Marbella Nights

by Camille Oster

  It was busy tonight, but he soon spotted some of his crew under one of the cabanas. Aggie was there, looking good, absorbed in the attentions of some gym monkey.

  “Hey,” he said, taking the cigarette package out of his jacket pocket.

  “Hi, Quentin,” Justine said.

  He nodded back to her. A couple of years back, he’d messed around a bit with her, aware that she would like to rekindle their fleeting thing. Been there, done that. “What’s been happening?”

  “Same shit,” Dess said, standing up. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want anything?”

  “Whiskey,” Quentin said and turned his attention back to the table. Aggie was still focused on her muscle boy. He noted the Australian accent and shook his head. Slumming it, was she? But then he knew Aggie didn’t really care about such things on some levels. To Aggie there was only interesting and not, and apparently she’d determined this brainless ape as interesting.

  Quentin considered the guy with his beach hair and white teeth. They did breed them attractive down under. His thoughts turned to the stewardess on Alexi’s boat, with her toned and tanned legs, and face bursting with good health. That was the difference with those fucking Australians, they looked too damned outdoor-sportsy healthy.

  He wondered if he knew her. Maybe they all knew each other, being from the same place, although she was from New Zealand, which was just another state in reality, wasn’t it?

  Aggie’s hand crept onto the ape’s knee and Quentin suddenly felt inadequate—that she would choose to spend her attention on this nobody over him. It was an irrational thought and he recognised it as such. She was single and if she wanted to sow some wild oats, who was he to argue?

  Looking around he spotted the champagne on the table and wondered if he should have some when Dess returned with his whiskey tumbler. Even better, he thought as he took a sip of the lovely, smooth liquid. They never got served watered down drinks. Arthur knew to keep them happy.

  “Quentin,” Aggie said, drawing his attention back. “Good to see you.”

  “And you.”

  “I thought you were out of town.”

  “I was. Indonesia.”

  “Ooh, exotic.”

  “Too fucking hot.” It had been sticky hot anytime he wandered outside of the air-conditioned hotels, offices, and cars. Those short trips in between, the heat hit him like a punch to the chest, making his clothes stick to his body. How could anyone manage to live there, he didn’t know.

  “Bali?”

  “No, Indonesia proper. Looking at doing some property development.” That wasn’t actually true. He’d been scouting, for what, he wasn’t entirely sure. He’s listened to all kinds of proposals, some refined and professional, sucking him in with the opportunity until he felt a hurried rush to be involved, before he got back to the hotel and considered all the things that made it a shit-for-brains proposition. Others were even more of a mess. But of all the proposals he’d seen, nothing had grabbed him. Some were even too small to consider, like building a bio-char burner. He’d never even heard of bio-char, which was apparently some hot green technology, but in terms of what he was looking for, it was just too small-scale. There had been nothing that grabbed him.

  “Sounds ominous. My, Quentin, are you finally going into the family business?”

  “Something like that. Can’t sit around drinking Mojitos forever.”

  “I’m impressed,” Aggie said. It had been a long while since he’d impressed Aggie and felt a bit of rush in response. It was all good in theory. In practice though, it had all bored him to tears. “Hey, we should catch up later in the week. You can take me for coffee,” she said.

  “I’ll call you.” But if Aggie was impressed, it was worth something. He was the first in the group who was actually moving on and doing something.

  With that, her attention turned back to the Aussie boy that had been quietly considering him while he and Aggie spoke. Quentin had seen that guy somewhere, but he couldn’t place him.

  With a sigh, he leaned back and looked around, seeing who was there that night. Gerald was there, some girl all over him. A few other notables. His gaze moved to the dance floor and he homed in on a girl dancing, her hair swinging around her head. He knew that body, but it couldn’t be. She turned, shooting her hip out to the side and he could see her face. It was definitely her. What the fuck was she doing here?

