Marbella Neat

by Camille Oster

  Walking up the stairs, she smiled at the bouncers. They knew she was Ricky's girlfriend and she never had any trouble getting let through—not to mention the fact that she was basically a partner to Jesus in his new club. If anyone had the right to slip past the line, it was her. She still felt bad doing it, though, but she certainly wasn't going to wait in line. It was a busy tonight. Jesus was right that Ricky drew a crowd. She was so proud of him.

  When she got to the main floor, she didn't see him up on the podium. Music was pumping and people were dancing, the lights flashing wildly. There was such an energy in the space, an excitement that was almost a little on the frantic side.

  Making her way to the bar, she ordered a single shot vodka and cranberry. She loved the rich jewel tone of the drink and the sweetness. It was a hell of a lot of sugar, and alcohol wasn't good for her figure either, but one wouldn't hurt. She was out, after all. And she'd been very good in Paris. Strict adherence to a diet wasn’t really necessary for her figure as with her metabolism, she was naturally skinny, but she did anyway. Why not be healthy if she could?

  Looking around, she tried to spot Ricky. Maybe he was in the bathroom or having a break. Obviously, he would return before long.

  She took one of the spare seats, a leather-covered square and sat down, taking a sip of her cheerful drink. Sadly, single shot alcohol gave her quite a buzz. It would be too much to have two. She wasn't much of a drinker; certainly couldn’t keep up with Ricky, who could put away a disturbing amount in a night.

  Searching the area, her eyes settled on Jesus who was standing behind the bar, talking with one of the barmen, his arms crossed. Bare arms with a vest. He always wore that, showing off those lovely arms of his. Dark hair flowed down his shoulders and curled slightly, swept back from his face.

  She was glad he didn't see her watching him. He always made her uncomfortable when his eyes were on her. They threatened to suck her in. But she wasn't here to stare at Jesus, so her eyes kept wandering until they settled on a sight that didn't make sense to her. A guy across the room, who looked just like Ricky, but he was much too close to a dark-haired girl. The girl was gorgeous, in a cheapish way, and had an amazing body—curves and valleys on display. That was an entirely different body type to Megan’s—a body type not acceptable to the industry, but guys went nuts for. The fashion industry wasn't necessarily about sexy. That girl was sexiness embodied, and Ricky had his face buried in her neck, his hand on her hip. As she watched, she saw him stroking a knuckle down from her shoulder, over the mound of her breast and into her cleavage. The girl wasn't shocked, wasn’t even surprised, which indicated a familiarity beyond a mere acquaintance in the club.

  Goosebumps rose across Megan’s skin as she watched the scene across the large dance floor. Ricky now kissed the girl, and Megan felt her stomach churn with bile. She felt like throwing up. Frantically, her mind tried to find some way to explain this, but there was no way of explaining it. Ricky was cheating on her, and there was no denying it.

  Tears formed in her eyes and one spilt down her cheek, which she hastily wiped away. This is not what she'd expected when she'd come here tonight. She'd expected he’d be pleased when she arrived early, expecting him to maybe dedicate a song to her and to call out in his lovely voice that his girlfriend was in the house. But instead, he was feeling up that girl.

  Megan didn't know what to do with herself. The drink now felt heavy in her hand and her throat had closed up too much to consider drinking it.

  Even the air had grown dense and she wanted to get out of there, but she also wasn't entirely able to move. She'd be of threat to falling over if she did. So she was stuck there, having to watch him touching that girl, who clearly didn't mind. How long has this been going on for? By the body language, it was too comfortable to just have happened. Who was she? Why would he do this? Had she snared him in some way? This was so unfair. How could this have happened? They’d been so happy.

  Now that Megan thought back on the relationship, she wondered at it. How could he so easily just turn to someone else? Had he been serious about them at all? She’d thought they’d had something real—but apparently not. Was she so easy to put aside? To forget?

