, opens his mouth
to say something, and then pulls a ‘never mind’ afterward, leaving
Bridget and viewers – and yeah, me – wondering what he was about to
say.

“This is your moment,” Bridget reminds him,
as if he were about to actually surf in a final and prove that he’s
worthy of being sponsored. “If you want our viewers and surf fans
to know something, no time is better than the present.”

Greg readjusts his tie, pretending to feel
stressed over this, but in reality, he’s just playing it up for the
camera. That man is bursting to say whatever it is that he’s
preparing for.

“The real problem with Drenaline Surf has
always been Shark McAllister,” he explains.

Well, I didn’t see that one coming. Vin,
sure. Colby, of course. But Shark? Hell no.

“I don’t want to speak ill of those no
longer with us, but the man founded a company and built it around
one surfer whose entire existence was a fraud,” he says, taking the
jab at Colby, as I expected. “When your business is built on lies,
manipulation, and deception, you can’t expect success to follow, no
matter how talented the surfer is.”

At least he gives credit where it’s due.
Colby has all the talent in the world, something Shark was more
than aware of. Colby was an intermediate level surfer when he
walked into Drenaline Surf for the first time. Shark McAllister
made Colby who he is, in more ways than one.

“I can’t help that Drenaline Surf was built
on corruption and lies. I can’t change the damage that’s been done.
I have no control over what they do within their business,” Greg
says. Then he points to the camera. “But I’m making it my personal
mission to restore the love for this sport and to build our surf
community back up to what it was years ago. You can mark my
words.”

After thanking Greg for his time and
honesty, Bridget reminds everyone to drop by Liquid Spirit’s new
location and check out their soon-to-open wave pool in a few weeks.
She closes the segment by offering well wishes and prayers to the
shark attack victim in Sunrise Valley.

I scroll through my other texts – all from
Alston, A.J., and one from Reed – and tell my roommates that I’ve
seen the footage. A.J. says it’s bullshit, and Alston thinks we
should riot. Reed agrees with me that A.J. and Alston both need to
chill and keep their mouths shut.

After I take a shower, which sadly didn’t
wash away any of the drama from this morning’s SurfTube segment, I
see a missed call on my phone. It’s from Drenaline Surf.

Jace’s voicemail asks me to come to the
store. So much for a day off. It looks like I’m going to be
fighting back to Greg Carson’s interview after all. On the drive to
the store, I play with phrases in my mind, just like Vin used to
do, hoping to come up with the best wording. Hopefully Jace will
get better at this in time and be able to structure a press
statement to hold them over on my days off.

But something is wrong when I get to
Drenaline Surf. It’s closed.

My heart thumps rapidly as I dig through my
purse to find my store keys. I can barely grasp them long enough to
unlock the door because my hands won’t stop shaking. There’s
absolutely no reason the store should be closed – unless someone
died, and I refuse to even go there.

Emily stands in front of the counter,
opposite from her usual place on the other side. Kale leans against
it, elbows resting on the edge. The light is off in the surfboard
room, and only the fluorescent light above the cash register is on
in here. It’s eerily quiet. My keys sound like an out of tune
instrument when I drop them back into my purse.

The noise is enough to drag Jace into the
room. He doesn’t look professional today. He stands before us in
ripped jeans and a faded black band tee. I’m not familiar with
Frozen Bloodstream, I don’t like the fact that he’s wearing this
shirt right now. Drenaline Surf’s bloodstream seems to be frozen at
the moment.

“I’m sorry to make you guys come up here,
but I needed to speak with each of you individually,” he says.
“Kale, you want to come back with me first?”

Kale hesitates. “Is something wrong? Like,
do I need to bring Haley with me or something?” he asks. “She
manages my career, so if something’s wrong, maybe she needs to hear
it too.”

Jace looks at the floor, away from us, and
then finally turns his attention back to his Hooligan brother.
“That’s up to you,” he says. “But you may prefer to do this on your
own, given this situation.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m
more than capable of handling this job. I make Colby Taylor look
good, and that is something no one has been able to do since Shark
McAllister.

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say
in front of Haley and Emily,” Kale informs him. “So go ahead.”

The tired expression on Jace’s face worries
me. He clearly doesn’t want to have this conversation, at least not
with all of us at once, but he throws his hands into the air and
mumbles something about how he warned us.

