San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 30

"Nothing."

He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

She picked up her phone, found Dylan in her contacts and pushed the b.u.t.ton to call him. Fully expecting him to not answer, when he did, her stomach did a little flip. "Dylan. Hi. It's Brooke."

"Brooke. Hi." His low deep voice made her close her eyes.

"Why did you do that?" she whispered.

Silence. Did he know what she was talking about?

"Because you're worth it," he finally said. "And I'm not."

"What are you talking about?"

Another pause. "I know they wanted to fire me. I know I screwed up. But it wasn't your fault and I didn't want you to pay the price for my mistake."

"Oh Dylan." She closed her eyes and the noise of the bar she and Tim sat in faded away. Her throat constricted. "You shouldn't have done that. We were your biggest sponsor."

"Yeah. I know. But I had to."

"How did you know?"

"That doesn't matter. I'm glad you called. I wanted to talk to you before I go."

Her throat closed up. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah. I fly out tomorrow. I just wanted to say thank you for everything you did. I know you put your job on the line for me. I know it was your idea to sponsor me, and I feel like c.r.a.p that I made that so painful for you. Before I'd even met you, I was acting like a spoiled selfish jerk and you were trying to save my b.u.t.t. So thank you, for that, and for introducing me to those great charities. It felt good helping them."

"You still can," she whispered, her voice thick, her eyes burning. She covered her eyes with her hand, her elbow on the table.

"Yeah, I know. I think I will."

Her throat ached so much she couldn't talk. Her lips pushed out helplessly. He was leaving. She tried to swallow. Tried again. "Dylan."

"Don't let them treat you like that," he said. "Stand up for yourself. Like I said, you're worth it. You hear me?"

She nodded, which was ridiculous because he couldn't see her. A tear dropped onto the polished wood table.

"'Bye, Brooke." And then the phone went dead.

She stayed like that for long moments, the phone to her ear, her hand over her eyes, trying to get her emotions under control. She hadn't congratulated him on winning. She hadn't told him that her period was late. And that made her throat hurt even more.

When she could get air into her constricted esophagus and down into her lungs, she licked her lips and lowered her hand. She clicked off her phone and gave Tim a smile.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning forward, eyebrows drawn together above his nose.

"Oh yeah. Of course. Well, not really. But yeah."

His eyebrows lifted. "It's good you're sure."

"Let's go. We'd better get back to the office."

Back in Tim's car heading toward the office, she reached for the k.n.o.b of the radio and turned it on, wanting some music to drown out the silence and the ache throbbing in her chest. Then she leaned her head back into the seat and listened to Maroon 5 while she stared out the window at pa.s.sing traffic.

What had Dylan done? He'd killed her, that was what. G.o.d. What kind of crazy gesture had that been, going into that meeting and taking a stand like that? She pressed a hand to her chest where it ached.

But he was leaving.

Of course he was leaving. She'd known all along he would leave. That was his life. But dammit, once more she was reminded that deep inside he was a good man. And her words to Corey and Matt returned to her, how he was so self-absorbed he didn't even realize he'd done something wrong. G.o.d. He sure knew how to make up for it when he screwed up.

He may have saved her job. Maybe not. Who knew how Barrett was going to take to being humiliated like that. But Dylan's threat was real, and after what he'd done that morning, giving up such a lucrative deal on principle, there couldn't be anyone who thought he wouldn't make good on that threat.

Another tear slid down her cheek.

She'd have to give some serious thought to whether she wanted to stay at Jackson Cole. G.o.d, if Dylan could take a stand like that, she should be able to too. Those things Barrett had said to her were unacceptable.

Maybe Dylan had saved her job for nothing. Maybe she'd quit. Wouldn't that be funny? A hysterical sob rose in the back of her throat.

Quit and do what, exactly?

Don't be hasty, she told herself, swiping fingertips across her wet cheek. G.o.d, Tim probably thought she was a nutbar, crying like this.

"And in breakings news," the radio announcer spoke, Adam Levine done singing, "there are unconfirmed reports that drug tests have revealed ASP champion surfer Dylan Sch.e.l.l may have consumed banned substances prior to competing and winning yesterday's Jackson Cole Pro."

Brooke lurched forward in her seat. Her head whipped around to look at Tim. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah."

She stared at his frowning profile. "Did they just say what I think they said?"

"They did say unconfirmed reports."

"Oh holy hobbling Christ on a crutch."

Sitting in his hotel room, Dylan ended the call with Brooke. His face felt tight, his belly muscles rigid, a feeling of pressure building inside him. He was glad she'd called so he'd had the chance to say thank you, but he was kind of embarra.s.sed she'd found out about what he'd done so quickly. He'd thought maybe he'd be gone before she found out.

