Page 58 of Try Easy

Lou smiled back.

The horn sounded announcing the beginning of the competition, and everyone turned their attention to the surf.

The magazine and television reporters jostled to get the best spots as the men paddled out to the lineup. A helicopter hovered over the bay like a giant fly.

“That’s your friend from the airport,” Lou said, pointing at Declan as the contestants lined up.

“Yeah. Looks like he got the bad luck to be in the first heat.” Keoni pointed to the numbered jerseys the contestants wore. Declan’s was number five. “He knows the waves better than any of these guys. Keep your eyes on him.”

“Okay,” Lou said, coming up to her toes to see over the crowd.

Keoni commented on the contest, telling Lou how the judges scored the riders: “It’s all about wave selection.”

Declan surfed well, catching better rides than the others. He was a seasoned competitor. From the age of seventeen, he’d been competing around the world. Declan knew what the judges were looking for, and he gave it to them.

“Your friend is pretty good,” Lou said.

Keoni nodded. Declan was doing everything right. He was snapping and going straight off the lip, and he got barreled at the end of the heat.

“Why weren’t you invited?” Lou asked.

Keoni shrugged. “They must have lost my address.”

“You’re better than any of these guys.”

Keoni tilted his head toward Lou but didn’t take his eyes off the waves. “You think so?”

“I don’t know surfing,” Lou said. “But my gut tells me there isn’t anyone as good as you. You’re the best, Keoni.”

“Thanks, eh?”

“You’re welcome, eh?”

Keoni laughed at Lou’s impression of his accent. He had the sudden urge to take her in his arms and kiss her, right there in front of everyone. He resisted and turned his attention back to the contest.

The second heat started, but no one looked as good as Declan, who’d been on fire.

Declan sailed through the preliminaries and the quarters, then the semis. He’s going to win, Keoni realized with sudden certainty. Declan was going to win.

Keoni’s chest puffed with pride for his childhood friend. Declan had won plenty of contests in his surfing career, but winning the Duke was like winning a gold medal at the Olympics.

“Geev’um, Declan!” Keoni yelled, holding up his fist in the shaka sign. “Geev’um da lights!”

Declan’s head came up when he heard the Pidgin expression, and he beamed at Keoni.

When the contest was over, the judges took their time tallying the scores, but in Keoni’s mind, it was clear who had won. There may have been a few surfers who caught better individual waves, but Declan had shown them all up by picking the best waves of every set.

The judges took the stage and tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

“Third place belongs to Bobby Carter, and second place goes to James Johnson,” the director said, then paused dramatically. “Let’s give a cheer for the winner, Hawaii’s own Declan Bishop!”

Keoni stood back and watched his childhood friend climb up on the winner’s podium. Declan was showered with champagne, and bikini-clad girls presented him with leis.

When the directors handed Declan the microphone, he said, “I would like to dedicate this win to my brother, Eddie Alvarez.” Then, after a pause, he continued. “And to my man, Keoni Makai, who would be standing in this spot right now if he would have been invited.”

Declan pointed to Keoni in the crowd, and everyone turned to look at him. Keoni raised his hand in the shaka sign, and the crowd began to chant his name.

The directors looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably on the stage. After Declan’s speech, it would be impossible to ignore Keoni in the future.

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