Page 103 of The King Contract
“Millie doesn’t strike me as the type to need undivided attention, just enough attention,” Callum points out. “Why don’t you ask her to come with you on the tour?”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind to invite her. Not because I wouldn’t want her there, but because it seems like such a big leap after only reallyknowing each other for a few months. And I’d been adamant about not having time or capacity for a girlfriend a couple of months ago. I’m mindful of not getting caught up in a whirlwind.
“Don’t overthink it,” Callum instructs. “It’s about communication, remember?”
I laugh. Mack’s advice is something everyone is taking these days—something I never thought possible.
“Alright.” I finish my beer and stand, rubbing my hands together. “Let’s go schmooze.”
Callum and I leave the safety of our booth, jogging down the steps and making our way across the wide-open floor. I recognise several people as I make my way through the crowd. A couple of actors, several influencers and an Aussie guy who was recently drafted for the NBA. He reaches out to bump my fist as I pass, and I oblige, promising to have a chat with him soon.
As I approach the foot of the stairs to the main booth, I take a deep breath. I’m usually confident talking to anyone. I’ve charmed my way out of several tricky situations in my time, but my recent bout of bad behaviour looms over my head as I approach the team at Salt Skin.
Sam D’Costa, one of the founders, spots me first and to my surprise, his face brightens. He stands as I approach and shakes my hand. “Noah King, how are you, mate? It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I reply. I introduce him to Callum, and they shake hands. “Thanks for having us. This gig is great.”
“Yeah, they did a good job in pulling it together.” He leans in closer. “We legit had no involvement in any of it and think it’s a bithow ya goin’, but apparently it’s good for business.”
Callum and I chuckle, relaxing at his casual demeanour. Callum was right. These guysarelike us. “Well, thank you for having us here. I might sound like a schmuck, but I genuinely love your surf gear. It’s great to see Australians making waves in the industry, so to speak.”
“Cheers, man. Can I get you fellas a drink?”
Sam directs us towards the bucket filled with ice, an array of drinks on display. We both help ourselves to another zero-alcohol beer and take a seat at the end of the booth.
Sam introduces us to some of his friends, and eventually, his best mate and co-founder Toby McAllister, and I relax as the four of us jump into chatter about surfing.
“I’ve never been to Nazaré for the big surf,” Toby shares. “Maybe this year.”
“It’s worth it,” I assure him.
When I was fifteen, my dad took me to Portugal to watch the big wave surfers and it was the most surreal thing I’ve ever experienced. Watching human beings enter the ocean and carving down waves over seventy feet high takes your breath away. The skill required to handle that element of danger is baffling and when I stood there, drenched from the rain, watching with my hands in my hair, I felt nothing but immense pride and respect.
“Those big wave guys are insane,” Callum says. “I don’t have the balls.”
Sam nods vigorously. “I’ll stick to designing clothes and surfing on weekends, thanks.”
“How involved are you guys with the design process of your brand?” I ask. “Do you come in right at the beginning with concepts, or do you have a team that brings in ideas?”
“We’re there right at the beginning,” Toby replies. “Although it’s a stretch to say we’re designers. We have ideas and our amazing designers sketch them, and our team brings them to life.”
“It’s insanely hard work,” Sam adds, chortling. “I underestimated how much was involved. But it’s turned out great for us.”
“You’re killing it.” I glance at Callum, who gives me a slight nod of encouragement. “Look, I know you have people coming at you from all angles, wanting to be included in what you’ve created. You’ve got people who’ve had much more desirable press in recent months than me.”
The four of us boys agreed going forward that open communication was the best course for me salvaging my reputation. I don’t have to pour everything out like an open wound, but transparency is surely going to get me further than schmoozing.
“I deserve nothing from you,” I continue, clutching the glass bottle in my hand. “But I want to tell you I love what you’ve created. I respect what you represent in terms of oceanic and environmental protection and most of all, that a percentage of your proceeds go to local youth clubs. Running a surf camp for kids is something I’ve been working on for a while, and it’s important to me that kids get to experience the stuff I took for granted. As a kidandas an adult.” I sigh, looking at the bottle between my palms. “I’ve made some huge fuckups in my time and I’m not proud of them. But if you’d be open to it, I would love you to consider me for potential collaborations.”
Sam twists his lips in thought before glancing to Toby, who’s leaning forward on his thighs, taking me in. The seconds stretch out for an impossibly tortuous time, the music and chatter around us barely coming into focus.
“I nearly crossed you off the guest list,” Toby says directly.
I swallow the lump in my throat but steady my expression as best I can. “I can understand that. Why didn’t you?”
Toby thrusts a thumb in Sam’s direction. “This guy reminded me of what I was like a few years ago.”
Sam grins. “He was a menace. Still is.”
