Marbella Cool

by Oster, Camille

  Awkwardly she turned and saw him there, a look of surprise on her face. He’d grown to love her bright red hair. It was the most unnatural colour he’d ever seen on anyone, but it still looked good. “Cory,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

  Chrissy got up from a chair and scarpered inside.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “What?”

  “Felix said you were leaving town.”

  Turning around, she sat up, looking uncomfortable and tucking some hair behind her ear. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  Cory felt like he was being punched in the chest. The idea of her not being here was unbearable, an aching sadness. “I’m not sure I would be happy about that.”

  “What you feel about it isn’t relevant.”

  Even that hurt. This was what he’d been staying away from. Everything she said hurt him. He’d known this would happen.

  He turned away from her. How could he not be relevant, when everything she did was relevant? Perhaps she was so distant now she was out of reach. “Don’t leave,” he said, all his misery flowing out with those words.

  “You can’t do this to me, Cory,” she yelled. “You ignore me, pretend I don’t exist and then act all hurt when I actually move on. This is shit, Cory. You’re hot and cold, and mostly in between. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

  “I don’t know what else to do,” he said beseechingly.

  “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. How am I supposed to deal with this? I’ve had enough of you jerking me around. I just don’t get what the hell you’re doing.”

  Cory felt trapped. He didn’t know how to make her stop, to calm.

  “You’re there and then you’re gone and I’m just supposed be like, okay, till next time. If you care at all about me, you have a funny way of showing it.”

  “I love you; you know I do.”

  “No, I don’t Cory. This isn’t love.”

  Again, he felt trapped. He didn’t want to do this. He wanted everything to be fine, but it wasn’t. “I don’t know how to not fuck this up,” he finally said. “It’s you, it’s always been you, but I can’t see a way of doing this, and if I keep you at arm’s length, you’re still there. If I look at my future, it’s you I see, but it’s not a future I can be in right now.”

  “So what, you’re just stringing me along until you’re ready? When exactly are you going to be ready? Does Mirabel have a say in this, too?”

  “She isn’t important.”

  “She’s the person you are with, so she should be important.”

  “What do you want from me, Trish?”

  “I don’t want anything. That’s the point, Cory.”

  “That isn’t going to be acceptable.”

  Through clenched teeth, Trish screamed with frustration. “You’re fucking infuriating, Cory.”

  “I’m sure, and then some. Just don’t leave.” He had to get out of there. Frustration was boiling over. What could he say? How could he make this all right again? With sharp strides, he walked back through the house and to his bike. He had to think, find some way of fixing this. At this point though, he had no idea what to do, other than grabbing her and kissing her, which he suspected would be less than welcome at that particular moment.

  Ramming the kick starter, the engine roared to life. He felt shitty about leaving, but shittier about staying. They both needed to take a moment to gather themselves together.

  Chapter 51

  She didn’t hide her bruising along her abdomen and face as she lay down by the pool. They had changed colour now, away from the angry, swollen red, to more purple, even black. Felix watched from the covered seating area. Esme was chatting on the phone and Shania was just lying there, taking in the sun. Her body was otherwise brown like a ginger biscuit, even colour across flawless skin. Her body curved amazingly and he felt a pang of queasiness when he thought of her with his father.

  His father shouldn’t be with girls like her—too young, with a pouty, fuck you attitude. She did have attitude, plenty of it. For all she lacked, she wasn’t insecure. Then again, it could hardly have escaped her how hot she was, and she traded on it. He’d looked down on her for it, but really, what should she have done? Wouldn’t he use it for all it was worth if the positions had been reversed?

  Or maybe there was that tiny jealousy that it was his father she had gone after, instead of him. Then again, he’d hated her violently from the moment she’d turned up. Maybe because the attitude had irked him, or that there really wasn’t a flaw on her. She had insane curves in all the right places. But she wasn’t flawless anymore; the cut across her eyebrow would scar, a slice of pale through her otherwise dark eyebrows. Would that scar affect her, serve as a constant reminder of something really bad that happened to her? Or would the scar would only highlight how tough she was?

  For once, he was drinking tea. He hadn’t been out losing the plot the last few days and his body was thanking him. Instead of just feeling shit, he was feeling horny, and staring at Shania’s delectable body wasn’t helping.

  The problem was, he had no go-to girls for getting off at the moment. His behaviour lately had ruined any impulse Trish would have to go anywhere near his nether region, and he’d successfully alienated any and all former flames. Also, he was kind of avoiding anyone from his social set, as those pitying glances would inevitably follow. ‘Sorry your father’s encountered some trouble.’ They weren’t sorry at all.

  Rising from his chair, he walked out to the sun loungers and sat down on the far side of Esme, who was just hanging up.

  “Audrey,” she said. “They’re having lunch at Bordeux.”

  “You should go,” Felix said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”

  “Don’t stay on my account,” Shania said. “I’m just going to be napping for a few hours.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can get her anything she needs,” Felix said. Esme threw him a suspicious look. She really wanted to go; he could tell.

