by Lindsey Kelk
‘The best photos anyone has ever seen,’ Paige repeated, slowly this time. ‘Or you won’t need to worry about Vanessa kicking your arse because I’ll have already handed it to you on a plate, yeah?’
‘On a plate.’ I nodded to show I understood. ‘Best photos ever.’
‘Glad we’re clear,’ she replied. ‘Ah, Mr Miller, at last.’
I hadn’t expected to have a physical reaction to seeing Nick, but as he strode up the path, all grumpy face and Wayfarers, I wanted to get up from the table and dive into the sea. His pale blue shirt was creased to hell and his khaki shorts looked like they weren’t buttoned up properly at the fly. He did not look like a man who had enjoyed a good night’s sleep in a luxury villa in Hawaii. He looked like a man who had spent the night shagging someone rotten and then spent a couple of hours tossing and turning until the sun came up.
Interesting.
He leaned across the table, right in front of me, just to make me jump. Without a word he grabbed the coffee pot, poured a full mug then threw in several sugar lumps in complete silence. Paige glanced at me, trying not to smile, as he took the seat at the far end of the table as far away from the two of us as possible.
‘Where’s Bennett?’ he asked after two long sips of coffee. ‘He’s late.’
‘So are you, sunshine,’ Paige replied. ‘Bad night?’
Even though he didn’t take off his sunglasses, I knew he was staring straight at me.
‘I’ve had better,’ he said with an entirely straight face, while I coloured up from head to toe. ‘I’ve had worse.’
‘Looks like you went through the wringer.’ I was determined not to let him win. ‘Sometimes it’s best just to let sleep come naturally. When you try too hard, you just end up frustrated.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not frustrated,’ he replied swiftly. ‘But you don’t look so clever yourself. Maybe you could do with trying a bit harder.’
‘Now, now, children,’ Paige intervened, entirely oblivious to the extreme level of bitchy subtext flying across the table. ‘Let’s not have fisticuffs. We need to sort out this Bennett sitch, and I don’t really want to have to do that on my own. Can we kiss and make up?’
Nick turned up one corner of his mouth and nodded. ‘I’m game if you are, Vanessa.’
‘I think she means figuratively,’ I said, adding cream to my coffee. ‘I’m a professional.’
‘Really?’ He rested his elbows on the table and pushed his glasses up over his eyebrows. ‘I probably owe you some money then.’
Before Paige had time to question Nick’s jibe or my look of outrage, the glass door to the house slid open to reveal a tall, slender man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Despite his ensemble, I knew it was Mr Bennett Junior right away. He was the spit of his father. The clothes were casual but tailored to his body perfectly, his grey hair was stylishly cut, and even though he had to be somewhere in his mid-forties, he was a striking man. And not just because he had the most amazing handlebar moustache I had ever seen. On cue, he twirled one of the ends and waited until he had our full attention.
‘Aloha.’ Mr Bennett the younger held his arms out as he approached the table and made his way round to shake everyone’s hand. ‘Apologies for my lateness. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.’
His accent seemed to be American, but he was attempting to affect something of a little British lilt and it wasn’t quite working. Nonetheless, he was an imposing figure. Just ever so slightly funny at the same time. It could have been the moustache.
‘Not at all.’ Paige answered for all of us. ‘We were just saying what a wonderful way this is to start the day.’
No we weren’t, I said silently. We were just trading badly concealed barbs across the table and one of us was basically calling the other a whore. But it didn’t seem like saying that out loud would really propel the conversation forward, so I just smiled.
‘I’m Artie Bennett.’ Our host sat down at the head of the table and let Kekipi pour his coffee before piling a ton of sushi onto a plate. For breakfast. Gross. ‘Shall we do introductions?’
‘Paige Sullivan.’ Paige flashed her loveliest smile. ‘I’m the art director with Gloss. I’ll be overseeing the shoot. And this is Vanessa, our photographer.’
‘Hi.’ I raised a hand in an awkward half-wave. Clearly she didn’t trust me to introduce myself. Fair enough, really.
