San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 27

Dylan nodded slowly. Yeah, that was basically what Brooke had told him. But she hadn't told him it had been her idea. And she hadn't told him she'd gone to bat for him. To save his sponsors.h.i.+p. And she hadn't told him her job was on the line. f.u.c.k! "Brooke didn't get fired, did she?" he demanded.

"Hey," Tim said. "Don't worry about her."

"Did she get fired?" He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Tim. "Just answer my question."

"Uh. I don't think so. Not yet, anyway."

"f.u.c.k!" He glared at Tim. "I'm calling her." He reached for his cell phone.

"You don't need to do that," Tim began, but Dylan had already punched the b.u.t.ton for Brooke's cell phone. She didn't answer. He scowled.

"Hey, she's off the project," Tim said. "That's probably why she's not answering. It's not her job to deal with you anymore. It's mine." He gave what was probably supposed to be a rea.s.suring smile, but Dylan didn't feel rea.s.sured. He felt p.i.s.sed. And...sick.

"f.u.c.k," he muttered again, rubbing his forehead.

"So," Tim continued cheerfully. "The folks at Daytrippers apparently were a little concerned about the media coverage from that party last night. That wasn't a really wholesome image to present."

Dylan stared at him. "Oh Christ."

"But like I said, don't worry about that now. n.o.body wants to stir things up at this point, right? We just want you to go out there this weekend and do your best. We'll talk more after; I've set up a meeting at the office for Monday afternoon."

Dylan continued to stare at him. "Monday." That would be after the Pro. "Okay."

"I'm here to make sure you have everything you need and liaise with the media for the next few days," Tim said with a smile.

Dylan could barely hear the man talk above the crazy thoughts that were crowding his head. They better not have fired Brooke. What if they had? What if she'd lost her job over this? And f.u.c.k, he didn't want anyone else looking after him! He wanted her. He had to talk to her.

But that wasn't going to happen. Despite his numerous attempts to call her, she wasn't answering. His schedule was crazy busy for the next few days but he managed to go by her apartment a few times, only she was never there. He stopped at her office once in a lame attempt to see her, but she wasn't there either. He even called her parents' home and talked to her mom, who coolly told him she'd pa.s.s a message on to Brooke, and when he b.u.mped into her brother Anthony just after an interview, Anthony too was polite but distant. Her family was looking out for her.

She didn't show up at the beach, not at all, and that made him crazy too. He'd been so pumped to have her watching that first heat, to share his triumph with her.

The compet.i.tion had to take priority, even though now it seemed pathetically unimportant, but when he was out in the water it took all his effort to concentrate on surfing and not on the fact that Brooke wasn't there. He needed to put all that other s.h.i.+t out of his head and focus. Even though his heart ached and he had this antsy urgent need to chuck his surfboard into the waves and run to find Brooke, this had to be done now. Surfing was everything to him.

Well. Maybe not quite everything.

Weird how priorities and goals could change.

And he did win, somehow pulling off decent scores, despite his f.u.c.ked up head and heart, moving through the heats. Corey and Matt showed up after a heat he'd won to congratulate him. And he got even more annoyed that they were there for him like that when he totally didn't deserve it.

"What's wrong?" Corey asked him when he'd snarled a response to their congratulations. "You just won. You should be happy."

"I am happy."

"You don't look like it." Corey paused, studying him. "Did something happen with you and Brooke?"

"Why would you ask that?" he snapped. "Jesus, the whole world doesn't revolve around relations.h.i.+ps."

"Um. Yeah, it kinda does," she said. She and Matt divided a look between them. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Why isn't she here?"

f.u.c.k. He closed his eyes. "Okay, here's the deal. Brooke and I weren't really dating. She came to Tahiti on business, and our whole relations.h.i.+p was business. She agreed to come to the wedding with me because..." Again, f.u.c.k. "Part of her job was keeping me out of trouble, so she agreed. But her boss took her off my sponsors.h.i.+p deal a few days ago, so she has no reason to be here now."

Corey's eyebrows flew up. "Oh." He watched her eyes flicker as she thought through what he'd said. "But-"

"Don't worry about it," Dylan interrupted. "It's none of your business anyway."

Her face fell. Matt frowned. "Hey, man, we're just trying to-"

"Don't bother." Dylan lifted a hand. "It is what it is. And I have stuff to do. Gotta go." He turned and left.

His stomach tight, his teeth gritted, he strode across the sand away from them, ignoring everyone else. He had to stay focused on one thing, and that was surfing. Thinking about anything else, caring about anything else, or anyone else, wasn't an option right then. If he started going there, he was going to lose it and he needed to keep his s.h.i.+t together to get through this compet.i.tion.

Then it was Sunday and time for the men's final. It was him and Heath, in the final heat. Just like he'd hoped for. Just like so many had predicted.