  Unable to watch anymore, she looked down in her lap. Her throat had closed over painfully as she was trying her hardest not to break out in sobs. Did this mean their relationship was over? Of course it did. He was cheating on her and by the look of it, perhaps not for the first time. This wasn’t simply an indication that he might cheat on her; he was cheating on her.

  Chapter 26

  It was a fantastic night. They were running out of champagne and Jesus had had to get more from the cellar. There were at least eight hens parties that he could count. The club was at capacity and they had to restrict people coming in. If there was bad weather up in northern Europe, they tended to have good weekends down here on the coast as people sought to escape the gloominess at home. It was obviously a tough week elsewhere and he was benefiting from it.

  It was getting to that time of night when fights were breaking out. People thought it was the boys, but the girls were just as bad – they tended to scream in protracted screeching matches. Guys just wailed on each other and the bouncers had to pull them apart, quickly eject the offenders to restore calm. The girls could actually be more destructive because they didn't necessarily fight; they just screamed at each other at the top of their lungs.

  As expected, a fight started and Jesus watched as the bouncers took care of it. His people were well-trained and they knew what to watch out for, knew to quickly sort it out. The vast majority of people didn't come here to be disrupted by people fighting.

  As he scanned the scene, his eyes caught something unexpected. Megan was there, sitting on a small cube, her shoulders slumped, and she was staring down in her lap. This was unexpected, but by the look of her, even without seeing it, he knew she’d just learned what her boyfriend was up to behind her back.

  With a sigh, he swore. But this wasn't entirely unexpected. Ricky didn't go to any particular lengths to hide his activities. It was more surprising that Megan hadn’t understood this by now—until now. But she did now and she looked devastated.

  She was a sweet girl and she deserved better than him.

  Squeezing past one of the bartenders, he made his way out onto the floor. This wasn’t any of his business, but seeing her like that was uncomfortable.

  Approaching her, he gently touched her on the shoulder. She was so very thin it seemed she would break with rough treatment. Large teary eyes turned up to him.

  “He is not worth your tears.”

  She didn't seem to know what to say, her mouth opened but nothing came out.

  “Why don't you come for coffee?” he said. He hadn't intended on offering that, but something made him want to get her out of there. Coffee this time of night wasn’t ideal, but by the look of her, she needed fortifying. It served no one having her sit there staring at the sight of Ricky doing whatever he was doing. Jesus looked, and sure enough, there was Ricky snuggling tightly to Shania. It wasn't surprising that a guy like Ricky would be drawn to Shania.

  Jesus didn't know Shania well, but he knew she dabbled with pretty boys and Ricky would fit that bill perfectly.

  “Come,” he said and urged her out of her seat. She followed him without objection as he led her out the club and down onto the street. All the cafés were closed, but the restaurants were open and he led her to the open seating area of one. Some quiet would probably do her well.

  “How long has it been going on for?” she asked, again turning her large, wet eyes to him. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Shania. She was a dancer here for a while. I have not seen them together before.”

  “But you don't seem surprised. Is she the kind of girl to steal other people's boyfriends? Is that what she does?” Megan asked accusingly.

  “I'm not sure what Shania is,” he said. “But I do know that Ricky is much too willing to be led away.”<
br />
  “What do you mean?” The girl was staring at him intently as if these were important answers. Nothing here was important, other than the fact that she’d invested her time in the wrong man.

  “Ricky has wandering eyes and wandering hands, and he likes the attention of women.”

  Megan's face contorted with grief.

  “A guy like that doesn't deserve your grief,” Jesus said quietly.

  “Was he never loyal?”

  Jesus didn't answer for a while. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer or whether she was speaking rhetorically. “No,” he said. “From the moment he arrived here, he was not loyal.”

  She seemed utterly surprised. “I thought… ” she started, but couldn't finish the sentence.

  This girl was probably the only person in the world who thought Ricky wasn't exactly what he was. How could she not see? He was so blatant, so obvious. This was his nature and everybody knew it—including all the girls he fumbled with in the back rooms. Everyone knew, but it wasn't unusual that the DJs basked in the adoration from the girls looking for a good time and naughty holiday stories.

