SSS3 - A Warning

 

Ian initiates a FaceTime call with Katie at his computer. A few seconds later she appears on his screen, wearing a purple and grey TCU t-shirt. “Hey you.” She greets him warmly, but softly.

“Kayyy!” Ian shouts back. “What’s up, chica? How’s Texas?”

“It’s good.” Katie nods. “It’s hot! But it’s good.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re melting a little bit.” He indicates her untidy hair, pale complexion, and rail-thin forearms. 

Katie raises her eyebrows at Ian. “You just called to critique my appearance?’

“What? No. I’m worried about you.” He backpedals. “You haven’t posted any workout videos. You haven’t called or texted me.”

“I’m fine, E.” She insists. “Just busy.” She takes a labored breath and forces a tight-lipped smile. “So, how’s this new girlfriend of yours?”

“Sarah? She’s great!” Ian exclaims. “She's fun and sweet and athletic. You’d like her.” He regales her with details about the store, surfing lessons, and date nights on the boardwalk.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Katie replies sincerely. “She sounds awesome.”

Ian carefully considers Katie and sighs. After a few awkward seconds, he breaks the silence. “K, real talk.” He folds his hands underneath his chin and fixes his hazel eyes onto her. “You good?”

“Um…" Katie fusses with her hair. "I’ve been sluggish.” She frowns. “Could be food poisoning, I don’t know.”

“Kaayyy.” He tilts his head and gives her a skeptical look.

“Don’t ‘Kay’ me, Ian.” She snaps at him. “I’ve got this. Whatever it is, I’ll beat it.”

“You’d better, or I’ll drag your scrawny ass back home.”

Katie’s jaw drops. “Scrawny, huh?”

Ian rocks back in his chair. He casually crosses his arms and shrugs. “Prove me wrong.”

Nine days later

While Ian, Brayden, and the Ian-tertainment crew are away filming urban exploration videos, Sarah wraps up a surfing lesson with a young female. They part company with a stiff-armed hug. She dries herself with a towel, slides her feet into a pair of purple Crocs, and enters her store.

She passes Jair assisting a customer in the skate shop section of the store, notices another customer pouring herself some bubble tea, and continues to the counter where Zoey is stationed.

“Has it been busy?” Sarah asks.

Zoey shrugs slightly. “Steady.”

“Maybe we should order lunch.”

“Rico’s?”

Sarah’s eyes widen. “Ooh, we haven’t had that in a while.” She opens a door marked ‘Employees Only’ and enters a small hallway leading to the break room, storage room, and upstairs room. She jogs up the stairs, enters a small office, and plucks a change of clothes out of a dresser.

When she returns a short time later, the customers are gone. The store is noticeably quiet.

“Jai,” Zoey shouts. “Music!”

“On it.” Jair presses buttons on the store’s digital radio. “Summer Surf” by Dick Dale plays over the store speakers.

Zoey slumps her head and shoulders in disappointment. “Dick Dale? Again?”

“What’s wrong with Dick Dale?” Jair returns.

“Nothing! I love Dick Dale.” She insists. “I just like a little variety, you know?”

“I dunno, Zo’.” Sarah chimes in. “Kinda sounds like you’ve had enough Dick Dale.”

“And you guys haven’t?” She implores.

“Nope.” Sarah replies casually. “Can’t have too much Dick Dale.” She turns to Jair. “You?”

“No way.” Jair shakes his head. “Never.”

Zoey points at her coworkers. “You guys are wack.” She dismisses them to pick up their lunch order. The storefront door chimes as she exits. The door chimes again a few seconds later.

“She’s back already?” Jair says to Sarah as he heads for the door. A slender, strikingly beautiful blonde woman enters, fashionably dressed and wearing designer sunglasses.

Jair greets her through gritted teeth. “Welcome to Sarah’s Surf Shop.” He says slowly.

“Hi,” Erin looks past him. “Is Sarah here?”

Jair points her to the counter. Erin thanks him and saunters to the back of the store.

“Can I help you?” Sarah asks flatly.

Erin flips up her sunglasses. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah.” Sarah stoically replies.

“Do you know I have breast cancer?”

Sarah’s expression softens. “No. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry to hear—”

“It’s fine.” Erin dismisses. “I didn’t come here for pity.” She runs a hand through her thinning flaxen hair. “I came here to warn you.”

“Is breast cancer contagious?” Sarah retorts, then bites her lip and waves her hand. “That was rude, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Erin shoots her a smug look. “It’s about Ian.”

Zoey returns with a large paper bag from Rico’s Cocina. She places it on the shelf behind the counter, then exits through the Employees Only door.

