Always Summer by Nikki Godwin Page B

that again.
    I stop on the sidewalk and take a deep
breath of Pacific Ocean air before I head down to the Drenaline
Surf tent to handle reporters and keep my surfers on schedule.
Different surf companies are set up along the beach under tents of
their own. Their surfers hang out, taking photographs with young
groms who want to grow up and be surf stars just like their idols.
Some guys are signing caps and surfboards. Some are out in the
water for a quick warm up before the competition starts. The entire
beach is buzzing with surf community energy.
    As I make my way to the Drenaline Surf tent,
I notice the hellish crowd of surf paparazzi at the tent next to
ours. My stomach twists without even seeing the logo because I know
it’s Liquid Spirit. Who in the living hell thought it’d be smart to
put them next to us?
    I slow down, hoping to catch a piece of
whatever is happening. I’d rather be prepared than walk into this
blindly.
    “…in hopes of expanding. Right now, we’re
adding local talent to our register, but we’re actively seeking
surfers from across the country. By the end of next year, we’re
hoping to be a global company with talent representing the surf
world internationally.”
    I haven’t seen the voice behind the
statement, but I’m pretty sure it’s Greg Carson. I skim the crowd,
but I don’t want to be too obvious. I’d know him if I saw him, but
just the same, he’d know me as well. I still have that envelope he
sent Topher hanging out in a box in my bedroom closet. I guess I
should’ve declined the contract, but a bigger fish was frying at
that moment.
    That international line is going to kill us,
though. We couldn’t go global even if we wanted to. Drenaline Surf
isn’t that big, and we don’t have any corporate giants trying to
team up with us. If we hadn’t landed the deal with Ocean Blast
Energy back when Vin was making deals, we probably couldn’t get
them now. Luckily, they adore Topher, and even with the drama, they
think Colby is amazing. I’m definitely pitching Logan to them soon.
He’s magazine-cover material.
    “This sucks,” Miles says as soon as I step
under the tent. “I’m like the only one who isn’t surfing
today.”
    He slings himself down onto a chair. Selling
Drenaline Surf T-shirts and last minute surf wax isn’t his idea of
a good competition. I know he’s mad because he was out of the last
one with a broken leg – and his replacement won the event – but I
can’t let him in the water with that freaking boot on.
    No one wants to see you surf anyway.
    I spin around, but I don’t know which Liquid
Spirit idiot said it. Topher is at my side immediately, staring
them down like he could ram a surfboard through them.
    “Step back,” I say through my teeth. I turn
and face him. “I know Miles is your best friend and you want to
defend him, but you’ve gotta keep it together today.”
    Topher turns his back to the enemy’s tent.
“They piss me off,” he says.
    “And they’re going to all day long,” I
remind him. “That’s what they feed on. They want to get under your
skin so you’ll do something you’ll regret.”
    He takes a deep breath. “I know. I’m going
to down some Ocean Blast and wax my backup boards,” he says.
    He walks away before I can attempt any kind
of comfort. He’s like his brother in that sense. He wants to handle
things his own way, in his own time. But I have to let him walk on
this one.
    At least we don’t surf for a cult. I don’t
know why Colby gets all the magazine interviews when Logan out
surfs him any day of the week. Why is Logan even surfing for them
anyway?
    I force a fake smile and try to tune out all
the smartass comments being shouted our way. I let Jace’s words of
wisdom rush through my brain like a waterfall rinsing away the
negativity. They’re trying to provoke us. They want a scene. I’m
able to drown them out when a guy with SurfTube asks if we have any
upcoming projects, aside from the board shop.