Marbella Truth

by Shel Stone

  “I mean, Marbella could be a cool place to raise a kid.”

  Solraya remained silent for a moment as they moved down the aisle. “It could be. But on some level, I’m kind of wondering if it’s time to go home.”

  The statement didn’t surprise Hannah. “I suspect that’s what I’d do in your position.”

  “Except, I’m not sure I want to go home, home, like Coffs Harbour. I left there for a reason.”

  “So where would you go?”

  “Melbourne, maybe.”

  “That could be cool.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t seem to make a decision at the moment. I need to mull things over a bit. Maybe in the short term, with a baby to care for, being at home would be best.”

  Hannah picked up a couple of steaks in a plastic tray and Solraya wondered if this was a legitimate craving. Or maybe it was just the sun that had her thinking meat and barbeque.

  “Surprisingly, I didn’t actually anticipate I would be in this position. Although I don’t know why it’s such a surprise. It happens every day, doesn’t it?” It was just unusual for her to be so uncertain about things. Normally she knew exactly where her life was and what she wanted.

  “You wouldn’t believe some of the girls I see getting the news. They’re absolutes wrecks. So you’re doing good in my book. I guess it doesn’t feel like it. Not sure how I would receive the news if it happened to me. Not that there’s much of a chance at the moment. Dry spell.”

  “Yeah?” Solraya said, happy to talk about something else. “The guys in a place like this are a certain type.”

  “Are they what. It’s like they have too much choice. Half the time they’re complete dicks, the other half, they’re hiding what dicks they are.”

  A bit of bitterness there, Solraya noted. Although she’d had to navigate the guys in this town too not so long ago, and a place like this didn’t necessarily draw the reliable and down to earth. As for herself, guys were just not on the agenda. She had enough shit to deal with to add drama on top of it. No, guys were out.

  Maybe it was the conversation or the prospects of a barbeque, but she felt better. Could be she’d just been having a freak out over everything, and it would pass now. That would be good, because she wasn’t feeling herself right now. Confidence had never been her issue, but right now, she was having a bit of an identity crisis.

  Chapter 12

  THE VERANDA OF THE RESTAURANT overlooked both sea and land. It was a nice stop and Samara waited for Persephone Barensteen, who’d called her back that morning. It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d arrived, but she’d naturally been absorbed with other things. They hadn’t caught up since Hassan had divorced her, and unlike some, Persephone didn’t treat her like a persona non grata for fear of upsetting Hassan.

  It had been months since she’d spoken to Hassan, and she was quite happy communicating through solicitors. Truthfully there wasn’t much to speak about. He hadn’t been back to Marbella since the scandal related to his leaked company documents, and he’d been mired in litigation since. On one level, she felt bad, because she was the reason the documents had been leaked, but on the other hand, the trouble he was in was directly related to how shady he’d acted with his business dealings.

  Earlier that morning, her housekeeper had shown her a gossip magazine that showed pictures of him with a young woman, dark-haired and beautiful—just his type. If it was just another model or if this was his girlfriend, it was hard to tell, but the girl looked a little like the cat that got the cream, so maybe she was more a girlfriend than a mere date. Not that it mattered.

  Looking out at the sea always calmed her when something threatened her inner peace. Inner peace was something she was just starting to reclaim. Only after all the drama did she start to feel how stressful it had all been.

  In a way, it had all happened so fast and she hadn’t really been able to prepare for life being single. Marriage suited her and she’d been more or less happy within hers, but then it had all just crumbled. Or rather, Hassan had torn it down, and had done so in the most destructive way he could.

  How could a man go from loving to so malicious? The worst was that she now questioned the love that had been. Had it always been false? Could a man who loved you turn around and be so malicious? How long since had his love died?

  These were all the questions that plagued her and there were no answers to be had. It also didn’t do her good to go back and review everything for signs of when what had happened. It was doing her head in.

