by Susan Lewis
‘A week on Sunday. Everyone’s going to be there trying their hand at stuff they haven’t done before . . .’
‘I bet you anything David’s driven a boat before,’ she cut in. ‘So what’s he signed up for that he’s never done? And it’d better be something life-threatening.’
‘I put him down for a song,’ Smithy told her. ‘He’s got to do a solo of—’
‘A song!’ she cried in disgust. ‘Not good enough, I’m afraid. Where’s the list? I’ll choose something for him.’
‘If you’d heard him sing you’d know it’s life-threatening,’ Smithy assured her. ‘He’s that bad they’ll lynch him.’
Laughing, Penny said, ‘If I don’t get to him first. Where is he now, do you know?’
‘Right now, not a clue. Haven’t seen him since the weekend. He’s back, though, ’cos he called me last night.’
Penny started to speak, then thought better of it. She’d been on the point of asking him if he knew any of David’s friends or associates along the coast, but since David had adopted Smithy as some kind of kid brother she strongly suspected that her enquiries would get back to David.
‘Well, if there’s nothing else,’ he said, looking at his watch, ‘I’d better push off. Got a date over in Monte Carlo. Fancy having dinner with me one night, by any chance?’
‘No, what I want is to have some parasailing lessons before I go out there and make a total idiot of myself. Can you fix them up for me?’
‘You don’t need lessons,’ he scoffed. ‘It’s easy.’
‘Yes, well, we’ll see about that,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s go and see Brigitte and get that list.’
After Smithy had gone Penny wandered over to Pierre’s office to ask him to get hold of David and tell him she wanted to see him that night in her office.
The rest of the team had either gone home or taken themselves off to Legends by the time David arrived. Penny was at her computer, with the various samples of artwork for the magazine spread out on her desk, and having spent the past hour running through in her mind exactly how she was going to handle this she believed herself to be as ready for him as she’d ever be. Even so, as he walked through the door looking very much in need of a shave and regarded her with that habitual lazy humour in his dark blue eyes she felt herself momentarily waver – and the sight of a radiant and deeply infatuated Marielle coming in behind him didn’t help matters much either.
As the colour rose in Penny’s cheeks, she lowered her eyes for fear that David would read what she was thinking. That he and Marielle had come fresh from indulging themselves in the pleasures of each other’s beautiful bodies was so obvious that Penny almost felt like a voyeur. Worse, she felt a total mess and wished she’d thought to wipe away her smudged mascara and tidy up her hair. With a quick and silent reprimand she pulled herself together. What the hell did she care what she looked like? That wasn’t what this evening was about.
‘Since we’re discussing the artwork, Marielle felt she should be at the meeting too,’ David said, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he perched on the window ledge.
Penny turned steely eyes on Marielle. It was on the tip of her tongue to dismiss her, but she didn’t want to have to suffer the humiliation of David overruling her. So, moving a hand over the artwork in front of her, she picked up the one she had chosen and handed it to David. It was terrible. God only knew who’d come up with the idea, or indeed how it had managed to get as far as a proof – with any luck it might have come from Marielle – but the suggestion for the title of the magazine was JUMP and the logo was a frog. It was so banal it wasn’t even funny, which was precisely why she had chosen it.
David looked at it for some time, sucking in his bottom lip as he clearly considered how he should respond. Penny waited. Marielle walked over to him, looked down at the artwork and could hold neither the triumph nor the contempt from her eyes as she turned them in Penny’s direction.
‘What is it in particular that grabs you about this?’ David asked.
‘I think it has substance,’ Penny responded, inwardly cringing.
He nodded and looked down at it again. ‘Substance,’ he repeated. ‘Can I ask what you thought of the ones I flagged?’
Penny shrugged. ‘They were OK, but they didn’t exactly speak to me.’
‘And this one does?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like to share with me what it’s saying exactly?’
‘It’s saying happy, fun, bouncy.’