  “Alright,” she finally said. “I’ll be gone an hour.”

  Felix slid into her sun lounger as soon as she left. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “You look better.”

  “I look like shit.”

  Well, there was no arguing that, really. “That cut on you eyebrow is going to scar.”

  “Yep.”

  “Can fix that though.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “As I feel this perpetual guilt, I would be happy to pay for a plastic surgeon to take care of it.”

  Still, she didn’t say anything. He couldn’t really read her unless she opened her mouth.

  His gaze travelled down the length of her body. He actually resented how hot she was. Maybe that had been his objection all along. Her cheap clothes that showed every curve, sat just right on her hips. Designers couldn’t replicate that no holding back slutty look.

  “Do you want to go for a ride or something?” he said, not entirely sure where that came from. “You haven’t left the house in days. Must get tired of the scenery.”

  She finally turned her head towards him. He couldn’t see her eyes through the mirrored sun glasses, partially covering the still extensive bruising.

  “So you can drop me off on some corner somewhere?”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly. He thought they’d gone over this. Uneasiness gripped his gut again. The fucking guilt. She didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t quite stop it.

  She smiled, revealing white teeth and he realised she was teasing him. “Alright then,” she said. He was a little surprised she’d agreed, but then she’d spent days now down by the pool. “I can’t be bothered going upstairs to change though.”

  Fine, he thought, we will go with your little boy shorts and sports bra. “I don’t mind.”

  Slowly, she rose and awkwardly walked back to the house. She continued out barefooted to where his car was, pa
infully sitting down in the passenger side.

  He got in and started the engine.

  “Gentle,” she said. “My ribs are still floating around in here.”

  The sun was warm and a nice breeze started the moment he picked up speed. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, placing her elbow on the door’s edge.

  Maybe he would drive around the hills more inland. Sea and water had been her only view, so something different was probably why she was here.

  They were barely out of Marbella before she fell asleep, her legs crossed and her boobs bouncing with every flaw in the road. He just kept driving. She was missing it all, but maybe she needed sleep and the car was lulling her. He didn’t mind. It had actually been ages since he’d done something so mundane as to go for a drive. Then again, for the first time in quite a while, he was actually sober enough to drive.

  This he could do, even if he had no idea what the fuck else he was doing these days. This was nice. Maybe if she woke at some point, they would stop for a coffee or something. People would stare at her, but right now, he didn’t care—and things like that didn’t seem to bother her much anyway. Shania didn’t really seem to give a damn what anyone else thought.

  Chapter 52

  The apartment did feel a little empty without Malin, not that he regretted getting rid of her. It had been a tense morning. Malin had packed in bitter silence, vowing this was something he would grow to regret. Although stunningly beautiful, she didn’t see how utterly average she was. Maybe he would see her differently if he’d actually loved her, but he didn’t—never had.

  Love had seemed such a pointless, superfluous thing. Maybe it still was. Right now though, he needed something—the thrill of the chase maybe. Something unobtainable. And that was what Rosalie was. He had no paths to her now that brute force was out of the arsenal. He didn’t even have a good reason to be near her.

  His yacht didn’t impress her; neither did his cars or anything else. Impressing a woman was usually the easiest part, so maybe it was a muscle he had forgotten how to flex. “I will take you shopping,” was always the fall back option, but he could well imagine Rosalie’s unimpressed look. He had no academic paper he could ask her to read, which was something that would impress her. There was nothing to entice her.

  Sitting on the sofa in his living room, he stared out the window. There was work he should be doing, but right now all he wanted to do was solve this problem—a problem he couldn’t throw money at.

  What would Rosalie want? What could he entice her with? Nothing he had. But that wasn’t true. There had been a time when she had been his, and he’d had very little to offer then.

  But it wasn’t like he could leave it alone. That did not seem to be an option. With a growl of frustration, he reached for the phone and called her number.

  “Hello?” She didn’t have his number in her phone book, which annoyed him.

  “Rosalie,” he said.

  “Alexi? What can I do for you?”

  “I want you to come on my yacht again.”

  “Uh,” he could hear the lack of enthusiasm in her voice and it irked him. He was one of the best catches in the world and to her he was a mere nuisance. “I’m not sure. Paul has… “

  “Not Paul,” he said. “Just you.”

  There was silence down the phone.

  “I want to get to know you again,” he said, feeling silly admitting something so personal. Normally he never mentioned what he felt or wanted. It rarely served to be so open, but he would have to be if he wanted to hook her.

  “I really think that would upset Malin.”

  “Not as much as when she packed her things and left.”

  There was silence again.

  The only thing that might catch her attention would be an experience—something that would pique that curiosity of hers.

  “I wish to see Herculaneum,” he said. “And I don’t want to go alone.” Actually alone was what he’d been for a very long time, even in company.

  “I don’t know, Alexi,” she said, still not convinced.