  Right now, she just needed to accept that it had ended and to leave Hassan and their relationship in the past. The worst was that she wasn’t sure she trusted her own intuition anymore.

  But this was just the effects of being undermined. This was how Hassan wanted her to feel, so she refused. It was hard not to, however. Her friends were immensely helpful and she tried to get out of her own mind as much as possible. Yoga was helpful and her instructor was coming that afternoon and they would have a session out on the grass overlooking the sea beyond.

  Persephone’s face appeared amongst the tables and she smiled when she saw Samara. Looking elegant with her gilded sunglasses and Italian scarf, there was always something a little classic about Persephone, as if her inspiration was from another era.

  Everyone had heard the Barensteens were in Marbella at the moment and that her father had passed. “Persephone, so wonderful to see you. How are you?”

  “I’m alright. It is, of course, a difficult time.” She folded her sunglasses and placed them on the table after she’d sat down. Her blond hair was neatly tied back and she was bordering on skinny, but she’d always been thin.

  “I’ve heard. I’m sorry things are hard.”

  “Yes, well, we must all go through these events at some point.”

  “I must admit I have been through some difficulties myself.”

  “I understand. Actually I saw Hassan about a month or so back in London,” Persephone said.

  Samara felt her shoulders tense. Would it be reasonable to say she didn’t want to speak about him? “What he does is no longer my affair,” she said dismissively.

  “Good for you. Unfortunately my father has ensured we are mired in his affairs for quite a while. He was a bastard in all things.”

  The waiter approached. “Well, let’s have a drink and toast to getting rid of bastards,” Samara said with a smile.

  “Absolutely. A gin and tonic. And use Gordons, if you please. It just tastes like home to me. My mother was English. Did you know?”

  Samara hadn’t, but ordered a wine. Gin never did her any good.

  It had to be convenient to have the feeling of home in an alcohol. Or dangerous, but Persephone was too measured, too exact, to allow herself anything but perfect control. Likely it was a hang-up from having grown up with her father. Control and perfection were survival mechanisms.

  “It’s quite a nice little town, isn’t it?” Persephone said, looking out across the view. “I haven’t really spent any time here. Of course my father chose it for its difficult legal system.”

  “He seemed to have been a unique man.”

  “Hardly unique. A certain type. Imbued in wealth, privilege and arrogance. They develop a certain perspective on the world, and they expect all around them to jump at their command.”

  Oh Samara was familiar with the type. “Well, here’s to freedom,” she said as the waiter returned and placed their drinks down.

  “I’ll drink to that. Now I just have to deal with the rest of my family.”

  Samara had thought they got on quite well. “I’ve never met either. I understand your sister is into yoga. I have to say I find it very calming.”

  “Oh, Ludwina is far beyond that. She seeks out gurus around the world. Practically a religious zealot. Drove my father to distraction. But the righteous sets up its own privilege and arrogance. Obviously, she doesn’t view it from that perspective, but it’s exactly what she’s done. I think she exaspe
rated father into not paying attention to her.”

  The man sounded charming.

  “Tristan bore the brunt of it, I have to say. Being the only son, Father was especially hard on him. So I am pleased that he is free from Father’s influence. Not that he couldn’t withstand it. Tristan is strong, and he worked extremely hard to not need anything from the man. One cannot deny his success. He is a force to be reckoned with in the business world. But even so, one cannot wish my father on anyone. I am sure right now he is trying to demand entrance at the pearly gates. I would like to think divine justice does exist, but I also know that my father gets his way. And right now, he wishes us to fight.”

  Samara frowned. It was quite the predicament. But she also understood how it felt when someone was bringing the fight to your door whether you wanted it or not. “I’m sorry.”

  “Honestly, I think it’s an attempt to make us sorry the old codger died, and I have to say that would be a feat.” She took a sip of her drink.

