Justin begins his first day as a lifeguard while Craig's advertising rep enjoys the fruits of his labor.
The next morning...
Brian stepped out onto the balcony of his top-floor corner suite and smiled, feeling the pressures of being a high-stakes advertising CEO quickly dissipating as he inhaled the salty fragrance of the ocean and savored the warm breeze caressing his toned chest and legs. He had to admit - this had to be one of the best perks of the job he'd ever been given: free room and board at one of the most exclusive, private beach resort clubs in the U.S. in exchange for preparing a new advertising campaign for its owner, Craig Taylor.
When he had first met Taylor a few weeks ago in his office, he frankly hadn't cared much for the man. He had found him to be pompous, arrogant, and abrasive. But he had to grudgingly acknowledge that he was also a savvy businessman, having taken an aging, tired, oceanfront property that was on the verge of bankruptcy, and managing to transform it into a thriving, posh, in-demand resort. Thanks in large part to his contacts in the electronics world, he had equipped the resort with the latest in technology. Each room was equipped with wireless internet, flat-screen, digital televisions, DVD players, and video game stations, along with recharging docking stations for smart phones and state-of-the-art, 'eco-friendly,' electrical sensors for all the fixtures. Each guest had the capacity of ordering room service by either their cellphone or through the television, and they could request other services, such as additional housekeeping supplies, with a simple request made through LCD screens imbedded into the nightstand table next to their beds, which were all equipped with memory-foam mattresses.
The entire refurbishing of the property had to have cost millions, but in the two years that Taylor had owned it, he had managed to turn a tidy profit with it through his business acumen. Now he felt it was time to tweak his marketing promotions, and his offer of staying at the resort for a week of sunbathing, pampering, and especially riding the waves was too tempting an invitation to resist.
Yes, even though his satellite office for Kinnetik had only been open for the past six months, and he had resided in California for approximately the same time, soon after arriving he had promptly been bitten by the surfing bug. While he could not yet afford to have a place of his own on the ocean, he managed to find a respectable condo within a block of the beach and discovered that he had a natural talent for surfing. A few, fairly short lessons later, and he was hot dogging it better than most of the veterans. He had even purchased his own surfboard and wetsuit so he could glide more easily through the waves. He had found that apart from clinching the latest, multi-million dollar deal, the next best thing was the thrill and exhilaration of catching a roiling wave and riding it until he reached the shore.
He inhaled the salty, ocean breeze again and smiled as he noticed the gentle lapping of the waves. He knew that was deceptive, though; he knew that later during high tide, the waves would be much higher, and he couldn't wait to get out there and try them out. The rocks that jutted out haphazardly in an almost artistic, random pattern were the perfect cataylst to make the waves higher and more challenging. Yes, just a little work on his part - and his graphics department back at Kinnetik - and he would be spending most of his time in the water.
For now, however, he had a breakfast meeting with the owner. Reluctantly turning away from the quickly-warming air, then, he walked back inside his suite and headed toward the shower to get ready, thankful that he could dress in something high-quality but casual. As soon as he was done meeting with Craig Taylor, then the real fun could begin.
One Hour Later...
"Hey, Baby!" Emmett Honeycutt greeted me with a fond smile as I entered the hotel's surfer shop. The well-appointed establishment - open to the public as well as the hotel's patrons - was one of the first enhancements my father had made as soon as he had refurbished the neglected resort, and it had wound up being one of his most astute investments. Its unique stock of one-of-a-kind surfboards, extensive surfing apparel, expensive, high-quality jewelry, lotions, and gifts, had quickly become the 'hip' place to go to find unique and highly-sought after items for surfers and wannabes.
"Hi, Em," I replied with a smile of my own. Emmett and I had known each other ever since the resort had been purchased by my father and Em had started hanging out around the place while it was being refurbished - partly out of incessant curiosity over what was going on, but also due to being laid off from one of the small, tourist shops in town and hoping he might eventually be able to obtain employment here. I had first encountered him while out walking along the beach a couple of times, and had quickly struck up a friendship with him, enjoying his quirky, friendly and fun-loving personality.