  The girl she was dancing with looked back his way and for a moment Quentin wondered if the girl was stalking him and had enlisted a friend. He didn’t know what to think. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice him. She never looked back, just kept dancing.

  After a while watching her, she and her friend walking back his way, right up to the table, where she picked a drink off the table. Apparently she had been here before he came, had left her drink on the table before taking to the floor. The world was not making sense—unless she actually knew ape boy. It seemed they really did all know each other.

  Her gaze travelled around the group until she got to him, when she froze slightly, then raised her chin in awkward acknowledgement. And that tight dress she wore was fucking Prada. How did a girl like that afford Prada, he wanted to know. Unless she stole it off one of her guests. Thieving cow.

  Aggie came over, reaching for her bag behind him. “We hanging out with the help now?” he said.

  “Don’t be such a snob, Quentin. A bit of new blood never hurts. There’s more to the world than the people you went to school with.”

  “No, there’s not. Have you gone through everyone else, you have to cast your nets far and wide?”

  “Maybe I just like things a little unpredictable,” she said tartly, hinting back to when they were fighting, and he’d accused their whole relationship of being an exercise in predictable complication. There was nothing less complicated that a clueless muscle boy.

  The stewardess girl grabbed the straw of her drink and turned her back on him. He felt a moment of anger steel through him. Her turning her back on him. Really? There should be a limit to how clueless people were allowed to be.

  She chatted with her friends, then placed her drink down and they both walked away towards the toilets.

  “Who the fuck are these people?” he asked Dess.

  Dess shrugged. “Aggie invited them. She’s quite into that guy.”

  “And who’s he?” he said, probably more tersely than expected of the indifference he insisted on showing.

  “He’s staff at the Athletics Club.”

  Recognition dawned. That’s where he knew that guy from. He was one of the trainers or whatever at the Athletics Club. “Christ,” Quentin said as a general gripe. It wasn’t like he was worried about his reputation, or being seen in the company of plebs. It was more Aggie being all caught up with that guy, and then her—the one who saw herself as too good to play.

  She returned with her friend. The slight tightening in his body let him know that he still found her attractive—against his own judgment.

  Getting up, he approached. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Not my usual hang-out, I admit.”

  “Thought you were stalking me for a moment.”

  She blinked a couple of times in surprise. “Really haven’t thought enough about you to classify as passing interest, much less stalking. Cory wanted to hang out with some girl,” she said, sounding almost displeased. Quentin had to wonder if she’s been pushed aside for Aggie and bitter about it—maybe even an ex, or at least a hopeful interest.

  “One for nearest and dearest?”

  “I don’t actually know him that well at all. Only met these guys a week or so back.”

  Quentin wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. This all seemed too coincidental. But on an abstract level he was also please, because he couldn’t really compete with ‘Cory’s’ physicality, which was all about the naked and writhing. Her rejection of him made sense if she was used to guys like Cory giving it to her. Money, cars and connection mattered
little when naked in bed. Quentin had an enviable body, but it was emasculating to think he got turned down because he couldn’t compete with a Men’s Health body like ‘Cory’ had.

  Chapter 18

  Adelaide supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to see Quentin Cartright at Blanca Beach Resort, but she was surprised that they were in the same cabana. She viewed him suspiciously. Apparently they were in the hot cycle at the moment, where he spoke to her—singled her out, in fact. His attention was almost palpable and she felt a little like a deer in headlights, and hated that she reacted that way. He was just a guy.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked.

  She looked down at her glass, which was down to just the ice cubes. “I’m not sure. Something too sweet.”

  “I’ll get you another. Come.”

  After a hesitation, Adelaide felt a bit wary walking away from the group, but he apparently wanted to buy her a drink. Because it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but she guessed for once he could fetch her a drink, considering how many she had rustled up for him.

  “Two whiskeys,” he said to the barman, then turned his attention back to her. He wore a light grey jacket and a dark t-shirt underneath. Pants instead of the shorts he seemed to prefer on the boat. “I want to apologise for being a dick.”