‘Nick Miller. I’ll be writing the piece on your father,’ Nick interrupted, not giving me any more time to add to my hello. ‘When do you think I might be able to meet with him, Artie? These constant cancellations are getting really quite frustrating.’
Wow. Bolshy. I held my breath, waiting for Artie’s response. Looking over at Paige, I saw she was doing the same.
‘Well, Mr Miller.’ Artie failed to return Nick’s informality but matched his attitude entirely. ‘We do have a bit of a problem there. I was hoping we could eat breakfast and get to know one another a little before getting down to the work chatter, but if you’d rather get it out of the way—’
‘I would,’ Nick confirmed. ‘Is he going to do the interview or not?’
Artie put his plateful of sushi down on the table and shifted in his chair to face Nick square on. Taking a deep breath, he placed his elbows on the table and tented his fingers under his chin, taking his time and considering his response. The tension was killing me.
Clearing his throat and sitting straight back in his chair in such a way that clashed horribly with his casual clothes, Artie gave Nick a brittle smile. ‘As of this moment, Mr Miller, he says he is not.’
Paige let out a horrified gasp, as if the moment wasn’t already dramatic enough, while Nick simply looked to the skies and then rubbed a hand over his face. I stayed silent. There was no way for me to make this situation any better.
‘So what do you propose?’ Nick asked as Artie picked up his chopsticks and started on an admittedly delicious-looking piece of salmon sashimi. ‘Are we all just supposed to sit around here until he stops sulking? We all flew halfway round the world just to talk to your dad and now he doesn’t want to play?’
I had always been a big believer in the idea that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but it seemed Nick did not agree. I was half expecting him to vault over the table, slap Artie Bennett with a glove and challenge him to a duel. He looked pissed off. Paige looked terrified. I looked ambivalent. I couldn’t deny it ? the first thing that had crossed my mind when he said Bertie didn’t want to do the interview was that if there was no interview, there would be no pictures. It was starting to look like I could potentially get away with this whole charade scot-free.
‘I’m going to talk to my father later today,’ Artie said once he had chewed and swallowed his food. ‘I have impressed upon him how important this interview is for the company, how important it is to me, and I have explained to him that you have travelled a very long way to meet with him.’
‘Well, that’s very big of you.’ Nick stood up, his chair scraping along the terracotta tiles of the veranda. ‘If you could maybe call me when he thinks he might be ready, that would be great.’ He turned to Paige and tossed down his napkin. ‘This is what happens when you make arrangements with the monkey instead of the organ grinder.’
Without waiting for a response, Nick stormed off back towards the cottages. He was definitely not in the best mood ever. You’d have thought he’d be a bit more chipper, given the night he’d had.
‘Mr Bennett, I am so sorry,’ Paige said, standing up but going nowhere. ‘I can’t apologize enough. I don’t know what could have come over him. He’s a very passionate man and I think he’s not feeling well and—’
But before she could finish, Artie cut her off with a full, throaty laugh.
‘Oh, Ms Sullivan, please sit down.’ He waved his hand at her, still chuckling to himself. ‘There’s nothing like a little drama at breakfast. Mr Miller is obviously frustrated. I don’t blame him. I had a very similar reacti
on when my father declared his intentions to me last night. I do, however, somewhat object to being called a monkey.’
‘I’m so sorry, seriously.’ Paige couldn’t have looked more embarrassed. ‘I really apologize, I do. Nick is just, he’s just …’
‘He’s just a bit of a knob,’ I interrupted. ‘Really. Can’t be helped.’
‘He is a bit of a knob.’ Artie began laughing again, this time squeezing a couple of tears out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Oh, that was funny, Ms ? oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Vanessa,’ I offered with a relieved glance at Paige. ‘Vanessa Kittler.’
‘Vanessa, yes,’ he repeated as though to commit my name to memory. ‘He is a bit of a knob. Very eloquently put. I had very much hoped I wouldn’t have to come with this news today, but at the moment my father is being quite difficult.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ I started with caution, ‘how come your dad arranged all this if he didn’t want to do the interview? Seems a bit silly.’
