Marbella Truth

by Shel Stone

  “Oh, hey, Ricky. How are you?” she said, her Aussie accent still there. “I heard you were coming back.”

  “Yeah, figured I’d spend some time on the coast here. You’re still here, I see.”

  “Yeah,” she said, but there wasn’t enthusiasm in her voice. “Still here,” she said. “Still dancing. So’s Chrissy and Amber.” A girl Ricky only vaguely recalled as a drama queen. “It’s good to see you. How’ve you been?”

  “Good. Been in Ibiza. Felt I needed a change.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you. You should come around for a drink some time. Cory would be happy to see you.”

  “You’re still together then?” he said with a smile. He liked hearing that people were still together, managing to make it work. A Cory was a stand-up guy. “Good to hear it. I’ll definitely come around.”

  “I’ll let you know when we’ve got something on, crank up the old barbie. You’re not the only one coming back, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Adelaide’s coming back.” The name meant nothing to him, but he nodded. “And Solraya, but I don’t think you were around when she was here.”

  “Both were before my time, but I guess I’m not the only one with a homing instinct.”

  “I suppose you’ll meet them if you come around.”

  "Sounds good. You know where Jesus is?”

  “I think he’s down in the basement,” she said and moved on. “You know where it is, right?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” The basement was the storage area, where the alcohol was kept. It was actually quite a high-tech system, pressurized hoses out to the various bar areas, but the bottles still needed to be carried out.

  Chapter 4

  THE FIGHT WITH ANNABEL STILL rung in Inns’ ears as he made his way out of the Malaga airport, because at the end of the day, she’d chosen to attend her old gymkhana instead of joining him for this trip. She was coming in a few days instead, but Inns had felt put out, because it wasn’t as if she was competing in the gymkhana, or even had a purpose there. She hadn’t competed there since she’d been fifteen, but for some reason, attending was more important than spending time with his family.

  Then again, he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to venture out to this place. Fake tan and fake hair, it was enough to make anyone shudder. For some reason, his parents had taken to visiting the Fellworths. After disparaging their insistence on spending so much time here, they were changing their tune, and sought to spend time here too, for any reason. This time, it was their anniversary.

  It was also to celebrate his graduation from Royal Holloway. It was a decent school, not quite the prestige of Oxford or Cambridge, but decent enough. After the setback of being rejected by every school in the country due to the incident which had involved him being expelled, it was an outcome he was happy about. Education was now behind him and he had a first in Politics and International Relations. All the setbacks in the past were overcome and could be put behind him.

  The past settled, he now faced the issue of deciding what he wanted to do. Annabel wanted him to study law like her father. His parents wanted him to take a job at the Foreign Office before he was required to settle down to be the lord of Bennington Hall when his father was ready to retire. Himself, he was quite happy to take a breather for a moment. No doubt, his parents and the Fellworths would talk endlessly about his future prospects. No one mentioned anything for Aggie, whom they were all happy for to sit around and do nothing for the rest of her life—which she was doing quite nicely.

  How was it he’d ended up here again? Why couldn’t they be gentlemanly and fly-fish in some wild stream in Scotland? That he could actually look forward to doing. This place was pointless. People all running around trying to convince others they were something more than they actually were. He hated this place.

  Spotting his name on a board, he saw the chauffeur waiting for him. His parents didn’t trust him to drive in a foreign land. Because of the ‘incident’, which had included a bit of violence to someone who had thoroughly deserved it, they were still under the impression that he needed to be managed. It was annoying, but if you lost control for a moment, you had to bear the consequences. Not all the consequences were behind him with regards to his family. Memory was long and he was the troubled boy they felt they needed to coddle.

  “Hello,” he said to the driver without a smile. “I believe you are waiting for me.”

  “This way, sir,” the man said and led the way to a late model German SUV. The insides were leather. It was nice and blessedly cool inside, and he waited for the chauffeur to put away his bag.