  “Oh?” she said, her eyebrows shooting up. That was not what she expected to come out of his mouth.

  “You turned me down and I didn’t deal with it well.”

  “You were drunk out of your tree. Not that you would have had better luck completely sober.”

  He smiled mildly and Adelaide wondered if she’d offended him. “It’s not something I’m used to.”

  “You’ve never been turned down?” she said incredulously. He made a little noise. “You mean you’ve never been turned down by someone like me. Do you make a habit of hitting on the staff?”

  “God, no.”

  “Okay,” she said, not sure if she’d just been insulted or complimented, or both.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry I was rude.”

  The barman handed two whiskeys to them in heavy glasses. Quentin picked his up and held it out slightly, as if she was supposed to clink her glass to his. Tentatively she picked hers up and did as expected, wondering what it was they had just settled. She supposed she could accept an apology. It wasn’t like she cared either way.

  “The girl your friend is talking to is my ex,” he said, nodding to Cory. Adelaide didn’t know what to say. The statement was matter-of-fact rather than anything overtly bitter. “Her name is Aggie and she’s a cool girl. It seems she’s taken quite a liking to your friend.”

  “He’s not really my friend,” Adelaide said, particularly so as things were complicated with Trish, even as Trish always dismissed him as just a hook-up. Adelaide still felt awkward discussing him getting on with some other chick, particularly as Trish was here. “I don’t really know him at all.”

  “So one of these boys isn’t your boyfriend then?”

  Adelaide snorted. “No. Not really my type. Too up themselves.”

  “Oh dear. What type of guy are you into then?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone laid back, I guess. Someone I can hang out with. Do stuff. I don’t quite know. I figure I’ll know when I see it.”

  Quentin considered her for a moment. “Expecting a thunderbolt, are you?”

  For a moment, she was set to argue, but she couldn’t really. “Hell, what do I know? I’ve never been in love.”

  A smile spread across his mouth. “Neither have I.”

  “Not even that girl,” she said, pointing to the girl deep in flirtation with Cory. Trish stood a few feet away with her back turned, looking relaxed, but Adelaide wasn’t entirely convinced. Better to find out now than a week or two in.

  Quentin looked over towards the cabana, where their whole mismatched party sat. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d do anything for Aggie, we practically grew up together, but I don’t think I was in love with her. Perhaps I wanted to be, but it isn’t something you could force. Everything would have been so much simpler if I was.”

  “So what? You’re looking for the love of your life?”

  “Hardly. Miss Right Now has always suited me well enough. I take it you don’t do casual.”

  Chewing her lip, she didn’t know what to say. “Truthfully, I don’t mind a bit of short term entanglement, but I’m too busy to do the boyfriend thing. Plus my job. I have to jump at a moment’s notice.” Quentin looked pleased and Adelaide had to wonder if she’d said the wrong thing.

  The glass was heavy in her hand and she raised it to take a sip. She didn’t normally drink whiskey, but this was really smooth. It just slipped down her throat and warmed. Quentin was watching her when she opened her eyes. “You’re so cruel,” he said.

  “How am I cruel?”

  He placed his glass down and reached for her, slipping a hand behind her neck and drawing her to him. Their lips met in a slow, soft and almost careful kiss. Adelaide’s mind shut down and her eyes swam shut. The pressure of his lips to hers was delicious and she could taste the whiskey, just like him, smooth as velvet. Then it was over and Adelaide let out a shuddering breath. She should not have just let that happen.

  “I just had to do that,” he said, placing both of his elbows on the bar behind him. “Been on my mind all week, if I were honest.”

  “Done now, I guess. And just because I said I sometimes hook up with people, does not mean I’m going home with you tonight.”

