Thrilla Dad Krew - Part Three
Joe's awareness fluttered in and out between the ambulance ride to Brushburn and finally being allowed to recover. Doctors were most concerned about his neck, spine, and concussions. They kept him on the backboard with a collar until scans cleared him. Deep wounds were sewn closed while shallow ones were fixed with Steri-Strips. Antibiotics and other meds were started to help Joe clear his chest out and keep from getting pneumonia. Thrilla lied about being family to stay close and make sure Joe was looked after. It was an agreement the boys had when traveling internationally.
Kool Kat brought a book to read and curled up with it in a vinyl recliner at the corner of the room. Thrilla took a chair at the side of the bed. As news of Joe's accident spread, texts poured in from folks back home. "He's ok. He's asleep. No other updates," was his stock reply to most of them. A few friends and women passed on well wishes before the texts eventually stopped. Fatigue and boredom crept in as Joe continued to sleep. Thrilla folded his arms on the bed and laid his head down.
"Hey. Thrill." Fingers briskly tickled and scratched the fuzz on the back of his neck. Thrilla startled awake. Joe's voice was froggy and congested. He sounded as if he had the flu for several days. "Welcome back."
"That's my line."
"Heh," Joe grinned. "I'd let you sleep, but I know they're gonna' kick you guys out soon."
Thrilla shook the grogginess from his head. "How long was I out?"
"Long enough for two nurse visits and the dinner cart."
"What? I just sat down. Why didn't you wake me?"
"Jet lag's a bitch. Besides, you're adorable when you sleep."
"Shut up."
Joe and Kool Kat snickered.
"Mr. Ka'uhane?" Noah poked his head in the doorway. He held a box with several items, clothes, and a gym bag.
"Noah. Come on in." Joe gestured to Noah. "Guys, this is our intern, Noah."
"S'up Noah," Kool Kat waved from the recliner.
"These are my friends, Kool Kat and Thrilla Gorilla."
Thrilla tipped his cap. "Aloha."
"Nice to meet you guys." Noah set the box down on a table near Joe's bed. "I'm sorry about what happened, today."
"Same," Joe grumbled.
"What happened, anyway?" Kool Kat sat up and closed his book. "You were way ahead of Madsen. That heat should've been a slam dunk."
"My board snapped. Like something hit it..? I dunno. I want to look at it, though. Did anyone recover it?"
"Do you want me to look for it?"
"Yes, please. I need to know what happened."
"You got it, Joe. Oh, and I cleared everything out of the dressing room for you. I have your quiver in the van. Where would you like me to leave everything?"
"I still have my hotel room. I was going to check out tonight, though."
"Since we're going to be here a while, we could move all your stuff to our room," Thrilla offered. "At least until the hospital lets you out."
"Good idea. No point in paying for a room I'm not using." Joe sat up. "Noah, before you go, can you hand me my wallet? It's in my bag."
"Yes, Sir." Noah removed Joe's wallet from the front pocket of his bag and gave it to him. Joe opened it and pulled up three $100 Aussie bills. "I know Rapt only pays you per diem and you're worth a lot more than that. I want you to have this."
"Joe, this is… I can't."
"Yes you can. Keep telling yourself that. Take it." Joe folded the bills into Noah's hand and closed it. "I also want you to get in touch with me as soon as you're done with school. I'll happily recommend you to anyone. Do you have my email?"
"Yes, I have it."
"Good. Could ask one more favor? Follow these guys back to the hotel and help move my stuff into their room. Then get me that board." He handed Thrilla his card key. "I'm in 509."
"Got it," Thrilla and Kool Kat got up. "Need anything else?"
"A Mulligan. For the last three months."
Clean up and breakdown crews still worked the beach when the boys drove by. They didn't see Joe's board laying anywhere. Noah checked areas only staff could get into, while Thrilla and Kool Kat strolled the beach and peeked in dumpsters in the parking lot. No one working breakdown saw anything.
When the boys got back to the hotel, Clayton Horne and his parents were checking out for Melbourne. Their things were heaped on bell hop carts to the side of the concierge booth. Clayton posed with the EcoRealm World Pro trophy and held an impromptu court in the front lounge with fans and a couple of surfing bloggers. His parents were busy disputing charges at the front desk. "Do you mean to tell me you charge $45.00 for can of ginger ale? They're $2.00 from the vending machines!"
"Sir, the $45.00 charge is a mini bar restocking fee. Any time the mini bar seal is broken, your room incurs that fee. There's a large sign posted on the mini bar that says that."
"Housekeeping can't even keep fresh towels in the room and you have the nerve to charge me that much for a damned soda."
"That is our mini bar policy, Sir."