He positions himself on the other side of
the counter, next to the cash register. I squeeze in between Emily
and Kale.

“There is no easy way to say this,” Jace
begins. “You’re all well aware of the rumors, the legal issues, and
everything else that’s been happening to Drenaline Surf lately. But
something has come up that’s a bit more serious than Colby’s
parents or A.J.’s juvenile record. It’s even bigger than my
arrest.”

My guts feel like the sign at Shipwrecked,
tangled up in the tentacles of a massive octopus. It squeezes and
twists, leaving me nauseated.

“I can’t go into the details, but this turn
of events is something that requires extreme measures while it’s
being investigated,” he explains. “I didn’t want to make this
decision, but it’s for the good of Drenaline Surf, and that’s what
I have to take into consideration. So until further notice, the
three of you are being placed on administrative leave.”

I’m livid. I’m bullet-spitting kind of
livid. And I’m upset because I don’t understand how I can go from
putting out Drenaline Surf fires to possibly
being
a
Drenaline Surf fire. But more than anything, I’m scared.

Emily doesn’t say a word as she leans
against her driver’s side door. She hasn’t said a word this entire
time. She just fiddles with the small sea turtle keychain that she
kept her work keys on, holding it all on its lonesome.

Even when Vin fired me, he didn’t take my
keys from me. I’ve had those keys since the day Vin met my parents,
when he gave me the set in case I ever needed to find him and
couldn’t. Now, I’m Drenaline Surf-less.

“I wonder how long we can stand here before
he sends someone to escort us away,” Emily says, looking at her
rhinestone-encrusted flip-flops. “Banned from the premises. How did
this even happen?”

What is possibly bigger than criminal
records? What could they be hiding that’s worth suspending your PR
rep and putting a sponsorship on hold?

“I need this job. Nowhere else is going to
pay me this well without some fancy college degree. I have no
reason to hurt Drenaline Surf,” Emily says. Her voice cracks and
she grabs her sunglasses from her purse. “I’m leaving before he
calls his friend Pittman to see me off. I’ll call you later.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to console her
or even say goodbye. I’m surprised she managed to stay an extra
five minutes in the parking lot with me. She fought tears from the
very moment that Jace asked for her keys.

I watch the back door until Kale emerges.
For half a second, I’m hopeful that maybe the Hooligan brotherhood
worked in Kale’s favor, but he shakes his head as he walks my
way.

“Do you believe this? I really thought if I
talked to him one-on-one, maybe he’d tell me something, but he’s in
serious boss-mode,” Kale tells me.

“Nothing at all?” I ask.

“Pretty much, no,” Kale confirms. “He said
that when we’re eligible to work for Drenaline Surf again –
if
we’re eligible – we’ll be notified by Joe or whoever is
in charge at that time.”

“If we’re eligible? He actually said that?”
I question. That’s a huge freaking if. “How did we even get here?
And what does he mean whoever is in charge? You think his job is on
the line too?”

Kale shrugs. “I’m as lost as you are. This
is bullshit,” he says. “Was this the master plan? Take us down one
by one? I can’t believe I could lose my sponsorship over this. We
all just basically lost our jobs.”

If the plan was to take us down one by one,
whoever is behind this started with Kale, Emily, and me. Maybe they
thought we were the easiest to eliminate. We’re the weakest
links…or the easiest targets.

But then it dawns on me. We’re under
investigation. Jace or Joe or maybe both of them have a reason to
believe it’s one of us. Something points in our directions. We’re
suspects. We’re no longer innocent in the eyes of Drenaline Surf.
If they have reason to doubt us, who else will believe we’re
guilty?

Kale says he’s going to talk to the
Hooligans about this and promises to update me if he hears anything
else. I tell him the same before I get in my car and head back to
the condo. I don’t want to go home, though. How do I tell my
roommates about this? What do I even say?

On the short drive, this all becomes
sickeningly real to me. It’s going to hit the tabloids tomorrow or
the next day – whenever the story catches on and the gossip
spreads. SurfTube is going to discuss it. Surf forums online will
talk about it. Residents of Horn Island and Crescent Cove will
question us. And I have no way to defend myself. I can’t even word
the press statement, and for once, I don’t trust Jace to do the job
correctly.