  “Guess I’ve got a bit more work cut out for me,” he said, challenge and amusement in his eyes. Involuntarily, Adelaide’s insides tightened. He’d just thrown down the gauntlet and let her know his intentions. He wanted her to go home with him. The thought sat like an incendiary in her mind. She actually considered it for a moment, tried to imagine what it be like, spending the night with him, to slink off in the morning. She’d done that before, but for some reason, she didn’t want to be another notch in the over-carved Quentin Cartright bed. It was so very temping though. The kiss had been sweet, and the touch still lingered, his scent spicy in her nose. Heated thoughts rushed through her mind.

  “I’m not going home with you.”

  His forefinger stroked slightly across his lower lip as he considered her, his eyes dark and ponderous. He wasn’t quite ready to accept her answer, she suspected.

  A glass broke and Adelaide’s attention stole away from this intense situation developing between her and Quentin. Chrissy was stomping off and Nathan called after her. “Trouble in paradise,” Adelaide stated, placing her whiskey glass on the bar. “Girlfriend duty calls. Till next time.” She gave him a small salute and he looked set to argue, disappointed as she was about to walk away.

  Trish and Hannah were already running after Chrissy. The honeymoon was over and no one was surprised it had gotten to this stage. It always did. Turning back, Adelaide saw that Quentin was still watching her, not entirely sure what this interaction had just been—flirting maybe. Although flattered, she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted Quentin’s intentions, or him more generally. That wasn’t right; he had been completely upfront suggesting a night of naughtiness. Maybe she just didn’t trust herself, because a part of her really wanted to know what a night with him would be like. Her insides burned with anticipation, the kiss still ghosting on her lips. Perhaps it was just his expectations that she would comply that grated.

  Chrissy was crying in the carpark. “He’s such an arsehole,” she said, tears streaming down her face, which she buried in Hannah’s neck when offered an embrace.

  “I’ll call a cab,” Trish said. “Truthfully, the night hasn’t been as much fun as I hoped.”

  Adelaide suspected Trish had expected Cory to spend a little more time with her than with that British girl. “Let’s go home and order a pizza.”

  “He’s like ‘come on, don’t be like that’. Like what, Nathan? The fact that I have better expectations? Why can’t guys just tr
eat me right? Why always this total bullshit?” Chrissy wailed. “I hate him.”

  Amber came out of the club. “There you are. I turned around and you were all gone. What happened?”

  “Chrissy and Nathan had a fight.”

  “Oh,” Amber said, equally unsurprised. “I’m sorry, Chrissy.”

  Trish stood with her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. “You alright?” Adelaide asked.

  “Fine,” Trish said sharply. Adelaide could tell she was angry, but as opposed to Chrissy, Trish dealt with her disappointment by going quiet. “Just want tonight to be over. Let’s not come here again. The drinks were outrageous and it really wasn’t all that.”

  “Who was that guy you were talking to? Don’t think I didn’t see you and that guy kissing. What the hell was that?” Amber said.

  “A kiss, not kissing. He kissed me.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “From the boat. One of the guests.”

  “Who obviously likes running around kissing people, or it is just you?”

  Adelaide shrugged, not about to say that it wasn’t the first time.

  “What’s his name anyway?”

  “Quentin Cartright.”

  “That’s Quentin Cartright?” Amber said with surprise. “He’s like the Marbella party boy. He looks a bit different in person. Even better, I think.”

  “Apparently the ex of the girl Cory was crushing on.”

  Trish shook her head. “He’s a dick. She’s welcome to him. She can have them all, it would seem. Let’s not hang out with those guys again.”

  The taxi arrived, its lights swinging around the carpark.

  Chapter 19

  The engine of her sports car roaring, Cheyenne drove down the highway towards Marbella. She’d just flown into Malaga airport and it was late. It had been a long day and she was exhausted, but she still had some ways to go.

  The apartment was silent and empty, like it had been sulking being left alone. The cleaner had been, so everything was in its proper place. Dropping her heavy bag, she walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne before bringing it to the table. She turned on the TV and unzipped the dark mauve Jimmy Choo boots.