by Jill Dodd
ABOARD THE NABILA
Pepper and I meet Dominic at the dock in Cannes, triple-cheek kiss, and jump into a speedboat. The sea breeze is cool on my face as we bounce through the gentle waves. It feels like home.
Adnan’s ship is too large for the harbor, so it is anchored way out. The huge vessel towers four stories overhead and stretches over a hundred feet in each direction. We pull up to a floating dock, wood slats bobbing and slapping the water. I instinctively jump onto the dock and grab the chrome rail of the speedboat, pulling it to the dock. I hold a hand out to catch the rope from the boat driver.
The sound of the plastic bumpers squeaking between the dock and the boat is so familiar. I hold the boat while Pepper and Dominic disembark. The crew is surprised by my moves. A narrow wood stairway with aluminum handrails descends from the ship. We climb up to the mid-deck, where Adnan greets us.
He gives me a huge hug and kisses on my cheeks. “Gilles! How are you? Did you have a good sleep? I missed you.” Then he gets right to the point. “Why didn’t you come for coffee?”
“I was too tired.” I smile. “That was so much fun. Especially the bonfire—I didn’t know I was so destructive.”
I am finally able to get a good look. He is shorter than me, about five-five. His head is round and balding on top. His skin is tanned olive, and he has a mustache, long dark eyelashes, brown eyes, and an adorable smile. He has a round belly and is impeccably dressed. And clean. I always notice clean. He smells good. There is something about his eyes. He looks like a happy person. He has more than a trace of an accent.
“So, where are you from?” I ask.
“I’m from Saudi Arabia. Well, my family is Turkish and Syrian, but I was born in Mecca in Saudi Arabia.” His voice is calm, confident, and has an upbeat ring to it.
“Oh, I was trying to figure out your accent. You remind me of my favorite neighbors I grew up with in California. They were from Saudi Arabia too. Erma, the mom of the house, taught me how to make Arabic flatbread and stuffed grape leaves. I love her.”
His eyes get big. “So you know a little about my culture?” He smiles.
“Well, a little, I guess.”
Pepper disappears with Dominic while Adnan leads me to an outdoor dining area. The wooden decks are massive. The sun reflects off the crystal and silver on the table. There are more wineglasses than I have ever seen in one place. The flower arrangements are gorgeous. White roses are mixed with eucalyptus and pine.
“Welcome to the Nabila, Gilles. I’m so glad you came.”
“What does Nabila mean?” I ask.
“The boat is named after my daughter, Nabila, who just turned eighteen.” Who would ever guess that later this ship would belong to the Sultan of Brunei and then Donald Trump? “Last night’s party was for her.”
“Oh, is she here?”
“No, she’s on shore tonight.”
Dominic and Pepper reappear and Adnan offers, “Girls, let me take you down to dress for dinner. Come, follow me.” He leads us downstairs to a room lined with closets filled with couture gowns, and then he leaves. I am stunned, but Pepper takes it in stride. “What are you gonna wear?” she asks casually.
“Are you serious? What am I going to wear?” I shake my head and try to get a grip. “Do we just pick something? For real?”
“Yes.” She laughs. “Pick out whatever you want.” She’s already browsing.
I can’t believe my eyes—Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, Lanvin, Ungaro, Valentino, Chloé, Nina Ricci, and Chanel. All of the hand-sewn couture collections are here. They are all runway size and have only been worn once on a Paris catwalk. I choose a knee-length, delicate, silky, gray Lanvin dress with a tight bodice and spaghetti straps. I pick out some strappy metallic silver shoes that are a perfect fit. Pepper wears a tight, red strapless dress—of course.
We bounce back upstairs to join Adnan; Dominic and his wife, Ines; and two of Adnan’s sons at the big round dining table out on the deck. Adnan pulls out the chair next to him for me. His young sons sit to his right. They’re beautiful, with dark hair and eyes and olive skin.