“Have you heard of ‘Brickhouse’ Briggs?” Erin asks Sarah. Zoey re-enters with paper plates and two small bottles of diet soda.

“Zo,” Sarah keeps her eyes on Erin. “Brickhouse Briggs?”

“MMA fighter.” Zoey answers as she spreads out the containers of food.

“MMA fighter.” Sarah repeats quickly.

Erin glances at Zoey. “So you probably know that he pushed his girlfriend down a flight of stairs.”

“Fiancée.” Zoey corrects her. “Broke her collarbone, separated her shoulder, cracked a couple ribs.”

Sarah winces with disgust. “Please tell me she didn’t marry that asshole.”

Jair joins the girls. He spreads out two tostones onto a paper plate. “Who are we talking about?”

Zoey tries to answer with a mouthful of food. “Brickhouse—” She mumbles.

“Ian’s ex.” Erin interjects. “The girl he dated before me.”

Sarah, Zoey, and Jair turn their stunned faces toward Erin in unison.

“Do you know Ian’s friend Katie?” Erin continues.

Sarah grabs a bottle of diet soda from the shelf behind her. “Yeah, he’s mentioned her. She moved to Texas.”

“—And immediately got sick.” Erin peruses the clothing racks. “She was very fit when she lived here. Now, all of a sudden…” She takes a pink tank top with island embroidery off the rack, holds it to her torso, and puts it back.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Sarah calls to Erin.

Her blonde hair whips against her back as she turns. “You don’t get it?”

Sarah shrugs her shoulders and gestures to Erin, indicating confusion and impatience. Erin approaches the counter, places her palms on the glass, and lurches forward until they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “Everyone who leaves Ian suffers.” She hisses.

Then, just as the words register with Sarah, Erin picks up a puka shell necklace on the counter. “Oooh, this is cute. How much?”

She pays for the necklace with a credit card. Sarah places it in a small paper bag.

“Look, I appreciate you coming here, and I hope you kick cancer’s ass." She hands Erin her purchase. "But I think you’re just jealous.”

Erin takes the bag. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.” Sarah mocks Erin’s smug tone.

She leans in and whispers to Sarah. “Ask him about Danielle.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Who’s Danielle?”

“Ask him.”

Four days later

Ian and Sarah hold hands for an evening stroll along the boardwalk. A local band plays gentle music on the concourse as patrons of nearby shops and restaurants chat and drink and shuffle on by. 

“You’re quiet tonight.” Ian nudges Sarah. “Everything okay?”

“How’s Katie doing?” Sarah quickly asks.

“Not good. She isn’t getting better.” He lets out a deep, long sigh. “I’m worried. I keep telling her to come home but she won’t listen to me. She’s stubborn.”

“It’s not cancer, is it?”

“I don’t think so.” Ian pauses. “Why?”

“Because… your ex.” Sarah says with hesitation. “Erin.”

Ian gives her a puzzled look. “What about her?”

“You haven’t heard? She has breast cancer.”

“Nooo.” He replies dismissively. “No way.” He shakes his head. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Check her Instagram.” Sarah suggests.

Ian pulls his phone from his pocket. He quickly scrolls through Erin’s Instagram page. “Shit.” He mumbles. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Erin nods somberly. After a long silence, she turns to him. “Who did you date before her?”

Ian slowly recoils. “Have I done something wrong, officer?”

“Relax, babe.” Sarah giggles and squeezes his hand. “I just want to know you. I told you about Aldo.” She offers to recite her entire dating history, starting from seventh grade.

He concedes. “Angie and I dated for about a year. She left me for an athlete. The end.”

“And what about Danielle?” Sarah prods him. “Was she one of your girlfriends?”

Ian turns ashen. “There is no Danielle.” He releases Sarah’s hand and glowers at her. “Where did you hear that name?”

His anger morphs into stark realization. “You talked to Erin.”
 

Five years earlier

A group of sorority girls set up tables for a party. One of the senior members rapidly recites a long list of items to a younger dark-haired girl. She repeats the items softly to herself; taking notes is strictly forbidden. Her sorority sister orders her to return precisely at 8 p.m. with every item or her pledge will be denied.

The dark-haired girl drives a very used Honda Civic across campus, singing a song to herself with the names of the items she’s required to acquire. After a couple stops, she changes the song to exclude her most recent purchases. She distracts herself and misses a left turn, ending up in a shady neighborhood just as night falls.

In a beautiful, operatic voice, she sings “Jameson, Bailey’s, Trojan condoms” three times, then abruptly halts when she notices a package store up ahead. She changes lanes and turns to park in the store’s dilapidated parking lot. 

