Gold Diggers

by Tasmina Perry

‘It’s fine for us to go to the party,’ said Summer nervously. ‘But I’m not sure Adam and Karin will be happy about a camera crew coming onto the yacht.’

  ‘Relax,’ smiled Sarah. ‘Who mentioned anything about a camera? We’re there to mingle, baby.’

  Summer looked at Sarah and smiled ruefully. There was a look in her eye that she recognized only too well: social ambition. Sarah didn’t want to go home with a showreel. She wanted to find a boyfriend. A rich boyfriend. Her friend was turning into her mother.

  Karin was enjoying Monte Carlo already. She had been several times before, of course: twice to the grand prix, once to the annual music awards and a couple of times to the Red Cross Ball. But today felt special. Today she was here with a powerful connected billionaire, staying in the master suite of one of the sleekest yachts in the harbour. Previously, she had just been a yacht-hopping guest among thousands in Monaco’s packed harbour. Today she felt a special sense of belonging; she felt as if this could become a habit.

  Perhaps it was their dramatic entrance that had begun her good mood. Adam’s jet had flown into Nice Airport that morning and they had got a helicopter straight to Monte Carlo’s heliport. A sports car was waiting for them and they had then zipped through the narrow Monegasque streets, the breeze whipping Karin’s hair around. Now, pausing while she dressed for the evening, she looked out of the picture window of their suite at the stern of the yacht and sipped a glass of chilled champagne with a soft smile on her lips. The sun was lowering in the sky, casting Monaco in an apricot light. It looked just perfect.

  ‘Pretty good weekend to have a birthday, huh?’

  Adam had approached Karin from behind, wrapped his arms around her and clinked his own champagne flute against hers. Karin was only wearing her bra and pants and his hand trailed up and down her taut stomach.

  ‘Did you have to make this a work thing?’ said Karin sulkily. They could hear Adam’s banker clients drunk and guffawing at the bow of the yacht.

  ‘Oh baby, I wish it was just us too,’ said Adam, kissing her on the neck. ‘But The Pledge is officially the company yacht … and you know what it’s like: when it’s your own business, you can’t switch off.’

  ‘So who’s the blonde?’ asked Karin, pulling away from his embrace and moving over to top up her glass, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  ‘Just a banker baby,’ smiled Adam. ‘Don’t give me a hard time’

  ‘I’m not, I’m just curious. She’s definitely not your typical banker.’

  ‘She’s called Claudia Falcon,’ said Adam, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Heads up Hudson Capital. She’s helping us with an acquisition.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ asked Karin, her business sense kicking in. ‘Of what?’

  Adam smiled and tipped his head back to drink his champagne.

  ‘I thought you didn’t want this to be a business trip.’

  Karin moved back to his side and ran her fingers through his chest hair. ‘I’m just interested in your company, honey.’

  Adam slid his hand around the thin curve of her waist. ‘You know, I’ve never had a girlfriend who gave two shits about my company – other than for the parties.’

  ‘I’m not like other girlfriends,’ she smiled.

  ‘No. You’re tougher. Cleverer. Sexier, and I adore that about you.’ He came towards her and planted a soft kiss on her neck. Her nipples immediately stood to attention. She moaned.

  ‘You don’t mind us having the party on the yacht, do you?’ he mumbled into her hair.

  She stepped back and looked at him, puzzled. ‘No. Why would I mind?’

  Adam looked into her eyes, a serious expression on his face. ‘I just thought … about what happened with your husband last year.’

  It was the first time she and Adam had ever discussed the night of Sebastian’s death. She hadn’t wanted Adam to see her as a widow, which she did not consider to be particularly sexy. Moreover, she didn’t want him to think she was an unlucky charm. Men like Adam wanted to be surrounded by beautiful, blessed people; money men were some of the most superstitious people on earth.

  ‘It was a terrible, horrible accident, but it doesn’t mean I won’t ever step foot on a yacht again,’ said Karin coolly, turning away from him and walking over to the wardrobe, where she started flipping through the rail of clothes, her hand stroking the acres of silk, chiffon and tulle. She felt his presence behind her and then a hand on her bare shoulder.