A waiter in a white ship’s crew uniform pours still water and bubbly water, while another pours champagne. We are served crab and lobster. White wine is poured. When we finish the seafood, we are given an entremets of frozen fruit topped with a mint leaf in a tiny crystal glass with a tiny silver spoon. My confusion is obvious, and Adnan informs me, “Oh, Gilles, this is a palate cleanser to prepare your mouth for our next course. Go ahead, eat it.”
I am baffled by the multiple sets of silverware. I have no clue which ones to use. Now I have still water, bubbly mineral water, champagne, and white wine. I eat the seafood and the mini “dessert.” Now it is time for the main course of lamb and vegetables, which evidently means I need red wine. I have five glasses full and counting. After the lamb, there is a salad and a dessert of fresh berries with ice cream and liqueur in crystal goblets. Then we are served port, cognac, and espresso. I try to act natural.
Adnan speaks energetically and proudly about his boys, his older kids, and his new boat, which has recently been christened. I imagine one of those huge champagne bottles smashing on the ship’s hull and a big party after. I just met these people, but I already feel like I have missed out on something, as if I should have been there too.
I never met such an elegant man. Adnan is intelligent, worldly, and laughs easily. He has a kind of peaceful strength. I wish I had that. As we finish our espresso, the boys’ nanny comes to collect them. Adnan leans in. “Gilles, can I show you around the boat?”
“Yes, of course!” I want to see all of it. He takes my hand and leads me on a private tour. With heels on, I am seven or eight inches taller than him. My being so much taller would intimidate most men, but not Adnan. He’s obviously not easily rattled. The sun is setting as we walk the expanse of the ship and decks. He takes me to the engine room, set low in the ship’s hull with massive shining machines, pipes, and gauges. He takes me to the ship’s hospital, stating proudly that this is the only ship in the world where heart surgery can be performed. It’s clear to me he was involved in the design and building of the ship because he seems to know every detail.
He shows me the navigation and control room, filled with high-tech instruments and maps. He gets excited over the mechanical and technological things. I feel so comfortable around him, and the energy that flows between us is electrifying.
He brings me to his daughter Nabila’s room, which is decorated in red-and-white stripes like a peppermint candy circus tent. I think it is gaudy and dizzying. We take another elevator up to his master bedroom, where an illuminated glass triangle sculpture is mounted on a pedestal in the entryway. (I didn’t know his business was called Triad Holding Company, thus the triangle.) His bedroom is massive, and his bed looks larger than a king-size. The bedspread is made of chinchilla fur, which is hard to imagine, and softer than air. He tells me his bathroom sink is solid gold, and the doorknobs are gold-plated.
There are hidden revolving walls and secret passageways, like in a James Bond movie (Never Say Never Again was filmed here). The living and entertaining rooms are dotted with gold-trimmed black lacquer tables between modern taupe leather couches. With the push of a button, he shows me how the formal dining room transforms into a conference room. There is even a movie theater with a big screen.
We return to the deck, where night has fallen. The sky sparkles with stars, the hills of Cannes twinkle, and the sea shimmers in the moonlight.
He points. “The helicopter is up there, and we have three speedboats for waterskiing.”
“Waterskiing? I love to ski! Could we ski together sometime? It’s one of my favorite things in the world.” Is this really happening? Boating at the Colorado River in Arizona were some of the best times of my childhood.
“Yes, of course,” he says.
Walking along the chrome railing on the side deck, we notice boats below with flashing cameras and people waving and yelling, “B
onne nuit!” So, we wave too.
“They come every night to look at the boat. It’s a beautiful night.” He turns his attention away from the water below. “Tell me about you, Jill. What is your passion? What are your favorite things to do? Who are you, Jill? I want to know everything about you, you beautiful girl. Shall we go inside? Come, I’ll show you my disco.”
I am stunned that he is actually interested in who I am—and not just on the outside. It is truly shocking. I am becoming smitten so fast. I love his warm, sweet face, and his big eyes. I don’t want this evening to end, ever. The age difference isn’t registering. I feel electric.
