Do I even know myself? Like really know myself?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I don’t have to look at it to know it’s my trainer calling to find out where I am. My life is one big schedule that revolves around everything to do with surfing.
“I don’t know what I want,” I whisper into the empty garage.
Saying it out loud feels like admitting failure. I turn my head, slumping back in my seat, and stare at the surfboards mounted on the wall. Once upon a time, they meant everything to me.
My plan.
My identity.
My escape.
Plan A was to surf on The Saltwater Shredders team next to Gabriel, and when that didn’t work out I turned to Plan B—solo surfing until I reach the peak of my career and my body gives out…but maybe my body is already trying to tell me something. I take a deep breath and wipe my tear streaked face with the back of my hand.
“It’s time for Plan C,” I whisper into the dark of the garage.
TWO
GABRIEL | AUSTRALIA
It’s beena few years since I was last in Australia, and it’s still as beautiful as I remember. Low clouds paint everything in a soft grey-blue, and the smell of rain hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the earthy sweetness of gum leaves.
I wish I could actually enjoy being here, but my anxiety is at an all-time high thanks to none other than Zalea Evans.
She’s been unreachable for about a week now—not that we talk everyday, but getting a frantic call from her personal trainer last night saying she bailed on the biggest surf competition in Hawaii? The competition that would have secured her a last minute spot on this tour? That’s cause for concern.
Zalea never misses a competition, and she’d never miss one this important.
I’ve been calling her phone all morning, but each call goes straight to her voicemail. Either she blocked me or she turned her phone off. I choose to believe the latter because there’s no universe in which Zalea Evans blocks me, not while I’m still her brother’s surfing coach.
I check my watch. My executive assistant, Reid, should be clocking in soon at Brightly Solutions—the company I inherited from my father. Publicly, Brightly is just another onlinereputation-management agency. We handle everything from press outreach to positive content campaigns, crisis PR, and digital forensics for clients who suspect internal leaks.
But behind the scenes, for our wealthiest clients, we do more. Content suppression, making articles disappear from the internet, recovering and deleting data through underground channels, covert surveillance using illicit camera access, and global facial-recognition cross-matching to name a few.
Brightly is how I afford my lifestyle. Coaching the Saltwater Shredders doesn’t even make a dent in what I make from my company, but I stay involved in the surfing world because I love it. No one in that world knows about Brightly, except Zalea. To everyone else, my resources are a mystery—and I like it that way.
Brightly is my secret weapon.
And right now, I need it.
I fire off a text to Reid to call me when he’s online, then send a message to Koa and Maliah. Maybe a quick gym session will help distract me.
Gabriel:
Meet me in the lobby. Training starts today.
Koa replies with a thumbs-up—no surprise there. Maliah, as usual, is more difficult.
Maliah:
I think I’m going to skip today’s training. I feel a bit sick from the flight.
I snort. She mustreallybe exhausted to think I’d ever be okay with that.
Gabriel:
There are no sick days on tour. See you in five minutes.