‘In short, he didn’t arrange it,’ Artie replied, getting right back into the sushi. ‘I did. My father was against it from the beginning, but after a while he seemed to be persuaded. It was only after Mr Miller arrived on Monday morning and I went to check in that he decided he wasn’t interested any more. And it’s very difficult to talk my father into something that he doesn’t want to do.’
‘I suppose that’s why he’s been so successful?’ I suggested. Nothing like a bit of flattery to grease the wheels. ‘Because he knows his own mind?’
‘This is true,’ he agreed. ‘But this is a very opportune time for an interview. Not to get into family politics, but this is something we have been discussing for a while ? his retiring, my taking over the store, the brand. This piece is really quite important to me. If Mr Miller had stayed to discuss things a little longer, I would have made assurances that the interview will be salvaged somehow.’
‘That’s wonderful news,’ Paige replied. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Bennett.’
‘Artie, please,’ he offered eventually. ‘Failing all else, I can pull clothes for the fashion shoot and we’ll work around the interview somehow.’
Paige’s face lit up while my smile sank. I was so not getting out of taking those bloody photos.
‘Well, the idea of the original shoot was that we would have your dad as sort of the king of fashion,’ she explained with enthusiasm. ‘We were going to shoot at the palace, have him in the middle of the set on a throne with all the gorgeous nature and historical culture clashing against the more modern fashions. Perhaps we do the shoot with you as the heir apparent? The prince regent?’
‘That could definitely be arranged.’ Artie stood up gracefully while Paige and I scrambled out of our chairs. I half expected her to start bowing. ‘If you would excuse me, do enjoy your day. I believe we should have everything back on track tomorrow. I apologize in advance if things end up being a little rushed, but I’m sure we’ll make things work.’
‘We will,’ Paige said. ‘If nothing else, the models arrive this evening. Perhaps we could take a look at the clothes this afternoon or this evening and pull for the shoot?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Artie replied with a gracious nod and disappeared back into the house, his plate still full of almost untouched sushi.
‘Models?’ I looked at Paige.
‘For the clothes?’ She looked right back. ‘How did you think you were shooting clothes without models?’
‘Coat hangers?’ I squeaked.
‘You’re a moron,’ she sighed, sinking back into her seat and banging her head gently on the table in front of her. ‘I’m fucked, aren’t I?’
All I could think was that she wasn’t fucked. We all were.
For the want of a more positive answer, I ate another pastry and kept my mouth shut.
CHAPTER TWELVE
So, another free day in Hawaii. We could do anything. We could go anywhere. And all Paige wanted to do was get back into bed.
‘I’m knackered,’ she whined on the way back to the cottages. ‘The caffeine is wearing off and I need to call the magazine and tell them about the changes.’
‘But shouldn’t we do something?’ I looked around at the beachy paradise. ‘Shouldn’t we go sightseeing or something?’
‘You need to go and take some photos,’ she pointed out. ‘Maybe practise taking pictures of actual people?’
‘Fair point,’ I grumbled, my mind having been on something altogether more touristy. I’d read some very exciting reviews about a wolphin at the Sea Life center. He was half whale and half dolphin! When was I going to get a chance to see that again? But she was right. I did need to practise taking pictures of people. ‘But I don’t have a model?’
I batted my eyelashes at her and made an effort to look as pathetic as possible. Not too hard.
‘Tess, I’m tired,’ she replied with a dramatic yawn. ‘I think not.’
‘Please?’ I pressed my hands together in prayer. ‘I really do need the practice. You said so yourself.’
‘I did, but I’m tired and I’m pissy and I need more caffeine before I can do anything,’ she said, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail before letting it fall back down around her shoulders. ‘Actually, that makes me the closest thing you’ll find to an actual model for miles.’
‘Just an hour,’ I promised, rushing inside to get my stuff. ‘We’ll just do an hour and then you can go and have a nap and I can go and see the wolphin and we’ll both feel better about the shoot tomorrow.’
‘Fine ? I’ll be by the pool,’ she called after me. ‘Just get me more coffee.’