  ‘Karin, you can talk about this, you know,’ he soothed. ‘Why do you always have to behave like some robot, as if you have no feelings?’

  ‘Oh yes, and what about you?’ she snapped, pulling away from him. ‘It’s not like you’ve got where you are today without being tough.’

  He laughed. ‘Tough and emotionless are not the same thing, honey. There’s nothing clever about admitting to yourself, to me, how hard things have been. Losing Seb, that must have been hard, but then having people talking afterwards, well …’

  Karin felt a sudden chill. ‘What do you mean, “people were talking”?’ she said. ‘What were they saying exactly?’

  Adam flushed slightly, uncharacteristically embarrassed. He cleared his throat. ‘They were saying … that it wasn’t an accident,’ he said solemnly.

  Karin dropped the red silk Cavalli dress she had been holding to the floor. Her face had drained of colour. ‘They’ve been saying that?’ she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. ‘Do they think that I had something to do with it? Who has been saying it?’

  Adam went over to her and put his arm around her shoulder, but she shrugged it off violently. She looked at his face, desperately trying to read it. What had he been told? What did he believe? What was he thinking about her?

  ‘Molly told me you’d had a tough time after Sebastian’s death because there had been a whispering campaign against you.’

  ‘She’s a liar,’ said Karin angrily. ‘How can anyone have been talking about me? I didn’t do anything. I loved my husband.’

  ‘I know,’ said Adam softly, ‘I know, but if other people have been talking, then we have to face it …’ She caught a look in his eye. Was it pity or suspicion? Either way it scared her. She felt fury wash over her. She could see exactly what Molly was doing and loathed her for it, because she knew that it might work. She lifted another dress from the rail, but then threw it down in frustration, tears finally welling under her eyes.

  ‘Seb was drunk and high and he fell off the boat,’ she whispered, staring down at the dress on the floor as she spoke. ‘His business was failing, he was on self-destruct. I was at the nightclub on shore with about twenty-five other people. Dozens of witnesses know that. But I wish I had been there; God, I wish I had, but he was alone.’ A tear dropped onto the carpet and she looked up at Adam. ‘Molly is trying to poison your mind against me. Can’t you see that?’

  Adam let out a small, low laugh. ‘Honey, stop overreacting. She didn’t tell me out of spite.’

  ‘Oh please! Can’t you see why she told you?’ shouted Karin, losing all control, her grief turning to anger. ‘The woman is a troublemaker. You’re her next victim and she doesn’t want me in the way to stop it.’

  As soon as the words came out of Karin’s mouth, she knew she had made a huge mistake. She cursed herself. Had she learnt nothing over the years? Women like Molly were cunning and clever and they pushed all the right buttons, while men were always completely blind to their scheming. But striking back at her only served to make Karin look bitchy and paranoid. She could see she was right; Adam was shaking his head, a disappointed look on his face.

  ‘I’m gonna take a shower,’ he said.

  Karin sat on the bed and nodded, looking out at the sunset again, which was now draining to dark. Suddenly her hold on this fabulous life didn’t seem quite so strong.

  Molly and Sarah were getting on famously. Lying back on the top deck of The Pledge, they were drinking cocktails and giggling like old friends.

  ‘Tell me again about that
time you met Rod Stewart,’ laughed Sarah, knocking back her fourth Martini which, she had to admit, did taste so much better with a twist of lemon; Molly knew so much good stuff. Molly was also having a great time, having found an audience for all the anecdotes about the rich and famous she had accumulated over the years, but which impressed nobody in her circle of friends. She also found Sarah spunky and great fun; she wished her own daughter could be more like her.

  ‘Oh, Molly, I need a rich man,’ moaned Sarah, throwing her arms in the air dramatically. ‘I’m sexy, I’m available, where are they all?’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to find one like that,’ laughed Molly.

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Sarah, sitting up and paying attention.

  ‘Think rich, get rich, my dear,’ she smiled knowingly, raising her glass for emphasis.

  ‘Okay, so how do I do that? In fact, how do I know who’s even rich?’ asked Sarah, swivelling her head to gaze up and down the rows of yachts sandwiched together along the quayside.

