Always Summer (10 page)

“A.J.! Dude. Joe needs to show you
something,” Topher says, grabbing A.J.’s arm and not giving him
much of a choice. “Come back here. To the back of the shop.”

When we get around the building, Joe waits
inside. Mechanical machinery is still installed, like the Mallard
brothers thought maybe they’d be back to work on cars again. It’s a
good thing Vin isn’t here or he’d want to open a mechanic shop
instead.

“Mr. Gonzalez,” Joe says, smiling like
Topher does when he’s excited. “I know you’re not going to be at
this location, but I thought you could appreciate this more than
anyone else.”

He talks about Shark’s idea for the sign at
the other Drenaline Surf store, how he knew he wanted a massive
wave hanging over the door. It was the hardest part of the building
process, but his son was determined.

“When we were thinking of opening another
store, I wanted to do something different,” Joe explains, talking
with his hands. “I wanted something big, something memorable…but
something Jake would’ve approved of. So, I was able to salvage a
little something, and I was thinking of using this across the roof,
after we have the business name painted across it, if that’s okay
with you.”

A.J. shifts his eyes toward Topher and me.
Then he shrugs. “Why would I care what you did with a sign?” he
asks. “I mean, I’m not trying to be rude or anything. I just don’t
see why
my
opinion is the one that counts.”

Joe points a finger at him. “Oh, but you
will,” he says. “Topher, can you help me remove that tarp?”

Joe nods toward the item on the back wall.
Topher walks down to the other end of whatever is hiding under the
blue tarp. He grabs the corner of it and peeks behind.

“Holy shhhhh…Joe! This is amazing!” Topher
hollers out. He bounces on the back of his flip-flops, unable to
contain his excitement, in such a Topher-like way.

They rip away the plastic hiding the board
shop’s future sign. But it’s no sign. It’s the turquoise dragon
that Jace unhitched from A.J.’s pirate ship the night of the great
carnival rescue mission. Its orange eyes seem brighter now, up
close with the sunlight pouring in through the back door.

“If I recall correctly,” Joe says, “Topher
said something about it looking like a wave. And I thought to
myself, how awesome would it be to have that thing hanging over a
Drenaline Surf shop someday? Of course, with A.J.’s
permission.”

A.J. falls forward, taking in the dragon in
front of him that matches the one inked onto his arm. “I can’t
believe you saved it,” he says, almost in a whisper. “This is
fucking incredible.”

Joe laughs. “I’ll assume you approve
then?”

“One-hundred percent,” A.J. says.

It’s not even three hours later when it hits
the internet. I sit at the desk skimming the article yet again,
knowing there’s no way I can keep it from reaching Theo. He keeps
up with the surf world more than any of the Hooligans. He browses
the forums and reads the articles. He can quote rankings of any
surfer on the world tour at any given time of the year. I’ve always
thought it was a great way for him to keep his mind busy, but now,
I’m crumbling inside knowing he’ll read this article.

“How bad is it?” Topher asks from across the
desk.

We’re supposed to be filling out the rest of
his entry form for the competition in Sunrise Valley this weekend,
but I can’t even focus on the paperwork.

“They said Drenaline Surf only hired him
because he can’t keep a job anywhere else,” I tell him. I don’t
care if it’s true. People shouldn’t say stuff like this.

“What else?” Topher knows me too well. He
knows there’s more.

“That he has a drinking problem,” I say. I
prop my elbows on the desk and bury my face into my hands. At least
they didn’t mention Shark’s death.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Topher says,
making his way around the desk. He wraps his arms around me and
nuzzles his chin into my shoulder. “We know that Theo is broken. We
all understand why. But this is going to help him. People are gonna
talk no matter what. We just have to keep doing what we’re
doing.”

I don’t press the issue. Topher is right. We
just have to keep moving forward. This is just another attempt to
get under our skins, to make us feel like we can’t prevail.

“You’re right,” I say, looking up at him.
“I’m going to ignore this one and hope it just goes away.
Eventually people will get bored with this, right? I mean, there’s
only so much you can say about a company before people just get
tired of hearing it.”

“Exactly,” Topher says. He reaches across
the desk and signs the rest of his paperwork. “There. You’re
done.”

