“Cinquenta Euro,” the woman said.
Dean tsked. “Es feo.”
The woman gave an offended look and ignored him.
“Trienta,” Dean said, and went on to haggle with the woman. It was one thing Cheryl couldn’t get the hang of, but Dean enjoyed it. They settled on forty Euro and Dean carried it away for her. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” she said and they found a little café not far away, where they could drop their treasures and relax for a moment.
“So what is going on with the enigmatic Dominic Dunbury?” Dean said playfully as he toyed with a sugar sachet.
“Nothing. He made me sign a new contract.”
“Did you have to negotiate the terms?”
“Mr. Dunbury doesn’t negotiate. It was more sign this or you’ll have no water.”
The waiter came and Dean ordered two cappuccinos. Cheryl was impressed with his Spanish and wondered whether she should start taking lessons. He hadn’t arrived that far after she had, but his Spanish was much better than hers. Then again, Dean got out and met people. She spent most of her evenings cleaning juice off the walls and yelling at the gremlins. She smiled at the thought. For all the chaos, she adored her little boys.
The waiter returned with two coffees and a couple of sugared pastries called Pestiños on a small, white plate.
“He is dreamy, though,” Dean said, stirring sugar into his coffee. “You have to admit.”
“I can’t quite look past the rude and arrogant.”
“I think he likes you.”
“Please,” Cheryl said, rolling her eyes. “Really, if you saw how he talks to me, you wouldn’t say that.”
“I don’t know what he says, but action speaks louder than words, and your salon is still standing, around which he is building his empire. Doesn’t that strike you as weird? Some would say romantic.”
Cheryl snorted, blowing air on her coffee. She didn’t quite understand why that was. Because she wanted it so badly, he had said, but Dean would seriously misconstrue that statement.
“Didn’t he ask you to dinner?”
“I’m not speaking about this anymore.”
Dean sat back and smiled. “I think you have a little crush on him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Really? Handsome, titan of industry, with a hot body, gorgeous eyes, and you don’t even have a smidgen of interest? If I were you, I’d be creaming my pants.”
“Dean!” she said chidingly.
“Just saying,” Dean said and picked up one of the pastries. “If a man built his new headquarters around me, I would be batting my eyelids like nobody’s business.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“What else is there to talk about?”
Cheryl had no idea how to answer. “Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”
“This and that. Nothing remotely interesting.”
“I doubt that,” Cheryl said tartly. “Mr. Dunbury thinks I should open up more salons. He seems to think having just one isn’t ambitious.” Okay, she’d said she didn’t want to talk about it, but now that she had an opportunity to, there were some things she wanted to deliberate. The truth was, she didn’t get Dominic Dunbury. He was nothing like the men she knew. Her husband had been intimidated by her business and her drive to start a salon. He’d hated the idea from the start, but grudgingly relented when the money started flowing in—liked the money, but still complained about how she made it, as if what she was doing was in some way unmanning him.
“You two talking business now?”
“It’s more like he talks at me. Insults my ambition, my clothes, my house. In fact, there is nothing about me he likes.”
“Sounds like the lady protests too much. Have you heard that his daughter has just gone to rehab? Ended up in the hospital one day.” Dean knew everything that went on in Marbella. All day long, he gossiped with his clients. They loved it and they loved him.
“No,” she lied. If she admitted he’d told her, Dean would misconstrue that as a level of intimacy that wasn’t there. In fact, Cheryl had no idea why Dominic had even told her that, but then she couldn’t work out why he did anything. She hadn’t met the daughter, hadn’t even known he’d had one until he’d mentioned her. The son she had met, and she had to admit she was a bit wary of him. He was one of the entitled, rich kids here on the coast. Perhaps the daughter was the same way. Again, the types of people she didn’t really relate to.
But what sat really uncomfortably was that she felt she owed Dominic. He’d done her this great kindness, and he’d made no bones about that. It had been generosity on his part, because he appreciated something in her, amongst all the things he apparently deplored, and now she owed him for that kindness. This was not a situation she liked being in. It was her right to be there. Why should she be appreciative because he didn’t ride roughshod over her rights? No matter how she justified it; it hung there like a debt. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he called in his debts. Would she be willing to pay if he did? Again, was it worth fighting someone like him, or did you just keep your head down until his attention was elsewhere?
Chapter 54
Guilt was an awful feeling and nothing lets you escape it. Terese still couldn’t believe what she’d done. What had gotten into her, other than copious amounts of vodka? Whenever she closed her eyes, she got treated to images of the act, the uninhibited desire. All things considered, it had been relatively quick, just him inside, the culmination of a decade worth of energy—hate, disappointment, embarrassment and maybe even longing.
She couldn’t even explain it to herself, but on some level she couldn’t quite describe, it made sense. Maybe it was her subconscious who felt sated, felt this had to be—a nice closure. God, she hoped that wasn’t how her subconscious decided closure was obtained. Saying that, something had been laid to rest. Decidedly risky way of letting things go, because she’d just handed a bully a whole new set of ammunition. Yay, she thought weakly.