Eventually, Emmett had mentioned to me that he was looking for a job, and I managed to put in a good word for him with my father, who decided that the man's exuberance, if not over-the-top personality, was a good match for selling goods in the surfer shop. My father's judgment had proven accurate shortly thereafter when sales at the newly-opened shop began to quickly climb after its grand opening. Today, the surfer shop's profit was brisk, thanks in part to visitors from all parts of the country who sought it out whenever they came to California, but also through a multitude of online sales that were generated on a weekly basis.
I walked up to the counter; the shop had just opened for the day, so only a couple of early shoppers were in the store at the moment, looking over some of the surfer apparel over in the far corner.
"What brings you to my humble establishment so early?" Em asked me with a grin as he kept busy placing some copies of the morning newspaper into a nearby, vertical display rack. "If you want to pick up a big, burly surfer dude, I'd try after lunch when they come in to do some browsing of their own. That's when I do my best 'browsing,' too," he said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes and laughed at him. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that Emmett was gay, too; it was pretty obvious by the way he almost frothed at the mouth whenever a good-looking guy walked into the shop. And with it catering to surfers, there were a lot of fairly hot, toned and suntanned men who showed up on a frequent basis. Emmett often told me that it was definitely one of the best perks of his job. I was a bit more prone to be private regarding my sexual orientation, at least where strangers or acquaintances were concerned, but I had felt so comfortable being around him that eventually I had confided in him that I, too, preferred men to women.
"I'll keep that in mind," I told him with a grin. "But actually, I came in to get some sun blocker. My dad said I could pick some up in here before I go over to the South Lifeguard station."
Emmett frowned at me as he placed the last of the papers into their appointed slots and walked over to a nearby display holding all of the shop's lotions and other medicinal supplies. "Sure thing, Sweetie. But why are you going over to the Lifeguard Station? Especially the South One. That's where Eddie patrols." He shuddered. Eddie was a good lifeguard, but a total geek and a klutz - and the total antithesis of a "Baywatch" type of lifeguard.
"No worries there," I muttered as Emmett raised his eyebrows in question. "He's not coming back," I informed him as I began to pull my shorts down my legs in explanation, revealing the standard, cherry-red uniform of the resort's lifeguard staff that I had donned earlier in my room. I grimaced as I held my hands out to my sides. "Meet the new South Station lifeguard."
Emmett's eyes grew as large as beach balls as his mouth hung open. "You?" I nodded. "Baby, don't take this the wrong way. You're certainly adorable enough to save my life any day. But aren't you just a little light skinned to be out there in that sun all day, every day?"
I sighed; Emmett wasn't the only one who thought this idea was crazy. "Yeah...Seems like I heard that somewhere before," I couldn't help commenting dryly. "I said pretty much the same thing to my dad. That's why I'm here. His solution was for me to use a lot of sun blocker - and a big, beach umbrella. So as long as no one actually needs my help, I should be just fine."
Emmett couldn't help laughing softly at the look on my face. "I'm sorry, Justin. It's just that, well, if you looked like that and I saw you perched up there with that blonde hair blowing in the breeze and wearing a pair of those red lifeguard swim trunks - and if you just happened to turn around to put your umbrella up, too, so I could see the entire package; well, let's just say I'd FIND a way to 'need help.'"
"Em..." I blushed; I knew my friend was teasing me, but still... "You know I would help anyone that needed it, even if I do wind up looking like a lobster." I winced at the thought; I had had my share of sunburns before, and they could be quite painful, especially for someone like me. "I hope that doesn't happen, though." I sighed again. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought about looking for a good summer job, but I guess it's better than nothing at all."
Emmett reached over to hand me a high-factor sun blocker, knowing with my fairer skin I would need a strong one. "I know," he told me sympathetically.
I had shown him a lot of my sketches and had told him at length about my dreams of being an artist one day. He knew I had had my heart set on working up on the boardwalk during the summer. But he also knew how competitive those jobs were, and how I had struck out in my attempts to secure employment there.