  ‘Everybody’s rich here, darling,’ smiled Molly. She was beginning to feel drunk and a bit frisky. Having ensured that every last detail for the party was in place, Molly had finally passed the hands-on organizational duties to one of the junior members of the Midas events team. Having worked hard, Molly felt it was definitely time to play hard, and from where she was sitting she could see ten of the world’s top thirty biggest motor yachts. It was the world’s greatest playground.

  ‘But who’s everyone?’ insisted Sarah, her words a little slurred.

  ‘Oh, Eddie Jordan, Flavio Briatore,’ began Molly, pointing to their yachts and quickly pointing out a dozen more from her impressive database of wealth. ‘See the big ones at the end?’ she said, pointing to the far end of the marina. ‘They will belong to people like Paul Allen, the Microsoft billionaire: he has one of the biggest yachts in the world – and one of the biggest bank balances, of course. And the others –’ she swept her arm back down the harbour ‘– well, they’re all still pretty rich. Darling, Monaco is just one of the biggest melting pots of rich men in the world. Americans, Russians, Greeks, they all come.’

  ‘And who’s the best?’ asked Sarah eagerly.

  Molly laughed. ‘I prefer the oilmen.’

  ‘Oilmen?’

  ‘O-I-L,’ smiled Molly. ‘Old, ill and loaded.’

  Sarah pulled a face. ‘Ooh, I don’t think I could manage an old man,’ she said, shivering. ‘What about the real oilmen, all the Russians and Arabs?’

  ‘Well, Russians tend to go for other Russians – models usually. Plus they almost always have wives because they marry young. The oil sheiks from Brunei, Saudi, the Emirates and so on are generous but don’t expect a relationship. Plus, they usually have five or six wives. Americans? Well, take your pick. Movie types are either sexually uptight or kinky. Miami guys are total druggies or total playboys. New Yorkers – they’re fun but, baby, you’d better take good care of yourself.’

  Sarah was waving her hand in the air for another Martini. ‘What do you mean, “take good care of yourself”?’

  Molly leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Gary, an investment banker I once dated, used to check my bikini line every time we made love. He loved me clean-shaven and if it was beginning to look a bit chicken-plucked down there, he would run a mile.’

  Sarah brayed with laughter, spilling her cocktail. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Got a waxer on speed dial.’

  Sarah sighed heavily. ‘It’s time I met some decent men. London is shit for it.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,’ smiled Molly.

  ‘How about you show me the right places to look then?’

  The older woman laughed. ‘You’re on. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  Sarah looked up as she heard a clatter of flip-flops moving along the top deck towards them.

  ‘Summer,’ she squealed, ‘come and join the party. Your mum is just about to take me yacht-hopping.’

  Summer looked at them and felt a little stab of jealousy. Sarah had her hair long, blonde and loose like Molly’s; they were both in tiny dresses that skimmed mid-thigh, drinking and giggling. They looked like sisters.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ said Molly, standing up and slipping on her silver flip-flops. ‘We’re going to go across to Abdul’s first. He always has the best caviar.’

  Summer turned to her friend. ‘Sarah, shouldn’t you be getting back to your shoot? It’s almost eight o’clock already.’

  Sarah waved a hand in the air, then had to quickly put it down again to steady herself. ‘Oh don’t fuss, Sum. I’m only going to be half an hour. Anyway, I’m scouting locations. They’ll understand.’

  ‘Are you coming?’ Molly asked Summer, a hint of impatience in her voice.

  Summer could see Molly was coked-up, she knew those eyes well, and she shook her head. She knew where this night was going. Molly responded with a narrowing of the eyes, a look that said ‘killjoy’.

  ‘Well, if you must stay here, don’t spend all night giggling with that frump Erin. Go and find yourself a man; there’re some loaded bankers down the front. No point in wasting the whole trip.’

  As Molly and Sarah staggered off arm in arm, Summer called after them, ‘What should I tell Marcus if he asks where you are?’

  ‘As Sarah says, we’re going to be half an hour. Don’t wait up!’

  Summer rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

  ‘Look at us, gambling widows,’ smiled Diana, settling back into a chair in Le Bar Américain in the Hôtel De Paris. Karin picked a pistachio nut from the table in front of her and offered a thin smile. After the scene with Adam on the yacht, she had felt glad to retreat to the De Paris, opposite the casino, for drinks with Diana and Christina.

