by Shel Stone
Working to 2am.
Shame.
Again Trish wondered if she should blow off work. No, she told herself firmly. She was not the kind of girl who lost all perspective just because some guy wanted to hang with her.
Some other time, she texted and put the phone down. It remained silent. Maybe he was just looking for a booty call. All these questions raced through her mind. She had to stop this. None of it mattered. He was just some guy and there was no point dwelling on it.
“Who was that?” Amber asked.
“No one,” Trish said defensively. She really didn’t want to discuss this, even if everyone had looked at her expectantly when she’d emerged from her room that afternoon.
Amber looked set to argue when Hannah walked in the door, throwing her keys in the bowl on the hall table. She dropped her bag and walked over. “Pizza. You do love me. Work was shit today. This woman was a complete pain, screaming her head off that no one would help her. You’re still not cutting in line, bitch. Seriously, some people. At least the people you deal with don’t talk.”
“They try to,” Chrissy said.
“I wish I could give these people the cold shoulder and just ignore them,” Hannah went on. “Dealing with customers sucks.”
“Trish’s been getting sneaky texts,” Amber betrayed, and Hannah turned a curious gaze towards Trish. “And she’s not telling us.”
“It’s nothing,” Trish said, but the pitch of her voice was too high.
“It’s that guy, isn’t it? The lifeguard dude you were canoodling with at Emperor. Of course it is. Look how red she’s getting.”
“It’s none of your business,” Trish said, a sly smile creeping across her mouth. “Don’t bully me. Leave me alone.”
“So he’s like what? Interested?”
Trish shrugged. “He was just asking what I was doing tonight, and I told him I was working. That’s it.”
“I think he likes you,” Amber teased. “Trish has a boyfriend.”
“Hardly. I’ll probably never hear from him again.”
“Who?” Chrissy asked, having just finished a conversation with Adelaide.
“Trish. Cory just texted her.”
“Ah. Cory’s sweet,” Chrissy said. “Gets around a bit, though, from what I hear.” Trish put her hand up, like Chrissy had just proved her point. “He could definitely use with some straightening out.” And just like that, Chrissy crashed down the point she had just made a moment earlier.
“Whatever. I’m not here to straighten anyone out. Are we ready to go?”
“Just you and me tonight,” Hannah said to Adelaide.
“Sorry, huns, I promised the boys I’d be back tonight.”
“Argh. We really need to get a cat so I have some company at night.”
“No cats,” Chrissy said. “They always do things to my face. I can’t breathe. No cats.”
Hannah grumbled.
“So what are we going to wear to this Blanca Beach thing tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, and the girls all looked at her without saying anything. No one really had a clue what was expected. Were the borderline sluttish dresses expected in the clubs acceptable? Their work clothes were certainly too much.
“I’ll check out their Instagram.” Adelaide picked up her phone and searched the application. “Sexy, not over the top.” Leave that interpretation up to everyone, Trish thought. Mentally, she searched through her wardrobe, wondering if the gold dress she had was too much. And what heels? Were they going to dance? Trish preferred to dance in boots, but really, she danced every night, so she made a call that she wouldn’t be dancing that night. But what if Cory wanted to dance? Argh, this confusion was doing her head in.
Chapter 16
CORY AND THE BOYS waited by the large sign for the Blanca Beach Resort entrance in the carpark. Ground lights shone up, illuminating the structure under the otherwise dark sky. He could hear the waves on the beach farther away in darkness. The hotel stood some ways behind him, a white structure with lots of balconies, but it wasn’t the hotel that people came for, or was likely the main part of this business. It was the beach bar. The music pumped inside, sounding a little tinny out here in the carpark. Large, polished gold letters sparkled in the dark over lush and pink, flowery bushes. The entrance was over a wooden bridge behind antique-looking doors with iron studs. Obviously to keep the marauding hordes out.
