Free Swell by Lauren Davies

influence over Jason. Especially one as smart as you,’ Chuck said as if reading my mind.
    ‘Well I am not giving up that easily Chuck. I need this job.’
    ‘Now you’re talking, girl. Look I’m at the airport collecting him from the Kona flight. Thank God the bitch has gone back to L.A. for Botox or an ass reduction or some shit. We’ll be an hour then we’ll swing by and treat you to dinner up at Turtle Bay. You gotta help me fix this thing fast.’
    Dinner at a posh restaurant and a battle of wills was the last thing I felt like doing, but if I was going to salvage anything from the day I had to help Chuck.
    ‘I’ll be waiting,’ I said.
    I suspected changing Jason’s mind about anything would be like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands but I could be just as determined as him. My career was all I had and success was not going to find me like a bee looking for pollen on a sedentary flower. I had to be the bee and find my own sweet reward.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    We were shown to the best table at a beautiful open-sided restaurant on the beach. Flaming torches lit the ocean in the sheltered bay and relaxed waves drifted lazily onto the shore. Palm trees sheltered the glass ceiling like umbrellas that had been shredded in the wind. When Chuck walked into the restaurant the manager stood to attention. When Jason strolled in behind, the manager bowed so low I thought he might pull a hamstring. I was a nobody to them of course but I was happy to enjoy the kow-towing-by-proxy.
    ‘Champagne, Madame?’ asked the manager, proudly displaying a bottle of Cristal.
    Would anyone refuse?
    I sipped the golden liquid. It tasted as if each bubble had been individually wrapped.
    ‘How much is this per bottle?’ I whispered once the manager had finished lavishing us with complimentary small talk and had scurried away to bully his staff into making us feel even more special.
    ‘That, oh I dunno about three fifty,’ Chuck shrugged.
    I spat the mouthful across the table.
    ‘Three hundred and fifty dollars?’
    Chuck hooted with laughter.
    ‘Yeah so that’s like thirty bucks you just spat out.’
    Jason grinned.
    We clinked our glasses together and drank a toast.
    ‘To the team,’ said Chuck.
    ‘The team,’ said Jason quietly.
    We had all been unnaturally bright and jovial on the way to the restaurant, skirting around the issue we were there to discuss as if it were too hot to handle and we had to wait for it to cool.
    I sipped what might as well have been liquid platinum and smiled my thanks to our waitress who nervously delivered a plate of raw fish poke to the table. A mouthwatering aroma of sesame and coriander wafted into my nostrils from the dish of thinly sliced tuna adorned with fresh purple orchids. I grabbed a generous portion with my chopsticks, popped it into my mouth and rolled my eyes at the taste that was nothing short of heavenly.
    Chuck nudged my foot under the table and waggled his eyebrows, urging me to speak.
    ‘Say something,’ he mouthed.
    I grimaced.
    ‘Shame, I was so looking forward to sampling wonderful foods like this around the world on tour with you next year,’ I said eventually.
    I looked pointedly at Jason.
    Sensing the intensity of my gaze, Jason lifted his head and looked at me through a lock of blond hair. He lowered his chopsticks to the table.
    ‘So Chuck told you.’
    ‘Yes Chuck told me. So let’s talk about it.’
    Chuck clapped his hands.
    ‘Why do you want to retire now? Because you lost? I thought you desperately wanted the thirteenth world title.’
    Chuck shoved a huge mouthful of poke into his mouth and his eyes bulged.
    ‘I did want it but I don’t need it. I’ve got twelve and that’s enough.’
    ‘Nine might be good, brilliant in fact but twelve is not thirteen. Thirteen is a record-breaking number; it’s never been done before. That’s what drove you. Pardon me if I got it wrong but I thought you wanted to do something remarkable.’
    Chuck’s eyes