Always Summer (9 page)

“We win, though,” Topher says. “We all have
each other, and we have Drenaline Surf. Who cares if Dominic is in
Hawaii or Tahiti or wherever?”

Everyone nods in agreement, and another
racecar takes off.

The chandeliers sparkle above us, casting
tiny dots of lights on the white marble flooring. I inhale and
exhale, as steadily as possible, keeping my legs crossed so maybe
my nervousness won’t show.
Be a professional, Haley. Fake it for
today.

“Will you stop stressing out?” A.J. whispers
next to me. “You’re making me nervous, and I’m already
sweating.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but A.J. is so out of
his element today. He wears khaki pants – that Alston had to iron
for him – and a button-up white shirt that his tattoos still show
through because it’s thin. But he made the effort to look like a
professional today, and I’m proud of him for it.

Jace, on the other hand, looks like he’s
done this a million times as he stands at the check-in counter of
Florence Gardens Inn announcing our arrival.

“Fucking chandeliers,” A.J. mumbles under
his breath. “You know, there used to be giant tea cups sitting
around here.”

His eyes glaze over with nothing short of
red anger. Instead of teacups and crazy mirrors, this place is now
full of live plants, beautiful flowers, and fish tanks full of
brightly colored salt-water fishes. If they’d replace that
store-bought painting with some of Shark McAllister’s photography,
this place would be spectacular…for a hotel that destroyed my best
friend’s sacred grounds. On second thought, they don’t deserve
Shark’s pictures.

Jace looks over and motions us toward him.
The girl behind the front desk leads us to an office with a huge
back glass rather than a wall. Whoever sits across from the manager
has a perfectly gorgeous view of the beach. What a marketing
strategy.

“Hi, I’m Jace Hudson. We’re with Drenaline
Surf,” Jace says, stretching his arm across the desk to shake hands
with the hotel manager. He quickly introduces us, making sure he
adds our business titles behind our names, and we take a seat.

“I’m Margaret Pearson,” the lady across the
desk says. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Something about her strikes me down
instantly. She’s an older lady, maybe in her early sixties, and
she’s dressed in a suit that could’ve come out of Colby’s mom’s
wardrobe. Her lipstick is a bright shade of coral, and I’m pretty
sure Emily would have something to say about how it’s the wrong
shade to wear with that ugly tan pantsuit.

She folds her hands and speaks before Jace
even has a chance to slide the Drenaline Surf brochure across her
desk.

“We’re all so honored that a longstanding
local business would reach out to us for a partnership, and while
we think it’d be a great source of business for both of us, I’m
afraid we have a few concerns,” she says.

Damn. This lady doesn’t play. I’m sure she’s
seen the local news. The gossip mill around Crescent Cove is on a
constant spin cycle. I’m prepared, though. I can defend the ordeal
with Colby’s parents. I can carefully word a rehearsed speech about
Vin’s departure. I can even BS some line about how we’re hoping
this will help us expand and allow us to branch out and find new
talent. Go ahead, lady. Throw it at me. I’ve got this.

“I believe that there are always two sides
to every story, so I haven’t paid any mind to the things being said
around town,” she informs us. “However, one thing has been brought
to our attention that I don’t believe your public relations
department can weave into a misunderstanding.”

Jace clears his throat. “What exactly are
you referring to?” he asks.

Her eyes shift to A.J. and then back to
Jace. “I hate to have this conversation right here, but it’s been
brought to our attention that your manager has a criminal record,”
she says.

Oh, hell no. I know this crazy bitch didn’t
just go there. How in the hell did she even find out about that?
A.J.’s record is sealed. He was under eighteen. Even the idiotic
charges from Topher’s joyride were dropped because there were no
grounds for an arrest.

A.J. jumps up from his chair before my brain
even finishes processing this information. He kicks the chair back
behind him.

“I don’t have a criminal record,” he says,
pressing both palms against the edge of her fancy oak wood desk.
“But I’ll let you know damn quick that if you want to talk about my
record, we can sure as hell create one right here and now.”

I stand and grab his arm, unsure of what I’m
going to do if he actually decides to lunge for this woman.

