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4
LACHLAN
I dashed down to the beach with my surfboard tucked under my arm, thinking of Miranda’s pretty face. At least lovemaking, surfing, and music, my three favorite pastimes, took my mind off the craziness going down in my life.
Even when the SEC breathed down my neck, and Varela threatened to bury me in concrete, I still wore a smile because of Miranda.
As I stepped onto the beach, Orlando Thornhill was laughing with Miles Chalmer, a neighbor, and another keen surfer.
“Hey there,” I called.
“Here you are at last,” Ollie said. “Long time no see. The surf’s been pumping all week. And you didn’t make it to the Thursday night jam. Dad was looking forward to having you twiddle those sticks.”
“Twiddle my sticks?” I laughed.
The sea looked angry. “It’s a bit rough,” I said. “No one’s in.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Miles replied.
“Nuh-uh. It will be fun,” Ollie argued. He was known for being adventurous.
His daredevil response egged me on. I hated to be thought of as a pussy. My father had bludgeoned recklessness into me, saying things like “Why be alive?”
He’d chucked me into the deep end of the pool when I was five, insisting it was the only way to learn to swim, while my mother screamed at him and jumped in to rescue me.
If ever I showed the slightest hint of fear, his fists would find their way into my gut. He avoided my face because he was smart enough to know questions would arise.
At least I’d had the sea, growing up. It consoled me whenever things turned ugly at home, especially when my father drank. I ran down and set up camp on the beach. On hot summer nights, I slept under the stars. My tears dried, and I stared up in wonder, knowing that somewhere out there in the heavens, my grandfather was watching and protecting me.
Once I’d developed a taste for girls, the beach became the setting for sexual discovery. Fucking under the stars and moonlight added something magical.
That was why that estate had to remain mine. My beach had always been there for me.
After we strapped ourselves to our boards, we ran out onto the shore and paddled out. The waves splashed up at us, pushing us around. I’d surfed a lot to know what we were doing wasn’t a good idea. Despite that, being a strong swimmer and reveling in adrenaline, I persevered.
I paddled like mad as large waves thumped against me, threatening to swallow me whole.
When we were only knees deep, Miles said, “I’m going back in.” Despite being younger, he’d always been the sensible one.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Ollie yelled over the roar.
Although battered around, we kept paddling as the wild swell intensified.
A wave came barreling our way, and I paddled quickly to catch it. My choices were either ride or be wiped out.
I jumped up, but the surf was way too choppy. I only stayed up for a few seconds, then I tumbled into the turbulence. Spinning around as though I were in a washing machine, I battled to find the surface.
We’d made a crazy call. Adrenaline was one thing, but insanity was another.
When I eventually surfaced, my board narrowly missed my head. I jumped on the next smaller wave and paddled back to shore.
Nobody else was out there because doing so was plain suicide.
I turned to Miles. “It’s fucking rough out there. Where’s Ollie?”
“He got tossed by the same wave.”
When he didn’t surface, I ran back in.
