Chapter 8
“I’m not enjoying this self-realization stuff.” ~ Kai
Kai
M iles picks up his surfboard and makes his way to me.
“What are you doing here this morning?” he asks as he plonks down next to me in the sand.
“Am I not allowed to observe my brother – one of the best surfers in the world – surf?”
“Uh oh. You’re kissing my ass. What do you want?”
I play with the sand and watch it slip through my fingers. “Nothing.”
He bumps my shoulder, and I shove him away. “You’re soaking wet.”
“I tend to get wet when I’m in the ocean.”
“There’s no reason to get me wet.”
“Then, you should have gone to another brother for advice.”
“I didn’t come to you for advice.”
“You’re merely sitting here sulking because Harper turned you down again? I understand. Or, at least, I think I do. I’ve never had a woman turn me down before. ”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know you tried hooking up with Hazel again.”
“Hazel’s in the past.”
“But you want her in your future,” I sing.
“I don’t, but I know you want Harper in your future. You’ve been chasing after her for months now. Aren’t you getting tired of being rejected?”
I frown. Being rejected is one thing, but the way Harper spoke to me this morning? It was hurtful. But was she right? Am I a spoiled brat?
“Do you think I’m a spoiled brat?”
Miles rears back. “Where did this come from?”
I contemplate lying to him but considering how angry Harper was, I doubt she’s going to keep my ‘gesture’ to herself.
“I paid the bar bill for us and the brewery team last night.”
His eyes widen as he whistles. “That must have been some bar tab.”
Between my brothers buying rounds of shots for the bar and the brewery team buying beer for the bar, it was an enormous tab. I was worried about Harper paying for it.
“I was trying to do something nice for Harper.”
He chuckles. “Go big or go home.”
“Except she called me this morning. I thought she was going to blow an artery in her brain with how angry she was.”
“She’s stubborn and independent. What did you expect?”
For her to thank me. Preferably with her pretty lips I’m dying to taste. And if she decided to reward me with a strip tease, I wouldn’t have minded in the least .
“I sure as shit didn’t expect her to scream at me and claim I’ve been handed everything in life on a silver platter.”
“Hmm…”
“Hmm? What hmm?”
Miles doesn’t respond. He stares out into the ocean. I throw sand at him. “Explain yourself.”
“I don’t think you want to hear this.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“You have had it the easiest of the Raider brothers.”
I growl. “Just because I’m the youngest, doesn’t mean I had it the easiest.”
“It’s not about being the youngest. It’s about timing.”
“How is timing any different?”
He blows out a breath. “Eli and Rhett were older when Dad left.”
I know this. They have more memories of Dad. I don’t. I was ten when he left. My memories of Dad are clouded by all the underhanded remarks Mom and my brothers have made about him over the years.
“Dad didn’t pay any child support, and Mom had six kids to feed. Eli worked several odd jobs to help pay the bills, and Rhett helped out in the house with cleaning and taking care of us.”
What asshole doesn’t pay child support for his six sons?
“I know all of this.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Did you have a job in high school?”
“No.”
“Did you have to take care of your younger brothers when you were in high school?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“By the time you went to prom and were applying to colleges, Eli was already making good money with Apparoo. ”
Apparoo is the software company Eli founded with his college roommate. No one expected it to grow into a multi-billion-dollar company but it exceeded everyone’s expectations. Especially Eli’s.
“I still didn’t get everything handed to me on a silver platter.”
He shrugs, and I scowl. He’s not being fair.
“If I got everything handed to me, you did, too.”
“Wrong. I worked my ass off. I was out here surfing for hours before school and hours afterward.”
“But it wasn’t work. You loved it.”
“It was totally work. And I didn’t love it when my back was sore or when my face or hands were cut up from getting hit by my surfboard, but I still came out here every day to work on my sport. Not to mention all of the training outside of the surfing.”
