Page 22 of Try Me

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Pearl said.

“Cigarette?” he asked, pulling a gold case out of his jacket pocket.

“I don’t smoke.”

He plucked a cigarette from the box and tapped the filtered end on the table a few times, eyes never leaving Pearl’s. He lit the cigarette, inhaled, and exhaled, still holding her gaze.

“I want to sign you,” he said finally. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

Before Pearl could answer, the waiter interrupted with their bottle of champagne.

“Excellent choice,” the waiter said in a thick French accent. “Are we celebrating something special? Yes?”

“Non pas encore,” Pearl said. Not yet.

Both the waiter and Nate looked taken aback.

“Vous parlez français?” the waiter asked, glancing from Pearl to Nate.

When McKenna looked blank, Pearl translated. “Do you speak French, Mr. McKenna?”

McKenna pinched the cigarette between his lips and shook his head no. “It’s Nate,” he reminded her.

Pearl returned her attention to the waiter with a smile. “Seulement moi,” she said, gesturing to herself. She glanced at Nate who was watching the exchange with a frown, and an idea sparked in her mind. “S’il vous plait reviens dans ten minutes et dis-moi que j’ai un coup de fil,” she said.

“Bien,” the waiter said with a discreet nod.

“En anglais,” Pearl added.

“Oui.”

The waiter poured an inch of champagne in Nate’s flute and showed him the cork.

“Leave it,” Nate said without sampling the wine.

The waiter left, but if he followed Pearl’s directions he would be back in ten minutes to tell her she had an important call at the hostess stand.

“How do you know French?” Nate asked.

“One of my roommates at school majored in French,” she said.

Nate’s brows drew together. “College?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Medical school.”

Nate coughed and blew out an inelegant puff of smoke. Pearl helped herself to Nate’s untouched sample of wine and nodded her approval.

“Not all jocks are dumb,” she said. “You represent a couple of boys from Harvard, right? Tennis and golf?”

Nate’s mouth thinned to a tight line. “You’ve done your homework on me,” he said, appraising her.

“I know all about you,” Pearl said. “I know you’re a self-made man from Boston who used to be a boxer —” She paused. “That must be what happened to your nose, right?” She shook her head regretfully. “I know that everyone you represent is at the top of their game. You asked me what I wanted. Here it is: I want to be the most famous surfer in the world.”

Nate flicked his cigarette. “Is that all?” he asked.

“Can you do it or not?”

Nate pinched the cigarette between his lips, watching her. He inhaled thoughtfully, then squinted at her through the cloud of smoke as he exhaled. “Sure, I can do that,” he said. “But the question is: Can you? It takes a lot of sacrifices to make it in the circuit. You have to stay focused. No distractions.”

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