  They drove in silence, every moment taking him closer to the place he wanted least to be. To some degree it was also because this was where Esme was. The first girl he’d really had a relationship with, and then it had ended. It had been time for him to return. She was, in essence, local. Wealthy as sin, but the wrong kind of girl in every way. Basically she’d seduced him and he’d had hang-ups about it, about her, about wanting her. It could have been said he’d been as messed up as his family had accused him of being, but he wasn’t that person anymore—the fuck up who’d grown up in all boys boarding schools of a distinct standard.

  His time at Holloway had made his experiences broader. As had his time in Marbella, although he’d reacted quite badly to being yanked out of his own society, outcast and excommunicated. That excommunication was essentially over. His friends from school were still his friends. He was as much a part of that group as he’d ever been. All that worry had been for nothing.

  And now there was Annabel, his girlfriend for close to a year now. The right kind of girl with the right background. They got on well together, had the same values. He wanted her here with him, but she had her own life, and that was something he deeply appreciated about her. The last thing he wanted was some girl who he had to breathe life into every morning. Annabel was anything but dependant, and she appreciated the same in return. They were perfect for each other. Except he wished she was with him right now.

  Marbella came into view and the sights were vaguely familiar, noting some spots he remembered. Familiar, but yet not. In essence a place he’d visited for a while, but there was no emotion attached to it. He’d never bonded with it. As he got closer to the Fellworth’s house, it started to look more familiar and he could anticipate the route the chauffeur would take. And then he arrived. The house was a little outside the main city, which was a saving grace. Up in the hills. It did have a spectacular view of the hillsides and the sea beyond the hollow it was situated in.

  “Thank you,” he said as the driver delivered his bag to him at the portico of the house. With a nod, the driver retreated back to his car and Inns picked up his bag. The door was open as it usually was, and a rush of dogs descended in a cacophony of noise and scrambling. No one could manage to sneak into this house. It was well guarded.

  “Inns, is that you?” Cassandra Fellworth called.

  “Yes,” he said, wondering if he was staying in the same room as before. Probably. He wandered toward the back of the house where the living room and large outdoor patio were.

  “Ah, there you are, darling,” his mother said and came over to kiss him on the cheek. “So glad you made it.”

  “Fuck it’s hot.”

  “Inns, language, please.”

  “Hello, Inns,” Aggie said, coming over and kissing him as well. She looked no different. Her hair might be a little longer.

  “Aggie,” he said in return. “Wonderful to see you.” It really wasn’t. They’d never gotten on, so he was largely indifferent.

  Chapter 5

  THE BUS FROM MADRID arrived late afternoon in the morning and Solraya Newman stepped off and hailed a taxi. Flying would have been easier, but she’d wanted to spend some time doing nothing and looking at the scenery. As far as bus rides went, it wasn’t bad. The scenery was nice, and often she felt taking the bus was less stressful than having to deal with airports.

&
nbsp; Looking around as they drove, she noted the changes, and it had changed in the time she’d been gone. Paris had been her home for a while, and then Amsterdam. But it felt a little like that chapter of her life was closing and she needed a new one. She just hadn’t decided what it should be, so a visit to her little cousin, Chrissy, was just the ticket.

  Instructing the taxi, she pulled it over at the small row of shops down from where she’d used to live and where Chrissy still lived, apparently. It was early and she was hungry, so she walked to the cafe that had been her local. It had been her hangover go-to when she’d lived here. These days, she didn’t party quite so hard—had grown out of it, but at the same time, she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d grown into either.

  Her friends had been her focus and her boyfriends, but career-wise, she’d never really found her passion. In Amsterdam, she’d worked as a public relations manager for a museum. It had been an alright job, but it’d just been a job to pay the bills. Unlike a lot of her friends, she hadn’t found that passion that dictated her life.

