“I know it’s a long time. But you wouldn’t have to go to all the events if you didn’t want to. And Hawaii is a great place forsurfing, you know. You’d be able to take your surfboard. And I’ll cover you for lost wages. It won’t cost you a cent. And—”
I hold my hand up to stop the nervous babbling that shows me how desperate she is. What I want to know is why. “Whoa. Slow your roll, there, lady.”
Something flickers behind her eyes, and her shoulders slump. It’s a small sign of vulnerability I didn’t expect, and it’s so quick I almost missed it. The determined look and perfect posture are back in a nanosecond.
“You know what, don’t worry about it. It’s a big ask. You’re not interested, so let’s forget it. I just thought … But it was a ridiculous idea.” She takes a last gulp of her coffee, gathers her bag and stands. “Thanks for the coffee anyway.” She turns to leave, hesitates for a moment. Turning back, she snatches the untouched brownie off her plate and stomps away.
She’s out the door before I have a chance to call her back. Which is a shame. I’d intended to say yes to her mad proposal. If only to buy myself some time to get to know her.
“What happened there, boss? You strike out?” Nathan saunters over. He’s running his ever-present tea towel through his fingers while watching Lili march down the street through the open windows at the front of the café.
“It’s a work in progress,” I answer, finishing the dregs of my coffee and picking up the rest of my brownie. I’m about to take a bite when it disappears out of my hand and into Nathan’s giant gob in one motion.
“That was half a brownie. You’d better put that on your tab,” I warn him with a laugh. He scratches his nose with his middle finger, picks up our plates and cups and heads back behind the counter, chuckling all the way.
I think about my next move. Given how spiky she is, it wouldn’t be good to seem too keen. So, I’ll give her a couple of days to stew. Or calm down. But not enough that she’ll findsomeone else to star in her little one-act play. Because, despite how salty she is—or maybe because of it—I’m keen to see more of Lili Gordon. And spending a week in Hawaii with her seems like the ideal way to do it.
I wish I could go back to shaping that board after my meeting with Lili, but adulting calls.
In the past few years, I’ve taken the small café chain my parents started and doubled it. I also hustled like crazy to set up my own successful business making surfboards with my mate Simon, offering them for free to anyone on the pro circuit who’d look at us. And it worked. We have a small but committed client list, many of them top pro surfers, and demand is growing. We have big plans. Hopefully soon we’ll be able to set up a shopfront and a clothing line. But for that, we need an injection of capital. And today we need to discuss our options.
I pull into the driveway of the house we share just as he’s returning from a surf.
“Hard at work, I see,” I call as he drapes his wetsuit over the clothesline to dry.
“Fuck off. It’s Sunday,” he shoots back. “And I needed to relax before we tackle all that business bullshit.”
Simon’s more like a brother than a friend. We started kindergarten together, and apart from a brief falling out in year nine, when we both liked the same girl—who ended up hooking up with our arch nemesis anyway—we’ve been tight ever since. We learnt that lesson.
While Simon grabs a quick shower, I slap the sandwiches I brought home from the café onto plates, pour us a glass of juice and get the laptop fired up.
As expected, Simon falls on the food as though he hasn’t eaten in a month.
“So, catch me up,” he mumbles through a mouthful of chicken salad.
“Before we get into thereallyboring stuff,” I say, referring to the bookkeeper’s report, causing Si to raise an eyebrow, “have you looked at the latest responses we’ve had on our funding applications?”
This subject has been a bone of contention between us. We’ve been looking for funding to expand for about six months, and we’ve had several offers. The problem is, Simon is happy to cede far more control of the business to an investor than I am. So far, none of the offers we’ve had have aligned with my vision for Beach Road Boards, or the cafés.
Simon nods, takes another massive bite of his sandwich and chews. I recognise his tells. He’s stalling.
“Come on, out with it.” I flick my fingers, inviting him to speak.
With a look that I know means he’s serious, which doesn’t happen often, Simon heaves a sigh.
“Dude. This is your dream. And let’s be honest, you’re the one who’s done all the hard work.”
He’s right. Simon doesn’t need to work. His father is a property developer who gifted him shares in the family company that pay him more than enough to live on. All he really wants to do is travel to the best surf breaks in the world, surf and make the odd board.
I’ve been the one hustling to get the business off the ground. I’ve been the one building relationships with as many of the pro surfers as I can. I’ve been the one managing everything from stock to accounting to sales.
“What are you saying?” I need him to say it, even though I’m pretty sure I know where this is going.
“I want you to buy me out.”
I’m glad it’s finally on the table. I’ve had the feeling this has been coming for a while.
“I don’t have that kind of cash,” I tell him. As part of the process of looking for funding, we’ve valued the business, so we both know its current worth.