  “How long are you staying?” Samara asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Hard to tell. Staying has become an issue of claim now. We cannot leave until the legal case is sorted. At least for now. The solicitors are trying to determine the best course of action. The case of a parent actually wanting their children to fight it out legally is practically unheard of, so we don’t really know which laws apply yet. We are in uncharted water, but hence, until it’s acceptable to leave, we are all staying.”

  “That does sound grim. On the positive side, we are looking for a fourth for our weekly tennis session.”

  “Oh, how quaint,” Persephone said with a raised eyebrow. “Tennis whites are always flattering for the figure.”

  As much as Samara had gone off tennis for how it featured in her fight with Hassan, it seemed right to start again, and Persephone could be exactly the right person to join them. She was fun; she knew everyone, and she had a sharp tongue. Could be that she fit in to their group perfectly. No harm seeing. “I will send you the details.”

  Chapter 13

  GOOD TO HER WORD, Trish invited him to a barbeque next time Ricky saw her at work, and he hadn’t even thought about saying no. Primarily because Cory was someone to look up to, physique wise, and also because he liked how relaxed the Aussies were. Aggie and her friends were fun, but again, they weren’t the be all and end all, particularly now that he was sleeping with Esme.

  How the fuck that had happened, he still couldn’t pin down. It was just that she was a mess and he couldn’t say no. And it was just awkward dealing with someone that fragile—and she wanted his dick. So he gave her what she wanted. He’d just kind of fallen into it, and seemingly, Esme was intent on keeping him like a dirty little secret.

  Mostly she’d come over to his small flat late at night, after work, and it would just be straight fucking. But hey, if it was what the girl needed, he was happy to comply.

  The address Trish had given him was a small townhouse in a long row of exactly the same houses, all painted white. He knocked on the door, but no one opened, so eventually he opened it, hearing the music coming from the back. Which turned out to be a small space, but enough for a small party. Unlike Aggie’s group, the Aussies were much more casual.

  He saw Trish first and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They had never been close, but they had never had issues either. Just colleagues. Cory stood by the barbeque, looking like he could pose for Men’s Health. Only hard work achieved that kind of physique, and Cory put the time in. And as opposed to some who linger in gyms, he wasn’t a complete dick. “Hey,” he said when he saw Ricky. “You want a beer?”

  “Wouldn’t say no.”

  “The girls are all excited because their friend is returning.”

  “I heard. Adelaide.”

  “You know her?”

  “No, I caught up with Aggie.”

  “Right. Haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She, you know, looks great. Doesn’t seem to have changed. She’s a cool girl.”

  “Yeah,” Cory said, but didn’t elaborate.

  Ricky looked around the crowd. Chrissy was there, but she was a bit of a bitch in his book. For some reason, he’d pissed her off at some point and she’d been snippy ever since. Didn’t know why, and honestly didn’t really care. Maybe that was why.

  More of the Aussie guys, but he didn’t know them well. They seemed good natured though, just wanting a good time. It was nice hanging with people who wanted to chill and have a good time. Too often, he’d hung with people who were obsessed with whatever fame they’d managed to achieve. DJs were a notoriously vain lot, and they were more interested in their online followers than in the present. So much of what they did was to present a lifestyle to their followers more than actually living it.

  That was what was refreshing about this crowd. There wasn’t a single fame whore here.

  “Seeing anyone at the moment?” Cory asked.

  What was he supposed to say? It certainly wasn’t as if he and Esme had defined their relationship. He didn’t even know what Esme thought about it. “Kind of,” he said. Perhaps best to treat it like a kind of ‘until further notice.’ Or at least he’d managed to establish with Esme that there isn’t a future between them. As with Aggie, Esme was just out of his league, and it would be too exhausting trying to make it seem that wasn’t the case.

  But like it or not, Esme was the only one he was fucking at the moment, partially because he had promised himself he would be monogamous in his relationships in the future, but also because the girl was so damn fragile, more heartbreak might destroy her. How the fuck had he gotten tangled up with her?