“Let’s go outside,” I tell him, giving him a
mild tug.

He pulls his arm free from my grasp, though,
and leans forward. “You don’t know what you’ve done coming in
here,” A.J. says, never taking his eyes away from the manager. “You
and Florence and whoever the fucking hell you brought in here,
you’re all going to regret this. You will regret ever building on
my grounds!”

This!
This
is why A.J. didn’t want to
come here.
This
is why he didn’t want to make the phone call
or be the manager for this meeting. As much as I hate that this is
happening, I’m so glad Jace is here to see firsthand that there are
certain lines you just can’t cross with A.J. Gonzalez, and this was
one of them.

I push him back away from the desk, but I
don’t dare speak. Instead, I push him toward the door in a crazed
hurry, hoping the wild animal glare in his eyes will fade once
we’re outside and away from these shiny marbled floors.

The sunlight dips down and swoops under the
canopy of palm trees, shedding just enough light onto A.J.’s face
for me to see the pain written on his skin.

“Are you okay?” I ask. It seems like we all
ask that a lot these days.

He shakes his head. “I lost it. I’m sorry. I
completely fucking lost it,” he says. He looks down, still shaking
his head, like he’s not quite sure what happened in there.

The same words continue to run together as
he speaks – he lost it, he’s sorry, he just lost it, he’s sorry,
Jace is going to kill him, and he’s sorry.

“Fucking Pittman,” he mutters. He balls his
hand into a fist but stops before he actually punches anything
around us. “How is this happening to me? I’m finally doing
everything right, and this is the shit I get for it?”

I comb through the recent days in my mind,
checking each file for any type of clue as to how this actually
happened. Why would someone inform Florence Gardens Inn about
A.J.’s past? It doesn’t even matter if he had a juvenile record.
That thing is sealed. It’s over and done.

“You think he did it?” A.J. asks.

“Who?” I question.

“Pittman,” he says, as if it’s the obvious
answer. “I bet he warned them about me. Probably said I’d show up
over here and act a fool because of where they built. They’re
probably in there calling him right now. Got him on speed dial.
He’s just waiting for me to lose it so he can haul me in and make
it permanent.”

I never, ever thought I’d say it, but I
actually hope it was Pittman this time. At least then I could just
blame it on his hatred for A.J. and his need to bring my best
friend down. But this isn’t the work of Crescent Cove’s finest
officer. Everything inside of me knows better.

“I don’t think so,” I admit, unable to look
A.J. in the eye. “Whoever did this knew we were coming today to
talk to them about a partnership. I think it’s the same person who
is trying to run Drenaline Surf through the mud. Liquid Spirit or
Dominic or whoever it is behind all of this. Colby’s parents maybe?
I don’t know. But I really don’t think this was Pittman. I think
this is related to the bigger picture.”

When Jace finally exits the hotel, he’s much
calmer than I expected him to be. Even Vin would’ve laid into A.J.
for saying the things he did in there. It wouldn’t have mattered if
they were in the wrong.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jace says,
unlocking his truck. He gets into the driver’s side seat and cranks
up, his face serious the entire time.

“I’m sorry,” A.J. says from the
backseat.

Jace shakes his head and glances behind him
before backing out of his parking spot and burning rubber in the
newly paved parking lot.

“Fuck them,” Jace says. “That bitch had the
nerve to say she’d hold a signing for Logan or ‘one of the other
wholesome boys’ as long as A.J. wasn’t on the premises. Then she
offered to put brochures in their lobby.”

I wait with baited breath to hear if he
actually agreed to this. I know we need some good publicity, but I
won’t stand for it at the cost of A.J.’s reputation.

Jace shakes his head again. “I told her I
should’ve trusted A.J.’s instinct from the beginning and never even
attempted to do business with them. I said that Drenaline Surf
didn’t need to be associated with a company like that. Then I
thanked her for her time and left.”

A.J. leans forward, in between the front
seats. “So you’re not mad at me?” he asks.

Jace smirks. “Well, you probably shouldn’t
have screamed the word ‘fucking’ in there, but hell – fuck it. I’m
with you. I’ve got your back,” he says.

And with that, Jace wins the award for best
boss.

