Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds

by Laura Carter

  “But.”

  “But he won’t touch me, Scarlett. He says he doesn’t want to hurt the baby but I’m like a raging bag of pissed off hormones twenty-four seven and all I want him to do is give me a bloody good seeing to. Lord knows he can.” She pats her tummy and I can’t help but giggle.

  “Have you told him?”

  “Yes. No. I’ve tried. I don’t...we’re not...what if it’s not about the baby? What if it’s me and he doesn’t find me attractive? I’m bloating. I’m irritable. Whoever said this pregnancy malarkey makes you feel wonderful was either a man or talking complete bollocks.”

  I practically snort my orange juice. My amusement is short-lived when I realise that my best friend in the whole world, confident, strong, gorgeous Amanda, is doubting herself. “Gosh, Mand, you’ve got to be kidding. Williams has had eyes for you since that first night in the bar. He’s absolutely into you. Have you thought that maybe this is just a big change for you both and he’s scared?”

  “But that doesn’t mean he can’t have sex.”

  I laugh again and Amanda chuckles with me, her hands resting on her mini-bump. “Maybe, maybe you could try to be non-pregnant Amanda, too?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing bad. Just, I think it’s possible you’re playing up some because you’re scared. If you just had an honest conversation with him, didn’t try to be tough and didn’t try to mask how you’re feeling, he might open up.”

  She swipes up the cinnamon and raisin swirl and takes an enormous bite. “You’re right.”

  “It’s okay to be nervous.”

  She stuffs the last of the swirl in her mouth. “How come you got so sensible?”

  “I’ve always been sensible. You just used to call it boring.”

  “I wouldn’t call you boring now. At it all night, shagging in the sea.”

  I gasp.

  “Oh, please, I’m impressed. Give Gregory credit where it’s due, the man’s an animal. I’ve never been taken all night like—”

  “Christ, alright! I didn’t think you could hear.”

  “Couldn’t hear you screaming the yacht into submission?”

  My cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. And I didn’t think you knew we did the thing in the sea.”

  She leans forward and takes my orange juice, finishing it and standing the empty glass next to hers. “I didn’t, until you just said you did. It’s hardly helping my hormone situation knowing you two are at it like rabbits.”

  “Alright, enough, I’m paying the bill and you should try booking into a hotel.”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea. At least I’d get some sleep.”

  With my face burning red, I head to the counter and pay.

  * * *

  “Here good?” I ask for the fifth time, losing the will to live after trudging the length of Maho Beach.

  Amanda plods on in her sandals. Suddenly, finally, she stops, lowers her shades to the tip of her nose and declares, “Here’s great.”

  I follow her gaze to an incoming bartender. Very Amanda. His board shorts are the full length of his long thighs. His biceps are firm and exposed in his Billabong vest. His yellow-frame sports shades look pretty damned cool. Amanda slides her tongue along her bottom lip and moves one hand to her hip, waiting for him to walk over.

  “Ladies.” His accent is undecipherable, like he’s well-travelled, his manner is easy. “Can I set you up on a bed and get you some drinks?”

  Amanda unties and shakes her long hair down her back. Jesus, she really is horny.

  I step between them. “Yes, please. We’ll take two loungers with a parasol and my friend will have a sparkling water. Because she’s pregnant. With someone else’s baby.”

  “You’re a surrogate?” he asks, completely serious.

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Yes. I’m a surrogate. They’re an amazing couple, the people I’m carrying for. They’ve climbed every peak in the world. He’s a doctor and—”

  “It’s her baby,” I say, looking at Amanda with scrunched brows and wondering what in the hell she’s doing.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, fine. I’m pregnant and it’s my baby and I do want a sparkling water.”

  “I’m Jake.” The guy holds out his hand and Amanda’s pout fades away. “Nice to meet you. Let’s get you set up on these beds.”

  He pulls two white loungers closer together, lays a bed cushion on each, then takes our beach towels when we hand them to him and drapes them across the beds.

  “You want me to put the parasol up?”

