Page 10 of Whiskey's Redemption

Whiskey

Stepping into the shop, I’m bombarded by the harsh punk music flowing out of the speakers at a decibel that should leave any who enter deaf. I walk directly to the empty cashier’s desk. Spinning the knob for the volume, bringing the angst filled squelch way down, immediately the boards on the wall stop vibrating, and the clientele all turn my way. Fabulous. A new way to be singled out today.

“Gruber!” I yell into the expansive zone.

“He’s...Hey! You’re him, man! You’re a fucking legend!” The kid, no older than my brother, beams with excitement as he tromps toward me. His bright board shorts hang low on his hips, his ripped blue RipZone tank is faded, and obviously well loved, and the perfectly coiffed, yet flowing, haphazard hair tells me he’s a surfer. I doubt he’s touched snow in his lifetime, but I respect him.

The waves of the ocean give you almost the same exhilaration and feel. Knowing that you have only so much control over the element that you ride is what we chase. A wave can be as dangerous as a snow drift—unforgiving, yet ever changing. It’s harsh enough to sweep you away in a second, never to be heard from again. You would be a memory.Thatis what keeps us pushing harder against that unyielding foe.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Flicking the keys in my hand, I sneer. “TheLegend.”

That’s a first.

“Yeah man, you’re him for sure. Anyway, Gru is out back testing some new blood.” Starting away from him, he sticks out his hand, expecting a quirky handshake or stupid high-five.

Shaking my head and blowing out a heavy breath, I start off down the long row of merchandise. “Sorry man, not happening.” I’m not here for autographs or friendships. I’m here for business.

Walking along, touching the odd board, I relish the smooth texture of the face. The wax free base that awaits love and care is perfection. Our type of love is brutal. Every board has a soul that calls out to be ridden, and whether meant for water or snow, they want to be used. Hanging on a wall, waiting for the touch of greatness, most of these boards will be owned by some weekend warrior with a death wish to try out a rough wave with an ‘epic’ board. They’ll buy what they think is right by name instead of what’s best for their skill. The only thing it will create is work for the coast patrols when they have to drag out another dead body from the ocean.

I see it all the time on the mountains. Hell, most times, I’m the rough bastard stopping some moron on the hill, ripping them off the board and making them walk back down as I carry their thousand-dollar board to the bottom. They don’t wear the right equipment, they don’t prepare for it, and they sure as shit don’t take lessons to learn how to ride. They’re a menace to those who know what they’re doing.

Coming closer to the back of the building, I hear Gruber teaching aWet Ear.

“Good. Now lean to the left,” he says, just before I hear a big splash. Rounding the corner, I see the wave pool, and Gruber leaning against the wall. His T-shirt is wet, his hair is a mess from running his hands through it, and the scowl on his face tells it all. He’s beat. Looking my way, I give him a chin raise.

“Well look who’s here, the Powder King himself.”

Walking over, he embraces me in a hug. I don’t like it, I never have, but it’s Gruber and it’s expected. He’s a hugger.

“How’s the fish?”

As a young girl half my sister’s age pops up out of the water, she drags her hair out of her face, grinning from ear to ear. “She’s persistent,” Gruber says, scowling deeper. “Meadow, go clean up. That’s it for today.”

Jumping from the pool with a smile, Meadow heads off to the change rooms. Gruber slows the flow of the pool until the wave quits and the water quiets. Absently, I watch her walk away. She’s pretty, but it won’t save her on the unforgiving water.

“She’s a fucking menace. She has no talent at all, but her father is an expert rider. She idolizes him. Sad, really. She’ll die to be the same as him.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Why not stop her?”

Huffing, he sags his shoulders. “I’ve told her she’s not ready for the water. I’ve told her father, too. She needs to find something else to do with him, but she’s the apple of his eye. He’ll deny her nothing.”

“And what if I said she’s not welcome here anymore for training? Would it deter her, or push her further to do it anyway?” Yeah, I’m sure she’ll just do it anyway, but it’s my business, and I can’t have a death on my head. Not one that I could prevent at least.

“She’s stubborn. She’ll be back here in a week with more money. Dad’s some movie exec, more money than he knows what to do with. He’ll spend anything to make her happy.”

That’s one father I idolize then. I’m not pissing and moaning about mine, but what I wouldn’t have given to hear he’d do anything to make me happy. Even just to sayhewas happy would’ve been a start. Pushing that out of mind, I get back to the task at hand.

“You mind showing me the problem?”

“Yeah.” Stepping off the wall, he motions with his fingers for me to follow. “Come this way.”

Following Gruber down the row past the wave pool, past the snowboard / ski treadmills, we come to the very back of the building. Without him saying a word, I see it immediately.

“When the fuck did this happen? And why didn’t you move them?”

“What can I say, Whiskey? We haven’t had rain in years, and no one knew there was a leak in the roof. Fucking Cali weather this year is what caused it.” Picking one up, I thumb the swollen edges. The disaster is profound.

“Fuck, Gru. There has to be fifty fucking boards in here at least.”

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