‘Will it, though?’ Johnny asked flatly. ‘We’ve all seen the emails. They’re not on board with this.’

‘Well, Julian Orsini-Rosenberg is, and he’s their pied piper. Where he leads, they follow. Right, Mats?’

Matty shrugged. ‘That’s what he’s saying. He’s been very helpful, practically falling over himself to make sure this happens.’

‘Well, of course he is,’ Johnny muttered. ‘He’s relying on us to polish the turd.’

Clover laughed. ‘You did not just say that!’

Johnny just grinned. ‘All I’m saying is, I’m the one who’s going to be in the firing line.’

‘Why?’ Matty scowled, as though she wanted to be in the firing line.

‘Because I’m the token bloke! They’re not gonna hate on you two, are they?’

‘Why not?’

‘Duh. Looked in a mirror lately? I’m the only dude. I’m the one they’re going to target.’

‘Oh, so you mean it’s like an alpha male thing?’ Matty asked innocently.

‘Well, y—’ Johnny almost fell for it. ‘Sod off, Mats.’

She laughed. ‘Come on! What are they going to do to you, Johnny? Challenge you to an arm-wrestle? A plank-off?’

‘Maybe!’

‘Relax. If it comes to that, I’ll step in for you.’

‘Oh, you think you could beat me in an arm-wrestle?’

Matty pinned him with a withering look. ‘Johnny, I know I could.’

Clover chuckled quietly and Johnny looked between them both. ‘I don’t think you two quite get what it’s going to be like up there. The big guns in surf culture are hard nuts. You’ve got to be, to do what they do. It’s not Baywatch! Surfing is tribal. Localism is a thing. They defend their territory like hyenas – and we’re out-and-proud Team Cory. I’ve been telling you for months – this is a bad idea.’

Clover’s leg had begun jigging again. ‘Look, I know it’ll be a bit awkward for a day or two but we don’t have to pretend to be their friends. This is a business proposition for all parties. We stay neutral and professional. There’s certainly no need to go in braced for all-out war.’

‘Clo’s right,’ Matty said, flashing them a photo on her phone. ‘I’ve been scoping them out and you can’t tell me this guy’s not a complete pussycat.’ Her grin widened as Johnny took in the image of Kit’s manager, Ari Jones, from his own pro surfing days.

Clover rolled her eyes as Johnny whimpered at the sight of Ari roaring victoriously, riding on his board. He was a brick of a man, with aboriginal tattoos and some severe scarring on his face that made Clover worry for the well-being of whoever had done that to him. ‘He looks like he could crush my legs just pulling a fist.’