“Gets paid well for it, too.”
Scott’s not wrong. Zach Van Veldt might be one of the top surfers in the world, not to mention a social media superstar, but he also likes to play fast and loose with the rules. I pay him well to wear my brand, so he should damn well show up when he’s supposed to.
“We might wait in the trailer.” There’s a videographer and stylist on the beach with us. The cameraman is also wearing a wetsuit, while the stylist is clad in a fleecy puffer jacket, jogging on the spot and swinging her arms. They’re also both being paid by me to be here. But, unlike Zach, they showed up on time.
I’m actually pretty warm. But that’s what we’re here for, to test out the latest wet-suit tech. Surfing isn’t just for sunny beaches and summer days; people surf all the way from Alaska to the icy waters of southern Australia, and they do it all year round. Wetsuits tend to come in different thicknesses to accommodate the different temperatures, but the thicker the wetsuit, the more difficult they are to move in. Ocean’s Curl has been working for a while on maximising warmth in their wetsuits without compromising freedom of movement, plus experimenting with sustainable alternatives to neoprene. And the reason Scott and I are standing on a freezing cold beach in February is that we’re about to try out the latest prototypes. With Zach.
“Yeah, head inside. I’ll call Zara and see if she can get hold of him.”
There’s no runner here, or elaborate crew. Just us, the cameraman and stylist. A trailer, with space to get ready plus respite from the cold. All co-ordinated to the last detail by Zara and my marketing team. It’s all we need. The idea is to make a few short reels for social media, stuff we can send out worldwide, real-time reactions to the new suits and how well they work. But there’s not much point without Zach. I grab my phone and call Zara.
“Hello, Myles?” Her soft voice calms me, instantly.
“What room is Zach in?”
“Oh God. Has he not shown up? I did ask for a wake-up call and?—”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry.” I don’t want her to stress about this. She’s done everything and more to set us up for this trip. I should have noted his room number and banged on his door myself this morning.
“Shall I ring the hotel and see if they can get him up?”
“No, don’t bother. I just need the room number and I’ll do it myself.”
“Okay. He’s in room 203. Er, how’s it going? Is it cold?”
“It’s freezing.” I feel warm though, speaking to her.
“I thought it might be. I’ve booked hot stone massages for you all at the hotel spa, later. I should have mentioned it before you left.”
“You have?” My mind drifts, momentarily, to the image of her lying on a massage table, naked except for a towel.
“Yes. Hope that’s all right?” She sounds worried.
“Of course it is.” I make sure she can hear the truth of it in my voice.
“Great. Are you sure you don’t want me to get Zach?”
“It’s fine. Easier for me to do it. Thanks.”
I ring off. Scott is watching me, one eyebrow raised.
“What?” I say.
“How’s it going with Zara?”
“It’s going well. She’s very good at her job.”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t say anything else, but seems to be fighting a grin.
I glare at him. “I’m going to get Zach.”
I head across the beach towards the curving headland, the imposing Victorian hotel perched on top of it a landmark visible for miles around. Inside is all quiet luxury and wood-panelling, stained glass and soft carpets. Zara comes into my mind again, and I wonder whether she’d like it here. I cross the foyer and head up the stairs. I might be wearing a wetsuit, but the staff know me. The fact we’re booked into three of their best suites probably helps, too. My huge bed felt empty last night, though not because I wanted Katya with me.
I can’t really admit to myself who I want there instead, though. I push the thought away as I head along the hallway towards Zach’s suite. We all arrived yesterday, meeting for dinner and then drinks in the hotel bar overlooking the surf. Scott and I had stuck to soda water and gone to bed reasonably early, but Zach stayed on. I hope he made it back to his room in one piece.
Room 203. I bang on the door. Hard.
There’s a muffled groan, then the rattle of the lock before the door opens to reveal a naked Zach.