Damn. Is he right? I always considered Miles’s surfing as a fun hobby he tried to make into a career until his shoulder injury in Hawaii ended his aspirations.
“I never thought of it this way.”
“I’m not saying you’re a spoiled brat or had everything handed to you. But you did have it easier than other people in this family. ”
My phone beeps with a message. I swear under my breath when I read it. “I need to go. Jaxon is losing his mind.”
“Go. I’ll catch you later in the office.”
We stand and I study Miles. I always thought Miles was as much of a jokester and goofball as me. I never considered the amount of hours he trained to become a professional surfer.
“Later,” I finally mutter before making my way to my car.
As I drive to the distillery, I consider everything Miles said. Miles, the charming surfer who doesn’t take his job at the distillery seriously. Or so I thought.
“What’s up?” I ask Jaxon when I stroll into my office fifteen minutes later.
“You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.”
“I had things to do.”
“What things? Did you meet with the delivery company to discuss our contract?”
“Meet with the delivery company?” What is he talking about?
He sighs. “These other things had nothing to do with your job as operations manager?”
I shrug since he already knows the answer to this question.
“This is why I asked Eli not to appoint you as the operations manager.”
I scowl. “I’ll be going to the ER to have the knife removed from my back now.”
He frowns. “There’s no knife in your back.”
I forgot my nerdy brother doesn’t understand metaphors. “You stabbed me in the back. ”
“I…” His eyes light with understanding and he trails off.
“You don’t think I can do the job.”
“No. I think you don’t want to do this job. You’re too young.”
I’m sick of everyone pointing out my age. “What does my age have to do with anything? Eli was a director of Apparoo when he was my age.”
“And he worked long hours to make the business a success. He didn’t rely on other people to perform his work for him.”
“I don’t rely on other people to perform my work.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I can’t tell if you are this unaware or if you’re lying.”
I rear back. “Lying? Are you saying I’m a liar?”
“Unaware it is,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Look,” I begin, “I’ve had enough of hard truths for one day. Can we discuss this another time?”
“No, we can’t. Blossom and I want to start having children. I plan to help raise my children. I won’t be an absent father.”
Unlike our own father. “Good for you.”
He purses his lips. “You don’t understand. I can’t be home with my children if I’m doing your job as well as mine.”
“You don’t do my job.”
“I can prove it to you.” He drops a pile of paper onto my desk.
“What’s this?”
“I’ve detailed every task required of the master distiller and the operations manager. I’ve also provided examples of when I did your job. ”
I thumb through the document. “I don’t know what the big deal is.”
He growls. “The big deal is you’re being paid to be the operations manager for Buccaneer’s Distillery but you are not performing the job. I understand you’re young and want to have fun. Maybe it’s time for you to quit.”
I pause rifling through the document to meet his gaze. Is he serious? He can’t possibly be serious. When Eli founded the distillery, he made it clear all managerial positions would be held by his brothers – no outsiders allowed.
“You want me to quit?”
“No. I want you to grow up and do your job.”
“I’m not a child.”
He points to the document. “Then, prove it. Do your job. If you need help understanding any tasks, feel free to ask me. But I will no longer be doing your job for you.”
“And if I don’t?”
He stands. “I’ve already spoken to Eli.”
Guess there are now two knives I need to have removed from my back.
“What? He didn’t mention anything to me.”
“Because he doesn’t want to believe his beloved baby brother is a slacker.”
“I’m not a slacker.”
His brow wrinkles. “I believe I used the term correctly. Slacker. A person who avoids work or effort.”
“I’m not a slacker,” I repeat.
He points to the stack of paper. “Prove it. ”
He spins on his heel and marches away. I collapse in my chair. What a day. I reach for my phone, intent on messaging Zane with a request we get out of here and have some fun, but pause with my finger on the send button.
When Dad abandoned us, I decided life was too short to be serious. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I have become a slacker – allowing Jaxon to do my work.
I reach for the document. A little read couldn’t hurt.