Surge : A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Chapter 3 - Mick

        I
step out into the cool morning air and notice the sun rising up over the
horizon. Resting my arms on my balcony, I welcome the new day. I love my place,
which I should, considering it cost me a king’s ransom. Right now I have lots
to spend, so it doesn’t matter. After all, no one lives forever.

As
I breathe in the ocean air, a deep sense of calm shivers through my body. I am
now ready for the day.

Delia
yells at me from inside. “Mick, stop being and idiot.  Why are you always staring
at that ocean? Come back to bed.”

What
the fuck? Sometimes, I can’t deal with that chick. How someone so beautiful can
be so ugly, I will never know.

I
shout angrily back to her, “I will be in soon, just go back to bed.”

Our
relationship has changed a great deal since she moved in, and I am not sure
where we’re headed. When you get into a relationship, everything seems so perfect,
but when the honeymoon stage is over, you end up in a far different place. Sure,
she’s hot, but there should be more than that. I think. My phone ringing brings
me out of my contemplation.

“Oh,
please, Mick, let it ring,” she yells.

I
ignore her now. She is happy to live the lifestyle that surfing afforded me,
but she is not willing to let me work. It isn’t even that she wants to spend
time with me—she just wants to be in control. Man, I am getting sick of
sleeping with her. At this point, that is all it is. Sleeping.

I
pick up the phone. “This is Mick.”

“Hey
Mick, its Jaime.”

Jaime
Redman is my agent. He always makes sure I’m busy. His persistence is often
tiring, but I knew I truly needed him to help with my career.

“Hey,
Jaime. What’s on the agenda today?”

Jaime
goes through the long list of interviews I have to attend and the endorsements we’re
working on. I also have to film a commercial for the upcoming surf tour event. We
won’t get paid for it, but Jaime says it’s more about the exposure. It’s all
about who knows you and staying current.

I
yawn. “Okay, Jaime. Am I driving, or is someone driving me?”

“I’ll
have the car pick you up in an hour. Do you need breakfast?”

“I’m
okay, but I have some personal business I need to attend to this afternoon at
around two, so I need that time to be free.”

“That’s
not going to work,” Jamie says. “We have an interview at two.”

I
sigh. “Well, you’d better get me out of it, because I won’t be there.”

“Can’t,
buddy. You are on. This is the biggest time of the year for you. You need to be
working.”

I
raise my voice to ensure he knows how serious I am. “Figure it out, Jaime! That
is what I pay you for.”

“Let
me see what I can do,” he mutters, “but it won’t look good if you are not
there.”

“Figure
it out!” I snap again, slamming the phone down.

Damn it, why do I have
all this money if I can’t do what I want?
The truth is,
though the life I lead is truly an amazing one, it’s just not my own. Sure, this
is the most important time of year for me—well, for my career—but who cares? I
want to enjoy myself.

In my contemplation I
began to wonder why the hell I was taking this bet with Sam. Who cares if I can
teach people better than she can? As soon as I start thinking about her, her
body springs to mind. Sam did look really good. She is everything Delia isn’t. Delia
is demanding and lazy. Even though she’s hot, that’s not everything that’s
important to me. At least, not any more. Lately, I’ve been questioning the
decision I made regarding my relationship with her. Things between us got too
hot too fast. But I had a lot on my plate today. There wasn’t time for dwelling
on the past.

“Delia, I am going to be
out for the day.”

Delia yells, “You are
always out for the day!”

“Don’t start with me now.
This is my life. I told you, these next couple of weeks are going to be very
busy.”

She
lowers her voice. “Can I come with you?”

“No,
you will be in the way.”

She
snorts. “You are such an asshole, Mick.”

“Goodbye,
Delia. We can talk about this later.” The last thing I want to do is to deal
with her shit this early in the morning.

I
walk out to the cabana by the pool to get ready for the day, avoiding my
sulking girlfriend. On my way past the pool, I text Jaime and ask him to have a
breakfast ready for me.
Fuck! I can’t even eat breakfast in my own house!

Then
I remember a quote from the Howard Stern show: “No matter how hot some chicks
are, someone, somewhere, is sick of fucking them.” Quite honestly, I was at
that place with her now. We hadn’t even had sex in over a month.
Geez, what am
I with her for?

I
shower up in the cabana, take out some board shorts and a shirt, and wait for
the call from the car. Delia storms into the cabana to find me watching TV. She
instantly starts yelling.

“Why
the fuck are you in here? Avoiding me?”