As she approaches the door, a robbery is in progress. A masked man points a handgun at a young cashier. The cashier begins to empty the till. The college girl freezes in terror. A large, well-built man creeps behind the gunman, holding a heavy bottle. The gunman notices him at the last second and shoots him in the chest, then turns back to the cashier and shoots him. 

The girl trembles. She runs to her car, fumbles for her key, and speeds away.

Instead of returning to campus, she pulls into the parking lot of a police station. After a few heavy breaths she nervously sings “Hot sauce, Tic-Tacs, toilet paper” to herself.

Three and a half years later

Ian enters his apartment, arm-in-arm with Erin. She squeezes his shoulder and departs for the kitchen. He thumbs through a stack of mail until he sees an envelope without a return address. His eyes linger on the handwriting, then he carefully opens it. Inside he finds a letter written with flawless penmanship.

The letter reads:

Dear Ian,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been watching some of your videos and I want you to know that I’m thrilled for your success. It’s not at all surprising to anyone who knew you from Mr. E’s AV club. Your projects were so much fun to perform in; I hope you make more “ten minute movies” in the future. I think your viewers would enjoy them, too.

The past few years have been difficult for me. The choices I made have led me to new and unexpected places. I am safe and content, but I am no longer the girl you walked home from school junior year. You were right, I should have stayed. I’m trying hard to unburden myself from my biggest regrets. That’s why I’m writing this - to say I’m proud of you, and I miss you, and to let you know that I’m in a good place now. I hope you are, too.

May you always make the right choices, and may you never regret the wrong ones.

Yours,
--Jane Doe

Erin returns from the kitchen holding two partially-filled wine glasses. “What’s that?”

“Uh...” Ian begins to explain until he reads the last sentence:

p.s. Please do not tell anyone I contacted you. This letter is for your eyes only!

“You cannot tell anyone about this.” He sternly warns Erin.

“I promise.” She dutifully replies.

__________________________________________________________________

Story Ends Tuesday

SSS2 - Sarah

 

Ian slides his sand-dusted feet into his moccasins and crosses the boardwalk. He pauses at the sign for Sarah’s Surf Shop.

“Ian?” A male voice calls to him. He turns to his left. “Ian-tertainment?” A wide-eyed young man with brown skin, sponge curl hair and a sleeve tattoo covering his right arm approaches him. “Oh, man, your channel’s fire, bro!” He says in a slight accent.

“Thanks, man!” Ian bumps fists with him.

“I’m Jair.”

“Ian.”

“Yeah, no cap.” Jair chuckles. He gestures toward the store. “Hey, do you wanna come in? I’ll get you a bubble tea on the house.”

The door chimes as Jair leads him inside. Ian surveys the rows of colorful surfboards standing in racks along the wall. He slowly follows a bamboo walkway, noting the racks of Hawaiian shirts, shorts, vests, and body suits on either side. A wooden shelf of handmade crafts stands beside a ‘Skate Shop’ sign hung above an open doorway.

“Sare?” Jair calls. “Zo’?”

A young woman with olive skin, blue-tipped hair, and a nose ring emerges from a sea of surf gear. “Hey.” She says to Jair before she notices Ian. “Hey!” She says excitedly. “Is that—are you?” She gestures back and forth.

“Zoey, this is Ian.” Jair confirms. “Ian-ter-tainment.”

“Stellar.” Zoey and Ian shake hands. “Love your stuff, dude.”

“Thanks.” Ian smiles graciously.

“Go get Sarah.” Jair says to Zoey, before turning to Ian. “I’ll get you that tea.” She scurries to the counter at the back of the shop while Jair pours blueberry bubble tea into a tall plastic cup.

A young woman with caramel-colored hair crouches behind the counter. Zoey leans her torso over the glass countertop. “Prepare the wall of fame!” She exclaims. “Celebrity in the house.” 

The young woman rises to her feet. She turns to Zoey with bewilderment. Zoey pushes her small frame off the counter and stands aside, presenting Ian.

Sarah tucks her hair behind her ears, adjusts her Rip Curl hoodie, and approaches the guys.

“Oh, Sarah!” Jair waves her over. “I want you to meet—“

“Hi.” She smiles.

“Hi.” Ian returns her knowing smile.

“You’re famous?”

He shrugs. “Some people think so.”

Jair hands him a blueberry tea. “Don’t sweat it, bro. Sarah didn’t know Jamie McCoogan, either.” He pats Ian on the back.

Sarah explains that they maintain a small section of celebrities who have visited the store. She leads him to a group of four photos under a banner that reads “Wall of Fame” in glittering seashells. The notable patrons include a bass player in a local band, a professional lacrosse player, an Instagram model, and an actor who had a small role in a short-lived TV series.