He had a pretty simple routine before he competed. He didn't like to eat, he just had some water and listened to some tunes on his iPod. He liked to be the last one at the water's edge when the heat was about to start, then he paddled out, surrounded by the Pacific Ocean rising and dipping beneath him, swelling and undulating. The sun sparkled off the water all around him and he was surrounded by blue. He tried to get a grip on his thoughts and emotions. This was it. This was the moment.

But he couldn't let that take over. He couldn't let that make him nervous. He had to control the adrenaline and use it to his advantage. He knew how to do that. He worked through some of the exercises he'd been taught to help him focus.

His frustration with not being able to get hold of Brooke, his frustration with her, started pus.h.i.+ng up inside him. That weird feeling that this wasn't the most important thing in the world returned. He needed that hunger, that edge if he was going to win. Didn't he? Or did it even matter? Win, lose, whatever. If he didn't have Brooke, it didn't really matter.

Once more he reminded himself how long he'd been working toward this.

The stillness of the ocean, rocking him gently, the quiet out there, away from the hyper noise of the beach, sank inside him. He sat there, waiting, watching for that perfect wave.

For a moment, all that he'd learned about the ocean recently and all that he'd learned about the ocean through his life came back to him. The power and beauty of it. The world's greatest wilderness, the mysteries of her depths, the beauty of her unpredictability.

The waves developed slowly, like patient lovemaking, taking their time to build and crest. The building pressure grew, and grew...and then crashed in an explosion of vitality. The waves didn't last long, only moments, precious and fragile, yet powerful and magnificent. You had to take advantage of those moments, make the most of them.

Like life.

He watched the water swell toward him, eyeing it critically. Adrenaline flashed heat through his veins. This was it. He was going to catch this wave and do this.

Brooke watched the senior men's final from the bleachers on the beach, sitting among the crowd of half-naked tanned bodies, the scent of coconut sunscreen and the ocean floating in the warm air. The beach was packed with people including television cameramen and photographers with giant long lenses. The booming voice of the announcer echoed up and down the beach.

She stared out at the ocean, watching, waiting for Dylan to catch a wave. G.o.d, he had to do this. Heath had just done an amazing run and the crowd was going wild, the announcer winding them up. She picked at the ragged cuticle on her left thumb as she gazed out at the sparkling blue ocean. She watched Dylan turn. This was it. The crowd surged to their feet and she had to stand too if she wanted to see anything. Beside her, Fraya grabbed her husband's arm in a tight hold and bounced up and down a little. The boys watched from the other side of Brooke, caught up in the excitement.

Dylan caught the wave and began to ride it, twisting and turning his way along it, his body in a low crouch, also twisting and turning with apparent ease. "It's a good wave," she murmured.

"Yeah!" Fraya agreed.

It looked like his feet were superglued to the surfboard, he stuck to it so well as he surfed, and then he caught some air and rotated a full three hundred and sixty degrees in the air. Brooke's breath caught and held as she waited for him to land, momentarily losing sight of him in the rus.h.i.+ng white water, but there he was, still standing, still surfing. The crowd went wild.

"Look at that!" the announcer yelled. "Are you kidding me? Dylan Sch.e.l.l has got the groove today! Look at him just sitting in that wave forever! Holy barrel of monkeys! He is riding the heckb.a.l.l.s out of that wave!"

Brooke let out her breath and grinned. "Yes!" G.o.d, he was so good at that. But so was Heath and their last scores were close. She grabbed hold of Fraya's arm and the three of them held on to each other watching him finish, doing another spin, another jump, and then as the wave flattened, a series of tiny hops across the surface of the water. As he finished and sank into the water, both arms pumped up in the air.

"G.o.d, that was good!" Brooke cried above the roar of the crowd.

"It was! So good! He has to win!"

Along with the thousands of other spectators, they anxiously awaited the score. Brooke vibrated and bobbed, nibbling her bottom lip.

Finally, after some inane chit chat that had everyone nearly bursting out of their skin with antic.i.p.ation, the announcer said, "All right ladies and gentlemen! Here are the results. With a final combined score of nine point five-seven..." He paused. "Dylan Sch.e.l.l has won his first Jackson Cole Pro t.i.tle!"

The crowd cheered again and people rushed the beach, running out to greet Dylan as he waded out of the ocean, carrying his board.

What would it be like to be one of those down there, rus.h.i.+ng to congratulate him? Brooke's smile turned wistful as she watched people lifting Dylan up and carrying him across the beach. Photographers crouched and snapped photos, television cameramen stumbled backward through the sand, carrying their heavy cameras, filming his triumph.

Something expanded in her chest, warm and soft, admiration and happiness for him. He'd done it. He'd won. Oh G.o.d, he'd won. She pressed a hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, closed her eyes and tipped her head back for a moment.

Eventually he made it to the stage area to receive his trophy. It was hard to see from that far away, but on the Jumbotron Brooke caught his beaming smile and sparkling silver eyes. It was so awesome to see him that happy.

