by Shel Stone
She didn’t know what to do with the shammy now. It sat in her lap with a dollop of polish on it.
Captain Borge walked into the lounge and Adelaide looked up. The tight look on his face showed he’d been informed of the developments. Alexi would have just called him, letting him know he had fired her and to make sure she got off the boat without causing too much trouble. “Come now. It’s only a job. Let’s get your things. You have somewhere to go?”
She nodded absently, still unsure what to do with the shammy, settling on throwing it into the bucket with the polish bottles. Who was going to do the polishing now? Probably some new girl that they would hire that afternoon. She was utterly replaceable, she realised, and Jens and the guys would move on, this being little more than a sad blip.
*
Everyone came out to see her off, the backpack she’d arrived in Europe with stuffed to capacity hanging off her shoulder and a large Chinese laundry bag for the other stuff she’d accumulated while here.
“It’s going to be boring without you,” Jens said with a frown and Adelaide smiled, finally starting to emerge somewhat from the shock of the morning’s development.
“You’re going to have to take on all those crazy bitches Alexi brings on board without me.”
“At least that Cheyenne freak is gone. Thank heaven for small mercies, but I’m sure his new girlfriend will be just as bad, if not worse.”
“No doubt.” She felt teary again, but held it back, saying goodbye to the Captain and to Carlo. “Right then, that’s me. Funny, I was just thinking this morning that I really wanted to do some travel. I guess the fates took that on board.”
She waved and turned awkwardly with the heavy weight on her back. The only way to carry the Chinese laundry bag was in her arms, but it was bulky and awkward. There was no denying what she was, a person carrying her worldly goods on her.
If things were normal, she would fork out for a taxi, but she was unemployed and couldn’t spare any money right now. She was just going to have to haul her stuff on the bus, getting grumbled at by the bus driver and stared at by the other passengers. She looked like a train wreck and she felt the same way. At least she had somewhere to go. This would be so much worse if she didn’t, stuck trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night.
Chapter 35
CORY’S ARMS SHOOK as he held the weight up, the machine making a whizzing noise when he lowered it again. Dion sat on the bench-press next to him, sipping from his green water bottle.
Cory pressed the weight up again, feeling his arms strain. Sweat covered his whole body, even as the air in the gym was cold.
“So, what are we gonna do next weekend?” Dion asked. “You gonna see the British chick?”
Gritting his teeth, Cory didn’t say anything. If fact, he wanted to forget the whole situation, which was part of the reason he’d come to the gym in the first place.
“Don’t know. We’ll see,” he said non-commitally. Actually, he felt like having a weekend off from the drama. Maybe a whole month if he could manage it. “Maybe we’ll skip the birds this weekend and just hang. What do you think?”
Dion seemed to consider it. “Maybe a round of golf or something?”
“Yeah.”
“I miss cricket,” he said. “Sitting around with a box of beer, just hanging.”
“We’d have to go to England for that.”
“Maybe we should consider it. Do a trip to England to watch some cricket?” Dion said with a smile, but then grew serious. “You ever think about going home?”
“No. Do you?”
Dion shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“You can’t go back yet. You won’t come back if you do.”
“I just miss it, you know? Never really thought about it when I left, but now, I miss it.”
“Kind of makes you appreciate what you have. End up with some British bird and you won’t be going home.”
“I won’t end up with her,” Cory said with absolute certainty. “This is just a thing. It will run its course.”
“You’re not that into her?”
“I like her, but she’s just a girl.”
As opposed to the other girl, who he’d been a total dick to last night, losing the plot because she was dancing with some guy. He knew full well he’d behaved like a moron. It wasn’t usually him that got all agro over some girl hanging with a guy, but in this case, he’d acted like an ape, almost picking a fight with the dude. The urge to smash the guy’s face in had been so strong, he had to just extricate himself from the situation. See, this was the reason he had to stay away from Trish. Things just went bent around her.
Now he felt bad about it. All morning he’d considered whether he should call her and apologise, but he couldn’t imagine anything more mortifying. Maybe it was better to just leave things be. Sure, she thought he was a douche, and it was a title he deserved in this respect. It was better to just leave things be—accept that this was something that shouldn’t be repaired.
His phone pinged and he ignored it until he’d finished his reps. Dion had gone off to shower. Grabbing his water, he took deep drags before picking up his phone. A picture of a smiling Aggie appeared in a little square.
Come to lunch at Azure, the text said.
His initial reaction was to say no, but then he’d be hanging out at home feeling all morose. It was better to get out of the house, which actually contradicted what he’d just said. He felt torn, not knowing what to do. Admittedly, he was still curious about Aggie, even if he knew they weren’t really going anywhere, and maybe that was part of the appeal. He’d decide what to do after he’d had a shower.
*
Dion rode his bike in front of him when they returned home, dodging the late morning traffic. Cory still hadn’t responded to Aggie’s text, not entirely sure what he wanted to do.
The guys were sitting around when he and Dion got back, laughing at some story Lachlan was telling.
