“I got a phone call this morning,” I saybefore I take the first bite. “From Joe McAllister, Shark’s dad.Apparently Drenaline Surf is hosting the Jake McAllister Pro at theend of the summer. There’s a sponsorship on the line. I don’t evenhave to win the event. I just have to prove that I’m good enoughfor it.”
Kaia runs her finger along her lip, wipingaway remnants of cheese sauce. “And you think this Vin guy wouldgive it to you based on your surfing alone?”
I shrug. “Vin isn’t the only one voting. Joehas a say in it. So does Rob Hodges – you know Rob, obviously.”
She nods. “He was on tour with Neil. Isn’the a shaper now? I haven’t heard much about him since he retired awhile back.”
I bite into the taco, and it’s like beingback in Horn Island, standing around the kitchen of Joe’s housewith Topher and Miles. Amazing how something as simple as tacos caninstantly throw you back into a moment.
“He’s actually working with Drenaline Surfright now,” I tell her. “He’s apprenticing Theo in board shaping.Rob didn’t have anyone else to pass his wisdom to until now.Apparently, Theo’s been sober for the last month or so. At leastthat’s what Joe is telling me.”
Kaia digs a chip around in the cheese sauce,making sure she doesn’t let a drop go to waste. “And Joe wants youto compete?”
“He does,” I say, trying not to smile likean idiot. “He said he’s been keeping tabs on me. He likes what he’sseeing, in and out of the water. He said I’ve always been one ofhis, and he thinks I should give it a run. I don’t think he’s goingto tell anyone we talked.”
This is the moment I’ve been training for.This is why I’ve had her dad in country after country, chasingswell after swell, hoping for a chance to get back to the place Ialways wanted to be. Crazy how I’ve had to travel the world just toget back to Crescent Cove and Horn Island.
“So you’re going to do it, right? I mean,you have to compete,” she tells me.
“I think so,” I say, still unsure of howit’ll go over with my former crew. “I want to, but facing themagain, on my own, freaks me the hell out.”
“But you won’t be on your own,” she says.“My dad will be there, coaching you through it. And I’ll be there.I’m not going back to my mom’s. I can’t. Not after this. I’llfigure out what I’m doing once I get there, but I’m staying with mydad, so you’re stuck with me, like it or not.”
I finish the last bite of my taco beforereaching across the picnic table and grabbing a nacho from theplatter she’s been keeping to herself.
“Not that you asked for my opinion,” I say,“but I like being stuck with you.”
Later that night, I pack up everythingexcept what I need for the plane tomorrow afternoon. Glenn and Istill plan on having our morning training session, but I feel likeit’ll be more of a free surf for both of us. He waxed his boardtonight, and he’s spent most of our sessions in the channel,letting me catch the better waves. I’m pretty sure that won’t bethe case in the morning.
I walked Kaia down to the resort so shecould leave with Sloane for one last girls’ night before we leaveSt. Catalina Island. Then I found my way to their lobby computerjust so I could print the entry form for the Jake McAllister Pro. Ican only imagine what the roster list for this event will looklike. Topher and Miles will definitely be there. Colby Taylorshould be too. They all loved Shark, and I know they’ll be gunningfor the win.
I take the form back to the bungalow to readover the fine print, but it really doesn’t make a difference. I’dtrade my left kidney for a spot in this competition. I grab a penfrom the living room and fill out the information, sign my name onthe dotted line, and hope the next time I’m filling out paperworkfor Drenaline Surf, it’ll be a sponsorship contract.
Chapter Thirteen – Kaia
My alarm goes off far too early, muchearlier than I’d prefer, but it’s our last day on St. CatalinaIsland, and there’s one thing I need to do that I haven’t done yet.I change into my bikini and grab a bar of surf wax off the livingroom table. Then I proceed to Dad’s board bag because I knowthere’s an unwaxed board hidden away at the bottom.
I retrieve it and use some elbow grease tomake sure I haven’t lost my waxing touch. I haven’t surfed sincelast summer since Mom lives in a landlocked state, but every year,when I think I’ve lost my ability to pop up on a wave, I’mpleasantly surprised when I realize I haven’t lost the froth.
I think Dominic was right about surf genes.I just prefer that people not know. When you grow up surrounded bylegends, people place expectations on you that are unrealistic.Being Glenn Anderson’s daughter doesn’t mean I’m destined to be asurfer, but it also doesn’t mean I can’t surf.
“I knew you’d give in,” Dad says, strollinginto the living room. “Couldn’t leave the island without at leastone surf with your dear old dad.”
The truth is, summers with Dad areabout sneaking out and partying with locals. It’s about the tanlines and smell of chlorine. It’s about the smell of charcoal andwatching fireflies. But it’s also about early morningsunrises, catching waves that he didn’t think I’d be brave enoughto paddle into, and realizing that year after year, since I wasfive, I’m still the surf coach’s daughter who hasn’t lost hertouch.
Surfing with Dad has always been just thetwo of us, so having a beautiful rich boy take my place in thelineup wasn’t exactly easy to accept. But Dad never coached me.With me, it was quality time. It wasn’t a job, which is probably agood thing because I much prefer him as my dad rather than acoach.
“You’re gonna have