Of course, he was going to use it. That was what he did, and the person he would hurt the most was probably Parmi. Would he keep this silent? Was he a ‘don’t kiss and tell’ kind of guy? He’d certainly proven he wasn’t. Luckily, Terese didn’t care. He could tell everyone and their dog. These people weren’t her friends, and she no longer cared if Alistair told the world she’d given it up to him. They weren’t sixteen anymore. Seriously, who was going to care? Except Parmi.
Terese turned over in the bed, trying to find a physical way to alleviate her mental discomfort. The sun streamed in, making her white sheets glow. It would be impossible for her to get back to sleep again, even if that was all she wanted right now.
The steady noises drifting through the house showed her mum was pottering around, going about her morning routine of making coffee, watering plants, reading the paper and whatever else she did in the mornings.
She had missed her parents, and she had missed out on so much in her decade-long panic. It had been stupid, but it had also been a growing experience, one she probably had to go through. As was facing up to what she’d just done.
“I slept with Alistair Cartright on a beach in Marbella,” she said aloud to the empty room. It sounded utterly preposterous, but that was what she’d done.
“What was that, sweetie?” her mum called from outside in the hall. Her mum had not just heard that, had she? No, she wouldn’t have said a word if she’d actually heard what Terese had just said.
“Nothing,” Terese called back and turned over again. She might as well get up. Stepping out of bed, she confronted her wardrobe. Beach clothes were generally not part of her wardrobe. Well, there was a pair of khaki shorts, which she paired with a white shirt. That would have to do.
“What have you got planned today?” her mum asked when she wandered into the kitchen.
“I thought I would go see Parmi,” Terese said, smiling weakly. She was not looking forward to this, but she would think lesser of herself if
she didn’t get on and do it.
“Oh, that’s lovely. I think Parmi has missed you so much. You really should treat your friends better.”
Terese felt her shoulders sink. Mother had the sentiment right, but the reasoning wrong. Still, she was right, and she would be utterly chicken if she didn’t do what was needed. “Can I borrow the car?”
“Of course. You know you don’t need to ask.”
Parmi was sitting reading a magazine on a large cane daybed. She wore a black fifties inspired one piece with white piping, laying back comfortably.
“I love that,” Terese said, indicating the one piece. “It looks really good on you.”
Putting the magazine aside, Parmi straightened. Terese wasn’t sure whether she’d heard the gossip yet. It was hard to tell by her face.
“How have you been?” Terese asked.
“Good,” Parmi said dryly. “Never better.” Her tone had a hollow edge to it. “I hear you got invited to Aggie’s party.” And Parmi hadn’t been. That must have stung. “How was it?”
“Boring.” It was kind of true. “I met Jillian.”
“Oh, she was invited, too?” Parmi said snippily, picking a piece of lint off her.
“I’m sorry you weren’t invited,” Terese said. “I thought you were going to be there. It’s kind of why I went.”
“Had to settle for Jillian instead. How is Jills?”
“She is good. Works in London.”
“I know.”
This was awkward. Parmi had that defensiveness that made everything Terese said sound like an accusation to point out how Parmi hadn’t been invited.
“Was Alistair there?” she asked and Terese inwardly groaned.
“He was.” She shifted in her chair and took a deep breath. “We kind of exorcised past wounds.”
“What does that mean?”
“Alistair isn’t your friend, Parmi.”
“Does that mean he’s your friend?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly does ‘exorcising old wounds’ mean?”
“It means I was really drunk.”
Parmi closed her eyes and shook her head. “But you knew I liked him.”
“We’re not teenagers anymore, Parmi. You can’t call dibs on a guy, particularly one as useless as Alistair Cartright. He used you and moved on. I’m sorry. But if he was even remotely interested in you, he wouldn’t be sniffing around me.”
“So what, are you a couple now?”
“God, no. It was just a drunk fumbling, but I wanted you to know before you hear it from anyone else. Because he’d probably enjoy rubbing that in your face. He’s an arsehole, Parmi. They’re all arseholes.”
It was hard to tell Parmi’s expression because she was looking down. She was clearly hurt and there had been no way around that. “So, if you hate him so much, how is it you go fumbling with him the first opportunity you have?”
“I wish I have a good answer for that, but I don’t. Closure, maybe.”
“So the way you announce that you’re over what he did was to spread your legs for him?”
Terese stroked her hand along her forehead. “I’m sorry.” Their friendship might never recover from this, Terese conceded.
“I feel really hurt by this.”
“I know; I’m sorry.”
“So what are we supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know. It’s your call, I guess.”
Parmi sighed loudly. “Do you think Aggie didn’t invite me because of you?”
“No, probably because of Alistair.”
She seemed to consider this for a while. “They’re shitty people.”
“Of course, they are. You’re way more fun than any of them combined.”
Parmi smiled tightly. It felt as if the storm had passed. Perhaps there would be some forgiveness in there. For all of Parmi’s insecurities and deplorable ambitions, she was a lovely girl and she deserved to be better treated by all.
“How about we do something utterly naff and I take you for one of those giant ice-creams we used to get with the chocolate goo and caramel,” Terese said
“We’re not twelve anymore.”