They were waiting for the girls. Nathan insisted, but Cory felt a bit nervous about it—about Trish to be exact. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable having her around when he was really here to meet Aggie. In general, he wasn’t wild about Nathan inviting all these girls, but it was done now. Being invited by Aggie, it would be out of place to come along with some girl in tow. His instincts told him that Aggie was interested in him, and he would be lying to say he’d never wondered what it would be like to be with a girl like her—assured, confident and beautiful. Trish was cute and she was hot, but she was an entirely different type of girl—the kind he’d someday end up with, but he wasn’t ready to play that game yet.
A people-mover taxi pulled up and he could see the girls inside. His eyes immediately sought out Trish, who sat in the back row. Nathan rushed forward and lifted Chrissy out of the cab’s sliding door by wrapping his arms around her, to her giggles. Nathan was kind of into the girl, not that Cory thought her short, squealing nature was all that attractive, but it obviously did it for Nathan.
Three other girls came out, all looking good. These girls had fantastic bodies, but so would anyone who physically worked as much as these dancers did. A flare of embarrassment rushed through him. Cage dancers weren’t anything despicable, but people like Aggie’s friends might not see it that way, and though he didn’t want to admit it, he felt a bit self-conscious about the company he was bringing with him. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be completely embarrassing, although he was mostly concerned with Chrissy, who he suspected could pull out the drama when she got drunk enough.
“Hey,” he said when Trish awkwardly stepped out of the cab in high, strappy heels. She looked good dressed in cropped white pants and a blue boob-tube type thing. Her skin glowed around her shoulders and he wondered if she applied something to make it do so. She looked awesome.
He didn’t put his arm around her, feeling awkward with her there. It wasn’t like she was his girl or anything. They’d just hooked up a couple of times. “How’ve you been?”
“Good,” she said, twisting the pad of her foot slightly, making her look nervous. He hoped she didn’t have any expectations for the night.
“Should we go in? Have you been here before?”
“Not this place. Been curious what it’s like—see how the other half lives. I guess tonight is the night I find out.”
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, before turning to Nathan. “Let’s go in.” The group was chatting and Cory was the first to move away towards the entrance. He had a slight feeling of foreboding like this was a bad idea. Maybe he should have just come on his own, but he knew how awkward he would feel being here, and completely dependent on Aggie. Though, maybe that was an unfair assessment. Never had he failed to chat up girls—no matter where he was. But Nathan had gone ahead and invited everyone, and Cory just hoped they behaved.
Lights made the path sparkle, filling him with a sense of optimism and anticipation. Music and laugher could be heard as they walked down a path surrounded by lush vegetation, arriving at a desk, again with Blanca Beach Resort written in gold letters.
“We’re on the list,” he said to the stunningly gorgeous dark-haired woman who looked like nothing had ever impressed her in her life. Had to be Spanish or Italian, and he’d bet his life she was a model. “Cory Stevens and party.”
The woman studied them for a moment like she was trying to determine if she believed them. Okay, this woman was a stroppy cow, he decided. She never so much as smiled, looking down to peruse the list, until she waved them through with her hand.
“Are the waiting staff going to
throw drinks at us?” Trish asked, and Cory chuckled.
“This is all probably below their dignity. Why do they hire people who think they’re too good for the job?”
“Maybe that’s how the regular clientele here like to be treated? A sado-masochistic streak, perhaps?”
They emerged into a massive space, scattered with palm trees and lit with undulating bright colours that painted the crowd. Even brighter neon showed off some of the features, including three bars, a stage, and a turquoise-coloured pool. It was almost too much to take in. Everything sparkled, but more sedately than strobing light and pounding music. There weren’t so much tables and chairs; there were more large beds, which people sat and lay on. Cabana’s covered some of the beds. It was crowded and it would take time to find Aggie.
Gorgeous waitresses zipped past with champagne buckets. Cory dreaded to think how much they cost as he started weaving through the crowd looking for Aggie and her lot. There were a few people from the club he recognised, but many of the people here were not local, instead flown in for a few days’ partying in the sun.