  “There’s no coming back from this, is there?”

  “No. A guy like Ricky will not change and you should demand better. He is what he is; there's no use in questioning it.” For a moment, Jesus wondered why he was helping this girl. He should have put her in a taxi and cleaned his hands of this, but here he was, consoling a distraught girl.

  “Why? Why would he do this? We had something really special.”

  “He is not the man for such things.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “Ricky is a whore,” Jesus said, growing impatient. “He loves the adoration and worship, and he loves the girls. This is what he is; he will not change. You will not serve yourself expecting him to be something he's not. Now you must leave him behind and move on. What you thought there was, was an illusion and you must be strong enough to walk away. There will only be heartbreak for you if you stay, again and again. You must decide whether you want to do that to yourself, or have enough respect for yourself to say this is not what you want.”

  Jesus was done with the subject. It was up to her now and his opinion of her was dependent on what she did now. If she was sappy, he would lose respect for her.

  Wiping her eyes, she pulled herself together, straightening her spine. Her straight hair hung limply, catching the gentle breeze. Her eyes were red and her lips swollen. The tip of her nose had gone red, too. She was quite beautiful, even in her distress.

  Grabbing a tissue, she nodded and wiped her nose. Her face was drawn, but she stopped crying and Jesus was pleased for her.

  Chapter 27

  Felix could see Trish sitting on one of the cane chairs. The furniture of Jorge’s was dated from the eighties—cane, with green material, with more canes printed on it. It was the ultimate tacky, but one didn’t come to Jorge’s for style. This was the opposite of style; it was the finger to style, and Trish and her crew had picked this as their place.

  “Hey,” he said, putting his sunnies down on the worn and scarred table. “How are you?”

  “Good,” Trish said with surprise, folding her legs up beside her. “What are you doing here?”

  He wasn’t exactly sure why he was here; he’d been driving past and felt he could use a drink. Coming here, there was a chance he would see Trish and she made a good drinking buddy.

  Looking around, he didn’t see Cory, which was good. Cory made dealing with Trish more tentative these days—the damn gym monkey. Actually, Felix didn’t mind Cory, but he hated that he had to be uncomfortable around his friend now. Cory just couldn’t get over the fact that they’d had a drunken night together way back when—like last year.

  “Esme’s getting on my wick, so I don’t want to go home,” he admitted.

  He ordered a beer from the grubby looking waitress, Misty, who had worked here as long as Felix could remember.

  “Do you always have to fight with someone?” Trish said.

  “If they’d just stop picking on me, I wouldn’t have to.”

  Trish shook her head. “Nothing’s ever your fault, is it?”

  “No, I’m a saint and you know it.”

  The cane creaked as he sat down. How many years of people’s arses was he sitting on? Why couldn’t Jorge dig into his manically tightly held purse and fork out for some decent furniture?

  “Esme invited Shania around the other day. She did it just to bother me, and I won’t hear you defend her on this. If you saw her, the gloating look on her face, you couldn’t deny that she invited the cow home just to stick it to me.”

  “Speaking of Shania; she’s got a new man,” Trish said with wide eyes.

  The beer in Felix’s hand froze on its ascent to his mouth. Something screeched to a stop in his mind, too. But then, he’d known she was fucking someone; he’d seen it on her face. It just jarred to have it confirmed, and apparently, Trish knew about it. Were they friends now? He knew they used to work together, and Trish was always telling him to go easy on Shania—for his sake, she said. Bullshit. “Oh?”

  “And where Shania goes, so does drama,” Trish said. “So she’d been seeing this DJ at work, and apparently, he had this girlfriend all along, which surprised us, because he literally fucks everything that moves—not that it bothers Shania overly much. You know what she’s like.”

  “Yes, I know what she’s like,” Felix said snidely. Shania did what she wanted, and screw everyone else.