“Which one is he... she?” Ian wonders aloud. Jair gasps and waves a hand at him as he struts away.

Zoey approaches Ian, phone in hand. “The actor.” She answers, then holds up the phone. “Can I?” He nods, and she takes his picture.

Sarah accompanies Ian as he sips his tea and meanders around the merchandise. “Cool shop.” He says to her.

“Thanks.”

“You own it?”

“Yep.” She proudly oversees the expanse of the store. “It’s my baby.” 

Ian brushes past a wooden display shelf with handmade crafts. He backtracks to make sure nothing is broken when his eyes linger on a nearby sign offering surfing lessons.

Sarah observes his interest. “You surf?”

Ian shakes his head. “I tried once, years ago. Didn’t go well.”

“Give it another shot.” She urges him. “Jair and Zoey are both certified surfing instructors. Or you could go out with me.” She bites her lip, waves her hand, and points out the door. “In the water.”

He strokes his chin and considers the per-session fee of $100. “How about we make a deal?”

“Our fees are non-negotiable.” Sarah replies with a friendly but firm tone.

“Understood,” Ian nods. “But what if I pay you in promotion instead of cash?”

She drifts away from Ian, carefully inspecting her inventory. “I’m listening.”

He gives her a brief pitch about his YouTube channel’s sports and gaming content, and how surfing is a natural fit for his audience of over four million subscribers. “I’ll introduce you, plug your store, and I’ll tag it across all my social media.” Jair overhears this and cautiously approaches as Ian continues. “You’ll have a thousand new customers here within two weeks.”

Sarah surveys her store again. She notes the fully stocked shelves and the absence of customers. Then she notices Jair, skulking within earshot. “Eu devo?” She asks him in Portuguese.

Jair nods. “Sim.”

She turns toward Ian and extends her hand. “Deal.” They shake hands.

 

Four days later

Three young men and two women set up cameras and sound equipment on a beach. Brayden approaches Ian and Sarah, both wearing latex body suits and holding surf boards. “You ready?”

Ian nods. “Let’s get it.” They bump fists. Brayden leads them to their marks at the water’s edge.

“What’s up Ian nation?” Ian confidently declares on camera. “I’m here with my friend Sarah Solandsky of Sarah’s Surf Shop on the Crystal Bay Boardwalk.” Sarah waves and smiles radiantly. Brayden gives them a thumbs-up from behind the camera. “And she is gonna teach me how to ride the waves—” Ian raises both arms and gestures emphatically. “—Like a boss!”

Sarah leads Ian through the cove’s deep water until they reach a cascade of small waves. As they rise to their feet she starts to coach him on proper stance and technique but stops herself. “You got it! That’s perfect.”

“I’ve stood on a board a time or two.” He winks toward the camera.

Sarah casually navigates the waves. “So why haven’t you surfed before?” She shouts to him.

“Uh…” He tries to follow her. “I kind of panic when I fall in water.”

She bites her lip to stifle a grin. “Okay, just picture the waves like a half-pipe.”

Ian tries to psych himself up as he approaches bigger waves, but he quickly falls. After his first two wipeouts he is visibly frustrated. Sarah encourages him on every subsequent attempt. He keeps falling but starts to ham it up, embracing his pratfalls. Eventually he hangs on and catches a wave.

“There you go. You got this!” Sarah cheers him on.

Ian falls a second later and stays underwater for a few seconds. She cranes her neck to check on him. He resurfaces dramatically. “You jinxed me!” He playfully splashes some water toward her. She splashes him back.

They pause for a break on the edge of a jetty. On camera, Ian turns to face Sarah. “Now show us how an expert rides the waves—” Ian raises both arms and gestures emphatically. “—Like a boss!”

Sarah obliges, seamlessly riding waves of all sizes, as Ian and his crew loudly cheer her on. At the conclusion of their session, Ian and Sarah stand on the beach for an on-camera sign-off.

“That was awesome! I had a blast; I hope you guys did, too.” Ian declares. He leans toward Sarah, continuing to face forward. “Sarah, where can my people find you?”

“I’m at surfer girl Sarah.” She says to the camera.

“Surfer girl Sarah.” Ian repeats.

“That’s surfer with three R’s in the middle and three R’s at the end, girl with three R’s and no I, and Sarah... with one R.” The social media handle @surrrferrrgrrrlsarah appears on screen in the final cut.

