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She rolls her eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that. It’s creepy.”
“Whatever you say, snookums.”
Once all the guests have arrived, and all the food and cake has been eaten, and all the children have bounced away their excess energy, it’s time for Lindsay and me to perform an episode of Charmed Life. I pull her into the downstairs bathroom to go over the lines we rehearsed while she was “waxing my board” earlier.
I’m dressed in a pair of Lindsay’s leggings, which are so tight around my junk that they’re cutting a major wedgie through my asscrack. And just like Grayson’s love interest, Annie, I’m wearing a ginger wig and Pokémon T-shirt, tied at the side of my waist, which I found online last week. I don’t know why kids these days think it’s ironic to wear ’90s fashion when they weren’t even alive back then.
Meanwhile, Lindsay has pulled her hair back into a bun at the base of her neck and she’s wearing one of my gray Gucci blazers, with the sleeves rolled up because they’re way too long on her. She even packed a couple of backpacks with school supplies for us to carry, just like Grayson and Annie. And she went to the trouble of painting a mustache on herself even though Grayson’s baby-soft face shows not a single sign of puberty.
“I find you oddly sexy right now,” I say, wiping a smudge of brown eyeliner off her upper lip.
She grabs her crotch and casts a sexy glare in my direction. “Want to bend over so Grayson can put his super-small pencil in your super-big pencil box?”
I cringe at her offer. “Yeah, I think I’ll wait until you’ve washed the Grayson off your face.”
She grabs my hand as I reach for the bathroom door handle. “Wait.” She looks up at me with a worried expression. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, look at what happened to Grayson—I mean, Jason. You know someone out there is going to get this on video and upload it to Facebook as soon as they leave the party.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me if I’m sure about this? You do remember who you’re married to, don’t you? Do you think I give a flying fuck if people see me dressed like a girl for the sake of my daughter’s birthday party?” I shake my head and hand her my backpack. “You know me better than that, Grayson. Now carry my books.”
Except for a couple of moments where Grayson forgets his lines, the skit goes off without a hitch. And the party ends with Mila falling asleep in her aunt Lena’s lap while most of Kaia’s friends congratulate her for having such cool parents. As Lindsay carries Mila upstairs to our bed, and I look around the living room at all the smiling faces as they gather their things, it’s hard not to notice the glum look on Lena’s face as she and Yuri head to the coat closet to grab her purse.
I plant a loud kiss on Kaia’s forehead. “Take all your new toys upstairs and start getting ready for bed. I’ll be up in a little while to say good night.”
She throws her arms around my waist and hugs me tightly. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“For what, baby?”
“For being the best daddy.”
I smile as my heart clenches. “It’s easy when I’ve got the best daughter.” I squeeze her tightly and kiss the top of her head. “I love you, birthday girl. Now go upstairs. I’ll be up soon.”
She grins as she gathers up a few of her toys and races up the wooden stairs.
I bid the last couple of stragglers good night as Lena and Yuri stand on the porch waiting for me. I sense the tension before anyone even says a word, but I’m too afraid to acknowledge it, so I opt for a safer topic instead.
“See you tomorrow morning?” I ask Lena. “Gotta get out there early. Can’t let Carlos shake up the seeds.”
“I’ll be there,” she replies, looking me straight in the eye. “And Yuri and I will both be there in Trestles.”
I nod. “Good. You have your room and everything worked out?”
She shoots Yuri a glance, but he’s too busy staring at something on his phone to notice. “The room is booked,” she says, finally looking up at me. “We’ll be there all twelve days.”
I turn to Yuri. “What are you doing, man? Playing Candy Crush?”
“Dude, are you for real?” Yuri replies. “Candy Crush is so over. It’s all about Doodle Bugs now. You have to draw something by smashing bugs and using their blood as paint. The person you’re playing against has to guess what you’re drawing.”
“That’s fucking disgusting,” I reply. “Can I play?”
Lena shakes her head as she sets off down the steps toward their jeep. “Come on, Yuri. It’s past your bedtime.”
Yuri shrugs. “Another time,” he says, descending the porch steps to follow Lena. “Sweet T-shirt, bro. It goes with your silky mane. That’s a good look for you.”
“This is me starting a trend. You saw it here first,” I reply, blowing him a kiss. “Good night, Doodle Bug.”
Yuri jumps in the air so he can catch my kiss, which he pretends to tuck safely in his back pocket. “Saving that one for later tonight when I’m feeling extra horny. Good night, Boo Boo!”
As Lena and Yuri drive off, I can’t shake the feeling that the reason Lena didn’t have a good time today was because she’s changed her mind about having kids and Yuri hasn’t. It happened once before. When Mila was born and Lena babysat her a few times when Lindsay had to take Kaia to appointments, Lena started getting baby fever. But Yuri and Lena had agreed early on in their relationship that they both didn’t want children, so eventually they were both in sync again. I wonder if Yuri’s recent shift in motivation has Lena rethinking her commitment to him.
I shake my head as I head inside. I don’t know the answer to that question, and I hope I never have to find out. After losing the chance to compete in this year’s tour, I don’t want to know what would happen to Yuri if he also lost Lena.
Six
There’s no greater high for me than stepping onto the winner’s stage. But a close second would be putting on that yellow champion’s jersey before heading out onto the water. The jersey is worn by the surfer who won the previous event. There’s no doubt that surfing is at least fifty percent mental. I only won one event last year at Trestles, but I’ve worn it four times this year. Pulling that yellow jersey over my head before heading onto the water today instantly gave me a boost in confidence. Once I had t
he mental part down, I was halfway there.
When I step off the stage in Trestles, I do the standard champion interview with the WSL commissioner and fend off invitations for a billion different after-parties. I don’t want to celebrate with anyone but Yuri and Lena tonight. They won’t spend the whole night further inflating my ego or asking me for tips on how to land a backside air reverse. After this narrow victory, I need to keep myself grounded.
Yuri and I throw my boards into the back of the rental SUV, then I hop in the back so I can lie down across the seat while Lena drives us back to the hotel in San Clemente. Yuri turns the radio on and starts bobbing his head and singing aloud when he finds a station playing “Gin and Juice” by Snoop Dogg.
“Yuri, you’re the worst Asian rapper ever,” I call out to him from the backseat.
The briny smell of the ocean is saturated in my skin. The scent fills the SUV, and combined with the soothing scent of Lena’s coconut sunscreen, the music, and the way the car bumps along down the street, I begin to feel very relaxed.
“That’s not what your mom said last night,” Yuri replies.
I lick my salty lips and close my eyes. “You’re right. My mom loves your rhymes. She told me it’s the only reason she tolerates your micro-dick.”
Lena laughs and in my mind I can imagine Yuri shooting her a look.
“What are you laughing at?” Yuri says. “You love my little Asian dick. Don’t you, baby?”
“Only you would call that thing little,” she replies.
I open my eyes just in time to see Yuri and Lena high-fiving each other.
“That’s right, baby,” Yuri says, leaning over to kiss her cheek as she turns into the hotel driveway.
Yuri and I each take two of my boards, then we valet the car and head up to the suite. Once we’ve all showered away the sticky layers of sun-cured salt on our skin, we order some room service. I have to stick to a strict training diet, so I order the grilled fish and vegetables, but I allow myself to indulge in a couple of beers.
Yuri takes out a baggie of some sticky-looking weed and a Power Pen vaporizer. “Nothing in your training diet says you can’t partake of some fine recreational cannabis. I’ve got some God’s Pussy here, son. Maybe if you smoke some of this, you’ll come to your senses and realize you need to give me Ripped.”
