Page 5 of The King Contract
The floor to ceiling windows across the eastern wall of my house give me a perfect view of the waves angrily crashing below. Rain batters on the roof and the trees whip furiously in the wind. I’ve only been back in Australia for a couple of weeks, and I’ve even managed to piss off the weather.
I crack my neck. “Don’t worry, I’m pissed at me too.”
Whilst I technically don’tneedsponsors as a professional surfer, they sure as shit help. Every surfer worth their salt is proudly sponsored by reputable brands covering an array of costs for the athlete. I’ve had contracts with surf brands, energy drinks, natural food companies. Even beer. As it stands, alcohol brands wouldn’t touch me. I’m too much of a liability.
Some people think the surfing world is all about family, friendships and the love of the sport. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a huge part of it, but anyone telling you it isn’t a billion-dollar business is lying through their teeth. If you want to make decent money, you’ve got to win competitions andbe likeable enough that brands and companies want to work with you.
And I want to work with them. Whilst twenty-seven years of age might be young to some, it’s old compared to the teenage flesh and blood coming up through the ranks. Soon there’ll be no room for an old guy like me.
I yank open the fridge door and stare at the shelves of beer bottles and a leftover Thai takeaway container. If I hadn’t spent the past six months pissing my money and reputation down the drain because I got caught up in the fame of it all, I wouldn’t be in this mess. If only the press had seen I helped another human being this morning. An insufferable one, but a human, nonetheless.
“Fuck’s sake,” I hiss, slamming the fridge shut.
A grunt sounds from behind me, and I turn to see my best mate Dan Fisher lumber inside. “What’d you do this time?”
“Just thinking of what a giant cock-up I am.”
He nods. “Probably overdue.”
Dan’s been my best mate since we were twelve. We met on a bitter winter morning at the beach after coming out of the icy water at the same time. I’d gotten a ride with my older brother Jared and while we were desperately peeling off our winter skins and staying close to the open engine for warmth, Dan appearedfrom a few car spaces over with a thermos of hot chocolate to share. I knew then we’d be mates for life.
Six foot four of pure muscle; it’s a wonder how Dan looks graceful on a surfboard. Not only is he a staunch friend and my certified physiotherapist, he’s the one who stormed into the L.A. party and dragged my ass out of there, shoving me into the shower to sober up. He went with me to my meeting with the CEO of the World Surfing Association a couple of days later and then got me on a plane home.
“How’s the surf?” he asks.
I frown, remembering my run in with the high-school do-gooder. “I’ve had better.”
The memory of my interaction with Millie creates a flurry of unexpected emotions in my body. Excitement, anger, nostalgia, confusion, embarrassment. Imagining her dark brown eyes narrowing at me, her breath huffing in annoyance, makes my blood boil.
I lean against the kitchen island. “Do you think I’m a cliché?”
Dan quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Do you think I’m predictable? Like, I’m the same as I was at school?”
“I didn’t go to your school.”
“But you knew me. Do you think I’m the same? That I’m easy to read?”
Dan folds his arms across his body. “I’ve known you for fifteen years.”
“And?”
“I can tell when you’re excited and when you’re lying. I know when you’re into a woman or when you think a bloke is being a cretin. So, yeah. You’re easy to read. You’ve been that way since I met you.”
“Damn it.”
He frowns. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
The sound of the front door bursting open ricochets down the hallway, our friends’ voices hollering as they scramble inside. It’s rarely quiet when those two are around. Dan and I haven’t known Mack and Callum for as long as each other, but they became fast friends with us when we met in Hawaii five years ago. Mack had graduated from studying PR and sports management, and Callum was lining up work as a sports nutritionist and personal trainer. In a matter of months, they joined my team as ‘staff’. I use that term loosely. The four of us mostly surf and hang out, doing our best to keep each other out of trouble. That was until I decided to ignore every single person around me.
Callum enters the kitchen first, flicking his brown hair out of his eyes whilst swiping at his phone. Mack follows with a shit-eating grin on his face, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Where’s your phone?”