“Right on.” Ian nods. “Surfer girl Sarah.” He gestures toward her. “Sarah’s Surf Shop, Crystal Bay, California.” Ian taps himself on the chest. “Ian-tertainment.” He extends his fingers from a peace sign to a shaka sign. “Out!” Sarah leans toward him and makes the same gesture.

“And… cut.” Brayden announces.

Ian turns to Sarah. “That was perfect!” He declares.

“Thanks.” She beams.

He extends a fist toward her. She makes a fist and gently taps his. “Clap it up for Sarah, y’all!”

The Ian-tertainment crew vigorously claps and shouts for her. She blushes and takes a slight bow.

Ten days later

Ian, wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses, approaches Sarah’s shop. The door chimes as he enters. A healthy crowd of customers roam the store. Zoey and Jair attend to some of them; Jair waves to Ian from across the room. Ian subtly waves back. He notices the shoppers on his way to the counter and glances up at the Wall of Fame – which now features a fifth photo.

 

Ian Cooper

YouTube Content Creator

 
He makes his way to the back counter and stands in line behind a couple who place several shirts and crafts on the counter. Sarah happily rings them up and thanks them.

She smiles at the sight of Ian and greets him with a hearty “Heyy!” as he approaches.

“What did I tell ya?” He gestures, indicating the crowd.

“I don’t know if we’ve hit a thousand yet, but its close.” Sarah leans toward him. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He nods. “My guys are getting set up, so… whenever you’re ready.”


Ian and Sarah hit the waves for another lesson. His surfing slightly improves. The video surpasses a half million views within 48 hours. He posts short clips on Twitter and Instagram, with the hashtag #sarahssurfshop – bringing her scores of new social media followers.

Later that afternoon, Ian and Sarah take a walk to a nearby taco truck.

“Why did you want to become a YouTuber?” She asks him.

“I didn’t really.” He explains. “When I was in school, my friends and I used to film a bunch of skits and short films. We uploaded a few just for the hell of it. One went viral, and… here I am.”

“Lucky you.” She replies with a hint of resentment.

Ian glances over at her. “Yeah.” He replies sincerely. “What made you want to open a surf shop?”

 

“My parents divorced when I was 15.” She takes a thoughtful pause. “I took it pretty hard. Skipped school a lot. Ran away from home a couple times. Did some things I’m not proud of.” She turns toward the ocean. “Surfing saved me. It gave me a goal, a distraction, a reason to get up in the morning.” She looks ahead. “Once I finished college and got a job, I saved every penny I could to pay it forward.” She faces Ian. “And to ditch that corporate bullshit.”

They arrive at the truck, place an order for Zoey, Jair, and themselves, then stand a few feet away.

“What do you do outside the store?” Ian asks her. “Like, after you close for the day?”

“I go home, make dinner, do yoga… worry about my balance sheet, and go to bed.”

Ian regards her intently. “Go on a date with me.”

A loud cackle bursts out of Sarah.

“Why is that funny?”

“It’s not funny. It’s sweet.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I don’t date customers. I’m sorry.”

“Understood,” He replies. “But technically, I haven’t paid you a dime. So am I really a customer?”

“You want to date me on a technicality?”

“Yes.” He frankly affirms. “I want to date you.”

She considers his offer. They return to the taco cart. Ian takes the bag of food while Sarah carries large cups of lemonade in each hand.

“Okay.” She says as they head back to her shop. “But it has to be something that takes no more than two hours or twenty dollars.”

“I’ll cover it, Sarah.”

“That’s what I mean.” She replies. “I don’t want you to spend a lot of money on me.”

She tells Ian about her last boyfriend, Aldo, a man several years her senior who wrote computer code and freelanced as a hacker-for-hire to find flaws in cyber security. “It was a fun, foolish kind of fling.” She recounts. “He was very smart, very charming and generous. But he crossed a line.”

“Did he hit you?” Ian turns to her with concern.

“Nooo!” Sarah shakes her head. “No.” She explains that he bought her gifts she appreciated but didn’t need, and planned extravagant getaways for the two of them – which would have pulled her away from the store for several days. “And when I told him I didn’t have enough employees to cover that much time, he showed me his CashApp balance and said ‘How much do you need?’”

“He wanted to be your sugar daddy.”

“He wanted to control me.” Sarah returns. “Flowers, jewelry… that’s one thing. But he tried to influence the way I run my store.” She stops outside the front door. “I sink or swim on my terms.” She declares.

“Hell yeah.” Ian emphatically nods in solidarity. He holds the door open for her.

“Funny thing is,” She looks him over as she passes. “You probably make more money than he does.”

“I’m not showing you my bank balance.” He smirks as they enter her store.

 

____________________________________________________________ 

part 3 Saturday