“Guys,” Dion announced, “me and Cory’s been talking about going to England next week, spend a couple of days at the cricket.” Cory had completely forgotten about the conversation, but apparently, Dion hadn’t given up on the idea. Maybe a trip to England with the boys wasn’t a bad thought.
“Let’s see what’s on,” Lachlan said, whipping out his phone. “There’s the England versus West Indies next month, or we could do Yorkshire versus Lancaster.”
“I haven’t got the money for an international.”
“And none of us care about fucking Yorkshire or Lancaster.”
“Wait a minute,” Nathan said, getting his phone out, searching through it for a minute. “We can watch Gibraltar playing Portugal this weekend just down the road. Twenty euro entry.”
They all looked at each other, with shrugs. “Why not?”
“Road trip,” Dion said with excitement. Cory smiled, too. This might be exactly what he needed.
“We aren’t all going to fit into the crusty Honda.”
“I’ll ride,” Cory said. It was a nice trip down the coast; he might as well ride.
“I can, too,” Dion said.
“Done,” Lachlan said. “Nice idea.”
Feeling a bit lighter, Cory walked into the kitchen and poured himself a juice. Nathan came in, placing his empty coffee cup in the overflowing sink. “Hey.”
Cory nodded and took a big gulp of orange juice.
“You got the girls all irate,” Nathan said. He’d obviously been talking to Chrissy. “They all think you were out of order.”
He knew he’d been stupid, but he didn’t like the girls all chiding him, talking about him behind his back. “Yeah?” he said non-commitally, crossing his arms. He actually resented that they didn’t say it to him directly. Now that Nathan was on the outs with Chrissy, maybe they shouldn’t be hanging out with those girls, he wanted to say, but suspected Nathan wasn’t done with the psycho spiral with Chrissy. Perhaps it wasn’t just him, maybe those girls were bad news. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t
quite farm out the responsibility to Trish.
Lunch with Aggie suddenly seemed more attractive than listening to this crap. At least Cory was smart enough to know to stay away from Trish, while Nathan kept going back for more with Chrissy, as though he was addicted to the drama or something. None of this he could say to Nathan. It just wasn’t done and if Nathan was in here stirring, Cory wanted nothing to do with it.
Placing the empty glass down, he straightened. “I’m going out,” he said and walked back into the lounge to get up to his room to change. Lunch with Aggie and her friends seemed like less drama—well, at least he wasn’t the main topic of conversation.
Chapter 36
IT SOUNDED LIKE SOMEONE was dragging a body when Adelaide came in through the door, awkwardly pulling a Chinese laundry bag, the big backpack making her fall back on it.
“What the hell?” Trish asked.
“I got fucking fired, didn’t I?” Adelaide was close to tears.
“Why?”
Adelaide groaned and placed her face in her hands, sprawled on top of her bag.
“Let me help you get that backpack off,” Trish said, walking behind her and Adelaide unclipped the band around her waist. “Why’d you get fired?”
“This woman, Sumneroff’s ex, had accused me of sleeping with a guest, which I hadn’t, and Mr. Sumneroff believed me, but then he found out I was seeing Quentin and assumed I’d lied when I said nothing happened when he was a guest on the boat. So he fired me.”
“He can’t do that.”
“It’s his boat. He can do whatever he damned well wants.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Trish said, crouching down by Adelaide. “Stay on the couch as long as you want.” Unfortunately, they didn’t have a spare room for her, so they would have to think of something a bit more permanent later.
“Thanks.”
Picking up the heavy backpack, Trish dragged it over to the wall. “What are you going to do?”
Adelaide shrugged, looking miserable. “Find another job, I guess.”
“Want a coke?”
Looking close to tears, Adelaide nodded and followed her into the kitchen. “It happened so suddenly. I was just doing what I normally do, and then get a call, and bam, pack your stuff.”
“Aren’t you supposed to get notice or something?”
“Probably, or who knows. I’m probably employed out of the UAE or somewhere where workers have no rights at all.”
“Or Spanish laws and you do.”
“What use will it serve to kick up a fuss about it?”
“Well, he can’t just fire you.”
“He just did.”
After grabbing a coke from the fridge and handing it to Adelaide, Trish pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter. “That sucks. I suppose we can ask Jesus if he can take you on. One of the Danes left—met some guy. That would be cool; we would work together.”
“I can’t dance like you do.”
“Of course you can. There’s nothing to it.”
Adelaide looked uncertain. “I’m going to have to get something soon. I didn’t actually get to prepare for this, so I have almost no money saved.”
“I’ll ask tonight.”
“Thanks.”
*
The bus was late today and Trish watched for it down the road. She had plenty of time, but wanted a chance to speak to Jesus before her shift. Adelaide had cheered up a bit and Trish left her to wait for Hannah to get home from work. The sun would set soon and the evening start. It had that vibration in the air that said it would be a bad night with fights and drama on the floor. There really was something in the air, because some days just got crazy.
The bus finally came, twenty minutes late. She would just have to try to find Jesus during her break.
