Page 51

NOAH

I nearly crossed you off the guest list

“They gave you one of the best spots in this place,” Callum muses, as we lounge in a velvet-covered booth.

The warehouse has transformed into a multi-level club, complete with hanging silk partitions, a raised dance floor and scattered booths housing different invitees.

The DJ kicked off with a remix of the latest hit songs blasting from the speakers, and free booze and canapes are already flowing around on trays.

“I’m just grateful to have a seat and that they opted for an indoor venue with air-conditioning,” I admit. “So many people have to stand.”

The unpredictability of summer storms was certainly a key factor in choosing an indoor venue for this festival.

When I checked the surf this morning, the swell was set to be huge by tonight thanks to an incoming super cell, and an approaching storm means the humidity is making me sweat when sitting still.

“You going to talk to the Salt Skin boys?” Callum nods to the biggest booth in the entire warehouse. The focal point of the party, where the founders and staff of Salt Skin sit around, laughing and drinking.

“Mack will kill me if I don’t.” I glance at the zero-alcohol beer in my hand. “I hope this has a placebo effect and gives me a bit of courage.”

“You don’t need it.” Callum leans over and claps me on the knee. “They invited you here.”

“ They didn’t,” I correct him. “Mack got me the invite by doing whatever voodoo he does on the event organisers.”

“They would’ve had final say over the guest list.” Callum looks at the booth again. “They look like a bunch of normal dudes. Hell, they look like us. Let’s go talk to them. Once we do that, we can mingle a bit more, then head back for Millie’s show.”

I nod in agreement, taking a swig of beer. Callum makes a valid point. The sooner I rip the Band-Aid off with the brand guys, the sooner I can get back to Millie.

“Look at your face.” I glance at Callum, who’s grinning. “You can’t wait to get back to her.”

I grin. “Guilty.”

“What’s happening between the two of you?”

“We’re talking after her show tonight,” I reply.

“About?”

“That we’re into each other.”

Callum chuckles. “Good. Millie’s cool.”

“She’s the best,” I agree. “But I don’t know how it’ll work out. I’m travelling all year and there’s no way I can give her my undivided attention when I go days without looking at my phone to stay focused.”

“Millie doesn’t strike me as the type to need undivided attention, just enough attention,” Callum points out. “Why don’t you ask her to come with you on the tour?”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind to invite her.

Not because I wouldn’t want her there, but because it seems like such a big leap after only really knowing each other for a few months.

And I’d been adamant about not having time or capacity for a girlfriend a couple of months ago.

I’m mindful of not getting caught up in a whirlwind.

“Don’t overthink it,” Callum instructs. “It’s about communication, remember?”

I laugh. Mack’s advice is something everyone is taking these days—something I never thought possible.

“Alright.” I finish my beer and stand, rubbing my hands together. “Let’s go schmooze.”

Callum and I leave the safety of our booth, jogging down the steps and making our way across the wide-open floor.

I recognise several people as I make my way through the crowd.

A couple of actors, several influencers and an Aussie guy who was recently drafted for the NBA.

He reaches out to bump my fist as I pass, and I oblige, promising to have a chat with him soon.

As I approach the foot of the stairs to the main booth, I take a deep breath. I’m usually confident talking to anyone. I’ve charmed my way out of several tricky situations in my time, but my recent bout of bad behaviour looms over my head as I approach the team at Salt Skin.

Sam D’Costa, one of the founders, spots me first and to my surprise, his face brightens. He stands as I approach and shakes my hand. “Noah King, how are you, mate? It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks, Sam,” I reply. I introduce him to Callum, and they shake hands. “Thanks for having us. This gig is great.”

“Yeah, they did a good job in pulling it together.” He leans in closer. “We legit had no involvement in any of it and think it’s a bit how ya goin’ , but apparently it’s good for business.”

Callum and I chuckle, relaxing at his casual demeanour. Callum was right. These guys are like us. “Well, thank you for having us here. I might sound like a schmuck, but I genuinely love your surf gear. It’s great to see Australians making waves in the industry, so to speak.”

“Cheers, man. Can I get you fellas a drink?”

Sam directs us towards the bucket filled with ice, an array of drinks on display. We both help ourselves to another zero-alcohol beer and take a seat at the end of the booth.

Sam introduces us to some of his friends, and eventually, his best mate and co-founder Toby McAllister, and I relax as the four of us jump into chatter about surfing.