Behind our cottages there was a great big kidney-shaped pool surrounded by sunloungers and brightly coloured parasols. I had barely registered it before, given that there was an entire ocean only a few feet away, but it was perfect for our faux shoot.
‘So where do you want me?’ Paige emerged from her cottage in a dazzling white bikini and huge sunglasses, her blonde hair loose and shiny. It was beyond me how normal people looked like that in swimwear, but then I remembered Paige wasn’t normal people ? she worked for a fashion magazine. That was why she was wearing huge neon-pink wedges and red lipstick to hang out by a swimming pool.
‘Um, over by that wall?’ I pointed towards a short white wall covered with climbing vines and beautiful, colourful flowers. Looking up at the sun, I waited until she was in position, checked my light meter and pulled out an assortment of reflectors, lenses and back-up batteries that I’d nicked from Vanessa. It never hurt to be overprepared. ‘Right, so just stay there, keep your face towards the light, but don’t, like, do any posey stuff for the camera. I just want to do a few test shots.’
‘I really hate having my picture taken,’ she complained, picking a bright pink bloom and carefully placing it in her hair. ‘I look awful.’
‘Yeah, you look really disgusting,’ I agreed, seeing something quite different through my viewfinder. Paige was pretty in real life, but through the lens she was beautiful. Honest to God gorgeous. When I zoomed in, I could see the green flecks in her blue eyes and a tiny smattering of freckles that she had tried to cover up with make-up. I snapped away as she stroked the petals of the flowers and wrinkled her nose self-consciously.
‘Can we start soon? I just want to get this over with,’ she shouted, shielding her eyes from the sun after ten minutes of mindless snapping. I was so in the zone I’d forgotten to tell her I’d already started.
‘You’re brilliant,’ I shouted back. ‘Just carry on doing what you’re doing. I’ve already got loads of shots.’
But as soon as I spoke, she froze. It was as though someone had swapped her for a waxwork. Everything that had come alive for my camera died.
‘Paige, you’ve gone weird. Can you just do what you were doing before?’ I called, trying to work out what was wrong.
‘What was I doing?’ She sounded as awkward as she looked, shoulders stiff and hard, her face a mask
of panic. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘You just looked normal.’ I didn’t know what else to say. ‘Just relax.’
‘I am relaxing,’ she replied in a voice that did not support her statement. Turned to face me, arms straight sticks be her side, Paige pulled her shoulders up to her ears. ‘Is this OK?’
It was not OK.
‘Why don’t you sit down on the sunbed?’ I suggested. ‘Give me something else to try.’
Nodding, and clearly relieved, she took herself off to the nearest sunlounger and collapsed on her improbably flat stomach. I consoled myself a little with the fact that she wasn’t fitter than me, just hungrier. After rearranging my equipment, I crouched down on the floor in front of her and started snapping. She still looked about as lifelike as one of the Kardashians. I had to get her to stop thinking about the pictures.
‘Tell me about when you met Nick.’ I shuffled onto my bum and snapped as quietly as possible. I hoped that if I kept her talking, she would be distracted enough to stop worrying. And also I wanted to pump her for information about my one-night stand without fessing up.
‘Oh, it was a couple of years ago.’ She squinted at me and pursed her lips. ‘Well, the first time would have been a lot of years ago, but I was with my ex then. And he was with his.’
So Nick did have a serious ex. Interesting.
‘But then I ran into him at a Christmas party just after me and Stefan broke up and, you know how he is, he just looks like trouble.’
‘Yes, he does.’ I couldn’t have agreed more. I’d had that stupid Taylor Swift song running through my head ever since Amy had mentioned it on the phone. ‘So … you two, what, got together?’
‘Oh no.’ She smiled and her shoulders dropped half an inch. ‘Didn’t quite manage to get that far. Anyway, we were chatting at the bar and he’s all hand on my leg and, to be honest, full disclosure, I probably would have gone home with him, but just when everyone was clearing out, he leans in and he says to me, “Before we go, I should probably tell you I’m a complete arsehole, so you shouldn’t go falling love with me.”’