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I didn’t even run into my mother, so it was all pointless. Daddy doesn’t care if I wear makeup or if I have my hair up or not.
It was a totally wasted effort on my part, but now I can help the guys. Take that, Carly!
I pull my book out of my bag, open it to page one, and start to read.
Matt
I’m not in the best mood today.
The more I think about our situation, the more I feel like all of this is for nothing. All of it.
Driving the boss and his family and guests around, keeping his fleet of cars clean and pristine at all times—mind you, the price tag on one of those fucking cars would be enough to buy our restaurant without getting into any kind of debt—dancing like a trained monkey in a ridiculous straw skirt for the boss’s amusement.
Staying away from the only girl I’ve ever remotely been interested in for like… ever.
Because fate is a motherfucker with a sick sense of humor and she’s the boss’s daughter.
All of that is completely pointless if we can’t find the ten grand for the surfing competition. Maybe, if we tried our luck with the shitty old boards we have, we could make it with half that amount. We’d be covering just our enrollment fees and camping on the other side of the island rather than staying at the hotel that is sponsoring the event.
But aside from the fact that our boards have no chance against the high-tech shit people like Tristan and his friends use, we don’t even have five grand to enroll four people. And let’s face it, it would be a waste of our time and money because at that level, talent and athletic preparation alone won’t cut it. You need the best equipment to stay competitive.
So, yeah. My life fucking sucks, and I’d rather go work some of my frustration off in the water than stay in this garage and wash Mr. Manning’s top-of-the-line Tesla SUV.
This baby comes with a price tag in excess of one hundred and twenty grand for the basic version, and this one here has every luxury option I can think of.
I throw my chauffeur hat on the front seat, not caring if anyone sees it, and walk out into the rapidly declining daylight.
I just know that unless a miracle happens, we’ll lose Sam’s place and we’ll have no choice but to leave our island and get jobs in San Francisco or LA.
We’ll be just another statistic in the history of Coral Cove. Three natives who spent their lives working for the rich tourists who own our island and had to leave for lack of opportunities.
Just the idea of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but maybe there’s one silver lining in this shit show of a situation. If keeping this job doesn’t matter because we have no place to buy and save our paychecks for, I don’t see a reason to stay away from Greer.
It would be a summer fling at best, but it’s not like she won’t leave to go to whatever Ivy League school she got accepted into in the fall.
Having an expiration date to whatever kind of thing we’d do together makes the idea of being with her even more appealing. If it’s just a summer fling, I won’t have to worry about our different backgrounds and the fact that I could never be good enough for someone like her. I’ll just show her a good time and give us both a summer to remember.
Greer.
That thought makes me smile, because Greer makes me smile. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart, funny, and drop-dead gorgeous, and she doesn’t even know how hot she is. Maybe that’s part of what makes her so irresistible.
My mood has improved tenfold by the time I get to the end of the beach. I don’t even need to get changed because I got into the habit of wearing my swimming trunks under my uniform so I can train any chance I get. I put my tie in my pocket and begin undoing the buttons of my white shirt.
I turn the corner of Drew’s cottage and spot my friends sitting in a semicircle on the sand a little way from the water. Rather than a bright bonfire, there’s a small firepit between them and a cooler of beer next to Brady.
I wonder why they aren’t taking advantage of the last remnants of daylight and training rather than drinking. Here it doesn’t really get dark until almost 10pm, so there’s time to practice now that most of the dinner rush is over.
I know that something is wrong even before I’m done shedding my uniform shirt and pants.
Jamie, our fourth team member, is sitting next to Drew with his right arm in a sling.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, looking at the three of them.
“What the fuck do you think is going on?” Brady bites out. “Not that it makes much of a difference, because we’re still ten grand short to enroll, but Jamie had a fall and dislocated his shoulder during lunch service.”
I lower myself next to Brady’s cousin and grab a beer from the cooler. “Are you alright, dude? How the fuck did it happen?”
He sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. “That fucking bitch, the boss’s daughter, tripped me. She was joking with those douchebags she hangs out with, the ones Manning has decided to sponsor. They were talking about how the staff here is really well trained and would do anything they are asked. To prove her point, she poured a jug of oily salad dressing on the floor and screeched, ‘Waiter! Clean up this mess right now before anyone gets hurt.’ I was just rushing to the table next to theirs with a tray full of drinks and didn’t see the mess until it was too late. I came crashing down like a fucking sack of potatoes.”