I look away. “Delia,
I am not avoiding you, I am waiting for my ride.”

The phone rings,
and not a moment too soon. Delia shoots me a look that could kill.

“Don’t
you dare pick that up!” she screeches.

“Delia,
this is business. I have to take it. We will talk later tonight.” I rush past
her while she tries to stop me. “Talk later.”

Delia
folds her arms. “I may not be here later.”

“That
is your choice. I have to go.” I reply coldly.

Her
voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t you leave, Mick. If you walk out that door, I won’t
be here when you get back!”

There
is a part of me that hopes she will leave. Dealing with her has become too much
of a chore. She wants the heaven and the stars, but feels she has to give very
little to get it. It is a relationship that is no longer enjoyable to me. I
never feel free. It is time for her to go.

Chapter
4 Mick - Surfing Circus

As
I sit in the SUV and drive to our first appointment all I can think about is
hitting the water.  I wish I could get out in the surf.  Unfortunately, my
surfing job often doesn’t allow that.  Funny how that is. I decide that I need
to hear a rational voice. I call my father. Despite our contrasting lifestyles,
he is always a voice of reason. He was also the man who taught me how to surf.
I have a great deal of respect for him.

“Hello?”

“Hey,
Dad, it’s me.”

“Hey,
son, how are you doing?”

“I’m
okay, Dad. You know, busy and all. It’s damn hectic.”

“Yeah?
Being busy is a good thing, but are you happy? Remember, we always, always have
a choice in life.”

I
snap. “Dad, don’t give me that. Without money, we are nothing.”

There
is a long pause. Dad never liked speaking about money. He also never liked
conflict.

“I
will maintain my views as my own,” he says.

“So
let’s just drop it, then.”

My
father is a bit of a hippie, always has been. He chose a motorhome over a
corporate boardroom and now lives in it by the beach. He often reminds me how
he lives on just pennies a day and loves his life. I admire that he’s happy
with his life—so many people live rich and unhappy, or poor and unhappy, but
not Dad. Somehow, he’s poor and happy, which is pretty damn rare. But I also
hate him for his lifestyle. That’s really the reason he and my mother divorced.
A part of me will never forgive him for that.

I
pause for a moment. “Listen, Dad, I need to clear my head for a second. I just
need to ask you one question. I’ve never asked you this, and I know you’ll
wonder why I’m even asking this right now, but I need an answer. When did you
know that you and Mom needed to get a divorce?”

There
is a long painful silence. “I… we weren’t happy together. I realized, after a
while, that she wanted to be with a guy who made a lot of money. She didn’t just
want a companion. And that killed me. Truly. Oh, how I loved, and still love,
your mother. But our ideas of happiness were very different. I guess I couldn’t
give her that. I wouldn’t have wanted to, Mick. She didn’t want my idea of
love. That was okay; we were just different that way. She felt trapped, and I
couldn’t live my life knowing I was keeping her from hers, so we parted ways.”

I
sit on the other end of the line and feel my eyes begin to sting. I had no
idea. They divorced when I was five, when the most complicated thing I knew was
how to tie my shoes. I blink several times and clear my throat. I can’t find
the words to tell my dad that I love him and that I finally understand why he
had did what he did all those years ago. Apparently, history repeats itself.

“Life
is a tricky thing, Dad. I guess that is what I have learned.”

“That
is the truth, son. Listen let’s get together soon.”

“Sure
thing, Dad. Let’s do that,” I say, knowing just how hollow that promise is.

I
roll down the tinted back window of the SUV and look to the ocean. My thoughts
drift to Sam. She was so gorgeous yesterday. Her lips are the kind of lips you
just want to kiss the moment you see them. What gets me most about her, though,
is her confidence. It’s so rare to meet a woman who’s more than externally
beautiful. Samantha is different, and she always has been. Even when I’d tease
and bully her when we were kids. When I was cocky to her, she didn’t back down.
Sam’s the kind of woman who can stand on her own.

Part
of me feels a little weird for having all these warm and fuzzy feelings. After
all, she is my stepsister. Flushing the thoughts from my mind, I look back to
my phone.

I’m
checking my Twitter and responding to some fan mail when the driver stops, gets
out, and opens the door. Camera flashes and the sounds of screaming girls fill
the air. I sign a few autographs and make my way past the throngs of people to
the set.

