Read Online The Green Room by Deborah Turrell Atkinson - Free Book Online

equipment for the meets, but I’ve got some huge names—sports drinks, suntan lotion, clothing. Some of the surfers have their own sponsors, in addition.” Barstow looked thoughtful. “What’s the meet going to cost us to run?”
    â€œAbout seven hundred fifty thou.”
    â€œCheaper than football, I bet.”
    â€œNo shit.” O’Reilly chuckled.
    â€œWhat will the winner’s purse be?”
    â€œI’m thinking of a hundred twenty thousand, which is bigger than any of the other contests. Plus, we’ve got sponsorship guarantees for the top three finalists that amount to multiples of that number. Right now, the winner could make up to two-fifty, three hundred with sponsorships. Minimum.”
    â€œYeah?” Barstow squinted over his drink. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?”
    â€œI was savin’ it till I was sure, but one of the credit card companies is talking about a contract for the winner.”
    â€œYou’re makin’ my day. How much we talking?”
    â€œSeven figures. It’s a first for a surfer.”
    Barstow nodded. He was looking happier by the minute, and O’Reilly felt good about that. If his old friend was going through a hard time on a personal level, it was nice O’Reilly could help out in a business sense.
    â€œYou haven’t asked what we’re going to clear.” O’Reilly handed him a fresh beer.
    â€œOkay, what are we gonna make?”
    O’Reilly threw back his head and laughed. The ocean breezes ruffled his thinning hair. “Don’t quote me yet, but we should each clear a half mil. And that’s just for this year. This is the beginning of a wonderful new tradition.”

Chapter Nine
    Storm got two calls from the Public Defender’s Office on Monday morning. One of her new clients came to the office in handcuffs with an HPD escort, and the other came in with her distraught mother, who insisted her daughter couldn’t possibly have shoplifted the bathing suit she wore under her clothing when she left an exclusive teen boutique. Ink blots from the store sensor still spotted the kid’s leg. It was eleven o’clock before Storm had a chance to call Stephanie Barstow.
    â€œHello,” Stephanie shouted over a lot of background noise.
    â€œCan you hear me? It’s Storm.”
    â€œBarely.” Her voice crackled with radio interference.
    â€œHow’s Ben doing in the meet?”
    â€œHe came in second.” Stephanie’s voice broke, and Storm thought it was due to excitement, rather than the bad connection.
    â€œAll right,” Storm shouted. “He beat out Gabe.”
    â€œYeah, Gabe came in fourth.” Stephanie laughed. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
    Storm had to grin. “What about Nahoa? And who came in third?”
    â€œNahoa won. The crowd loves him—I hope Ben is as strong when he’s Nahoa’s age. Kimo Hitashi came in third. It was a real upset, and Gabe was madder than a wet cat.” Stephanie sounded downright gleeful. “Kimo dates Gabe’s ex-girlfriend. They hate each other. Gabe wouldn’t talk to reporters or anything.”
    â€œI’m thrilled for Ben. That’s wonderful!” Storm said. “I also called about your case. I’d like to get together sometime this week. Will you be coming into town?”
    â€œNo, I’ve taken too much time off already. Any chance you’ll be on the North Shore?”
    â€œUm, I might be able to manage that.” Storm knew that the two clients from the PD’s office wouldn’t need her until their arraignments, which would be at least a week away. She’d also had a call from one of Uncle Miles’ former clients, an elderly woman who wanted to revise her will. Mrs. Shirome lived in Waialua, near Haleiwa. She would love the personal visit. It was the kind of thing Uncle Miles used to