CHAPTER 39
ZACH
For the first time in a year, Zach hadn’t qualified for the semi-finals of a WST contest. Fifteenth. He’d come fifteenth, his worst result in years, probably because he’d spent the entire weekend on edge, wondering if his headache was due to stress or drugs, or if that ache in his chest had been caused by a slow-acting poison.
His phone buzzed, and he checked the message.
Maya
Where are you?
Where was he? Lying in bed in their rented villa. Where should he be? In the fan village, smiling for photos while random women groped his ass. If a guy tried the same with a female surfer, there’d be a lawsuit, but Zed turned a blind eye to the double standard in pursuit of the almighty dollar. At least the groupies were distracted today. The wave at Teahupo’o was a heavy, glassy