Marielle looked at David, waiting for him to respond. In the end, unable to contain herself any longer she said, ‘It is really the worst idea for a title and for a logo I have ever seen. And to be frank with you, Penny, I am amazed you can call yourself an editor when your judgement is so out of sync with what we are supposed to be doing here.’
Penny swallowed what she would really like to say to that and turned her eyes back to David.
At last he looked up. ‘Marielle, would you leave us, please?’ he said quietly.
Marielle’s eyes widened as she started to protest.
‘On your way, Marielle,’ Penny prompted, still holding David’s eyes.
David waited until the door was closed, then throwing the artwork back on the desk, he said, ‘OK, we both know it’s shit, so what’s this all about?’
‘As a matter of fact, I think it’s good. As I have already said, I think it’s the one we should go with.’
‘In that case I think we should throw it out to the rest of the team and get their views on it.’
‘Why?’
‘Let’s just call it democracy, shall we?’
‘Why don’t we call it, “David wants his own way”? Anyway, it has to be with the printer first thing in the morning. So the decision has to be made tonight.’
‘We can always delay the printer, but I don’t think we should delay what’s really going on here. So, let’s have it.’
Penny was aware that she was rapidly losing ground, for she hadn’t expected him to see through her quite as easily as this. But now she really thought about it she couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to take him on this way when he was obviously so used to power games that her own feeble efforts seemed suddenly so excruciatingly embarrassing that a parasail in front of the entire world’s press with no clothes on at all would be infinitely preferable to what she had got herself into here. However, it seemed that the demon inside her hadn’t finished yet. ‘What’s going on here,’ she said smoothly, ‘is the choosing of artwork. I have made my choice known. So have you. Unfortunately, we are not in agreement. I have no intention of backing down. I think Jump is a great title and I like the frolicking frogs.’
He let what seemed like an eternity go by, then said, ‘OK, then we run with it.’
Penny blinked. Her hands were suddenly clammy and her heart was thudding as she began to feel as ridiculous as the frolicking frogs. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He was supposed to overrule her so that she could force him into admitting that he was running the show. She wished to God she’d given herself more time to think about this instead of acting on some half-cocked impulse. All she wanted was that he play straight with her and stop pretending that he was as much an employee as she was. But he was damned well going along with what she wanted and she had no choice now but to back down.
‘I can’t do this,’ she said wearily.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I said I can’t do this. I can’t play whatever games you’re playing. I’m not equipped for them and neither do I wish to be. I entered into this project with total faith in those I was working with and now I find that I’m being double-crossed all over the place and constantly made to look a fool.’
‘Someone’s double-crossing you?’ he said mildly.
Her head snapped up. ‘Yes, you!’ she seethed.
‘How so?’
‘Because this magazine is yours not Sylvia’s and we both know it.’
&nb
sp; His grin was slow in coming, but when it came Penny knew that she had never detested anyone more than she detested him in that moment.
‘I’m glad you find it funny,’ she said waspishly. ‘I’m all for everyone having a good laugh at my expense.’
‘Well,’ he said, getting up and sliding his hands into his pockets, ‘that’s what happens when you don’t think your strategy through.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ she retorted sharply.
‘Not at all. You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out of it.’
‘Well, that’s easily done. I resign.’
He looked at her for some time, thoughtfully nodding his head. Then, with a vague lift of his eyebrows he said, ‘OK.’
Penny’s insides jolted. She hadn’t expected that. Then, seeing that he was trying very hard not to laugh, she realized that once again he had successfully called her bluff.
Feeling totally wretched, but determined this time to carry it through no matter how miserable it made her, she said, ‘When would you like me to go?’
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Well, I guess Marielle can take over with effect from tomorrow, so if you want to pack up your things now . . .’
