Sun, Sea and Sangria

by Victoria Cooke

  ‘Andrea, you’re right. I’m an idiot.’

  ‘Damn right you are. Look at that man.’

  ‘Does your husband know you ogle strippers all day?’

  ‘Of course.’ She grins. ‘He picks up the aftermath.’

  ‘Eugh! Too much information.’

  When the song finishes, I ask them to try it again with Pauw’s music choice. It works well; the tune is uplifting and gets the heart pumping. We all agree that it’s perfect and makes a change from all the R&B.

  After the rehearsal, I tell the guys what went well and dish out a few tweaks before they all disperse. We have a small charity performance tonight, which is sadly unpaid, but it will help raise our profile once more and raise a few euros for a local dog rescue centre. We only have a twenty-minute slot between an auction and a ladies’ fashion show, so we’ve added a few extra bits to our competition entry.

  Jay stays behind packing up the props after everyone else has gone. I walk up behind him and snake my arms around his waist, planting kisses across his back. His skin tastes salty and smells deliciously musky.

  ‘Mmm, to what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asks, turning to face me.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. I can hardly go into detail about how watching him up on stage has given me certain urges.

  ‘I’ve got a couple of hours free if you fancy chilling out?’ He entwines his fingers with mine and pulls me in, kissing me on the lips.

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  Chapter 25

  He didn’t even defend himself. He laughed at me. Surely, if he was guilty of having some sort of affair, he’d deny it. It’s the knee-jerk reaction of a cheater, isn’t it? The excuses would come pouring out, the declarations of love and so on. Not Iain. He’s so convinced that I’ve lost the plot it’s amusing to him – so amusing, in fact, he can’t defend himself because he finds the whole idea of me being paranoid and jealous hilarious. Of course, I feel like an utter fool now and wish I hadn’t said anything. But my brain niggles with the question of what if? I did see make-up on his shirt, that’s the thing; it was there in plain sight. I’m an idiot for throwing it in the washer, because now there’s no evidence and I have nothing to confront him with. There could be a perfectly plausible explanation: an upset colleague, a corridor collision or some catastrophe near my dressing table, but if so, why didn’t he say that? Is it so bad that I asked?

  A few days later, when he’s in a better mood, I dare to bring it up. He says he’s no idea how any make-up got there. He asks if it could have been something else, as he’d had car trouble and had to get under the front end of his Golf. I mean, it looked like make-up, but rolling around on the floor could have attracted all sorts of stains, I suppose. I’m satisfied with the answer. He was so shocked at the allegation that he didn’t know how to respond, I guess. I panic-washed the shirt; we all do strange things under pressure. I’m glad to put the whole thing behind us – it’s like a weight has been lifted.

  ***

  My head is resting on Jay’s smooth chest and when I breathe in, I inhale the comforting musky scent of his warm body. The room is dark and I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few hours as Jay sleeps soundly. Being with Jay makes everything seem better; life seems, dare I say it, perfect. It’s when I’m alone that the real worry sets in. We’re still down on bookings; in fact, they’re disappearing faster than sweets at a kids’ party. I still need to tell the guys how bad things are. I’d pinned everything on this stupid competition and my silly notion that we could win – and I’ve led the guys to believe that we can win – but now we’ve come this far, the acts are really good, and I just don’t know if we can.

  Even if we did win, it would be a short-term fix for what now seems like a long-term problem. I bury my face into Jay’s skin and it almost makes the thoughts go away. I could talk to him about it, but I know what he’ll say. What I need to do is have a serious chat with the boys and talk about the next steps.

  When the light seeps through the cracks in the blinds I don’t think I’ve slept a wink, but I get up anyway. Jay mumbles something in a sleep-laced voice but drifts back off whilst I dress and slip outside.

  I love the early mornings here when the sun is out but it’s cool enough to contemplate a cardigan. It’s deceptive; it doesn’t matter how long I’ve lived here, I still feel unable to imagine the midday heat that will come in just a few hours. I walk towards the beach. There’s nobody here but an early-morning dog-walker in the distance. I step onto the soft grey sand and make my way to the shore, where I sit.

  I check the calendar in my phone. We’ve only got one gig this week and the semi-final tonight – time to get my bottom in gear like I should have done weeks ago. Scrolling through my phone, I go on the Heavenly Hunks Instagram page and set up some fresh ads, then I upload some new photos to our Facebook and Twitter pages, which showcase the more talent-driven aspects of our show rather than the usual hot-guy picks that normally work. Then I use a hashtag generator to try and get them trending, then I read that you shouldn’t overuse hashtags anymore so I delete them and put them into a comment. I can’t keep up with all the stupid rules.

  My phone rings in my hand.

  ‘Hey, Ant, is everything okay?’ I ask, concerned. I don’t think Ant has ever called me.

  I hear him draw a deep breath.

  ‘Ant?’

  ‘Sorry, Kat, I’m here. I just needed to ask you something.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Well, I don’t normally pay much attention to our show calendar because I’m used to us performing almost every night, but since we’ve had a few free nights recently, I had a look and I don’t think it’s been updated. There are hardly any shows on it for the rest of the year.’

  I swallow a lead weight that lands heavily in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘Kat?’

  ‘Sorry, Ant. I was going to speak to you all tonight after the semi-final. Business has really quietened down especially since BeachLuxe went bust. People are scared of booking a holiday right now. The hotels seem to want smaller, cheaper acts at the moment and I think some of our regulars are waiting for the bad publicity to blow over. Even the big hotels and the bars are only wanting a show like ours every couple of months, and ticket sales have taken a hit because of the lack of people coming over. I’m putting the word out there, but I’m thinking it might be an idea for us all to consider part-time jobs. Just while we ride this out. I hope by spring we’ll be back on track.’

  There’s a pause.

  ‘Oh,’ he says eventually. ‘I didn’t realise things were that bad.’

  I feel a pang of guilt because it’s my fault for letting them feel safe. I guess I just didn’t quite believe it myself.

  ‘I was hoping the competition might lead to a few bookings but it hasn’t really. Just that charity gig last week so far.’

  ‘Is this the end of the Hunks then?’

  ‘No!’ I say, far too quickly. ‘No, things will pick back up again, I’m sure. The hotels can’t keep putting on crap acts for much longer. It might be a tough winter, is all.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to the guys?’

  ‘That’s sweet, Ant, but I think this is something I should do.’

  ‘Okay, well some of them have been talking, so I’d do it sooner rather than later. Marcus is a bit spooked.’

  ‘I’ll do it now. Gather everyone around the pool and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’

  When I hang up, I text Jay who is probably still fast asleep on my bed.

  Wake up and be by the pool in fifteen minutes. Don’t let anyone see you leave my apartment xx

  I can’t spring me and Jay on them too, not yet. Nobody has noticed him staying at mine because of all the travelling and apartment-swapping that goes on naturally. Some of them suspect he’s seeing a local but none of them care enough to dig deeper.

  I walk the whole way back with a huge knot in my stomach. When I get there, everyone is gathered around a fe
w loungers. Pauw and Sammy are lying down, Marcus and Ant are standing next to Pauw, and Jay and Hugo sit on the wall behind. My insides clench. This is all my fault.

  ‘Hi, everyone.’

  There’s an orchestra of mumbled greetings.

  ‘I know some of you have noticed the show calendar is looking quite empty, and you’re right to be concerned. I know I mentioned that bookings were down but it’s much worse than I expected. I’ve tried putting the word out there and I’ve started to run different ads, but until business picks up, I think it might be wise for us to look for part-time work during the day to tide us over. I’m hoping this will be a temporary measure, but the money will dry up pretty soon. I’m sorry.’

  I let the information sink in. None of them can look me in the eye, apart from Jay, of course, who gives me a small smile of encouragement.

  ‘We still have the sunshine, and the beaches, and the competition,’ I add. ‘Even if we don’t win the money, it spreads our name.’

  ‘I think Phil’s place is hiring,’ Pauw says after a few moments, and the relief that his words bring helps to ease the tension in my body.

  ‘That’s great, Pauw. Can you let us know the details ASAP?’ I say, my words laced with a good smattering of enthusiasm for everyone’s benefit.

  Pauw looks up from his phone. ‘Texting him now.’

  ‘Great!’ I force a cheerful expression. Seeing my boys so dejected is heart-breaking, but I have to put on a brave face. ‘Let’s make tonight’s show great. Let’s show these hoteliers what they’re missing.’

  There are a few lukewarm smiles. I think we’re going to be all right.

  ***

  Our performance tonight was top-notch. The timings were spot on, nobody missed a beat, and there was chemistry by the bucket-load. I’d be confident for the final too if the competition wasn’t so bloody good. Half the guys have disappeared. I think nerves have got the better of them. Me, Pauw and Hugo are left watching the final act of the evening, the dancing duet. Tonight they’re doing the Dirty Dancing finale sequence and it’s brilliant, even I want them to win for a moment. I wait for the lift and then sneak out to round up the others for the results. Ant and Sammy are in the bar at the back of the entertainment lounge.

  ‘Hey, guys, it’s almost results time. Have you seen Marcus and Jay?’

  ‘Marcus went to the bathroom, and Jay was outside but you might want to leave him.’ Ant snickers. It takes me a few moments to realise what he’s implying.

  My stomach lurches. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Some obsessed fan literally dragged him outside by the band of his jeans. I think he’ll be a little bit too preoccupied to care much about who gets through.’

  Thunder echoes through me.

  ‘She was pretty decent though, and he wasn’t complaining,’ Sammy adds. ‘I think he’ll be fine if we just tell him the results later.’

  ‘Yeah, all blonde hair and long tanned legs. It’s what makes the job special, even if we’re not getting paid.’ Ant winks.

  My mind blanks. Tiny visions start to punctuate the void. Jay with a blonde. Jay who I thought was different. The image of Alonso walking outside hand-in-hand with the girl in white hits me. I can remember how carefree he was – he didn’t even look like he’d done anything wrong. They’re all the same. At least creepy Mike wore a warning badge. Surely not Jay though. Jay who I trusted. Realising Ant and Sammy are still in front of me, I force a smile. ‘Let’s get in there and see if we’ve made the final because I do care.’

  As Ant and Sammy head back into the auditorium, I linger for a moment, taking a step backwards and looking to my left, through the open patio doors, which lead from the bar to the terrace. Sure enough, I see Jay with a leggy blonde woman. Just the sheer sight of her makes me feel doughy and plain by comparison. My chest clenches. As I watch them, I realise I’m holding my breath in anticipation as I try to see a sign or something that tells me this is just a mistake and he’s simply brushing off the advances of a fan. The blonde woman places her hands on his chest, gently grazing its defined outline, and then she presses her slender thigh between the bulk of his. She moves her head close to his, tilting it upwards so their lips are just inches apart. He’s smiling and looking into her eyes.

  There’s no mistaking what’s happening there and I can’t watch anymore. It was only a matter of time before Jay got his confidence with women back, and I was stupid to let myself believe I would be anything more than just a stepping-stone for him. What hurts the most is that he let me believe I was special. After everything I told him about Iain, and my being single for eight years, I thought he’d treat me better than that. Pain sears through the centre of my torso. I practically run back to my seat, sitting down just as the female judge, whose name I should remember by now, appears on stage.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she starts, but I can’t listen. Why would Jay treat me this way? I think back to the woman I saw. Although I didn’t see her face, I could tell by her perfectly coiffured hair and the skimpy clothes that clung to her tiny frame that she was probably very attractive. Of course he’d choose someone like her over someone like me. Someone whose shape is blurring at the edges and whose skin is starting to crease. My mind is spinning out of control, replaying every conversation I’ve ever had with Jay. We never said we were exclusive.

  ‘Ha,’ I say aloud. That’s it. We’re not and never were exclusive. God, I’m an idiot.

  ‘That’s not nice,’ Marcus whispers.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Laughing at Espectacular not getting through.’

  Oh, bugger. ‘I was thinking about something else.’ Something worse. ‘That’s awful. They were so good. It, doesn’t leave much hope for us.’

  I focus on the judge. She’s reading out the order differently to last time, one act who are through and one act who aren’t. La Leona is through.’

  ‘How the hell did they make that choice?’ Marcus asks.

  ‘I don’t know. Audience experience? The variety in their performance?’ If so, that could be good news for us.

  Next up is Ted Sheeran versus Flexibility, the acrobatics act.

  ‘Ted Sheeran is through to the grand finale. I’m sorry, Flexibility, you have not made the next round,’ the judge announces. My stomach is twisted up so tightly, like an old washerwoman has wrung it out. Jay still isn’t back, but screw him. Everyone else is here for the Heavenly Hunks. He hasn’t been with us long enough to know how close we all are and we don’t ditch one another at a time like this, especially not for some full-on groupie. Perhaps when this is over we could cut Jay out. Having five guys in the Hunks would be cheaper anyway and I don’t think the act would suffer that much, especially if we have to start playing smaller venues; it could actually be a good thing. God! I can’t sack him for playing around. I wouldn’t sack him if I hadn’t slept with him, would I? This is why I shouldn’t have broken my golden rule. It’s myself I’m cross with.

  ‘Finally, last but not least, we have the Heavenly Hunks versus Daydreamz.’

  I hold my breath.

  ‘The last act to go through to the grand final is …’

  Get on with it! I jiggle about in my seat.

  ‘The Heavenly Hunks!’

  As soon as we hear our name I leap in the air to cheer. Everyone gets up. They’re hugging and quite literally jumping for joy. It’s what we needed to hear after the news I delivered earlier today. My chest flutters with happiness. When the excitement dies down and the auditorium starts to clear I realise Jay never came back. It’s a strange feeling, sadness mixed with elation; my chest is filled with fizzy warmth whilst my stomach churns with nausea.

  ‘You comin’ to celebrate?’ Marcus asks.

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Not tonight, love. I don’t feel great. You guys go ahead – you deserve it.’

  ‘You sure?’

  I smile tightly. ‘Yes, go and have fun.’ Marcus’s eyes linger on me for a moment like he’s navigating a moral maze: should I leave, s
hould I stay?

  ‘Go! It’s an order.’ I force a small laugh.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ He laughs. ‘See you tomorrow, Boss.’

  He kisses me on the cheek before bouncing towards the bar with the others.

  When they’ve all gone, I slip out. There’s no sign of Jay anywhere and I’m relieved.

  Chapter 26

  ‘You’re working late a lot,’ I say as Iain returns. The second showing of Coronation Street is just finishing.

  ‘I’m putting money in the bank, Katelyn.’ I can’t tell if his tone is condescending or chipper or somewhere in between.

  ‘I know that. I just, well, I feel like I haven’t seen much of you recently. I’m always here on my own.’

  ‘I was hoping we could have a holiday this year, Kat.’

  ‘But you said holidays were a waste of money.’

  He purses his lips. ‘I said they cost a lot of money. If I keep putting in the hours, we can go away for a week, maybe even two. Is there anywhere you fancy going?’

  I ponder this; little flutters of excitement fill my belly. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Italy, see Venice perhaps, or Rome.’

  ‘Venice stinks and Rome is too hot. What about somewhere like Magaluf or San Antonio?’

  ‘They’re not our sort of places, are they?’

  He shrugs. ‘We’re young; we like beer and dancing. I don’t see why not.’

  ‘We can think about it,’ I say.

  ‘Not too hard, your brain might implode!’ He laughs to himself and goes upstairs to change.

  Later, when he’s in the shower, I sneak into the bedroom and take his shirt out of the dirty washing hamper before examining it for stains. There’s nothing. I sniff it and there is a sweet smell that’s definitely not his cologne, but it could be anything – he could have popped into Boots at lunchtime or have an overscented co-worker. Maybe he’s right, maybe I am paranoid.