"That is ridiculous! Get the manager out here."
The boys paused by the elevators and looked back at the throng in the lounge. "There he is," Thrilla spoke under his breath. "Surfing's new breed."
"Joe says he's a prick."
"Hey guys," Noah motioned toward the bell hop carts. Joe's board sat on top of a board bag, wrapped in plastic and sloppily covered with a couple of jackets.
Thrilla frowned. "The fuck are they doing with it?"
"The plot thickens," Kool Kat smirked. "Wanna' ask him to sign it?"
"Let's just get it."
Noah blocked an elevator door with his hand. "I've got the elevator."
"Good, Man."
Kool Kat glanced around briefly to see if anyone was watching the carts. Clayton was busy peacocking and signing things for his new believers. His parents still hounded the front desk. Concierge was unmanned. No one else seemed to pay any attention. He walked toward the carts and extracted Joe's board in a purposeful manner.
"Excuse me, Sir. May I help you?" Kool Kat nearly dropped the board as he turned to face the Hotel Manager behind him.
"There's been a mixup with the bags. This board belongs to the guest in 509."
The Manager pressed a button on a small tablet and plugged in some info. "I don't have any calls from Room 509. If something is missing, it should've been called in."
"He sent me down. He thought it was faster."
"Room 509… May I have the guest's name, please?"
"Ka-uh-haw-nee."
"Well, the name checks out. Okay, then. For future reference, if something goes missing, the guest needs to call it in first. We can't have staff rifling the luggage trollies."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And when you're done with that, can you help break down the Abalone Room? We have to set up for a wedding reception."
"Consider it done."
"Thank you," She offered her hand. "It was nice to meet you Mr..?"
"Rodriguez. Alex Rodriguez." He shook her hand.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Rodriguez." The woman turned toward the front desk.
Kool Kat stepped briskly toward the elevator mouthing, 'HOLEEEY SHIIIT,' at Thrilla. They waited until the doors closed before cracking up.
"A-Rod, huh? Nice!"
"They don't follow MLB down here, right?"
"We'll find out if anyone checks up on your ass."
Kool Kat turned to Noah. "Hey, wanna change your name to A-Rod for a while?"
Noah laughed, "Sure!"
Joe's room was easy to clear out. He left everything packed up except for the gear he had at the beach. He fully intended to be checked out and gone as soon as he was done competing. Thrilla looked over the pile back in their room and was sad for Joe. "We're not going to do any of the stuff he wanted."
"Yeah. It sucks. This isn't the way you want to pass the torch, either."
Thrilla examined Joe's broken board. "He said something hit his board. Look at the rail. It's almost blown off right here. The board buckled clear through the stringer, too. He wouldn't do that unless he hit something hard."
"Or something hit him."
"What do you think? Pissed-off dolphin?"
"I don't know. We would've seen a dolphin, right? Plus they jump when they want to knock a rider off a board. There are enough RekTube videos of it."
"And obviously not a shark 'cuz they come at you mouth-first. I don't see any bite marks."
"What do you think, Noah?"
"Sorry. I don't know anything about dolphins or sharks."
Thrilla laid the board on top of Joe's things. "So what's your story, anyway? How'd you get hooked-up with Joe?"
"I'm a Communication Arts major at Ohio State. I made a short documentary about a Christian skate ministry in Columbus. They raised money with skate contests and fund drives and they used it to renovate a youth shelter and start a food pantry. When the time came for an internship, I sent out my video and landed this gig with Rapt."
"Nice," Thrilla sat down on the bed.
"Well… Kinda. I was impressed with the skaters because they don't just read The Scripture and dick around. They actually did something. Big. I expected Rapt to be the same way. They're more about what's good for the brand than anything Jesus taught. Christianity is just a demographic." Noah suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I hope I'm not putting you off with all that."
"What? No. Not at all," Thrilla smiled. "My dad is a Methodist Elder, so I get you."
"Not that you act like it," Kool Kat smirked.
"I'm not my father."
"Did you know Joe is a priest?"
"Nuh-uh! No way."
"Yep. Joe is a Hawaiian Kahu. He serves Kane, and under Him; Pele and Namaka. He's also a member of the Oahu Eight."
"So if the shit hits the fan, he's one of the guys that's supposed to save Hawaii… Talk about someone not acting their role."
"Let's be honest. How fun would he be if he did?"
"He wouldn't hang out with us."
"This is amazing. I always thought he was Catholic."
"His mom is Irish and Catholic. So, he's knows how to 'put on' the Church. His dad, on the other hand, is full Hawaiian."
"I've never heard of him going to Mass once in his adult life, though."
"He's usually too hung over."
The boys laughed.
End of Part Three.