Dully she nodded her head and picking up her briefcase she started to slot things inside.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Penny!’ he laughed. ‘So, you called a bluff and lost. It won’t be the first time, I’m sure, and it won’t be the last. So come on, act like a big girl: eat the humble pie and forget it.’
‘Don’t patronize me!’ she snapped.
His hands came up as though to defend himself. ‘OK, OK, I could have put that a bit better. But we both know you don’t want to give up now . . .’
‘Don’t tell me what I do and don’t want.’
‘Look, why don’t we start this over? You show me the artwork you prefer and we’ll take it from there.’
‘I’m not seeking your approval for my decisions. I came here in the belief that I was the editor and you the business manager, but now I find that you are the boss and I am no more running this operation than Sammy is.’
‘I’m the boss?’ he said. ‘Now what makes you think that?’
‘Oh, nothing in particular, just the fact that you own half the fucking world according to Sylvia, so don’t try telling me that you’re here as a worker when we both know you’re lying.’
‘No, Pen, I’m not lying,’ he said calmly. ‘Sylvia is the majority stockholder in the group. As such, she is your boss.’
‘But right here on the ground, where it counts, you are the one with ultimate control. In other words you lied to me, both of you. I was told that we would have equal power . . .’
‘Which we do.’
‘Don’t be fatuous. How can I possibly have the same power as you when you’re who you are?’
‘Have I ever done anything to make you think that we are not on an equal footing around here?’
‘You’re doing it now.’
‘What I’m doing now is trying to prevent you from flouncing off in some childish fit of pride and persuade you to behave like a professional.’
‘I can’t work for you,’ she cried, stuffing more papers into her briefcase.
‘You’re not working for me, you’re working with me.’
‘But I can’t fail, can I, with all your millions behind me?’
‘Oh, I see, it’s failure you’re after. I obviously misunderstood the situation.’
‘Why don’t you just fuck off,’ she muttered.
Laughing, he said, ‘You know what you need, Penny Moon? You need a good man in your bed.’
Her eyes came up to his, blazing with outrage. ‘I hope to God you’re not offering,’ she spat.
His eyes narrowed. ‘No, not on this occasion,’ he said.
‘Why don’t you just get out of here, because, quite frankly, the very sight of you is making me dangerous.’
He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Penny, you’re going to have to learn when is the right and when is the wrong time to quit,’ he told her. ‘Right now is a wrong time. Sylvia gave you this chance and if you let your pride screw it now it’s only you who’s going to get hurt. It makes no odds to me who edits this magazine, just so long as whoever it is is good. And you’re good, Penny. I’ve seen you in action and, believe you me, if I hadn’t been impressed there is no way I’d have put a single cent behind you. Neither would Sylvia. Yeah, yeah, I know how that sounds: like I am your boss. Well, OK, I guess I am in a manner of speaking. I think that’s what you wanted to hear, so there you have it. Now, give yourself a break and stop trying to make an enemy out of me and get on with what you really came here for.’
‘Why does every word that comes out of your mouth make me want to scream?’
‘I don’t know, it sure beats the hell out of me. I’m on your side and you seem dead set on resisting me all the way.’
‘Because I can’t stand you.’
He grinned. ‘Is that so?’
He ducked as a brochure flew across the room, narrowly missing his head. ‘Yes, it is so!’ she seethed.
‘Penny, just give me the title and artwork you really prefer,’ he laughed, ‘and then we can call it a day.’
Glaring at him, she pulled her choice from the top drawer and thrust it at him. ‘There!’ she spat.
He looked down at it, arched an ironic eyebrow, then raised his eyes back to hers. ‘Nuance,’ he said. ‘Great choice. And unless I’m mistaken, I reckon Marielle just won herself a dinner with you at the Palme d’Or.’
Penny’s eyes flashed as her finger came up to point at him. ‘One word,’ she warned, ‘just one word about a tiramisu . . .’ but she got no further because, to her unutterable frustration, she was starting to laugh too. ‘One of these days, David Villers . . .’ she said.