  Looking over, he saw a new girl walk in. Tall and lean, blond and tanned. He’d never seen her before. White jean shorts with shredded bottoms and a cheap peach-coloured tank top. Something about her just hit him in the gut. “Who’s that?”

  Cory turned around. “Oh, Solraya. Chrissy’s cousin.”

  “That girl’s related to Chrissy?” The girl was tall and lean, while Chrissy was short and stocky. Not a bad body by any means, just completely different from Solraya’s. What an unusual name. Solraya. He hadn’t heard it before.

  “Hey, bitches,” Solraya said. Behind her came some Spanish dude. Solraya came over to them, almost floating on air and leaned over to get a couple of beers out of the chiller. “How’s the grilling going?” she asked, looking over Cory’s shoulder.

  “Few minutes off.”

  “Perfect timing.”

  Her attention moved to him and she twisted her head to the side slightly. “Haven’t met you. Solraya,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Ricky,” he said and took her hand. Electricity rose up his, goose-bumps contracted along his skin. “Just came back here. Was in Ibiza for a while.” Why was he telling her his life story?

  “A brit.”

  His cheeks coloured. What was he supposed to say to that? He wanted to say something clever. “Yeah, like so many others here.”

  A smile formed her lips. “Don’t overcook it,” she said to Cory. “I like it a bit on the rare side.” With a wink, she turned away with her two beers and walked back to the Spanish guy. Ricky was stunned and a little perturbed. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he had a bit of a semi going. It was rare he reacted to a girl so strongly, so he almost couldn’t talk. Smooth talking was what he did. Obviously he reacted to hot girls, for their sheer hotness, but this was different. It was her, her presence. She was like electricity itself. Solraya. Somehow the world had gotten a little brighter, a little more exciting.

  “She with that guy?” Ricky asked.

  “Fucked if I know, mate,” Cory said with a shrug. Ricky was talking to the wrong person. Cory didn’t pay attention to such things. Ricky would get more info from one of the girls.

  Shit, he was sweating. Maybe he was standing too close to the barbeque. “Looks good,” he said, looking down at the grill. Barbequing was a skill Ricky didn’t have. Had never invested in, and he f
elt a little spear of jealousy and a bit useless for a moment, because to Aussie girls, knowing how to grill was probably a flat prerequisite in a bloke.

  Chapter 14

  TRISTAN WAS BORED. The days were long here and he felt distant from his office. He’d had his father’s office stripped and it now had new furniture, but there was still that lingering smell of the man. Maybe he needed to have the place repainted.

  Outside the office, he heard heels on the marble. “Persephone?” he called. With heels like that, it wouldn’t be Ludwina, who was apparently acquainting herself with some spiritual guru who lived here.

  The steps stopped and she appeared at the door. It had been a couple of days since they’d spoken. In fact, he wasn’t sure they’d ever been so at odds, which was exactly what Father wanted.

  “Care for a drink?” he asked.

  “I suppose,” she replied and he rose from his desk and they relocated to the seating area by the large windows. Their father’s manservant attended them.

  “A cognac, I think,” Tristan said. “Percy?”

  “Hmm. Just a glass of chardonnay.”

  “Just because father wants us to fight doesn’t mean we have to,” he started. He’d been thinking about this all night, thinking of what they could do.

  Persephone remained silent. “I met with an old friend. Samara Azmer.”

  “Hassan Azmer’s wife?”

  “Ex-wife now. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be married to a man like that. I suppose mother would have known.”

  “Yes, well, there appears to be a certain price.”

  “Funnily, I didn’t think there was for Samara. They appeared quite happy together, but then they suddenly divorced. Goes to show one can never tell.”

  That was true for himself as well. He’d been quite happy with his most recent girlfriend until he’d realized how awful she was to people. It just showed a degree of falseness in her character. How in the world had he not seen it before, he didn’t know. It had to be because she was so very good at showing him what he wanted to see. Perhaps that was what had happened with the Azmer marriage too.