  “I mean, guys are just toys to her, aren’t they? Anyway, his girlfriend caught them and shit ensued. Apparently, the girl stormed out and now Ricky’s all mopey.”

  “Ricky?” Felix said, blinking profusely. “Ricky the DJ at Shine? Recently arrived?”

  “Yeah, like a month or so back.”

  “Shania is seeing Ricky?” Felix tried to clarify, the whole concept still stumping him. “Megan’s boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know her, but yeah.”

  Why the fuck was Shania seeing Ricky? He couldn’t do anything for her. Ricky could in no way further her career, so why? Well, Ricky was the ultimate boy-toy, wasn’t he? Was she serious about this guy? Really, how bad could her taste get? “Tart,” he said.

  Trish gave him a chiding look. “Don’t be ungenerous, Felix. Shania didn’t know he had a girlfriend. We didn’t really know, and let’s face it, he hardly acted like someone loved up.”

  “As if she would have cared if he did. And who are you calling ungenerous? You’re hardly miss touchy-feely yourself. I haven’t forgotten how mean you were to me when I was drunk and vulnerable.”

  “What do you expect when you saddle me with taking care of you?”

  “Cory must be a masochist.”

  Trish looked set to throw her beer bottle at him; he was prepared for it. He loved fighting with Trish.

  This was interesting news about Shania, though. Just like her to mess with someone else’s man. And Ricky? Why the fuck was she screwing Ricky? Felix would have bet his right arm it was some guy at work, but a sleazy DJ? But then she was trash, with similar taste.

  Sitting back, Felix bit his lip and stared down the beach. That icky feeling in him felt close to jealousy. Getting passed over for someone like Ricky was mortifying. And poor Megan. Then again, he wasn’t surprised—Megan did tend to wander into a pool full of snapping crocodiles without seeing any of them.

  Just like Shania to go around breaking hearts without caring. She was a cold-blooded bitch. With girls like that, their true colours always shone through, and Shania’s innocent little veneer was rubbing off. If she thought she could pull it off, she was going to learn differently.

  “God, I can see your twisted little mind working,” Trish said with exasperation. “You need to leave Shania alone.”

  “No. She brings her nastiness here and pollutes everything.”

  “No, she doesn’t, Felix. You need to get over your obsession with her.”

  “I am absolutely
not obsessed with her. Are you mad, woman?”

  “Like since the moment she arrived, you’ve thought of little else.”

  Felix snorted.

  “Even when she was gone, you thought about her,” Trish accused.

  “I did not.”

  “You know, you’re actually a shitty liar.”

  “I am not. I’ve consistently managed to convince Cory that I don’t, at times, jerk off in the shower thinking of you dancing.”

  Trish could only shake her head. “Somehow I suspect the dancer you are crooning over has darker hair than me.”

  Touché. He would never admit it, of course. Maybe he liked Trish because he couldn’t bullshit her, and she always thought the worst of him—and seemed to accept him that way. How could you not like someone who was alright with an even worse version of you?

  Chapter 28

  It had been a shit day. The presentation Shania had done had gone badly. Politics had interfered and it’d had nothing to do with what she’d done, but for some reason, this arsehole had felt her presentation had been the time to vent his bile. She’d wanted to deck him, and apparently, the dick was immune to her harsh stares—too wrapped up with grandstanding.

  Right now, however, she just had to get out of the office for a bit, and go cool off. The hijacking of her presentation had steered her off course and she needed to do some thinking about how to get everything back on track. Man, she wished she could fire people—or simply shoot them.

  Grabbing her wallet, she marched to the elevator and made her way out of the building. The sun was glorious after the air-conditioning inside. The road was busy as she darted between cars, crossing to the café she sometimes went to. It, on the other hand, wasn’t busy at all, so she didn’t have to wait long. She took her usual seat by the window and waited for her cappuccino to cool.

  The salon across the road was busy; she could see people getting their hair done. Maybe she should go have a treatment or something, soothe her nerves with a bit of pampering. She was typically too busy at work to even think about it.