She'd probably give him s.h.i.+t and call him crazy for throwing in the towel on the sponsors.h.i.+p deal that she'd worked so hard to salvage. Now it was all for nothing. He still wasn't sure if he'd done anything good, or if it had just been another stupid screw up. But he felt better. So it had to be kinda good. Maybe. Sort of.

He tossed the phone on the bed, but as it landed, it rang. He frowned and reached for it. Brooke calling back maybe?

But no. It was Holden. Jesus, what now?

He hadn't told Holden what he was going to do, and although Holden had sat there nodding and supportive during the meeting, afterward the guy had been irate that he hadn't known. How could Dylan have told him though, when he'd had no idea until he sat in that meeting what he had to do? He'd tried to explain things to Holden after the meeting. Holden had nodded stiffly and told him he'd have to think about whether he could continue to represent him. f.u.c.k it. Now he was really on his own. The only people he hadn't alienated were Elroy and Brett.

So what was Holden calling about? To finish things off? He answered the call.

"Where are you?" Holden immediately demanded.

"I'm in the middle of a drunken orgy," Dylan said. "With twenty-seven girls."

"Shut the f.u.c.k up, this is no time for jokes. Where are you?"

Jesus. "In my hotel room."

"Alone?"

Dylan sighed and shoved his hair back. "Yes. Alone." Hadn't he just been reflecting that he was pretty much alone in the world? Boo hoo.

"I'm on my way. Don't move."

Ooookay. Dylan gave the phone a look and tossed it back onto the bed. Guess this was happening now.

The banging on the door moments later told him Holden hadn't been very far away when he'd called. He opened the door and Holden burst in. His hair was loose from its usual ponytail as if he'd run his hands through it, and his eyes blazed.

"Sit down," he bit out. "You're going to want to be sitting for this."

Dylan made a face and sat on the side of the bed. He held his arms out at his side. "I'm sitting."

"Were you smoking dope this week?"

Dylan's head jerked back. "What? No. I've barely even had a beer all week."

"Are you sure? Are you being honest with me?"

"What's going on, Holden?" Dylan's heart started thudding against his ribs.

"Positive drug test. TCP. Lionel Collier just notified me." The Rules & Discipline Judge from the ASP.

Dylan could only stare blankly at Holden. "No. That's not right."

"They're not usually wrong, Dylan. Come on."

"I swear to you Holden, I wasn't smoking. I haven't touched the stuff in...well months actually. Since before Tahiti. There's no way it would stay in my body that long."

Holden gave him a long, hard look then nodded. "Okay. We have to figure out what we're going to do about this."

Dylan's blood ran cold. "I'm gonna lose my t.i.tle, aren't I?"

"Yeah. And probably be suspended for a year. Unless we prove it's a mistake."

"s.h.i.+t." Dylan's body went numb.

Jesus Christ. Jesus f.u.c.king Christ. Could things get any worse, for f.u.c.k's sake?

He bowed his head and stared at the carpet. It was too much. He lifted his head and looked at Holden. "Just forget it. I give up. Just take a gun and shoot me."

Holden's lips twitched. "A little while ago I would have, if I'd had a gun."

"I know. I promise you, Holden, I didn't do it. But f.u.c.k, man. I'm losing my t.i.tle. I've lost my biggest sponsor."

"You didn't lose them. You dumped them. Your choice."

"Whatever. I figured I'd lost my agent. I've lost my friends. And I've lost...the woman I love. f.u.c.k, that sounds sappy."

Holden's eyebrows lifted. "You? In love?"

Dylan's lips twisted. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Brooke Lowry."

"Yeah."

"Nice gesture for her today. Stupid, but nice."

"Thanks. I'm trying to reform so I'm not just stupid, but both stupid and nice."

"s.h.i.+t, Dylan." Their eyes met and they both gave rueful smiles.

"I know." Dylan rubbed his forehead. "What happens now?"

"They do an investigation. You have the opportunity to have Sample B tested. That's the second sample they take."

Dylan nodded. He was well familiar with the testing protocol.

"You can also present a defense in writing to the Rules & Discipline Judge with an explanation of any mitigating circ.u.mstances, any physical or medical reasons for the positive drug test, and any supporting evidence."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Witnesses, doctors' notes."

"As if I'm going to have a witness who didn't see me smoke dope. That would be....oh, everybody."

Holden paced back and forth across the carpet. "You don't seriously just want to accept this, do you?"

Dylan thought about that. "I don't know. I don't f.u.c.king know. Right now, it doesn't matter. I'll probably regret saying that at some point."

"Yeah. You will. Come on, buddy. This is your life. Don't throw it away."

Another knock on the door startled him. Dylan glanced at Holden but rose to his feet and crossed to the door. When he opened it, Corey and Matt stood there.

"Whoa," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"We heard the news," Matt said. "Is it true?"

"No, it's not f.u.c.king true."

"So there wasn't a positive drug test? They said on the news it was unconfirmed."