Out in the Surf (Out in College 9)

But he still had those unused lessons. And though it wasn’t Jay’s policy to send out reminders, I did it anyway. The problem was…I didn’t have his number. Zoe’s was all over the contact sheet. Not Luca’s. I couldn’t decide if it seemed stalkerish to try to reach him through his friend, so I did something even weirder and called the number on the initial purchase order.

Yep, I called his mom. Like I was tattling on him or something. She thanked me for the heads-up and promised to let him know.

However, once again, the real question was, why would I go through all that effort for a guy who wanted to be left alone? I had other things on my plate, for fuck’s sake. Big things…a competition to prepare for, a few custom boards to finish and deliver. And since Jay had confirmed that he was serious about selling his business to me, I had to get my finances in order.

Naturally, my mind wandered to bolstering my savings account. I needed the commission from those boards and prize money from the competition to hit my goal. If everything went according to plan, I’d have it within a couple of months. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be the proud owner of The Sand and Surf Shop after the holidays.

Happy visions of wearing a Santa hat while sanding boards and pausing to take orders for new ones next holiday season made me smile.

I’d rented the apartment above Jay’s shop for years. Other than a short stint at college and the few months I’d shacked up with an ex-girlfriend in San Diego, I’d always lived in Seal Beach. My folks actually still lived on 10th Street in the same house where they’d raised my brother and me. Property values had skyrocketed around them, and most of their old neighbors had cashed out a while ago, but according to my parents, they weren’t going anywhere.

Neither was I.

This was my hometown, my beach, my corner of civilization. I wanted to stay where my roots were and do something meaningful. Like own a surf shop. More specifically, I wanted to take over Jay’s store.

Jay had gone from crafting surf gear to catering primarily to tourists. I understood that it was necessary to adjust the focus of the business to stay afloat, but in my opinion, he left a lot of money on the table. He had one foot out the door and his eye on retirement. He didn’t care about developing a social media presence or taking a bigger role in sponsoring local surf events.

I did. Jay had agreed to sell it to me if I could close escrow at the beginning of the year. It was tight but very doable. With any luck, I could play Superman and save a neighborhood institution before some idiot trendsetter opened yet another bougie ice cream parlor selling twenty-dollar pints of rocky-fucking-road.

I was so into my internal ice cream rant that I didn’t notice the lifeguard hailing me, waving both arms above his head, until I bumped into him.

Rex greeted me with a fist bump. “Whoa, someone is either sleepy or in need of a serious caffeine boost.”

“Or both. I need an early night,” I admitted, propping my board in the sand lengthwise and observing my friend.

Rex was six two like me and had roughly the same swimmer’s build. His wavy beach-blond hair was longer, though, and his curls usually spilled out the sides of his ubiquitous baseball cap. But his infectious smile was the first thing anyone noticed about him. Rex was the jolliest dude I’d ever met. Nothing got him down for long. People like that were good for the soul.

“Not tonight, amigo. We promised to go to Lance’s show in Long Beach. Do not try to bow out.”

“What time is his band going on?”

“Nine p.m.” Rex chuckled when I groaned aloud. “Take a nap, old man. There’s a big group of us going to dinner first. I’ll pick you up.”

“No, thanks. I’ll meet you there.” I rolled my eyes at his dubious huff. “I promise.”

“Hmph. You’ve been bailing on us a lot lately, dude. Too much work isn’t good for you,” Rex singsonged.

That was a mildly entertaining statement coming from a guy who lifeguarded part-time in the summer and spent the rest of his time working on some action-thriller script. Don’t get me wrong—I wished Rex nothing but success. But he came from a different world with a family fortune that was so old, he wasn’t quite sure where it came from.

Rex had grown up on a yacht and spent summers surfing North Shore in Oahu then moved to Long Beach for college and became a lifeguard. He’d requested to work Seal Beach so he could surf before his shifts, and that was how we’d gotten to know each other.