  Sitting down, she ordered the ham and egg toasted sandwich she liked, which she’d at times craved while she’d been gone, and a coffee. When waiting, she relaxed, enjoying the warm afternoon breeze as the sun started to set. This was a lovely time of the day here, but typically she’d been too busy to really enjoy it, rushing to work, running late, busily trying to make plans for later. She chuckled. She wasn’t the same person now that she’d been here, but it was nice to be back—as well as confusing.

  Truthfully, she was wondering if it was time to go home, proper home. Back to Coffs Harbour. Most people got to that point, didn’t they, when they decided it was time to go home? It was a process, she assumed, and she was in the middle of the process of making that decision, but she had a good idea what the outcome would be.

  Her roll came and the coffee, and they were both as good as she remembered, and she savoured it. Cars drove along the busy street, making their way home from work, or whatever else they did. The cafe wasn’t in the best location, but it was their local.

  By the time she’d finished, the sun had sunk down lower, taking the worst of the heat with it. The asphalt was still hot and the wind blew warm with the day’s heat as she walked up the gentle slopes of the development Chrissy lived in. It wasn’t quite as new now as it had been. The gardens were a little more grown and varied, a few signs of wear showed and the smell of fresh paint was gone.

  Checking her watch, she knocked on the door. Hopefully someone would be home or she would have to either go to Shine, or just hang out in the backyard until someone came home, and hope as hell they hadn’t moved houses without her knowing.

  But the door opened and a girl Solraya didn’t know stood there. “Uhm, is Chrissy here?” Maybe they had moved.

  “Yeah, I’ll get her,” the girl said with a smile. The accents suggested a Kiwi. “Come in,” she said and opened the door. “Chrissy!” she shouted up the stairs.

  The place hadn’t really changed much. Obviously there was a new girl in the flat. “I’m Solraya.”

  “Hannah,” the girl said and stretched her hand out.

  “Oh my god,” Chrissy said, rushing down the stairs and throwing her arms out. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Hey, cuz,” Solraya said. “I’m passing through, so I thought I’d drop in.” Actually, she had no idea why she hadn’t informed Chrissy she was down this way. She just hadn’t.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Chrissy said, not letting go of her. “How long are you here for?”

  “Not sure,” she said. “I haven’t really got much plans, just roaming around a bit, you know? Where are the other girls?”

  Chrissy stared at her for a while. “Oh, Trish is probably at Cory’s, her boyfriend. Officially she lives here, but she’s rarely here.” Solraya knew this. She’d seen photos of Trish with her boyfriend on social. Quite a hottie. They made a good couple. And Adelaide was in Asia somewhere. “And Adelaide is still in Indonesia, but she’s coming back.”

  “Cool,” Solraya said. She’d only met those girls in passing for a couple of days when they’d first arrived. One of them had taken her room when she’d left.

  Chapter 6

  ACROSS THE NICELY FURNISHED balcony, Samara Azmer could see Cheyenne and Viola, sitting with their drinks under an aquamarine umbrella. Viola sat with her champagne glass in hand, smiling as she saw Samara coming.

  “I love your outfit,” Viola said as she always did, perpetually jealous at the bright colours Samara could pull off with her olive skin and lush dark hair. Viola just didn’t have the skin tone to wear them, looking best in pale lilacs and pinks.

  “Thank you,” Samara said as she sat down, the waitress coming right away. “I’ll have a glass of whatever Krug you have open.” The young girl with her neat black apron nodded and disappeared, and Samara turned her attention back to her friends. “It is a bit early, but on a beautiful day like this, how can one resist? How are you both?”

  It’d been a week since Samara had seen them, having been away in Paris. This was starting to feel like home again, after the warzone it had been when Hassan had decided to divorce her. Amicable was not in his nature and he’d gone all out to decimate her, but he was still busy and distracted from the fallout of that very unfortunate leak of so much of his companies’ internal documents. Had caused quite a stir and had sent him out of here like a shot.