"Well, that's the right attitude, though," he told me with a smile. "And I'll get to see you more often now." He paused, deep in thought. "Not sure if you'll get a very good tan, though. But look at it this way!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "You'll have a great view of all the tan, bare-chested surfers walking around the beach all summer long, and you'll have a front row seat to watch them catching a big wave while their muscles ripple in the breeze. So it's not ALL bad."
Hmm...I considered that for a moment before I had to smile. "Yeah...You do have a point there. At least the scenery will be pretty."
Emmett laughed as he handed me the tube of sun blocker and a large, liter-sized, cold bottle of water. "Just watch out for the sharks, Baby," he told me with a wink as he turned to wait on a customer walking up to the cash register. "Hang loose! Maybe we can meet for lunch."
I smiled with a nod as I picked up my shorts off the floor and walked back out of the store, heading toward the South Lifeguard Station located approximately fifty feet away. It consisted of a compact, wooden room on stilts with a small balcony just roomy enough to accommodate the lifeguard chair. A yellow rescue vehicle, along with some other equipment, was parked directly underneath the station; I could see the large, beach umbrella folded and propped up next to the chair as I squinted up into the bright sunlight.
"Sunglasses," I murmured in realization, recognizing one more piece of equipment I would definitely need. Rather than returning to Emmett's shop to pick up a pair, though, instead I decided to check out the small room above and find out what it did - or didn't have already. "Shoo," I muttered to the large group of seagulls congregated near the bottom of the steps, no doubt hoping I had some sort of breakfast for them. "Fuck off," I said to the pesky birds as I waved my hands back and forth. They finally moved a few feet away, but didn't seem all that afraid of me as I placed my sun blocker in my white windbreaker and began to climb the steps heading up to the lifeguard quarters.
Fishing in my discarded shorts for the key to the small equipment room, I placed it in the lock and turned the handle to take a look inside. There was a small cot in one corner, and a tiny double burner set up on a small wooden table, similar to a camping stove. There was also some miscellaneous gear stashed in another corner, such as a couple of fishing rods, a pair of wooden oars - no doubt left over from when the old owners had needed a rowboat for rescues rather than paddle boards - and a white, hard plastic first aid kit hanging up next to a small, self-contained area that looked like a closet. I walked over to swing the door open, surprised to see a half-bath there complete with a small toilet and a tiny sink. "All the comforts of home," I murmured as I shut the door back and began to search for the equipment I would need to keep at the ready just in case of emergencies. I quickly located the paddle boards, rescue rings, tubes, and buoys in a small, wooden chest in the far corner, and some beach towels in a cabinet. I had to scrounge around a little harder before - to my relief - I discovered a decent pair of sunglasses packaged inside a black, leather-like case in one of the narrow drawers underneath the first aid kit, along with a pair of binoculars and a whistle on a string.
"Great," I mumbled as I slid the whistle over my neck, feeling distinctly silly for some reasons. "I can either be a high school basketball coach or a pervert now."
Walking over to sit down at one of two, folding, wooden chairs ringing a small, circular table, I took off the windbreaker and sleeveless shirt I had been wearing to protect me from the sun and opened up the lotion to being applying it liberally to every exposed part of my body. Taking a sip of water, I peered out the windows overlooking the beach and noticed some resort guests beginning to appear in their customary surfer gear or in swimsuits, getting ready for another day at the ocean. Making sure to grab both my water bottle and the lotion, along with the binoculars, I headed back out onto the balcony, placing the items down on one of the chair's arms as I unfurled the large beach umbrella and secured it in the proper hole behind the chair for whatever shade I could find.
Hoisting myself up into the lifeguard chair, I instantly rose back up as the bare skin of my back encountered the already heated wood of the chair. "Shit!" I yelled as I jumped back down and stomped into the shack to snag a large beach towel to drape it over the chair. Sighing, I finally sat back down a few minutes later, feeling like the chair was swallowing me whole. "This is going to be so much fun," I muttered sarcastically as I slid the sunglasses on and began my patrol.