  “Yes please,” I confirm. It’s two in the afternoon and still far too hot for sunbathing exposed.

  “The beds are twenty-five dollars and you get five free drinks. One sparkling water and what can I get for you ah...”

  “Scarlett. I’ll take a diet Coke if you have one.”

  “My arse you will!” Amanda snaps up from her already horizontal position on her lounger. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here forced to drink sparkling water and you’re going to drink a bloody diet Coke when there’s no need.”

  “Rum punch?” Jake asks, his eyebrow raised.

  “Looks like it.”

  Peeling my white dress from my hot skin exposes my blue-and-white-striped bandeau bikini. After folding the dress onto the end of the lounger, I lie back with a contented sigh.

  “It feels good to lie down,” Amanda says, turning her head to face me on her parallel lounger. “I’ve felt like I’ve been on the boat all morning. Kind of dizzy drunk without the hangover.”

  “Gosh, this is nice, isn’t it?” The question is rhetorical. Of course it’s bloody nice, it’s thirty degrees and dry. I’m lounging with my best friend, people watching. Tens, maybe even hundreds, of people line the beach, waiting for the show of aeroplanes flying just feet from our heads to land on the airstrip right behind the beach. And I’m getting married. Christ, I’m not just getting married, I’m getting married to Mr. Super Sexy Bazillionaire Ryans.

  How far we’ve come in such a short space of time.

  I’ve never needed a man and in just over four months, I’ve realised that I don’t just need a man, there’s one I absolutely can’t stand to be without.

  There are things lingering, things that make me uneasy. Katrina Martin being number one. Tabloids that shouldn’t be interested in Gregory now that the case is old news, two. There’s some unfinished business, for sure, but things are changing, I think. He told me about the tabloids and not months after it happened, only hours. He’s trying to let me in. Hopefully, in time, it will all become a distant memory. His nightmares will stop and the pain of his past will get easier.

  “Don’t tell him or anything, Scarlett, but the billionaire is starting to grow on me. He really loves you doesn’t he?”

  My lips break into an unstoppable grin and I shrug.

  Jake returns with a punch that looks more rum than juice but I take the brownish-redish-orangey drink from him and sip through the straw. “Jesus Christ! Is there any juice in there?”

  He plonks onto the bottom of my lounger and hands Amanda her water. “Orange, cranberry and pineapple. It’s like a fine wine, it takes three sips. Trust me.”

  I scowl across my plastic cup as I take another sip. “I’ve only just met you.”

  “But...”

  I stare at the now half full cup. “Well, I guess it is quite fruity after a few sips.”

  “That’s my kind of woman. I’ll fetch another.”

  I don’t argue. I’m parched, it’s fruity, and with the combination of sun and only having had pastries for lunch, it’s really making my head pleasantly fluttery.

  Punch two down, Jake heads back over with a virgin pina colada for Amanda and punch three for me. �
��Alright, ladies, this is it. There’s a 747 headed in. Do you see it over there in the distance?”

  We both nod, spotting the faint lights of the aeroplane twinkling in the clear blue sky, making a beeline for the beach. Jake switches my empty punch for the full and I suck a mouthful through my straw. “Mmm, yummy.”

  “This is the plane all you tourists flock for. She’s the most powerful and the biggest to land on the strip so she gets pretty close. Do you have a camera?”

  I nod, sipping my rum-laced juice or juice-laced rum. Whichever.

  “If you stand right there you’ll get a great picture. If you stand in the middle of the beach you can really feel the force of the engines as she lands but it can get pretty dangerous, bowls people over, right back into the sea. I’ve seen it carry sunbeds and pushchairs into the water, so, ah, given your current physical state...” he nods to Amanda’s tummy, receiving a huffy exhale in return, “... I’d suggest you keep your distance.”

  “Why do the planes get so close if it’s that dangerous?” Amanda asks.

  “Well, there are warning signs all over the beach. See on the railings back there? It’s pretty cool to watch. You see, the runway is short for the size of planes coming in.” He points to the airfield abutting the beach. “The pilots have to land right on the start line to make sure they stop before the end. That means the planes have to come in low to touch down and you never really appreciate how fast they’re falling when you’re inside but you’ll see now. Here she comes.”