  “Good,” Cheyenne said, leaning forward over her slim legs to grab her glass from the table. “I have to say it’s been peaceful.”

  “Julia called me,” Viola mentioned.

  Julia the traitor. She’d gone quiet for a while, had lost heavily on the bet she’d made on Hassan, too stupid to realize he’d been using her. Or maybe she hadn’t been too stupid, had simply been too hopeful. Maybe she’d expected Hassan to fall in love with her. It only showed how unrealistic she’d been. She wasn’t even Hassan’s type, and it felt too cruel to say it, but frankly, she was too old for Hassan, even as she was years younger than he was. No, people were objects to Hassan, so why would he go with an old season when there were ample pickings from this year’s season? As expected, he was currently being seen around town with models in their early twenties. The conversation had to be great, Samara thought tartly.

  Even still, she couldn’t feel pity for Julia. The woman had made her bed and that was that. “Oh?” she said with complete lack of enthusiasm.

  “Says she misses our tennis sessions,” Viola reported. “Didn’t go so far as to suggest we should start them up.”

  Cheyenne snorted. As much as Samara had no interest in Julia, Cheyenne was even more unforgiving. For having once been utterly ruthless in pursuing whatever she wanted, Cheyenne had now changed to the point where she valued loyalty fiercely. And she also seemed quite settled with Klaus. The man had an ability to cruise past her prickly defences and had the tenacity to stick with her. They were quite well suited together, but Samara knew that Cheyenne was still struggling with having a second half. For having to fight for everything she had, she didn’t know what to do when there was no fighting required, and Samara hoped to anything that would listen that Klaus not screw it up, because Cheyenne would only give this one chance.

  “Maybe we should start playing again, without Julia,” Viola added. “I do need some cardio.”

  “If you are so desperate for a bit of cardio, try having sex with your husband,” Cheyenne suggested.

  “I would, darling, but he’s never around. And before you suggest the pool boy, then no, too droll. I really can’t stand young men, and older ones, they just aren’t worth the hassle.”

  As much as Viola complained about her husband, she really did love and admire him. That was what Samara wanted, a man she could admire. Not a man who inspired awe with his power, like Hassan did, but a man she legitimately admired. The problem was that she couldn’t think of any. Those kinds of men were rare. Maybe there had been more of them around at one time
, but these days, it was hard to find a man who wasn’t obsessed with how people perceived him, his toys or the fact that women would actually sleep with him. Where had all the real men gone?

  “I must admit I have missed our weekly tennis,” Samara said, knowing that they had stopped because of her divorce from Hassan. It had all gotten too messy, and her tennis matches had become the unlikely battleground.

  “Shall we?” Viola suggested brightly. “We need a fourth. Does anyone come to mind?”

  Thinking of women they would like to spend time with on a regular basis had proved surprisingly hard. A whole sway of them were out of favour, stemming from the debacle with Hassan and his attempts to undermine her. A sway of others were simply boring.

  “We’ll book in. Usual time? I’ll have the girl do it.” By the girl, Viola meant her new assistant, but why in the world she needed a personal assistant, Samara had no idea. If you had house staff to take care of practicalities, and solicitors to take care of business, why in the world would one need a personal assistant, but it was a trend that was growing. Personally, if there were things or people wanting to take Samara’s time, she’d rather say no than hire some assistant to deal with them. No one deserved that much of her time. “Oh, I didn’t tell you. I heard Joseph Barensteen passed away.”

  Samara blinked for a moment, the name being familiar. And then it clicked. “Oh, I know Persephone Barensteen. I haven’t seen her in ages.” They had been quite close in London for a period, but had drifted apart.

  “Well, she’s here in Marbella. He died here, apparently. Has a house on the other side of town. Monstrous place. Not my style at all.”

  Cheyenne looked blank, suggesting she didn’t know the Barensteen family, which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t really her circle. “The Barensteens are old money”—as old as it got in Europe. “An old family from Lichtenstein.”