Marbella Neat

by Camille Oster

  No, she couldn’t really see it. There was a desire there, but not the commitment. If she did it now, there was a good chance she would regret it. Maybe she was just acknowledging a change was coming—perhaps not here yet. Between the person she had been and the one she was trying to become, she couldn’t quite shed where she’d come from. Not just yet. “Maybe you’re right,” Shania conceded.

  The hairdresser started trimming her hair and Shania relaxed with a magazine on her lap.

  “So what exactly did you do to Felix?” Esme asked, flipping through her copy of Vogue.

  “Nothing,” Shania said to the weird question.

  “Since coming back from Santorini, he’s all… I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like the fight’s gone out of him.”

  “Nothing to do with me.” As far as she knew, there was nothing different about Felix. Maybe he was just tired or something. Esme was looking at her. “What?”

  “I’m telling you, something is different. He’s like content and happy.”

  Shania shrugged. “Like I said, nothing to do with me.” Okay, they’d fucked, but that was nothing unusual. Perhaps that last one on the bed had been a little more intimate than the normal pounding, but it wasn’t a big deal. It had been okay—nice even. The moonlight had been nice, just the two of them on the bed, utterly naked. She couldn’t recall if they’d done that before. Nothing earth shattering, though.

  Esme shook her head. “Come on. I know my brother is not big on feelings generally, but every single one he has is related to you.”

  “Look, we fight and we fuck, and that’s it.”

  “And what if Felix just stopped fighting?”

  Shania had absolutely no answer. In fact, she couldn’t even formulate in her mind what that would mean. “Maybe I’ll be extra annoyed with him. Besides, you’re totally wrong. Felix’s only focus right now is this promotion coming up. It’s just like him to play games to try to throw everyone off.”

  “Just maybe I know him better than you do,” Esme said.

  “So what are you saying?” Shania asked, turning to her. She couldn’t wait to hear this.

  “I think Felix is coming around to the idea that he’s in love with you.”

  “Pfft,” Shania said dismissively. This was utter crap, but then Esme had always had funny notions about her and Felix. “Have you met your brother? Total bull.”

  Esme screwed up her face and reached for her teacup. They sat in silence for a while, which Shania was grateful for, because this conversation was really starting to give her the heebie-geebies. She wasn’t entirely sure what Esme’s agenda was here, but it was working.

  Focusing on the magazine, she tried to put it out of her mind. Maybe Felix was trying to influence Esme, to freak her out before this promotion. Although there was an underlying question about what the hell they were going to do. Could this go on, them screwing each other every minute? It would certainly make things more awkward when one of them was promoted. If ever, that precluded that nothing could exist between them.

  “Why don’t you come for dinner tonight?”

  Her gut reaction was to say no, because even the mention of Felix being in love with her, which was total bullshit, gave her the creeps. Obviously, it was all in Esme’s mind. Felix would hate her coming to dinner. He’d practically had an apoplectic fit last time. Whatever it was he was pulling, she wasn’t going for it. “Sure,” she said sweetly.

  They’d hung out the rest of the afternoon, had coffee, then walked around the shops. Even with money in her bank, Shania couldn’t bring herself to buy stuff here. The prices were ridiculous. At some point, didn’t these people wonder if they were being taken advantage of? But they didn’t mind, even when they could get the same stuff, even better, at much more reasonable prices. But rich people bought stuff because it was expensive. The exact same sunglasses at thirty euros or three thousand euros, they would go with the expensive one—just because.

  Esme had ended up buying a skirt and some jewellery she absolutely had to have, and after, Shania had followed Esme back to her house. In a sense, it was more awkward now going to dinner, because she was dining with her friend, her enemy and her boss. Nothing was ever simple with the Dunbury family.

  “Mr. Dunbury,” she said as they walked out onto the patio where the family tended to congregate. They had this massive house, but they spent the bulk of their time in this ten square metre spot. It was a pretty ten square metres, though, with a fantastic view of the pool, gardens and sea beyond. She hadn’t believed she’d ended up in a place like that when Esme had first invited her, when she’d been friendless and on the run from her ex’s nasty business partners.

  “Shania, welcome,” Dominic said and put down the magazine he was reading. The Economist, she noted. She really should be reading that stuff, too, but she struggled to make herself. “Good day, you two?”

  “Not bad,” Esme said. “Town’s exactly the same. Nothing changes around here. Where’s Felix?”

  “He’s around somewhere. I think he was playing billiards before. It sounded like it. Did you let María know we’re having an extra for dinner?”

  “I’ll tell her,” Esme said and got up.

  “How are you finding it being here most of your time, these days?” Shania asked.

  “It’s actually been quite an adjustment. I’d forgotten how pervasive the social scene is since my wife left. I’ve been avoiding it, actually.”

  “I get the urge to check out,” Shania said and grabbed one of the buns from the bread basket. She was actually starving, having sustained herself on a mere salad for lunch. God, she hoped it wouldn’t be more salad for dinner. That was a clear downside of hanging with Esme.