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
‘I don’t know yet,’ she grudgingly admitted, ‘but, never fear, I’ll think of something – and it’ll be even more merciless than a bungee jump or a parasail.’
‘I take it Smithy told you,’ he laughed.
‘Smithy told me.’
‘So, you going to do it?’
‘I might,’ she answered. ‘But first I’d like to know what you’ve put Marielle down for.’
‘Marielle?’ he repeated in surprise. ‘I didn’t invite her.’
‘Oh,’ Penny said, feeling rather pleased.
‘But I did invite the Nice-Matin,’ he told her and giving her a quick wink he rapidly left the room.
Chapter 8
THE SMART, THOUGH unostentatious, cabin cruiser was pulling gently at its moorings at the far end of the Port Pierre Canto in Cannes, its highly varnished decks winking in the afternoon sun as Marielle stretched her long, perfect legs across the bench seat and reached out for her cocktail. The three glittering triangles of her bikini weren’t much bigger than the jaunty little paper umbrella in her drink and the thick coconut oil she had coated herself in made her olivey skin shimmer. With the sun beginning to summon its summer might it was already too hot for Robert Stirling, who had a while ago gone inside to take a shower.
Early tourists were meandering along the harbour, wheeling pushchairs, clicking cameras and gazing enviously up at the demigods whose fortunes and life style appeared so close and yet were so many worlds away. Marielle gazed up at the perfect blue sky, revelling in the fact that she herself was generating every bit as much interest and admiration as the yacht – a body like hers belonged on these decks: they were empty, incomplete, without the decoration of a beautiful woman.
The boat rocked gently in the water as Robert Stirling stepped out on to the deck. He was carrying a neat bourbon in one hand, a portable phone in the other.
‘So where were we?’ he said, flopping down in a cushioned wicker chair and squinting against the dazzling light.
‘We were,’ Marielle reminded him, lifting one leg and casting a critical eye over the flawless skin, ‘about to di
scuss your friend David Villers.’
Stirling sighed and with a grimace as he scratched his fingers through the mass of wiry grey hair on his chest he said, ‘So what’s new? Did he get rid of the joke of an editor yet?’
‘Not yet,’ Marielle answered, sipping her cocktail. ‘But he will.’
Stirling cocked a cynical eyebrow. ‘You seem pretty sure about that.’
‘It’s simply a matter of time.’ Marielle smiled. ‘In fact, he accepted her resignation the other night.’
‘So why’s she still there?’
‘Because Sylvia Starke wants her there. And David isn’t about to argue with that, not when he needs dear Sylvia on his side.’
Stirling pinched his bottom lip between his fingers, pulling it in and out. ‘And it’s your opinion that this editor doesn’t know what’s really going on there?’
‘She doesn’t have a clue.’ Marielle turned her head to look at him and fixed him with penetratingly seductive eyes. ‘So what you have to do, mon chéri,’ she told him, ‘is get me into her position.’
‘Correction, chérie, what you have to do is get yourself into her position.’
Marielle put her drink down; then, swinging her legs to the floor, she placed a hand on each of his knees and looked him full in the face. ‘All I want here,’ she said, in a persuasively throaty whisper, ‘is that magazine. Cannes is my home. I have no desire to live or work anywhere but here. Compared with yours, Bobby, that is a small ambition. So, you get me that magazine, then I could be in a position to get you what you want.’
Stirling smirked. ‘Villers is smart enough to see through you, babe.’
‘Don’t you believe it.’
‘Oh, but I do. I’ve known that man a long time. I know how he works.’
‘So why don’t you have him where you want him?’
‘Because, like I said, he’s smart.’
‘Get me that magazine and I’ll hand him to you on a plate.’
Stirling laughed long and hard at that. ‘Marielle, I sure am glad you’re not sharing the sack with me.’
‘But you know I would,’ she murmured, sliding her hands along his thighs.