Holding my hand, we walk around to the other side of the boat and into the disco, closing the door behind us. A DJ is playing music and colored lights reflect off a disco ball. A metal side door opens suddenly and a boatload of girls come dancing in. I spot a model I know from California, with whom I’d filmed The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo—a seventies sitcom. As we say hello, I quickly note that these are not top-tier models. They are more the kind that hang around the Playboy Mansion. I want to be alone with Adnan. Thankfully, he rescues me.
“Gilles, can I call you Jill, or do you prefer Gilles?”
“Either way is good. Everybody calls me Gilles in France, but it’s a man’s name. Back home, I’m Jill. So, whatever you want.”
“Okay, Jill, let’s go someplace quiet so we can talk. It’s too loud in here.”
It is becoming obvious that Adnan is powerful. I mean, who has a ship like this? Part of me wants to downplay it and part of me is intoxicated by it. It is flattering to be the object of his intense interest and attention, and even more important—he makes me laugh. It’s hard to describe the overwhelming serenity that envelops us. I’m wide-awake and totally at peace. How can he have this effect on me?
He guides me to a tiny, dimly lit room with a low ceiling that feels cozy and cave-like. We sit close on a small sofa facing each other, and before I can say anything he confesses, “I have to be honest with you. I know it’s not fair, but I know everything about you.” He closes his eyes, waiting for my response.
I am taken aback. “No, you don’t. How could you know anything about me?” I am sure.
“Trust me, I do. You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t. No one even knows where I am most of the time.”
“Okay . . . you were born in Lynwood, California. Your dad is a fireman who grew up in Hollywood. You had very good grades in school. You arrived in Paris this past February. You worked in the swimwear industry in Los Angeles. . . . Do I need to go on?”
As my eyes grow wider, he explains, “I had to have you checked out before you came on the boat. My security team insists on it.”
I throw him a puzzled look. “You’re kidding, right?” This is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. By the looks of the ship, it is clear he could pull some strings, but what does it matter? I have nothing to hide. It is weird though, and knocks me off balance for a few minutes.
He abruptly changes the subject. “So, what are your goals in life?”
“I’m just modeling for right now.” I am still confused by all the talk about security. Why does he need security?
“You’re only twenty. You have time, don’t you?”
“I guess. So you obviously know about me, but what about you? How old are you? Are you divorced? How many kids do you have?”
“I turned forty-four in July, and yes, I’m in the middle of a divorce, but we have a good relationship. I was angry at first, but it’s going better now. We threw a huge divorce party on the boat for the kids. We didn’t want them to be sad about us splitting up, so instead, we celebrated. Even though we’re not together, we’re both still their parents.”
“Wow, that puts a fresh spin on it. What a great idea. I bet the kids liked it. How many kids do you have again?”
“I have five. Nabila is the oldest, my only daughter, and I have four sons, Mohammed and Khalid, and the youngest ones, Hussein and Omar, were at dinner tonight.”
“They’re so cute and well mannered. Very impressive.”
“Now it’s my turn,” he adds lightly. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
“What?”
“Have you ever kissed a girl?” he says, laughing.
He’d been forthcoming, so I say, “Yes, but only once in junior high.”
He smiles big. “Tell me more. How far did you two go?”
“We were in junior high school and drunk. I kissed her on the lips—just a peck. I felt guilty after, like I had done something terrible. I apologized, but she didn’t even remember it.”
“Are you sure that was all you did?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I change the subject. “So, if you’re from Saudi Arabia, how did you learn to speak English? And were you born in Saudi Arabia?”
“Yes, I was born in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. I went to school in Egypt, then left school early to go to college at Chico State and Stanford in California. Because my father was the personal physician to King Abdul Aziz Al Saud of Saudi Arabia, I had a lot of connections, and I started exporting Chevy trucks to Saudi Arabia, and then Caterpillar tractors for construction projects. I made my first million dollars by seventeen. Then I exported aircraft with my friend Howard Hughes.”
