Chapter 16 #2
“As you can see, Myles, there are some excellent sponsorship opportunities as we continue to expand our presence on the World Qualifying Series, as well as the Championship Tour.”
I stare at the PowerPoint presentation, but the numbers blur in front of me.
I can’t stop thinking about Zara. It’s completely ridiculous.
This is my second meeting of the day, the first with a young surf clothing company whose brand I’m considering investing in under the Ocean’s Curl umbrella.
This sponsorship meeting is moot, anyway.
I love this country, and I love surfing.
Of course Ocean’s Curl are going to be involved with any sort of surf initiative they have.
I need to pull my shit together, though.
We’re not the only surf wear company in the world.
But, as far as I’m concerned, we’re the best. We’ll only stay that way, though, if I keep my head in the game.
With an effort, I push thoughts of Zara out of my mind and lean forward.
“I can see the opportunities are excellent. However, I’m sure you can see the cachet having my company on board would bring to your events. Tell me what’s different about your event. Why would I want to sponsor you?”
There’s a flicker across the face of Tariq, the young Moroccan man running the meeting, but otherwise he doesn’t betray any emotion.
Good. I need to work with someone who will stand up to me, as well as listen to what I have to say.
I’ve already decided to spend money here; what the meeting is designed to work out is how much.
Tariq’s face splits in a grin, revealing white teeth. “Tell you what,” he says, with a jerk of his head, “let’s get out of this stuffy meeting room and I can show you, rather than tell you. What do you think?”
What I think is that I like him even more.
He’s the kind of person I enjoy working with, someone who can take the initiative and work with the situation at hand.
Zara is good at that too, I think, remembering the folder of clippings she’d presented me with, the myriad other ways she seems to anticipate my needs.
And then my thoughts turn to other needs, ones I’m not sure whether she’ll anticipate or want to satisfy.
Damn.
I take in a breath through my nose and blow it out. The conference room we’re in is very nice, understatedly opulent with touches of gold livening up the usual office colours of beige and brown, but I need some fresh air to clear my head.
“All right,” I say. “Show me.”
A short while later we’re in my car. I insisted on driving, because I feel more comfortable at the wheel. I’ve always been this way. Tariq had protested, but when he saw the Mercedes four-wheeler, he’d acquiesced with a grin, climbing in the passenger side and directing me.
Not that I don’t know where we were going.
I’d scoped everything out before we’d arrived in Morocco.
Plus, I know this coast pretty well. We leave Agadir, then head along the road back towards La Coeur, passing through Taghazout.
There are several new developments being built on the ocean side of the road, luxury hotels and apartment complexes that, while modern, also echo Berber traditional design, with their earth colours and natural timbers, their profiles low and long rather than towering.
It’s smart development, I think, not for the first time, as we barrel along.
Tariq is pointing out some of the places to me. “As you can see, there’s plenty of infrastructure in place to host our events, plenty of accommodation for surfers and spectators, as well as sponsors. Ah, pull in here.”
“Here” is a dusty flat parking lot with a few scrubby trees on the beach side of the road.
There are a few cars parked there and a couple of vans, stray dogs lying in the shade with their pink tongues lolling out.
The white stepped shape of La Coeur is visible, just up the coast, and again I wonder what Zara’s doing, whether she’s lying out in the sun, her long limbs turning golden beneath the rays.
“Shall we get out?”
I realise I’m staring into space, and that Tariq is eyeing me with a frown.
“Sure,” I say. “Just taking in the view, that’s all.”
“Anchor Point is one of the best breaks on the coast,” Tariq says, as we get out of the car. I know this, of course, but I let him talk. Damn. Perhaps being so close to the hotel, and Zara, is a mistake. I really need to stay sharp.
“Hey man.” A surfer walks over to us, his board under one arm. “Are you Myles Brandon?” He holds out his free hand and I take it, smiling as I shake it.
“In the flesh. Good waves today?” I nod towards the break, which is looking pretty nice, curling waves roaring into shore.
“Yeah, not bad,” the surfer says with a grin. “Listen, hey, I might go back out there again if you’re hanging around for a while. You looking to sponsor anyone at the moment? It’s just, I’m new to the circuit and trying to break in, you know?”
I hold back a sigh. “Sure. I mean, we have a few people on the books already. But why don’t you contact Kylie Sanders, in our LA office? Tell her I said to call. She might be able to help.”
“Thanks man, thank you so much!” The surfer grabs my hand again. I take it back, once I can.
“Listen, I’m in a meeting but…”
“Hey, no problem.” The surfer steps back, grinning. “Honestly, it’s been an honour.”
I nod, walking away, following Tariq along the edge of the parking lot.
The ground slopes down to a rocky beach and the tapering point which gives the place its name, as well as the spectacular waves.
It won’t do any harm for that surfer to contact Kylie.
You need a certain number of points to get a sponsorship with us, and a lot more to be considered for a Sand Star spot, but it’s a foot in the door for him.
People have given me breaks in the past, and I like to pay them forward whenever I can.
I don’t need to watch him surf; he seems dedicated enough.
Earning the points, and our sponsorship, is up to him.
I listen as Tariq lays out the plans for the next Surf Expo, pointing out where various things will take place.
But my gaze keeps straying back towards the hotel, and my thoughts towards one thing. Zara.
I drive Tariq back to the office once we’re done, with promises to be in touch.
I’m going to sponsor the next competition, plus several top Moroccan surfers, and I tell him as much with a handshake before I leave.
I head back along the coast once more, wondering if I have time to go back to the hotel and catch up with Zara before my next meeting.
Then, as I drive through Taghazout, I spot her.
Sitting at a table in a café, looking impossibly beautiful.
With the fucking guy from the hotel.