I think Topher is about to say something
else when Jace walks into the office and halts all conversation.
It’s after hours, but he asks us to join him in the main room
before we go.

Emily, Miles, Kale, Theo, Colby, and Logan
are all gathered around the front counter when we walk into the
showroom of Drenaline Surf. I slide around the counter and stand
next to Emily. Topher remains at my side.

“I just wanted to have a quick word with you
guys about this weekend,” Jace says, standing opposite of all of
us. “We’re going to Sunrise Valley, and every surfer on our roster
is set to compete, except the injured. The media is going to be
watching us with a close eye. People are going to try to provoke
us. Liquid Spirit will be there.”

Miles leans forward against the counter, and
I realize he’s crutch-less. I’d completely forgotten that he got
his cast off this morning. I lean back to see that he’s in a boot.
That’s a good sign. Hopefully he’ll be back in the water in a few
weeks. I know he’s driving Emily and Topher crazy waiting to get
back out there.

Jace continues. “As hard as it may be, we
need to all just keep our mouths shut, focus on professionalism,
and be the bigger people. They want us to lose our cool. They’re
waiting for the thing to write about us. So take these next few
days to clear your minds, breathe easy, and just focus on
surfing.”

It’s close to midnight in our living room
when I’m telling A.J. about Jace’s surfer meeting. Reed lounges in
the chair across from us, his legs draped over the side. It’s rare
that we’re all here and awake at the same time, so if it takes a
midnight rendezvous to see my roommates, I’ll deal with the sleep
deprivation later. But we’re still one man down. Alston hasn’t
rolled in yet.

“And then they pulled the tarp back and it
was my fucking dragon,” A.J. says, slinging his arm out in Reed’s
direction. “Like the one on my arm. The one from the carnival.
Fucking bitches may have taken my land, but I got to keep my
dragon.”

Reed laughs and mumbles something about how
he can’t believe A.J. actually cursed out an old lady.

“I kinda wish I was at the other store now,”
A.J. says. “At least then I could look at it every day when I go to
work.”

“Then look at your arm every morning,” Reed
says. He chucks a pillow at A.J.

The screen door in the kitchen opens. It’s
quiet, like Alston is trying to sneak in, but he catches our stare
the moment he’s inside.

“Late night?” Reed asks, pulling his legs
back over the side of the chair. He sits upright and looks into the
kitchen.

Alston shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I was out. No
big deal.”

“On a Thursday night?” Reed asks. “Where is
there in the cove to go
out
on a Thursday?”

What happened to the whole ‘you can party
any time’ theory that everyone has been preaching to me? I thought
you could party any damn time in California.

Alston grabs a bottle of water from the
refrigerator, takes a long gulp, and then twists the lid back on.
He stares at us over the countertop.

“What are you now? My mom?” he asks Reed. “I
was out, okay? You want to know where I was? Fine. I’ll fucking
tell you. I was at Tropics. Okay?”

Reed and A.J. are completely silent while I
rack my brain to figure out where Tropics is. Is that a store? It
can’t be a store. Even around here, stores shut down at a normal
hour. I don’t think I’ve seen Tropics yet. It has to be on the
other side of downtown.

Alston grabs the water bottle and walks into
the living room. “Now, are we all okay or is there going to be a
problem?” he asks, holding his arms out.

“No, we’re good,” A.J. says. Simultaneously,
Reed shakes his head and says, “No problem.”

“Good,” Alston says. “I’m going to bed. I’ll
see you guys in the morning.”

With that, he drags himself upstairs like
any other night, leaving me alone with Reed and A.J. in the living
room. I wait until I hear Alston’s bedroom door click shut before I
say anything.

“Okay, what the hell is Tropics?” I ask,
still keeping my voice low.

Reed swaps a glance with A.J., almost asking
who should answer this question. A.J. shrugs his shoulders, like
he’s unsure how to answer that question.

“It’s a night club…bar…place,” A.J. says.
“I’ve never been. Not really my type of place.”

I glance to Reed, looking for
elaboration.

Reed inhales and nods. “Yeah, what A.J.
said,” he says. “It’s a bar, but…it’s a gay bar.”