Scanning the crowd, Cory spotted her, sitting in a cabana, surrounded by people. Her slim legs tanned and crossed, and the way she was sitting, little of her dress showed on her thighs. Aggie was hot, there was no point arguing that, but it was more than the way she looked. It was her whole attitude. She claimed a place anywhere in the world with such ease, never questioning where she belonged.
As he walked over, he recognised some of the other girls, dressed in the expensive dresses they spotted in the magazines they read around the pool. A silver champagne bucket sat on the low glossy white table, condensation frosting the outside.
“Hey,” Cory said with a smile, feeling a twinge of uncertainty in case Aggie had forgotten, or worse, regretted inviting them.
“Cory,” Aggie said, smiling back at him. “Don’t you look smart.”
He had made the effort to look good, choosing his best pair of jeans and a t-shirt he’d picked up in London when he went to see the Wallabies play the English at Twickenham a few months back. “As do you, but you always do.” Aggie didn’t blush, but she smiled at the compliment.
“And you brought some friends.” Again he felt a twinge of embarrassment and their group was larger than he intended—as if they all jumped on the chance of a free invite to Blanca, which in essence was what happened.
“This is Lachlan, Dion, Riley and Nathan. Nathan’s girlfriend Chrissy and her friends.” He would have introduced them, but he couldn’t actually remember the names of a couple of them. And he didn’t want to introduce Trish especially, as he wanted neither Trish nor Aggie to get the idea that he and Trish were an item. “We’ll get some drinks. Anyone need anything?” He hoped like hell they said no, but they had been invited and it was only fair he offered a round.
“No, we’re good,” Aggie said, holding up her champagne flute. Thank God for that. Saving money was not one of Cory’s great skills, not when there were so many other interesting things to do with money. What was the point of doing a couple of years in Europe if they were going to save their money and sit watching TV? Might as well have stayed home.
Looking to the boys, he nodded towards the bar lit by neon all around it. They walked over and Cory ordered a beer. “Do you want anything?” he asked Trish. Even though he didn’t want her to get the wrong message, he felt like a dick not offering her a drink.
“Umm, maybe some of that wildcherry stoli?
“And what do you want with it?” the bartender said in a bored tone. They all really did have attitude here.
“Lemonade?”
Cory ordered a Stella and the bartender went to work. The drinks cost him thirty-two euro, which was ridiculous. The people at this beach club were making an absolute mint just on the alcohol.
“Who’s the girl,” Trish asked. The tone of her voice sounded light, but he knew she was enquiring about more than just her identity.
Maybe this was a good time to ensure Trish wasn’t misguided. He wasn’t a monogamous guy looking for a girlfriend. His policy had always been that he was here, in Europe, to party. “That’s Aggie. She’s the one that invited us here.”
“You’ve known her long?”
“A while. She’s pretty cool.” He looked over at the dance floor. “You gonna dance?”
“I might. We’ll see.”
Cory wanted to get away. It felt rude standing here at the bar talking to a girl when the one that had invited him was looking on. Sneaking a glance back, he saw that she really was. “I’m sorry, but I have to have a chat with Aggie, thank her for inviting us and all. You alright?”
There was nothing she could say but ‘yes’. Saying no would be petulant and completely uncalled for in light of their dealings. It wasn’t a relationship, just dealings. They’d hooked up a couple of times, not enough for either of them to have any expectations otherwise. “Yeah, I’m cool,” she said.
It was still uncomfortable and Cory felt relieved to be away from it as he walked back to Aggie. See, that was why he didn’t do relationships: the constant awkwardness and then guilt. What useful purpose did that serve? Life was too short for that shit.
He sat down on one of the spare spaces around Aggie’s table. The girl between them left, giving Cory the opportunity to scooch over. “So this is where you hang?” he said, surveying the bright, glittering scene in front of them.
“Sometimes,” she said in her crisp west London accent. “Not your kind of place?”
“They take advantage with the drinks,” he said, turning over the bottle of Stella he could have bought elsewhere for a fraction of the price. “And no sports.”
Aggie chuckled. “You’re such a guy’s guy.”
