7
Carlos would have laughed if he had any air. Surfman Sarah Goodwin was definitely out to get him. He’d have to watch himself around her.
He tried to imagine “ten times worse” and decided that he was glad it wouldn’t be him feeling it. He’d already bottomed out the chair’s heavy padding twice with breath-stealing butt plants. At first he’d felt insulted at Javits doubling Carlos’ harness; now he was grateful. It was very comforting to feel firmly attached to the boat when the waves tossed eighteen tons of aluminum and five humans about like a bath toy.
He tried to watch what Sarah was looking for as she surveyed the next wave and drove them into it, but she was too distracting. Her focus, her whole being, had such a clear purpose. Her, the boat, the wave. Tweak a throttle, c**k the whe
