“Leave that. I’ll clean it up later. Wanna hit the beach?” I asked, and Jet’s eyes flashed.
“You havenoidea how down I am. Come on. Show me what you got.”
The waves were the biggest they’d ever been, and as usual, my emotional response to the terrifying walls of water wasexcitement,not fear.
My board was freshly waxed, thanks to Riddick, so I hit my first twenty-foot wave with sticky feet and perfect form.
It would have been the best day of my life if Riddick had been there to see me do it.
Instead, I was with Jet.
Surfing with Jet was much different than surfing with Riddick.
Riddick was a drill sergeant. He never smiled and he was constantly scanning the beach for threats.
When Riddick trained me, he was always barking orders, frantically reminding me to pay attention, and constantly trying to instill the fear of fucking God into me each timea new wave came in.
Jet was easier. We were similar in temperaments, and he was always smiling. Sure, Jet offered me instruction, but he usually let me do my own thing first, then gave me constructive criticism in areas he thought I could improve. He treated the water with a healthy dose of respect, but he didn’t seem to be tense and terrified I might die the entire time like Riddick was.
I wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn’t suffered the same trauma Riddick had or simply because he didn’t care about me as much as Riddick did… which was a sobering thought.
Because I didn’t have Riddick there looking out for me, I found that I instinctively took my own safety more seriously. For some reason, I didn’t feel quite as safe with Jet. Not because he was doing anything wrong but because he just wasn’t as hyper-aware of me as Riddick always was. I hadn’t truly understood just how much Riddick was always looking out for me until he was gone.
Feeling off-kilter without him, I found myself actively trying to remember to always scan the horizon, to make sure I was avoiding traps that might drag me out into the death zone and making a conscious effort to strategically plan my path through the pipe so that in the case of an unexpected break, I wouldn’t plummet twenty feet.
By the time the day was over, Jet was shaking his head in disbelief, beaming at me.
“You’re pretty amazing, surf star,” he praised me as we paddled back to shore.
I grinned at him, though it felt strained.
Surfing without Riddick had been unexpectedly stressful. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on him watching my back. I was missing him even more than I had been that morning.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I replied as we scooped up our boards and headed back toward the natural stone steps that led up the cliff.
“What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked, and I had the feeling that he wasasking me to hang out.
Riddick’s demand that I be home for dinner was ringing in my head, but I was also pissed enough at him that I didn’t want to just blindly obey him as if nothing had changed between us.
“Uh, I don’t really have plans,” I lied, and Jet beamed at me.
“Cool. I was gonna swing by Jake’s grave quickly since it’s right around here; then you wanna watch a movie or something?”
“Riddick’s grave is close by?” I asked, shocked, and Jet nodded.
“Yeah, we buried him on the property. We figured he would want to be close to home.”
Suddenly, I needed to see Riddick’s final resting place more than I’d needed anything in my life.
“Can I come with you? To his grave, I mean.”
Jet gave one of those soft, gentle looks he sometimes got when he was talking about Riddick, and my stomach warmed.
“I would like that, surf star.” He smiled, jerking his head in the opposite direction of the steps.
“Let’s go see the legend himself.”
Riddick’s grave was a simple,old-school tombstone set in a shady corner of the brush. The stone read:
