Sun, Sea and Sangria

by Victoria Cooke

  The lights dim and we take our seats. Jay allows the others to pass him, shuffling down the row so that he can sit with me. When the compère comes on to introduce the acts I feel Jay’s hand cover my own, which is gripping the side of the chair. It tingles beneath the warmth of his touch. I look sideways and raise my eyebrows at him.

  ‘What?’ he asks. I glance past him at the five faces that are glued to the stage and realise that not one of them has so much as batted an eyelid in our direction.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just new, that’s all.’ I relax into my seat, allowing myself to enjoy the feeling. It’s been a week since our picnic on the beach and I still can’t get used to these stolen moments. Jay thinks we should tell the others, and we will, in time.

  We sit through the opera singer’s performance, and when she reaches her dramatic crescendo, Jay gives my hand a little squeeze. My heart flips.

  In the interval, I break away to get some water from the bar and I hear a familiar shriek.

  ‘Kaaaat.’

  I turn around, glad to see Andrea’s friendly face. ‘What are you doing here? Who’s looking after the bar?’

  ‘I wanted to come along and support you. My ship can sail itself for a few days.’ She pulls me into a hug and kisses both cheeks. ‘My husband and I are having a long weekend away now the mad summer rush is over. We both needed the break.’

  ‘I’m glad he’s managed to tear you away from the bar!’ I say.

  ‘When are you up?’

  ‘There’s a dance act on and then us.’ I take out a few euros to pay for my water.

  ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head, but Andrea is already one step ahead and has hers cocked to the side. ‘Okay, a little,’ I admit.

  Andrea places her hand on mine, the one clutching the cash, and asks the waiter for two shots of vodka.

  ‘Andrea, I can’t down a shot of vodka! I’m working.’

  ‘That’s right.’ She grins. ‘You’ll down two.’

  When we return to the seats, I make the guys shuffle up to make room for Andrea. A few of them look pleased she’s made such an effort to come. I think they welcome the moral support. I, on the other hand, have about seventy millilitres of Dutch courage flowing through my veins and just want to get up on stage. I feel great. As my arm brushes against Jay’s, I tuck my hands underneath my legs. The guys wouldn’t notice a bit of discreet hand-holding but Andrea certainly would.

  The male–female dance act are up next. The woman glides around effortlessly in the man’s strong arms, her simple white dress billowing gracefully as they sail across the stage. He lifts her horizontally into the air, and the crowd gasp as he turns her around, her back arched slightly to stay balanced.

  ‘What I wouldn’t give for her core strength,’ Andrea whispers.

  ‘What would you do with it?’ I ask. ‘Actually, don’t answer that.’

  As the dancers come to the end of their sequence, there’s a standing ovation. We’re up next, and as the buzz of the vodka wears off, that familiar concrete feeling fills my torso. Sammy’s eyes are still glued to the stage. He’d better keep it together throughout the performance.

  ‘No pressure then.’ Jay whacks Sammy on the back, breaking his trance. Fortunately, he smiles and his shoulders relax.

  ‘We’d better give it our best,’ he replies. Phew!

  ‘Wish us luck,’ I whisper to Andrea as I squeeze past her.

  ‘You don’t need it,’ she says, though after the performance we’ve just seen, I’m not sure about that.

  Behind the stage, I fuss over the dancers. Pauw’s hair isn’t falling right and Ant’s skin lacks sheen. ‘Where’s the dry oil?’

  ‘Here, catch.’ Marcus tosses the bottle and it catches the side of my eyebrow.

  ‘Ouch.’ The pain sears through me and the stress almost becomes too much as I clutch my face and fight back tears. ‘Marcus, you nob!’ I yell.

  ‘Come with me.’ Jay takes me by the hand and leads me out of the backstage room, into the cool, dark corridor.

  ‘Just breathe,’ he says, reaching up and moving my hair out of my face. ‘It’s probably going to bruise but you’ll live, I promise.’

  He plants a kiss where the bottle hit and I feel all the built-up tension in my chest melt away. ‘I’m sorry, I just …’

  ‘Shhh.’ He presses his index finger to my lips. ‘We’re all feeling it tonight. I don’t know what it is – it’s not even like it’s the final. Anyway, don’t apologise to me—’

  ‘I know, I know, I need to say sorry to Marcus.’ I never lose my cool like that. Perhaps it’s the pressure of keeping me and Jay a secret on top of the money situation that’s making me on edge. ‘Thanks, Jay.’

  ‘Thought you needed a minute, that’s all.’ The side of his mouth curves upwards, and my chest fizzes with warmth as I head back inside.

  As soon as I lock eyes with Marcus he comes over. ‘Kat, I’m so sorry—’

  I hold my hand up to stop him. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry. It was an accident and I shouldn’t have snapped. It did bloody hurt though.’

  ‘Sorry, Kat. I know what will cheer you up.’ He grins, slowly peeling away the white towel wrapped around his waist without revealing anything. He gyrates and hums the Full Monty theme tune as he’s doing it.

  ‘I hope you’re wearing—’

  ‘Ta-dah.’ He drops the towel and I cover my mouth in shock. He’s sporting the most outrageous, ruby-red sequinned thong I’ve ever seen.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ I try and fail to keep a straight face.

  ‘I thought we needed a secret weapon.’

  ‘I hate to break it to you, M, but your weapon is hardly slipping under the radar in that.’

  ‘Listen, it’s a cheap shot, but I just wanted to mix it up a little bit. I know we’re a much classier act than your run-of-the-mill strippers, but a quick flash of this will just spice it up a bit and be a bit of a nod to our people.’

  I frown. ‘Our people?’

  ‘Strippers I mean.’

  ‘You’re exotic d—’

  ‘I know. Just let’s try it; otherwise, our entire performance will be exactly the same as last time.’

  ‘Okay, if you want the public to see you in that, be my guest.’ I walk away, shaking my head. Might as well fit in with the current public perception of our show.

  On the sofa, Sammy and Hugo sit ready and waiting. I flick my eyes over them. ‘At least you two look good.’

  The compère knocks on the door. ‘We need to get you on stage right away.’

  As the door closes, I take a deep breath. ‘Okay, guys, we’ve got this. Let’s do our thing.’

  The usual whoops, cheers and backslaps are enough to get my adrenaline pumping, and when the music starts, I storm the stage like I own it.

  Chapter 22

  Everything went well. Contrary to my belief, the crowd did go wild for Marcus’s red thong, and when Andrea stood up to clap at the end, plenty of people followed suit. The judges are just about to announce their choices for the semi-finals. As we wait, I start to feel nauseous.

  The glossy, well-heeled female judge takes the stage, her navy court dress setting off the tones of her caramel skin perfectly.

  ‘The acts tonight were another fine display of the range of talent we have to offer here in the Canary Islands. We are lucky to have such a varied selection of entertainment, and we believe it’s one of the reasons we are a much favoured holiday destination. Unfortunately, only six acts can go through to the semi-final. Now, without further ado, I shall announce the acts.’ She shuffles some A6 postcards in her hands.

  ‘In no particular order, the first act to go through to the next round is … La Leona!’

  The crowd erupt. Five people behind me jump up and down, cheering and yelling in Spanish; evidently friends and family. La Leona is the opera singer with bags of talent and lungs the size of giant marrows. It’s hardly a shock she’s made it through.

&
nbsp; ‘Next is Espectacular.’ The dancers – again, no surprises there. For a moment, even I wanted them to win.

  ‘Then we have Flexibility.’ That’s the acrobatic act with the Perspex-box contortionist who still makes my insides wince when I think about it. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to get through, and it leaves just three spots for the semi-final.

  ‘The fourth act to go through is Ted Sheeran.’ No prizes for guessing what his act involves. He is actually really good and people of all ages and genders seem to love him. We, on the other hand, have the slight problem of appealing to a female-heavy audience.

  ‘Act number five is Daydreamz’. They’re a mixed gender dance act with a lot of talent but if you’ve watched as much Britain’s Got Talent as I have, they probably haven’t got anything too distinctive about them.

  ‘Shit,’ I whisper under my breath. There’s one spot left and the magician act isn’t through yet. They were good tonight. My heart is crimped in a vice. I daren’t look to my right. If the guys see my face, they’ll panic. I fix a gracious, happy-for-everyone-else smile on my face and look directly at the judge.

  ‘And last, but certainly not least, the act that got a few of us hot under our collars …’

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Please don’t say the fire-eater.

  ‘The Heavenly Hunks!’

  My heart jumps. I jump. Everyone is jumping.

  ‘Yes!’ Jay punches the air.

  It takes a moment before I realise what’s happened. ‘Oh my God, we did it!’

  Sammy grabs hold of me, lifts me in the air and spins me around. ‘You beauty!’ he shouts.

  ‘See! Oh ye of little faith,’ I tease as he puts my feet back on the ground.

  ‘I just want to at least see the final, Kat. I was stressing. I’m sorry, I was a tit.’

  ‘You certainly were.’ I raise an eyebrow.

  He laughs, showing his perfect white teeth.

  I shake my head and go to congratulate the others. ‘Well done, team. Listen, there was a bit of panicking tonight and some tension between a few of you. We don’t need that. We’re a team – we win together and we lose together. If anyone thinks we can improve our act before the semi-final, let me know. Otherwise, we stick to our winning formula. I don’t want to see any beef between you lot again, got it?’ I lock eyes with each of them in turn. They all nod and there are a few mutterings of ‘Sorry’ and ‘Got it, Kat.’

  ‘Okay. Good,’ I say, jutting out my chin. I’m not used to having to reprimand them, and the next sentence comes out a lot easier. ‘Now then, who’s getting the drinks in?’

  ‘That will be me.’ I turn to see Andrea walking towards us, arms out wide, her floaty green-and-gold sleeves draping off them. ‘It’s the least I can do to thank you for the pleasure of that performance.’

  It occurs to me that Andrea has never actually seen our show properly, with the costumes and the torsos and lighting and everything. She’s only ever seen our rehearsals at the bar. We shuffle out of the entertainment lounge to the hotel’s terrace bar, but before we get there, Jay takes my hand and pulls me back.

  ‘Are you guys not coming?’ Ant asks.

  ‘We’ll be there in a sec. I just have some ideas I want to run past Kat,’ Jay replies. Ant shrugs and walks off.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask once we’re alone.

  ‘This.’ He pulls me in and plants his full lips on mine. I let myself enjoy the warm feeling for a moment, then I pull away.

  ‘Not here.’ I glare at him but he ignores me and takes both of my hands in his, pulling me back in closer to his body and I can’t resist.

  ‘Well, I was thinking that since everyone is on such a high … we could tell them we’ve been spending time together.’ He entwines his fingers with mine and gives me a wide-eyed look. I get it; the sneaking around is a pain, and I don’t think there will be any major drama, but, until I know where this is going, it seems a bit premature. I’m still getting used to the idea myself and making an announcement seems a bit too formal. I just want to keep things special and uncomplicated for a while.

  ‘I do want to tell them, Jay, I really do, but not until the competition is over. I don’t want to rattle anyone or jinx it. When the competition is over, we’ll know more about each other and where this is going too.’

  He sighs. ‘I guess you’re right. I just want to be able to do this all the time.’ He plants little kisses on my forehead, nose and mouth and I giggle like a schoolgirl.

  ‘That’s sort of the point. You doing that all the time isn’t going to win us the competition. It’s a distraction – for everybody.’

  He groans. ‘You’re right. But you’re a distraction for me.’ He leans in but I push him back playfully.

  ‘It’s two weeks, if we’re lucky. If we don’t make the final it will be over next week.’

  ‘You better get me a drink to cool down then.’ He fans himself and grins as we head to the bar area.

  ‘I’m beginning to think something’s going on with you two,’ Marcus says as Jay and I sit down. I laugh uncomfortably.

  ‘Cava?’ Andrea appears with a bottle of fizz, and I’ve never been more grateful to see her.

  ‘Fill me up and let’s get this celebration started.’

  Chapter 23

  The sun streams through the window. I’m vaguely aware of hot skin pressing against my back. Rubbing my eyes, I roll over.

  ‘Morning, beautiful.’ Jay kisses my forehead tenderly.

  I try to remember how he ended up in my bed and I can’t. I peek under the covers and gasp. ‘I’m in my underwear.’

  Jay laughs softly. ‘That makes two of us.’

  ‘Did we …’

  He shakes his head. ‘You wanted to, but I’m a gent and you were hammered.’

  ‘Cava. I remember lots of cava.’ My head is pounding.

  ‘And that was just the beginning.’

  I sit up and the room starts to spin. Without warning, bile rises, and I dart to the bathroom just in time.

  ‘There were Jägerbombs too,’ Jay calls from the bed.

  ‘Shut up!’ The thought alone is enough to make me retch – I’m too old for Jägerbombs.

  ‘Sorry, do you want me to hold your hair?’ I look up and Jay is leaning casually against the doorframe. Even through my watery eyes, he looks good. All he has on is a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers, the fitted sort that grip his muscular thighs and leave little to the imagination. It’s wrong of me to imagine that whilst kneeling over the toilet with vomit dribbling down my chin. This is not my finest moment.

  ‘No, just go away and don’t look at me.’ I shoo him away.

  He chuckles and mutters something about a glass of water before disappearing, leaving me to hit rock bottom in peace.

  After a shower and a thorough brush of my teeth, I feel almost normal. I leave the bathroom and sit on the bed towel-drying my hair, as Jay is filling two cups with boiling water in the kitchen.

  ‘I made coffee,’ he says.

  ‘Please tell me it’s made with Alka-Seltzer.’

  ‘No, but I also found some full-fat Coke and there are some out-of-date Alka-Seltzers in your cupboard.’

  ‘You are what women want,’ I tease.

  ‘Oh, really?’ He climbs on the bed and straddles me then plants little kisses all over my face.

  ‘You didn’t bring any of the promised goods. You need to do better than that to defend your title of “what women want”.’

  ‘Fine.’ He huffs dramatically and goes to the kitchenette to find the tablets and fetch the coffee. I close my eyes and lay my head back. I don’t think drinking is for me anymore. The recovery period is too long.

  ‘Here you go, m’lady.’ He hands me my coffee on a saucer with two small pills at the side and puts a can of Coke on the bedside table.

  As I take my pills, my phone rings. It’s a local number. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Kat, it’s Gaël from the Grand Canarian.’

  ‘Gaël, what can
I do for you?’ I ask, sitting up straighter.

  I hear him pull in a lungful of air. ‘There is no easy way to tell you this, Kat. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel some of the bookings we’d made for the Heavenly Hunks.’

  No. No. No. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Fewer people have booked the events than usual. Tourism, on the whole, has taken a hit. There are less people coming over from the UK this year and British people are our main customers. I’m sure it will blow over by next year and we can get going again in the spring.’

  There’s no point in arguing our case. We’re not like other acts that hotels just put on free for their guests in the hope of a decent TripAdvisor review. We do ticketed shows and split the income with the venue. Gaël could let us put on the show but without decent sales, we wouldn’t make enough to cover the costs.

  ‘Thanks for calling, Gaël. I appreciate this must have been quite a difficult conversation. Let’s hope things pick up again.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ve every faith that we’ll be packing the auditorium again next year. I’m so sorry, Kat. If there is anything I can do, or if you decide to put together a family-friendly dance show, perhaps we could do something over winter – we’d have a bigger audience to go at then. The pay would be quite different though, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’ll have a look into it. Thank you, Gaël. I appreciate the offer.’

  I say goodbye and end the call.

  ‘More bad news?’ Jay asks.

  ‘Did you catch that?’

  ‘Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing.’

  ‘He didn’t say so, but I’m worried it’s damage control after that article. I know the BeachLuxe collapse has had an impact but this just seems like too much of a coincidence. It’s frustrating because people love our show. Just last night, the audience were up out of their seats having a great time. Now some crummy journalist has run his mouth and women feel ashamed of having fun.’