“I suppose I am. Nothing better than good mates.”
“So where do you hang with your friends?”
“There’s a sports bar in Porto Banus where we usually go.”
“And some of those down and dirty clubs full of writhing bodies?”
Cory smiled. “It’s been known to happen. Can’t go wrong with a writhing body.”
“I can imagine you at one of those clubs, hitting on the girls.”
“I am a guy,” Cory said as matter of fact.
Lachlan headed straight in and started talking to one of Aggie’s friends, never one to give up the chance to chat up a girl.
“I bet you do well, too.”
“Can’t complain.” He peeled a corner of the bottle label off, wondering exactly why Aggie had invited him. Her eyes sparkled in the low lights of the cabana. There was no doubt that she was interested in him in some capacity. What form, he didn’t know. Trish crossed his mind and he felt a flare of discomfort—which meant it was probably a good thing to move on. He didn’t want a girlfriend, but he actually quite liked Trish. If there was some way of doing this without anyone’s feelings getting hurt, that would be the best outcome. And to do that meant nipping this thing in the bud before it developed into anything more.
“We’re going to dance,” Chrissy said, grabbing onto one of the other girl’s wrists and walking to the dance floor. Nathan sat down next to him and leaned back on his elbows watching the girls take to the dance floor.
“You live close to here?” Cory asked Aggie.
“Up in the hills. What about you?”
“Sierra Blanca.” It was one of the new high-density developments filled with workers and aspirational Brits and Germans, wanting the Marbella lifestyle on a normal budget. “We have a house together there. And yes, before you ask, it had a 75-inch TV playing sports twenty-four seven.”
Aggie smiled, bending over and rubbing her palms along her legs. “You’ll have to show me some time.”
And there it was, the hook, the laying down of cards that said, I’m into you, but then he already knew that. “Anytime.” Informing her he didn’t mind. His lot in this world wasn’t what hers was, and he wasn’t embarrassed about it, as long as she knew what she was taking on. “So how l
ong have you been in Marbella?”
“On and off for most of my life. We’ve always had a house here, although my schooling was back in the UK. My summers have always been here, and since school,” she shrugged, “I suppose I spend more time here. Most of my friends are here.”
“So you’re here to stay?”
“You never know. Partially yes, but then you need a change of scenery once in a while. London is fab, but you can’t beat the lifestyle here, can you?”
Chapter 17
QUENTIN DROPPED THE keys to the Aston Martin in the valet’s outstretched hand and made his way to the entrance of Blanca Beach. Yvette smiled when he got to the desk and he breezed past with a slight nod. He never had to pay. The owner, Arthur Ship, had ensured he was always welcome. Arthur needed the local crowd to be here to draw in the tourists, and that’s where the money was.
At one point, Quentin had considered opening a club like this, but it was a bit… short-sighted in the scale he was considering. Owning a club might be seen as cool amongst people of this set, but with the real boys, this was chump change—not that he would ever say so to Arthur. Arthur was a bit of an upstart. Firmly middleclass, straight out of Brighton Comprehensive, where he’d run a lucrative drug ring. But considering his background, the guy had made good from endless graft—and he now had one of the hottest clubs in young Marbella. Had to respect that.
It was busy tonight, but he soon spotted some of his crew under one of the cabanas. Aggie was there, looking good, absorbed in the attentions of some gym monkey.
“Hey,” he said, taking the cigarette packet out of his jacket pocket.
“Hi, Quentin,” Justine said.
He nodded back to her. A couple of years back, he’d messed around a bit with her, aware that she would like to rekindle their fleeting thing. Been there, done that. “What’s been happening?”
“Same shit,” Dess said, standing up. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want anything?”
“Whiskey,” Quentin said and turned his attention back to the table. Aggie was still focused on her muscle boy. He noted the Australian accent and shook his head. Slumming it, was she? But then he knew Aggie didn’t really care about such things on some levels. To Aggie there was only interesting and not, and apparently, she’d determined this brainless ape as interesting.