  “That is a good way to put it.”

  Dominic looked circumspect, but Shania was distracted by Felix stepping outside. He stopped sharply, surprised she was there.

  “Dinner guest,” he said as he sat down, taking a bun of his own and spearing it with a knife. “I take it Esme is back.”

  Shania was shocked. Was that all? Is Esme back? No jab at running up the Dunbury credit cards, or weaselling her way in where she didn’t belong?

  “She’s informing María of our expanded number,” Dominic said.

  Felix’s eyes locked with hers. Then he just looked away. Again, wahuh? Esme returned and sat down. Was she right? Was there something weird going on with Felix? Her first assumption was that he was playing some long game, trying to sucker her in before going for the kill.

  “I saw Anette Holstrom down in Porto Banus,” Esme said. Shania had no idea who she was talking about.

  “Oh?” Dominic said. “Perhaps we should invite them around some night.”

  Felix looked uninterested.

  “Obviously, they’ll throw one of their parties now that they’re back,” Esme continued. “They always do.”

  “I will assume that is unavoidable,” Dominic said.

  “The Holstrom parties are legendary.”

  “You should come,” Dominic said. Again, Felix didn’t react. Was he ill?

  Her boss was inviting her to a party. She couldn’t really say no, could she? “Sure.”

  “It’s black tie,” Felix said and Shania tried to read some subverting meaning into his statement.

  “I think I can handle it.”

  Mercifully, the food arrived and everyone acted pleasantly surprised for a moment. They ate in silence. Fish again. They liked fish. It wasn’t bad.

  After dinner, they shifted to the sofa group not far from the table and Esme took the one with her father, which left Shania to share one with Felix. It felt like a setup and the creep factor only escalated as Felix sat down and conducted the manly spread, looking relaxed and comfortable. That wasn’t usually how she saw him. Normally, he scarpered out of sight as soon as he caught sight of her; now he was all chilled. Well, he’d successfully made her the tense and nervous one, and she wondered how soon she could leave.

  Chapter 62

/>   Grabbing her drink, Aggie wandered outside to where her parents sat with Inns. With a sigh, she sat down. Things were always more awkward now with Inns around, and she hated how her parents made her take him around with her. Didn’t they understand that he hated it, too? Probably they just wanted to get rid of him for a night.

  “How did the registration go?” Cassandra asked him.

  He shrugged. “Nothing to comment on.”

  Always looking for the negative, Aggie thought. That summed him up. If there was nothing bad to say, he didn’t say anything at all.

  “Not long before you start, then,” Cassandra said with a smile, always trying to be congenial with him. When was she going to realise it wasn’t possible? “Lovely evening tonight,” she said, changing the subject, because it wasn’t going anywhere.

  It was a clear night and the warm breeze rustled the foliage around them. Aggie had actually refused to spend another night at Virtue, which was the only place Megan wanted to go these days. Maybe it was time to spend a night in, anyway, particularly now that thing with Ricky had gone utterly sideways.

  The problem was that even though she didn’t in a million years want to be his girlfriend, she was still utterly attracted to him. It left her in a bit of a state, and him coming over to exercise their friendship was starting to get quite trying. She understood that he was trying to better himself and she did applaud him for that, but for her, it was a poor consolation prize.

  “Anette Holstrom called before. They’ve just arrived. It will be lovely to see them again.”

  Another party, Aggie thought. She’d been going to the Holstrom parties all her life. They were a unique charismatic Swedish couple who had been a mainstay on the coast for a good twenty years, if not more. “You’ll like the Holstroms,” Aggie said to Inns. “They’re aristocratic.”

  Inns raised an eyebrow to her as if he wasn’t impressed.

  “Lovely people,” Cassandra said, while her father checked his watch.

  “Might catch a spot of the news,” he said and got up.

  “Oh, the pie,” Cassandra said enigmatically and got up, too, leaving just Aggie and Inns.

  “Not off cavorting tonight?” Inns asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet. If things get too dull around here, I might. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to come.”

  He snorted. “To watch you drool over that Neanderthal? No thanks. It’s bad enough to see you grasping after a piece of gutter trash, but worse is the fact that he doesn’t actually want you.”

  Aggie wished her eyes could kill. “We’re friends.”

  “Friends, with someone like that? I’m not exactly that stupid.”

  Ricky was perhaps not someone she would normally be friends with, but if it did eventuate, she wasn’t going to quell it. “Unlike you, I don’t judge people by—”

  “Their worth?”

  “Well, not everyone achieves your lofty height, Inns, but then no one does, do they? You’re up there all alone looking down on people. Hope you’re having a lovely time up there, all by yourself.”

  “Better than sleeping in the gutter.”

  Didn’t he realise the world had moved on from this utter claptrap? He really was born well after his era, but then he wasn’t alone. There were a whole bunch of them, of their class, who still sought to set themselves apart from everyone else. Problem was, that didn’t work so well here on the coast, where things were, by necessity, a bit more integrated. Probably the reason why Inns couldn’t find anyone to hang with. Most around here, even from the more distinguished families, didn’t hold to their exalted elitism.

