Page 33 of The King Contract
“Were you really that bad?” Millie tilts her head, her eyes narrowed like she’s trying to read my thoughts.
“Yes. The flack I got was warranted. I’ve got no one to blame but myself.” I shrug. “I’ve finally learned to let go of things I can’t control. Like what others think of me.”
“Says the man who is paying someone to help change his image because he wants people to like him.” Millie rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile playing on her lips.
“I want to be in charge of the narrative,” I explain. “Sometimes people say they don’t buy into what the media say, but that’s a load of shit. People talk. Opinions are formed and swayed by tittle-tattle. I have things I want to do with my life after surfing and it took nearly losing everything to realise how much I had to lose. It might even be too late.”
Millie quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“This.” I wave a hand between us. “This is a longshot, I know that, but I’m hoping to whatever god there is it helps me get back into people’s good graces. Not because I’m a greedy fucker or that I care about people liking me, but so I can stay in this industry long after I’ve retired. That I can make enough money to take care of my family and the next generation of Kings. Plus, I want to . . .” I suck in a breath.
“You want to . . . ?” Millie prompts.
It’s not that I’m embarrassed by my ideas outside of my career. Far from it. But it’s that they’re only ideas. I made sure to add a non-disclosure agreement in our contract and Millie doesn’t strike me as the type to blab regardless, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t let some information slip. And I don’t want to share those things without having a plan first.
“I want a life after surfing,” I finally answer. “I’m not going to be able to do this forever.”
I can sense Millie surveying the side of my face, but she doesn’t push the subject. “That’s smart. It’s good to have plans in place.”
“What about your plans, Maelstrom?” I deflect. “What’re you going to spend my hard-earned cash on?”
She pulls her camera from her bag. “It’s going to cover off some of my aunt’s medical bills and go towards a renovation of the café. Ellis floated the idea of selling it.”
I glance at her. “What do you think?”
Millie hums as she thinks. “I grew up there. It’s my childhood, my adolescence. It’s my second home. My aunt is in the walls of that store, and it’s filled with wonderful memories. But sometimes I wonder if I hold on to things when I should let them go.”
She stares down at her camera before sensing my gaze on her. “This is getting too deep. Let’s talk about your foolish partying ways again.”
I laugh and I oblige her, giving her the run-down of some of the most intense experiences of my life on the way to her house. Competing against some of the world’s biggest names in surfing, hanging backstage at Coachella, having promiscuous sex with supermodels and actresses alike.
When we arrive and I kill the engine, she looks surprised at how much I’ve divulged. “I thought sex-parties peaked during the time of the Roman Empire. I’m obviously living a very sheltered life.”
“Sex parties can be great. Using too much cocaine during a sex party? Not so much. As a man you, uh, struggle to perform.”
Millie shakes her head in disbelief. “How did you not get busted for drugs during the competitive season?”
“Cocaine doesn’t stay in your system for very long,” I reply. “I was doing it recreationally and not near competition dates. It was a short-lived bad habit of mine, I swear. Still, so stupid.”
“At least we both agree on that,” she quips.
I jut my chin at the camera still clasped in her hands. “Did you get any good ones?”
She looks surprised, almost as if she forgot she was holding it. “I hope so. I’m going to go straight inside and comb through them. I’ll send you any good ones.”
We climb out of the car and walk towards her front door. “Thank you for tonight,” she says. “I don’t know what can of worms we’ve opened, but here’s hoping I don’t regret it.”
“People are nosy and curious, but you don’t need to worry,” I assure her.
Millie gives me a flat smile. “You know, every time you tell me not to worry, my anxiety goes up a level?”
I grin. “You’ll trust me soon enough.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves a dismissive hand, stopping at the door. “Thank you for taking me out on my first,firstdate in years.” Millie holds her hand out and I raise my eyebrows.
“If Ellis looks out the window or someone followed us home, a handshake is going to look dodgy as hell.”
She drops her hand and looks around, concern etched on her face. “You think we were followed?”