Someone opened a champagne bottle and sprayed him with it, and he laughed. The announcer with the microphone introduced him and the crowd went crazy again. "Hometown boy Dylan Sch.e.l.l comes out on top in the Jackson Cole Pro," he cried into the microphone. "How're you feeling, Dylan?"

"I feel great." Dylan waved to the crowd, still grinning. "I want to thank Heath for a great heat, he really made me have to bring it."

"And bring it you did! You are straight up the hometown hero right now! How did it feel out there?"

"It felt amazing. I saw that wave coming and I knew that was it, and as soon as I was up I felt like I was flying. The wind is good and I was really hoping to catch some air and show everyone here a few tricks..." Another roar erupted from the crowd at his words. "Heath had such a big dig out there. He charged so hard and I knew I had to really go for it."

Fraya squeezed Brooke's arm again. "You were so nervous for him, weren't you?"

Brooke made a face. "I guess I was." Relief made her legs wobble a little.

"Too bad you're not down there with him," Fraya said.

Brooke shook her head, keeping her smile firmly in place. "Nah. He doesn't need any more people down there."

Fraya gave her a chiding look.

"I'm not working with him anymore," she reminded her sister.

"I know."

They watched him get his trophy and the announcer wrapped up the event as people started to make their way out of the bleachers and event officials came in off the water.

"Let's go," Brooke said.

"You sure you don't want to go find him?" They stepped down the bleachers, Fraya holding Jonathan's hand and Brooke holding James's.

"Why can't we go see Dylan?" James asked. "I wanna go see him! We know him."

"Yes, we know him," Brooke said. "But he has lots of people down there with him right now."

"He's going to teach us to surf like that!" Jonathan cried.

Brooke and Fraya exchanged glances.

So her job and her relations.h.i.+p with Barrett were on shaky ground. Dylan had accomplished what he'd wanted to, and now everybody should be happy including Jackson Cole management and the people from Daytrippers and Oceans Alive and all Dylan's other sponsors. Not to mention his team, his agent, Corey and Matt, and all those girls in bikinis mobbing him. But most importantly he should be happy. He'd done it.

It was bittersweet, happiness for him mingling with her own disappointment and aching heart. The compet.i.tion was done and he'd be leaving for the next event, and she'd figure out what to do about her career. She wasn't sure she could continue to work for Barrett, after he'd all but told her to sleep with Dylan to ensure he behaved the way they wanted him to.

And then that whole mess with the party that night. Brooke had been upset about that for her own reasons, but professionally, she hoped Dylan wasn't going to lose his sponsors.h.i.+p because of it. That didn't seem fair after everything he'd done the last couple of weeks. But she did understand the concern of the people at Daytrippers, since Dylan had gotten involved with some of the kids. Lingering anger at him for being so thoughtless curled inside her.

"Hey Brooke!" She looked up as she and Fraya made their way through the throng of people, and saw Cam from Daytrippers. Like everyone there, he wore a huge smile. "Awesome event, huh? So thrilled for Dylan!"

"Yeah." She paused to speak to him. "He did great. I hope he can continue to work with your organization."

"Oh, definitely! He's done a great job for us!"

"I hope you won't let that one night of partying stop him from continuing to work with you. He really enjoyed working with the kids. And believe me, even though he partied that one night, the entire rest of the time he was here in San Amaro, his behavior was perfect. He's really serious about his sport. He works hard at it."

Cam smiled. "That's true. Don't worry, Brooke, we know the big picture."

Why was she defending him, for G.o.d's sake? She and Cam chatted for a couple of minutes, but Fraya and Kevin and the kids were waiting for her, so she said goodbye. But as she again started making her way across the beach, she ran into Corey and Matt.

"Hey!" she said, her stomach clutching. She forced a smile. "He won!"

"Yeah, he did." Corey gave her a worried look.

"You guys should be with him." Brooke smiled, looking back and forth between Corey and Matt.

"I don't think he wants us with him," Corey said.

Brooke's mouth fell open. "What? Of course he does. You're his friends." More than friends, she reminded herself with a little stab in her heart.

Corey nibbled her bottom lip and gave her another unhappy look. What? What was wrong?

"He told us you two weren't ever really together," Corey said.

Brooke's mouth dropped open. "He did?"

"Yes. He did." Corey's eyebrows drew down. "I found that hard to believe, after seeing you together."

"Yeah," Matt added. "That night at the wedding..."

His voice trailed off and heat flooded down through Brooke, remembering him walking in on her and Dylan...shnippits.

Matt cleared his throat. "It really seemed like you two were into each other."

Brooke's mind scrambled. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came to her. "It was business," she finally mumbled. "Not the...I mean..."

"It's amazing that he won," Corey said, filling an awkward silence. "Considering how p.i.s.sed off he was. At something. It almost seemed like it was at us." She shot Matt a glance. "I was afraid he wasn't going to be able to focus on his surfing. But he did it."

"p.i.s.sed off?" Brooke ran her tongue over her teeth. "I haven't talked to him for a few days. If anyone should be p.i.s.sed off, it should be me."