“Fuck being a grown up. Let’s not be—for a day, at least.”
She was rewarded with a smile. “I might just taste it and stare at it for a while.”
“I’ll eat it all,” Terese said with challenge. “And yes, I’ll be running for a week after.”
Chapter 55
For a week, Paul tried to find a way of speaking to Alice. He didn’t want to pester her, but he needed to explain. He liked her enough that he had to try to salvage what they had started. He’d considered both flowers and chocolate, but that looked like the response of every cheater in the world. He wasn’t a cheater. What had happened was something else. Yes, he’d been weak, but he’d also been accosted. There had to be some way he could communicate with Alice that it hadn’t been what it had looked like—and it had looked bad, he had to concede.
Inspiration came to him as he wandered through one of the English bookstores. Alice’s name drew his attention. Focusing on it, he saw a copy of Alice in Wonderland. That was what it had been, the world turning on its head and none of it making sense.
Grabbing it, he bought the copy and settled down in a café to write the inscription, the apology.
Dear Alice,
Madness seemed to have come and ruined the sweet friendship we were embarking on. It was my weakness that didn’t stop the Red Queen’s forceful will, and now I have hurt you and I am distraught about that. Please, Alice, know that I absolutely did not want something other than what we had, but have been sucked into being the pawn in someone else’s games, like the flamingo used for croquet. I took it as my duty to protect you from such deviousness, but I failed. Please forgive me.
Your loyal friend,
Paul
He felt sad finishing it. The truth was that he wasn’t entirely blameless and he couldn’t understand why he’d let it happened, why he hadn’t fought harder. Nothing in him wanted Cheyenne. In fact, she had his hackles up like no one else ever had, and not in a good way. Cheyenne was a true predator—probably somewhere on the sociopathic scale.
They had made such good steps, too; Alice had given him her trust and he’d abused it. If nothing else, he wanted her to know how sorry he was, that this wasn’t something he dismissed.
Asking the waiter for the nearest post shop, he paid for the coffee he’d ordered and set off, according to the man’s direction to mail the parcel.
He felt better after he’d done it, as if he’d cleared the air a bit. It was probably too much to hope that their relationship could be rekindled, but hopefully, she wouldn’t be as hurt as what he’d seen in her eyes when she’d fled the scene. That was what haunted him about the whole thing.
His phone rang as he sat on the sofa and watched the news. He could see Rosalie’s name pop up. On some level, he didn’t want to answer it, but he never refused his sister.
“Hi, Rose,” he said, answering the phone.
“Paul, how are you?”
“I’m good. Busy with work. Grading endless papers.”
“Come to the Allerson party. We’ve been invited and I really want you to come. I feel like I haven’t seen you for weeks.”
“I just haven’t been in the mood to go out and meet people. I’m taking a break from people.”
“I worry about you. Should we take a trip somewhere? Get away for a while? It would be lovely to drive over to Portugal.”
It would be nice, but he felt too glum just at the moment to enjoy it. “Maybe in a couple of months, that would be great.”
“We both want to see Toledo.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
“Why don’t you invite that friend of yours, Alice? She seems lovely.”
He hadn’t had the heart to tell Rosalie anything that had gone on—been too embarrassed. “Actually, we’re not quite speaking at the moment.”
�
��What did you do?” Rosalie said suspiciously and he noted that Rosalie automatically assumed it was something he’d done. Well, maybe she was right, because he had royally screwed up.
“It was more what I didn’t do, but I really don’t wish to speak about it.”
“Well, I’m sorry you’ve run into trouble. I hope you can clear it up. I really like that one, and lovely women seem to be rare these days. You two really seemed well suited to each other.”
Paul felt a new wave of sadness, because it was true. They really were suited to each other, but it was all ruined now.
“Anyway, you must come to dinner. I am trying to get mum and dad to visit.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Since when have they become such xenophobes?”
“Did you tell them we can get the Guardian here just as well as in England? Admittedly, it costs more.”
“They would complain endlessly about that. Mum feels they can’t leave the dogs, as if they’d fall apart with a sitter for a few days.”
“I think they find the travelling too stressful.”
“Uhm,” Rosalie said. “Probably. I hate the idea of our parents getting old. I hate being so far away from them now. But, you must come for dinner on Sunday. It will just be the three of us and I refuse to take no for an answer. I know full well your level of cooking skills, so I can’t trust you not to need a proper meal every once in a while.”
Paul smiled. It was nice to have someone fuss over him. “Fine,” he said, a little impertinently. He appreciated the invitation more than he let on.
Chapter 56
Felix was drunk and so was Alistair. They’d been bar hopping, trawling through the trashiest bars Marbella had to offer, where young tourists partied, spent their hard earned money on cheap booze and drugs, dressed in their sluttiest clothes. It had been a while since he’d had a night like this, a night where all bets were off.
But now Alistair was on a mission. Dialling around, he’d found her. Apparently, she and her crazy little minion were partying at Ducliege, a bar in the hills which was a little more upmarket than where he’d been hanging that night. “I’m leaving,” he screamed to Felix over the pounding music. Why the fuck had they come here?
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