I wait on the bar stool with a soy latte
sitting in front of me next to a bag of cheese biscuits from the
bakery. It was hell getting up before dawn to get dressed for the
day and then making a trip to grab breakfast, but when Alston
strolls downstairs, expecting everyone else to still be sleeping,
it’s worth seeing the surprise on his face.

“Morning,” he says, easing up to the
counter. He points at the latte. “Is that mine?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “I grabbed breakfast too,
if you want biscuits.”

He slides onto the seat next to me and
laughs. “You’re worse than I am,” he says. He takes a sip of
coffee. “Is this your way to buttering me up?”

I can smell his pineapple shampoo from here.
At least he’s close enough to latch my claws into if he tries to
run.

I shrug. “Is it working?”

It better be working because this boy owes
me answers. As much as he likes to insert himself into my personal
business, it’s time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. I
bite into my biscuit to try and play casual, but Alston sees
through me more than I like. He knows I’m waiting for him to
initiate the conversation, and he’s not going to give me the
pleasure.

“Look, you’re always in my personal
business, so you owe me answers about yours,” I tell him. “Start
talking.”

He stands, grabs his coffee, and then slips
his phone into his pocket. “Do you want to ride to work with me?”
he asks. “We can talk about it on the way.”

I grab my biscuit and vanilla frappe, pick
up my bag on the way to the door, and hurry to his passenger seat.
I’ll find another way back home if I have to.

He cranks his car and turns the radio down.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asks. “I figure A.J. and Reed
told you what Tropics is, and you can pretty much figure out why I
go there, so what are your questions?”

I sip my milkshake-like drink, trying to
figure out how I even begin to ask questions. Alston is supposed to
be this big playboy who loves the ladies and can’t settle down with
just one of them. That was his reputation last summer when I met
him. He was flirty and hot and batted his eyes at every girl on The
Strip. He was showing off his tattoo and looking for any reason to
go shirtless.

“You made out with my friend last summer,” I
say. “My female friend. For like, two weeks. What the hell? I’m so
confused.”

Alston grabs his sunglasses and puts them
on. I wonder if it’s really to block the morning sun or if he just
doesn’t want me to see the look in his eyes when he answers that
question.

“I’m sorry about Linzi,” he begins, staring
ahead at the street. “I wasn’t completely sure. I mean, I figured I
was, but I thought, hey, this girl is pretty and she’s fun, and if
I like her, maybe I do like girls too. I really tried to like her.
She was safe. She was leaving, and you guys were temporary. Well,
you were supposed to be, anyway.”

Oh, if Linzi knew, she’d castrate him. I
haven’t talked to her since moving here, but she’s Facebook
official with some guy she met during a summer course at community
college. She posts a lot of pictures of them together, so I’m
pretty sure she’s not dwelling on Alston or the fact that I moved
to California, but still. She’d be mad. She loves talking about the
gorgeous Asian boy she had a fling with during a magical time in
Cali.

“I wasn’t trying to use her,” Alston says
again. “I really thought you guys would leave, like everyone else,
and it’d never matter. I didn’t want to test my sexuality with a
local who I’d have to see again. And really, no one else can
tolerate A.J., but when you did, I knew I’d have to entertain your
friend for at least a week, so…I’m sorry.”

I put my cup in the cup holder and turn to
face him. “So your whole playboy thing was just a ruse?” I ask.
“You just figured you could pretend to be a playboy, so you
wouldn’t have to admit why you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

He nods, like it’s not even a big deal. And
I guess, in a sense, it really isn’t. Linzi was a two-week fling
with no potential of lasting. He knew that all along.

“Hold up,” I say, remembering Linzi’s final
moments in the cove. “What about that big fight you guys had? The
one where you were all ‘you can’t just come into my life and leave’
and all that?”

Alston exhales and glances out his window
before turning into the parking lot behind Drenaline Surf. He parks
his car, but he doesn’t kill the engine.

“It was for show,” he says, resting his
forehead against the steering wheel. “See, this is why I didn’t
want you to know. I knew you’d have these questions, and it just
makes me look like the biggest asshat in the world.”