And for once, Chrissy was there when she arrived, not having been home at all—which meant she’d been with Nathan. They had been thawing the last time they’d all met, when Cory had been such a spectacular arse.
“Adelaide got fired,” she said when she sat down at the dressing table.
“No shit? What happened?”
“Something about her hanging with Quentin Cartright.”
“You get fired for that?”
“Apparently.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“I thought I’d ask Jesus to take her on.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Trish froze, turning to Chrissy. “Why not?”
Chrissy was daintily stroking the blusher down her cheeks. “We can’t overrun the place, can we?”
That sounded like bullshit if Trish had ever heard it. “What?”
“She just whines a lot. I love Adelaide, but I’m not sure I could hang with her all night.”
“You wouldn’t; you’d be dancing on your own spot most of the night.” Trish couldn’t believe her ears. What the hell was this all about? Chrissy had obviously gotten her knickers in a twist about something. “Adelaide needs a job more than you need her not to be here.”
“There are thousands of jobs she could have. She’s not even a dancer.”
“And neither were we when we started.”
“So, what I say doesn’t matter?”
“In this instance, I think you’re being precious when one of your friends is in a tight spot.”
“Precious?”
This was just going downhill fast in an unexpected way. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I don’t want her here,” Chrissy stated.
“Well, I don’t want Nathan around. You know Cory is being a total arsehole, so I don’t want those guys to hang around.”
“Nathan is my boyfriend. It isn’t my fault you screwed it up with Cory.”
“Screwed it up? He’s a complete dickwad. There is nothing to screw up, because there is nothing there to screw.”
Chrissy looked at her dourly through the mirror.
“Whatever. You’re a shit friend, Chrissy. Have fun with your next break up with Nathan. Don’t come crying to me.”
Chrissy had the potential of pulling out bitch from hell every once in a while. Trish had never thought she would be so callous towards Adelaide though. Maybe they seriously had to reconsider about Chrissy. Truthfully, Trish would so much rather have Adelaide in Chrissy’s room and be rid of the crazy little bitch, but Amber and Hannah were tight with Chrissy.
Trish groaned as she went into the bathroom to change. Everything about this day had gone bad.
*
And she was right. The night had a hard edge to it. Maybe it was a full moon; she’d forgotten to check. The hours flew as she danced, putting all her anger and annoyance into the movement.
She spotted Jesus behind the bar, talking to the barman before ducking into the chiller at the back. Jumping down, she rushed around the edge of the dance floor to the bar.
“Jesus?” she called as she popped her head into the chiller. Her skin froze immediately and her nipples tightened, which would be noticeable in this outfit, she noted. Wrapping her arms around her, she stepped further into the chiller when he called out.
“What is it, Trish?” he said.
“I just wanted to say if you wanted another girl, Adelaide is looking for work.”
He stepped out from behind the shelves holding a box of Bacardi, not far away from where she had messed around with Cory. Embarrassment and mortification tumbled through her mind at the memories. Suddenly she felt really awkward standing there in her tight outfit, goose bumps spreading over every part of her.
“Maybe next week,” he said.
She smiled. “She would be really good, and reliable, unlike some.” She couldn’t help the little jab at Chrissy, still angry at how she’d reacted.
“I’ll let you know,” Jesus said, putting the box down and running a hand through his long, dark hair. Trish still couldn’t believe he went for women like Cheyenne. It was such a shame he had no taste at all. He liked beauty and apparently wasn’t too
concerned about the person behind the face.
“Thanks,” she said and left, the air in the bar feeling humid and hot in comparison. Even in such a short time, she’d been chilled by the air and now had to rub her skin to get the blood flowing again.
Chapter 37
SOMETHING WAS BLOOMING and Quentin didn’t know what, but it scented the evening air as he got out at the Rondstadts’ house up in the hills. Lights sparkled below across dotted houses and the coastline in the distance.
“This is lovely,” Adelaide said. She looked good in a little black dress with a scalloped neckline. He was sure it was from some high street shop, rather than the designer boutiques, but when it came down to it, it didn’t make much difference. A nice dress was a nice dress, no matter who made it.
He took her hand as they walked in, leaving the car to be parked by the valet. Lanterns lit the path through to the large glossy green doors. The party was in full swing, people dressed in their latest and greatest. This was definitely the older crowd, and they were different—kind is some ways, snarkier in others.
The house had a large internal atrium, filled with tropical plants, surrounded by white carpet and chrome.
“This place must be very bright in the day,” Adelaide said. “Probably blinding.”
Quentin smiled. The architects for some of these houses often chose style over function, built to showcase the owners’ taste and wealth. White really wasn’t the best colour in such a sunny environment.
A waiter passed with champagne on a silver tray and Quentin grabbed a couple of glasses.
“So no more Sumneroff?” he said. She’d told him she’d lost her job.
“Nope,” Adelaide said. “Maybe it was time to move on anyway.”
“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”
Colour flared up her cheeks. “I’m alright. Staying with the girls. Actually nice to be on land for a while.”