This
year, they decided to do the interviews right on the pier. I love the pier—I
spent most of my childhood there, learning to surf. Before sitting down, I look
over the rail to watch the surfers. All I want to do is surf, but I have far
too many obligations. Maybe my father was right—maybe money isn’t everything. I
shake the thought and look down in jealousy as one of the surfers grabs a
massive wave. How ironic—what I do for a living doesn’t allow me to do what I
do for a living.

An
overly polished man comes over and shakes my hand. His teeth are so white they
glow. “Hi, Mick. Why don’t we get you settled so we can get started?”

I
turn around to see the other overly polished guy who was going to conduct my
interview. These jackasses never know anything about surfing. They always ask the
same stale, irrelevant questions. I have to keep reminding myself it is
important to give interviews and maintain a public image.

“Sure,
not a problem.”  I falsely reply

It
takes a lot for me to rip myself from that rail. I could watch the surfers all
day. I sit down in the chair as the makeup girl fiddles with my face, almost
like she’s painting a mask on me.

I
smile and remember that I am going to get in the water today. The bet with Sam.
I can’t see how that’s going to happen now, with all this other crap I have to
do. There is no way Jaime will let me go. I haven’t even told him what I was
doing—if I did, it would make it worse. Or would it?

       
An
idea shot through my mind at a rapid pace. What if I turn it into something
that would go viral? Jaime is always telling me to do viral things. What if I
told him he could tape the lesson from a distance? That would kill two birds
with one stone. I would get the time to see Samantha and I could still be
working.

By
disguising my appearance, I could teach the group as just another regular surf
instructor, show my killer moves, then reveal myself as the famous Mick
Anderson and win the bet with Sam. The whole success story would be caught on camera,
and I could be proven a great surfer and a great teacher. It’s a win-win all
around.

“Mick,
are you ready to do this?” the producer asks.

“Can
you give me a minute? I just have to make a quick call.” I dial Jaime’s number
in excitement.

“Hey,
Jaime. Did you get me out of that thing this afternoon?”

He
stuttered. “Well, about that… I, uh—”

        I
cut him off. “Before you answer, I have an idea that I am sure you will like.
I’m going to teach surfing lessons to beginners this afternoon

“What?!
Why?”

“Stay
with me: I am going for a viral video. I made arrangements to have a surfing
lesson with this girl yesterday… Anyway, you will set up a camera or two to
watch me teaching a lesson. Here is how I see it working. I teach the class how
to surf, alongside another instructor. I’ll disguise myself so the class
doesn’t know I’m famous. Once I’m finished with the lesson, I’ll reveal myself
as the famous surfer Mick Anderson. Then I will go out and catch a wave,
showing them how great I am. With all this on camera, I’ll be seen as a great
surfer
and
a great teacher. We’ll have an instant viral video. You can mic
me up under my wetsuit—do whatever it takes.”

Jaime
pauses. “I think you might have something there. Should we hide your face? What
if the other people recognize you?”

“I
don’t think they will. If I put my hair back and wear sunglasses and a hat, no
one will notice.”

“Why
do you want to do this?” Jaime asks.

“Like
you said, any press is good press.”

Jaime
is pleased. “Ah, so you’re finally listening to me.”

I
smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

“One
more thing, man. If this whole thing is really about a girl, be careful. You
have a girlfriend—the last thing you need right now is for your life to be
complicated while a competition is looming.”

“Jaime,
my life is always complicated. You worry about yours, and I’ll worry about mine.”

Hanging
up the phone brings instant excitement. I can go see Sam and keep Jaime happy. She’ll
think this whole thing is funny—I look like a hero, we go for drinks, and who
knows?
Wait, what am I talking about?! She’s my stepsister!
Shaking my
head in disgust, I go back to where Mr. Polished is excited to get this over
with.

“Okay, let’s get
this interview going. I have things to do.”

The
interview is the usual drivel that people make me talk about. “How did you get
started?” “Do you get nervous during competitions?” “What’s it like to be
famous?” It’s always like this—different people, different networks, but always
the same conversation. At this point, I could play a tape recorder and they
would get the same result. That doesn’t matter now, though. I’m focused on my
lesson with Sam.

At
the end of the interview, they all blow smoke up my ass. This is just par for
the course. I humor them for a while, wondering if they actually care and if I
actually want the fame at all.

Not
a moment too soon, the driver texts me to meet him at the end of the pier in
five minutes. I wait as security holds back the crowd and I sign scores of autographs
in the meantime. The driver pulls up and opens the door with Jaime waiting for
me inside. I wave to the fans and jump into the SUV.

“Hey
man, how’s it going?”

Jaime
looks excited. “Hey Mick, get in—we need to talk!”