Page 117 of The King Contract
It’s been almost a week since that fateful night. A few months ago, I would’ve killed to be where I am right now. People desperate for interviews, brands reaching out to promote ciders or surf gear or awareness of water safety. Free promo packages are crammed into the PO Box Mack arranged, where he lugs them back to our hired house every day, calling dibs on his favourite items.
Not even staring out at the ocean, smelling the brine and listening to the crash of the waves, can distract me from the guilt and sadness that envelops me. Not only did I hurt my best friend, but I miss her so much it aches.
I haven’t texted or called her, because I want to respect her wishes. But it’s been so hard. I’ve picked up my phone to contact her more times than I can count.
My phone buzzes in my hand and disappointment floods my veins when I see the message from my lawyer.
Lawyer Bob
Morning, Noah. $50,000 AUD has successfully transferred to Millie Schofield’s account, as requested. Regards, Bob.
Me
Cheers, Bob.
The past few days have been a whirlwind I’d rather forget. Mack organised a carefully crafted break-up post with Millie without my knowledge. She shared a photo of the two of us smiling, with a caption that said we broke up in the new year and we’re still friends. Seeing it pop up brought on a bout of nausea; not only because the entire thing was fabricated, but because I know she would’ve been fuming about lying.
Comments from the public are a mix of those thinking I used Millie to get back with Sofia, and those over the moon thatSofia and I are reportedly back together. Mack says the general consensus from the public is our relationship was nothing more than a summer fling, and while Millie’s likely to be under a bit of scrutiny for a few more weeks, it’ll fade quickly.
At least there’s that. Part of me is waiting for a call from the World Surfing Association to tell me I’m out of the Championship Tour because I cause too much drama. I didn’t vomit, fight or drink drive though, so maybe causing a cheating scandal with your ex is acceptable. Sofia’s fans are loyal to a fault and would only increase viewership and numbers for the tour. I can only assume that’s why Toby and Sam from Salt Skin haven’t pulled the plug either.
Despite the shitshow, I can only hope the money will help Millie out in the ways she initially hoped. That it will offer some relief and she doesn’t do something stubborn like not spend it out of principle.
Mack slows as we near the entrance of the building, holding an arm out to stop me. “King, hold up. We don’t have to do any of these interviews if you don’t want to.”
I quirk an eyebrow in disbelief. “As if.”
“It doesn’t mean I won’t lecture you about it for weeks on end,” Mack replies. “But I hate seeing you like this. And if I can see it, other people will see it too. You look broken.”
I hang my head, staring at the cement pavement beneath my feet. “Ihatewhat this whole thing has done to Millie. You should’ve seen her. It was like talking to a robot. She thinks I lied the whole time for a quick fuck. I’m such a screw-up.”
Mack gives me a sympathetic slap on the shoulder. “No, you’re not mate.”
“Yes, I am,” I insist. “I don’t need you guys making excuses for me. I need to own the fact I made countless mistakes recently. Maybe I’m not meant to bounce back from them. Maybe karma is saying, no, you had your chance.”
I plop down on the front steps and squint ahead, the sun beaming down on the back of my neck. It might be winter in Hawaii, but it’s still warm, the sun beating down like she does all year round. “I don’t want to beKing Fuckboyanymore, Mack.”
I should never have gotten Millie involved or gone past the point of pretend if I wasn’t one hundred percent ready for the fallout. I know things never end well once you cross that line, and I did it anyway. I didn’t foresee caring about Millie as much I do.
Mack joins me on the steps, hooking his arms around his knees. “You haven’t beenKing Fuckboyfor months, buddy.”
I chortle. “Yeah, and I let down one of the key players in making that happen.”
Mack shakes his head. “Nah, you’ve been sorting yourself out for months. You’re self-aware, and working on the surf school idea, been present with us . . . you’ve been working hard.”
I glance at him. “Couldn’t have done it without you boys, either.”
Mack’s blue eyes gleam. “Mostly me, but yes, that’s true.”
It’s the first time I’ve genuinely laughed in a week. “I miss her.” The words tumble out of my mouth unexpectedly, a lump forming in my throat.
Mack nods. “I know.”
“I should’ve fought harder to make her see.”
“Maybe you still can,” Mack suggests. “She might just need some time to cool off.”
I drop my head in my hands and pull at the roots, groaning. “Maybe.”