A media circus awaits us at the new
location. TV crews, media vans, and reporters hover around waiting
for the big announcement. They probably think this is going to be a
press conference where we allow the media vultures to pick apart
what’s left of our reputation and dignity. They’re here hoping to
get the scoop on Colby’s parents, Logan’s ostracism, Vin’s
departure, or possibly even A.J.’s criminal record. They’ll
probably be disappointed to learn that we’re opening a board
shop.

Jace, Topher, and Kale help set up the
podium and a bright red ribbon for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.
Jace connects the sound system, and my heart breaks a little bit
when I see how much more comfortable he is doing that than he is
standing as Drenaline Surf’s man-in-charge. Even though the music
store hasn’t officially closed down, they’re only open three days a
week, and they have a ‘last day’ set in stone.

“So, do we just stand here and look good?”
Alston asks. He and A.J. match in their Drenaline Surf polo shirts
and khaki pants. Alston definitely looks more professional,
though.

“Yes,” I say. I push my sunglasses up into
my hair. “Do every single thing you can to make Drenaline Surf look
good.”

I remain close to my manager roommates to
avoid being asked questions by the media. This isn’t the moment for
a press statement. Luckily, they keep their distance, talking among
themselves, most likely guessing what our big news may be.

Soon after, Joe, the mayor of Crescent Cove,
and the chief of police gather around the podium. The mayor
welcomes everyone and thanks them for coming out today to join us
for a special occasion. The chief of police follows, instructing
the media to hold all questions until the end of the presentation
to avoid any chaos.

Then Joe takes to the podium. He repeats the
mayor’s thanks before speaking.

“Many of you knew my son Jake and watched
Drenaline Surf rise from the ground up,” he says. “What you may not
know is that he always dreamed of expanding, opening another store,
and hopefully having a board shop of his own. It saddens me that he
did not live to see it happen, but I’m honored to be surrounded by
such an amazing group of people who believe in Jake’s dream and
have worked hard to help continue the vision my son had.”

An eruption of applause surrounds us. I skim
the crowd to see a lot of Drenaline Surf regulars standing among
the people. Looks like the media wasn’t the only group interested
in what we were doing next. Both Horn Island and Crescent Cove
residents stand in the crowd.

“It’s such an honor to announce that we’ll
be opening the very first Drenaline Surf Board Shop right here in
Crescent Cove,” Joe announces. “We will begin ground work and
renovation this week and plan to open in the fall. Right now, I’d
like to welcome a few people on stage who have helped to make this
dream a reality.”

He invites Rob Hodges onstage, along with
Theo. Rob speaks briefly about his career as a professional surfer
and moves along into the conversation about board shaping after his
retirement. He then publicizes his plans to share his knowledge and
wisdom with Theo to help Drenaline Surf branch out into the world
of board shaping.

“I don’t look at this as the end of the era
of Rob Hodges surfboards but as the beginning of the era of Theo
Rowell surfboards,” Rob proclaims.

Theo stands awkwardly on stage next to his
mentor while Joe takes the mic and asks Jace and Alston to come
onstage as well, as the respective boss man and future board shop
manager. Once they’ve gathered, the mayor presents Joe with a
shovel. Camera flashes bounce off the old windows of
Mallard
Brothers Automotive
as the media crews snap the moment that red
ribbon is officially cut. A large sign is staked in the ground next
to the site. The words ‘Future Home of Drenaline Surf Board Shop’
pop in big, bold letters.

“Looks official,” A.J. says. “What do you
think?”

I drop my shades back over my eyes. “I think
I’m getting out of here before the media locates me for a statement
on something that isn’t board shop related.”

As I make my way along the back of the
crowd, keeping my eyes focused toward where my car is parked across
the street in the sand, I hear Topher shout my name. I spin around
as he runs toward me.

“Wait!” he yells out. “You have to see this.
Come here. Where’s A.J.?”

I lead him back around the crowd of people,
most of who have dispersed and are lingering around discussing what
kinds of boards they hope they can get this fall. A.J. stands off
to the side of the stage. I know he’s waiting on Alston, who is
trapped in a professional moment of hand-shaking and smiles with
the mayor.