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SEBASTIAN
“I wantto get back on the ice,” Joe said as he stood in jeans, a black t-shirt, black sunglasses with his skin glistening from sweat.
“You look like you’re running security,” Rome said. “You do realize we’re on a beach, right?”
Joe turned his head but didn’t acknowledge Rome at all.
We were all on the beach, a few of us surfing.
Just me, Jago, and Henry, to be exact.
Rome and Atlas were there to get drunk.
Joe just stood there looking miserable as ever.
“Why’d you show up?” I asked Joe.
“You told me to,” he growled. “That whole team bullshit thing you keep preaching about.”
“You’re thinking of next season.”
“I just said I want to get back on the fucking ice, didn’t I?”
“Joe, you’re grumpy,” Jago said. “Grab a beer and take your shirt off.”
“You want to see this guy shirtless?” Atlas asked with a grin.
“Look at him,” Jago said. “I feel bad for him. Sweating like that.”
“You got a problem with me?” Joe asked Jago.
“Have a beer,” I said.
I stuck my hand into an icy cooler.
I tossed Joe a cold can and nodded.
“What are we doing out here for real?” Atlas asked. “I feel like there’s some meaning.”
“Catching waves?” Henry asked. “The ebb and flow of the season?”
“I’d like to see her ebb and flow,” Rome said with a nod.
A woman in a bright-orange thong bikini strutted by.
“Hey, I’m famous,” Rome called out.
The woman looked at him and smiled.
“She knows who I am,” Rome said. “It’s showtime.”
Rome grabbed two beers and jogged toward the woman.
“Five bucks she ignores him,” I said.
“Ten she slaps him,” Henry said.
“Fifty she sleeps with him,” Jago said.