  “Well, at least I do sleep with someone,” she said. “We don’t all want to be so consequentially virginal as you are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Prostitutes don’t count. You can talk all you want, Inns, but let’s face it, I’m not like you. For all your views on exclusivity, you’re going to marry the first girl who can bring herself to touch your willy, partially because you won’t know any better as you guard it like you think it’s family treasure. Secondly, because you’re completely repugnant in every possible way. You will marry some twit who will be stupid enough to think your snobbery actually means something. Meanwhile, you can’t function in the world in any capacity; you can’t even carry on a normal conversation. You’re emotionally retarded and you’re always going to stay that way.”

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as simple as ripping Inns to pieces. Yes, Inns believed that none of her friends here were good enough. None of them belonged to his set—the old families. But then Ricky was seen the same way by just about everyone she knew—too crass and low. Megan obviously didn’t care about stuff like that, but it would be a lie to say no one else did.

  She was ashamed of the fact that she wouldn’t consider anything beyond a hook-up because of it. In a way, she was just as snobby as Inns. Alright, maybe not as snobby as he went for true bulk, but the sin was just as grave. It hurt to admit it.

  There had been that thing with Cory, but that had been on her terms. He’d been exotic and she’d dabbled, then been upset when he hadn’t fallen at her feet. That truth was that she’d never viewed their relationship as something that could be serious, because he wasn’t of their kind, plain and simple.

  At times, she had prided herself on her openness, but it only stretched so far. Perhaps she hated Inns because he highlighted her own snobbery and she’d thought herself better than that.

  Standing up, she left Inns behind. What was worst about him was that he was so accepting of his own snobbery, seeing it as perfectly legitimate. He had nothing else going for him, but the fact that he belonged to the right crowd, and he hung onto that for dear life. That’s why they all did it, because they had nothing better and refused to accept that the world had moved on from when they were at the top of the food chain. What little power they had left depended on it. In all other ways, they had been replaced.

  Didn’t excuse her own prejudice, though, did it?

  Chapter 63

  It was surprising to see Megan standing there when he looked up. The cleaners had descended on the club and Jesus was inspecting some damage that had occurred to a railing the previous night.

  “Megan,” he said, wondering why she had come to see him. She’d obviously come for that specific purpose, having no other reason for being there. In his mind, he couldn’t quite foresee how this would play out. It depended on her, really. Had she come to rail at him for turning her down? He hadn’t thought that was her style, but then she was here. Maybe she would scream at him that she no longer allowed him to use her images for the club. All these thoughts and eventualities ran through his mind. “How are you?”

  Looking at her, she seemed even more nervous, twisting her fingers and looking uncertain. This girl had little ability to hide what she felt.

  Shifting, he sat down on the next stool and crossed his arms, waiting for her to say her peace.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said the last time we talked, and I said I understood, but I really don’t.” Jerky hand movements accentuated her statement. There was definitely some hurt inside her, as well. He’d wanted to avoid that, but it had happened anyway. Perhaps it had been unavoidable.

  Jesus considered her for a moment, still trying to determine what her objectives were here.

  “If you were completely not interested, I would understand, but that was not the message I received. But then something happened and you cut me off. I’ve been trying to determine what it was I did. Was it inviting you to Greece? Was that something I shouldn’t have done? From my perspective, I thought it would be a way we could spend time together. I know there are some cultural differences between us, but I want you to know that I didn’t do anything to purposefully offend you.”

  Jesus sighed. He didn’t really want to have this conversation, but he supposed he owed her an explanation. “It wasn’t anything you did. You are a very sweet girl.”

  “But…?”
/>   “But I don’t think we want the same things in life.”

  “How can you say that? We never even had the chance to talk about the things we want. At no point did I go, ‘Oh, no, that’s not what I want.’ So I can’t understand how you can say that. Normally, I would never come here and question your decisions, but to me, this is an important one.” She sat down in a chair, sitting on the edge it with her knees tightly together.

  He didn’t know what to say for a moment and stroked along the back of his neck. “As much as I like you, I think we have to accept we have nothing in common.”

  Without saying anything, she considered his statement. It was undoubtedly true. Nothing in their histories, or even their current lives showed any commonalities, other than the fact that he ran a couple of clubs in the place where she and her friends occasionally spent time.

  “See, the way I see it, there is something genuine between us, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. But then I suppose you have to believe so too in order for it to be a commonality.”

  He didn’t like hearing it, because he didn’t know how sincere she was. Sincere was perhaps not the right word, because he believed she meant it. It was more that he didn’t think she fully understood what she meant. They weren’t a couple after all, had never been, so it might be a bit premature for her to say this was the most genuine relationship she’d ever had. Then again, when he’d considering its prospects, he’d been evaluating her as a wife.

  “You are from Marbella,” he said after a while. “I am not. This is not the life I want to live, and this is where you belong. No matter what I think of you, that will always be the case.”

  “And you have decided for me what I want,” she accused.