  He still had to say something to convince her. “Maybe I need to retrace some steps,” he said, “undo some of the things I have become.”

  Again there was silence down the phone.

  “Please,” he said, feeling himself cringe at the plea. It had been a long time since he’d showed some of his softer, more vulnerable bits, but it had become clear he wasn’t getting her any other way.

  “Fine,” she said with an exhale.

  Alexi smiled. The work was done, the trap laid, now the next step, leading her down the road he wanted. Which was what exactly? Well, he would start with to his bed. That was his aim, to get her into bed—bury himself in her soft body. Maybe even turn that look of contempt into something else. Her looking down on him was the most irksome thing he’d experienced in a long time, and he was never a man to not face annoyances, clear the path to what he wanted. Again, which was what exactly?

  Was it Rosalie he wanted traipsing around these rooms? Would that settle his restlessness? Or was it that feeling of connection he used to have with her, where their senses had ceased to distinguish between their bodies. Where they had been part of the same being. He’d turned away from that since leaving her, not wanting it—the intimacy. It had been too rich, too heady, but now nothing else was registering—not success, not forcing his will, not ruling all around him.

  He would take her away, out to sea where there was nothing but them. This time he wouldn’t be focused on showing her what he’d become, what he’d achieved. This was about what he still could be.

  Laying the phone down on the coffee table, he stared out of the large windows again, excitement brewing in his blood. He didn’t want to wait; he wanted to go now. For once the short term goals were overshadowing the longer term goals. He didn’t care about the longer term; he just wanted her now.

  Chapter 53

  This was a bad idea, was all Rosalie could think when she stood in front of the Porto Banus marina. He’d asked so fervently and she couldn’t bring herself to say no. That urge to be polite stopped her. Obviously he wanted to review their past involvement, perhaps establish ownership over his relationship behaviour. She didn’t quite know, but apparently she could help in some manner.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the floating platform that led down a long row of boats. Due to the size of Alexi’s boat, it was at the very end. She could see him standing on the aft deck, wearing white pants and a grey sweater.

  It was early enough that everything was covered with a slight dew. The sun wasn’t pushing down bulk heat just yet, but it was only a matter of half an hour or so. The clear skies promised a hot, sunny day.

  On some level it would be nice to go out to sea again, but she was deeply nervous about this. The last time they had gone out, Alexi and his now former girlfriend had been odd. Now Malin was gone. They had seemed to perfect together, but somehow it had fallen apart. Rosalie felt another frisson of unease.

  Paul had been surprised when she’d told him, having given her that look over his paper that spelled he was completely lost as to what was going on; but fundamentally didn’t care. “If you’re sure,” he’d said when she’d told him she’d accepted the invitation.

  Was this a bad idea? she asked herself again as she gave him a little wave. He walked down the stairs in the back when he saw her, meeting her at the gangway that stretched to the jetty.

  “So it is just us?” she said as he took her bag.

  “Yes,” he said and urged her toward the seating area in the lounge. The engines were already humming and staff were running around, casting off. She had a moment of disorientation as the scenery started moving outside. They were off, again trapped in a floating platform in the middle of the sea. “Thank you every so much for inviting me.”

  Alexi sat down and ran the nail of his forefinger along his upper lip, considering her. She had no clue what went on in hi
s mind, but she knew him well enough to suspect he was having some form of self-reflection. A crisis may be a strong word, but apparently he could use her advice. “A gimlet?”

  “Yes,” she said with a bright smile.

  He gave a nod to the young man serving them.

  “So where are we heading to?” she asked, looking out the glass doors, seeing Marbella moving farther and farther away.

  “I thought we’d go straight to Herculaneum.”

  She smiled. Herculaneum—she’d always wanted to visit. It was one of those things on her to-do list, but had never gotten around to. Excitement started to replace some of the unease. “Have you been before?”

  “No. Truthfully, I have been too busy for many of these things.”

  “But not anymore?” she said after picking up the gimlet the young man placed down on a coaster in front of her.

  “There is not much left to achieve now,” he said candidly. “Now it is just repeating things I’ve already done.”

  Rosalie considered him for a while. All that ambition that had driven him, perhaps it was loosening its grip. No wonder he was in the mood to reflect on his choices, although she suspected he didn’t regret the things he’d achieved. Having the wealth and this boat was part of him now.

  The idea of exploring Herculaneum still stirring excitement in her, and she suspected he’d specifically chosen a destination that would appeal to her. She appreciated the thought.

  “How is your research going?” he asked.

  “It is going well. I need to go back to the UK for a while and visit the national archives. The true nature of my work includes numerous dusty basements, rifling through documents no one has looked at in a hundred and fifty years.”

  “I suppose you will never retire from it?”

  It was true, scholars worked until they dropped, and she had always expected to. She couldn’t imagine living without something she was researching. There was so much still undiscovered. The sheer joy of finding answers and understanding would always drive her. “Is that something you are considering?”