  We sit upright on our loungers, our legs straddling the sides of the bed. I finally let go of my punch, turning the plastic cup in the sand until it stands unaided. Then I take out my camera and brace myself as the 747 comes drifting in.

  “Holy shit!” Amanda says, pulling down her shades to the tip of her nose, her eyes following the belly of the plane.

  Holding up my digital, I snap away at the aeroplane until my head is leaning back to look up at the giant metal bird. Jake wasn’t lying, people daring enough to stand in the middle of the beach, directly under the plane’s path, are clinging onto the railings. Hats fly, hair blows back, a young girl loses her grip and her footing.

  “Wow, that’s incredible.”

  “Told ya,” Jake says with a smug smile. “Another?”

  I shake my head fast. “No. I really shouldn’t, these three have already gone to my head.”

  “They should,” he laughs. “They’re free-poured measures.”

  “Urgh, if I wasn’t pregnant I’d—”

  “Oh, God, enough already. Bring me another please, Jake.”

  “On it,” he laughs.

  After four virgin drinks for the pregnant lady and four free-poured, rocket-fuel rum punches for me, we find ourselves in the warm sea. Amanda twirls herself away from me, bending her legs to a sitting position.

  “Tell me you’re not.” I hold a hand over my mouth but my tipsy giggle escapes regardless. “You’re taking a pee, aren’t you?”

  She chuckles. “Well, I am now you’ve made me laugh.”

  “That’s rubbish. You’ve twirled away from me to pee. Have you even moved your bikini to one side?”

  “There’s no need,” she says, her pose telling me she’s mid-flow. “It’ll just dilute right out.”

  “Oh, hell, I hope I’m not down current of that.”

  She’s laughing again, practically falling over herself in the sea. “Pee is sterile.”

  “Thanks all the same but I think I’ll take germs over being peed on.”

  She starts paddling towards me.

  “Get away from me.” I laugh so hard I lose my footing in the sand.

  “I can’t help it. It’s the Pee Monster in me, it wants you, bad.”

  “You’re gross.”

  “I’m more sanitary than going in those toilets with kids’ dribble on the floor and dirty door handles.”

  Shaking my head, I flip onto my back and move my legs in upside-down breast stroke, the sun beating on my face. “Amanda, I’m booze-crazed.”

  She chuckles and bumps into me, her body in the same pose as mine. “I know.”

  When we make our way back to the loungers, Jake heads over with another punch, a watermelon shake and a bottle of water. “Thanks,” I say with an easy smile. “When in St. Maarten.”

  Punch five has me blindo. I can’t remember the last time I was drunk and not throwing up outside a club, making a mess of my relationship with Gregory, and embarrassing myself in floods of tears. The thought of being drunk-happy makes me kind of fuzzy inside.

  “Coming inth sea?”

  Amanda moves her hands restfully behind her head. “I’m good here.”

  “S’kay.” I trip a little on something, maybe a shell, as I wander into the water.

  The beach is emptying, though the sea is the warmest it’s been all day. Lifting my cup to make sure it doesn’t get contaminated with Amanda’s pee, I turn in circles, round and round, feeling happy. I close my eyes and remember my father turning me to music in our lounge as I stood on his toes. I remember the times Gregory has turned me, held me close as we’ve danced. Our perfect moment on top of Primrose Hill. Just us. Our world.

  Opening my eyes, looking far out to the setting sun, I know I’ll never look at a sunset, the blue sky, the topaz sea the same way again.

  “I’m alive,” I whisper to myself as I stop and watch the sun slowly descend, sipping the last of my scrumptious punch.

  It’s a presence. A charge. I know he’s here. I can feel him. Turning to Amanda on her lounger, I find Williams sitting on the edge of her bed, massaging her feet in his lap. And my angel, sitting up, straddling my lounger with a bottle of Corona in his hand, watching me with a smile.