  ‘This is exactly why I hate grand prix weekend,’ sniffed Christina. ‘Not only does the noise of those cars zooming round the track give me tinnitus, the men just turn into total bores. I tell you, Ari used to say he was popping into the casino, and fifty grand later he’d still be there. Deaf and poor: that’s where grand prix weekend leaves you.’

  ‘So who was that blonde at the tables?’ asked Diana, sipping her Bloody Mary.

  Karin pulled a sour face. She didn’t want to be reminded; her day was going from bad to worse. After their spat, she and Adam had hardly said two words to one another during the cocktail reception on board The Pledge. When one of the party of bankers had suggested a trip to the casino, Adam had pointedly asked Claudia Falcon to accompany them to the leather-lined salon privé of the casino. With everyone watching, Karin had had to ask for a lift to the casino bar. It had been humiliating.

  ‘It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’ said Christina. ‘I’ve never seen them let a woman join the table before. It’s usually all boys together.’

  ‘Well, she’s practically a man,’ sniffed Karin. ‘She’s MD of some investment bank. Real ball-breaker by the sounds of it. Helping Midas finance some brownfield site or something.’

  ‘Well, watch it,’ warned Christina. ‘You don’t want Adam to … Shit.’ Christina’s face had suddenly turned as white as paper.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Diana, twisting around to follow her gaze.

  ‘Emily Kent has just walked into the bar.’

  The name didn’t sound familiar to either Karin or Diana.

  ‘Joshua’s maths tutor,’ murmured Christina distractedly. ‘Joshua was falling behind with his schoolwork so I got someone to help him out. What on earth is she doing here?’

  Karin looked around to see a slim, nondescript brunette standing at the entrance of the bar as if she was looking for someone. She didn’t look anything like the average De Paris guest. Mid-twenties, a floral summer dress hovering at her knee, her face freshly scrubbed and free of make-up, her light brown bobbed hair pushed back off her face. She looked more like a librarian than a grand prix goer – and her face fell as she spotted Christina rising and walking towards her.
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br />   ‘Emily. What a surprise!’ said Christina, kissing the air lightly in the direction of her cheeks.

  ‘Likewise,’ replied Emily, her eyes still scanning the room. ‘I thought you gave the grand prix a wide berth.’

  ‘Yes, well, here I am.’ She paused. ‘And who told you that? Ari?’

  Emily nodded awkwardly as a thought popped into Christina’s mind. But surely not, she thought, that’s just not possible.

  ‘So who are you here with?’ asked Christina, trying hard to sound casual.

  ‘Just a friend,’ stammered Emily. ‘And how’s Joshua? I haven’t seen him in a little while.’

  ‘Really? I wasn’t aware that Ari had stopped tuition.’

  Over Emily’s shoulder, Christina could see through the glass door of the bar and into the foyer of the hotel where, at that moment, she saw Ari walk in through the revolving doors towards reception.

  ‘If you’re looking for my husband, sweetie, he’s just walking in,’ said Christina. Emily had the look of a rabbit caught in a trap.

  ‘Christina. Look, I … I’m sorry. I thought he had told you. We didn’t realize you’d be here this weekend.’

  ‘Why would he tell me, you stupid bitch?’ hissed Christina. ‘That bastard’s filing for divorce on the grounds that I have been unfaithful, and all the while he’s fucking the maths tutor.’

  Guests in the bar were beginning to look round. Karin leapt from her chair and put her hand on Christina’s shoulder. ‘Tina, it’s not worth it,’ she muttered as Christina shook her hand away.

  ‘You little whore!’ growled Christina. ‘What right have you got to parade yourself in front of everyone, in front of my friends?’

  Emily moved for the door. ‘I think I had better go,’ she said quietly.

  Christina laughed cruelly. ‘The fucking maths tutor? This is more of a mystery than Pythagoras’s theorem. What on earth does he see in you?’

  Emily turned back and looked at Christina with surprisingly cold eyes. ‘I’m not you,’ she whispered.

  Christina laughed again. ‘That’s right. And don’t think a mousy frump like you is going to replace me, sweetheart!’ she shouted.