“I’ve never been to Nazaré for the big surf,” Toby shares. “Maybe this year.”

“It’s worth it,” I assure him.

When I was fifteen, my dad took me to Portugal to watch the big wave surfers and it was the most surreal thing I’ve ever experienced.

Watching human beings enter the ocean and carving down waves over seventy feet high takes your breath away.

The skill required to handle that element of danger is baffling and when I stood there, drenched from the rain, watching with my hands in my hair, I felt nothing but immense pride and respect.

“Those big wave guys are insane,” Callum says. “I don’t have the balls.”

Sam nods vigorously. “I’ll stick to designing clothes and surfing on weekends, thanks.”

“How involved are you guys with the design process of your brand?” I ask. “Do you come in right at the beginning with concepts, or do you have a team that brings in ideas?”

“We’re there right at the beginning,” Toby replies. “Although it’s a stretch to say we’re designers. We have ideas and our amazing designers sketch them, and our team brings them to life.”

“It’s insanely hard work,” Sam adds, chortling. “I underestimated how much was involved. But it’s turned out great for us.”

“You’re killing it.” I glance at Callum, who gives me a slight nod of encouragement. “Look, I know you have people coming at you from all angles, wanting to be included in what you’ve created. You’ve got people who’ve had much more desirable press in recent months than me.”

The four of us boys agreed going forward that open communication was the best course for me salvaging my reputation. I don’t have to pour everything out like an open wound, but transparency is surely going to get me further than schmoozing.

“I deserve nothing from you,” I continue, clutching the glass bottle in my hand.

“But I want to tell you I love what you’ve created.

I respect what you represent in terms of oceanic and environmental protection and most of all, that a percentage of your proceeds go to local youth clubs.

Running a surf camp for kids is something I’ve been working on for a while, and it’s important to me that kids get to experience the stuff I took for granted.

As a kid and as an adult.” I sigh, looking at the bottle between my palms. “I’ve made some huge fuckups in my time and I’m not proud of them.

But if you’d be open to it, I would love you to consider me for potential collaborations. ”

Sam twists his lips in thought before glancing to Toby, who’s leaning forward on his thighs, taking me in. The seconds stretch out for an impossibly tortuous time, the music and chatter around us barely coming into focus.

“I nearly crossed you off the guest list,” Toby says directly.

I swallow the lump in my throat but steady my expression as best I can. “I can understand that. Why didn’t you?”

Toby thrusts a thumb in Sam’s direction. “This guy reminded me of what I was like a few years ago.”

Sam grins. “He was a menace. Still is.”

“A couple of years ago,” Toby starts. “I was in New York for my sister’s birthday.

Me and some mates were on a bender and my sister’s party was like, the fourth night out.

I got in a fight with a taxi driver, wasn’t in any family photos, and had a drink thrown in my face by one of my sister’s friends because I was an arrogant prick.

” Toby shakes his head. “It was embarrassing, and I remember thinking, if I’d been in the public eye, I’d be fucked. ”

Callum nods beside me, perhaps also thinking how lucky he is to have remained out of the limelight.

“We all mess up,” Toby says simply. “It’s not an excuse for poor behaviour, but I appreciate you owning your shit.”

“We don’t believe in cancel culture, and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t be yourself or have a drink or whatever,” Sam adds, before quirking an eyebrow.

“But we’re not interested in working with anyone who’s in it for themselves.

We don’t want perfection or purity, but we don’t want a cocky athlete donning our gear during the day and drink driving at night. ”

“I hear you loud and clear.” My skin feels hot, but relief settles in the pit of my stomach.

Being able to get it out on the table with people I respect and have them respond reasonably is more than I could’ve asked for.

“I’ve destroyed enough in recent times. It’s a steep learning curve, I’ll say that much. ”

“We should talk more later.” Toby fishes for something out of his pocket. He pulls out a business card and hands it to me. It has both his and Sam’s direct contact lines, and I smile with gratitude. “Let’s have a chat when we’re not going deaf from trance music and surrounded by eavesdroppers.”

Hope fills my chest. “Thank you. Both of you.”

We all shake hands and Callum and I retreat to our booth, the two of us collapsing with relief at being back in our own space.

I run my hand over my jaw. “That went well, right?”

Callum grins. “That went great. Relax.”

I let out a massive exhale, my shoulders dropping from my ears with relief. He’s right. That was great. Better than expected. Nothing could kill my buzz.

Not even seeing my glamourous ex-girlfriend walking towards us.