  “You drunk, baby?” he asks with a smirk as I stroll towards him.

  I don’t know what the right answer is to his question. It’s not like it’s a difficult question. Words just don’t seem to be fitting together right. Instead, I shrug. That’ll have to do. Leaning forward to put my empty cup on the lounger, I stagger, then turn around to look for whatever it was that knocked me off balance. Whatever it was is gone now.

  “Oh well.” I shrug again with a giggle. My giggle makes me giggle more because it’s such a funny giggle. Weird. A little girl giggle. So funny.

  Amanda laughs and her laugh is really far too funny, too. So, so funny.

  “Alright, gorgeous. I think you’ve had enough fruit juice for one day.”

  Bending my knees, I fall to the lounger between Gregory’s spread legs. I need to make him understand. “The juice s’really good here, Ryans. Yoush try it.”

  He leans back laughing. Oh, bloody hell, his laugh is really funny, too. So funny I could pee. “I gotta go,” I squeal, dancing to my feet and making the toilet a target.

  As I exit the wooden swing-back door of the toilets, business taken care of, I’m hoisted straight up over Gregory’s shoulder.

  “Bye, Jake! Thans for the good juices. So fresh.”

  Jake waves. He looks so peculiar from upside down. It makes me laugh. Hard. Gregory doesn’t find it as funny as me. He doesn’t laugh out loud. But see, he’s not upside down. Maybe he should be upside down, then it would be hilarious.

  When we’re back at the yacht Carl helps Amanda first, then offers me a hand and practically pulls me onto the first deck. Our yacht. S.R. Aurora. I like the sound of that. Scarlett Ryans.

  “Rum punch?” Carl asks.

  “A little too much rum punch,” Gregory replies.

  “Bertie was set to serve dinner at eight thirty, sir, would you like it sooner?”

  “Maybe something to nibble on would be good and water, lots of water.”

  I lean into Carl and pat his chest with both palms. “He’s so bossy, Carl. So, so bossy.”

  �
��Baby, I’m going to change. Are you coming with me?”

  “Nope. Nada. Neine. No. Niente.”

  “Niente means nothing, baby.”

  “Yess’know, Gregory.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You can be so silly.”

  “Okay, Miss Silly, are you coming with me?”

  “No. You said water. Going to sit up there and I’ll have water.”

  Amanda pats Gregory on the arm, fond and touching. She nestles into a rattan chair and pulls her knees underneath her. She looks sleepy.

  “Let’s dance,” I say. “We should dance.”

  “Alright. What do you want to dance to?”

  I wiggle my hips as I move towards her on the chair, swirling a finger just in front of her nose. “I think you know.”

  “Mr. Brightside!”

  “Carl, can you—”

  It’s not obvious whether he’s laughing at or with me but I don’t care because The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside,” my university party piece, comes over the speakers of the yacht as we slowly back out of the harbour into the ocean.

  As the guitar kicks in, I walk backwards to the bow and Amanda struts towards me in time to the music, her lips pursed like a rock star. The beat drops. The voices. Base. Drums. Amanda screams, running towards me.

  We hold hands, jumping, shouting the lyrics.

  Backing away from her, I cover my eyes as the lyrics hit, I just can’t look it’s killing me. I’m jumping, arms in the air, the balls of my bare feet pounding in time to the beat. Amanda leans forward and unties her hair, letting her auburn locks swing as she bangs her head up and down.

  “I love this sooooong!” she squeals.

  Hips wiggling, knees bent, I slap my hands on my chest and pull off my imaginary dress, miming the actions being sung.

  We both fling ourselves to the floor, falling on our knees, screaming to each other, “Letting me goooooooo!”

  Hell, I forgot how much fun we used to have.

  Amanda stands in the verse, fanning herself as she moves to a lounger and sips cool water. I’m sweating, I’m hyper and I’m on top of the world.

  Air guitar.

  Head down, one leg bent and bouncing, I play that damned air guitar like a wild thing. I jump, my feet kicking out beneath me, my arms punching the air above my head.