“Wow, I never thought about how countries got their trucks and tractors.”
We talk through the night, covering everything—nothing is off-limits. I tell him about my jealous ex-boyfriend, Jack. He tells me that the party at Le Pirate had cost $25,000 and that it cost something like $400,000 each month to keep the boat going.
I explain how I used to sneak over to my Saudi Arabian neighbors’ house all the time and how it was so peaceful there that I couldn’t stay away. I tell him how Erma, the mom, used coffee grounds on her kids’ wounds instead of bandages, as a temporary scab, and how she let me go with her to the park to pick olives and grape leaves. I’d go over just to fold laundry with her. She was so sweet, and I wished that my mom were like her.
I am telling Adnan things I have never told anybody. I haven’t felt a connection this strong with anyone, male or female, in years. He doesn’t try to kiss me in that little room, which makes me trust him even more. I am getting sleepy and want to curl up in his lap and continue the conversation with my eyes shut. But I don’t. I lean on a pillow.
“Do you know what time it is?” I ask.
He pulls up his shirtsleeve to look at his watch and laughs in disbelief. “It’s five in the morning!” We can’t believe it.
“It seems like we’ve only been in here for an hour. No wonder my eyes are having a hard time staying open. I better go to bed. I don’t mean to assume anything, but can Pepper and I sleep here? And do you know where she is?”
“I’m sure she’s already in bed. I’ll call Keith and find out what room she’s in.” He picks up the phone on the table. “Oh, oui, la chambre verte, merci.”
“Come, I’ll show you to your room. You girls are in the green room.” He gives me a big hug on the couch and gets up, reaching his hands out to help me up. He opens the steel door, and we duck our heads under the curved metal doorway. He walks me to my room and kisses my cheeks. “Good night, Gilles. I hope to see you soon.” He doesn’t try to kiss my mouth, but I really want him to.
Pepper emerges from the shower, hair wrapped in a towel, and jumps in bed with me. “Can you believe this boat?” she says. “Where were you? With Adnan?”
I nod. “We had so much fun. It’s strange. I feel like I’ve known him forever.” Pepper tries to turn off the lights, but when she clicks the remote, a television pops up from a cabinet at the foot of the bed. She pushes another button and shades cover the windows. Finally, she hits the one for the lights.
My body is tired, but my heart is pumping and my mind is buzzing. I try to wrap my head around what is happening, and eventually fall asleep. An hour later there is a knock at the door.
“Mademoiselles, time to wake up—you need to leave
for your flight!” We force ourselves out of bed, climb down the stairs on the side of the huge ship, and into a speedboat. It is totally silent outside. The water is still as glass and the sun is just peeking out. As we speed away, it feels like a tether is holding me to Adnan, sleeping in his bed.
Pepper quizzes me in the car and on the plane back to Paris. “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him? You’re not telling me everything.”
“Really,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “We just talked. Just because you sleep with everybody you meet doesn’t mean I do.”
Ruby and me in Halkidiki, Greece, summer 1980
QUEEN JEWELRY
September 1980, Paris and Greece
Paris is cold and rainy, and I force myself back into work mode. Memories of the pirate party, our intense conversations, dinner on the boat, his beautiful skin and eyes . . . Adnan is distracting me from my work! I have a fifth interview for a magazine shoot in Greece. Really? They need to see me five times for one job?
Adnan calls a few days later, inviting me to lunch at his home in Paris. He lives at 8 Avenue Montaigne, not far from Dior. A guard takes me upstairs to Adnan and Dominic. I wonder why Dominic is here. Adnan rushes over and gives me a big warm hug. Dominic kisses my cheeks, then Adnan gives me a tour of the house—mansion actually. He takes me through the exquisitely decorated bedrooms, bathrooms, and sitting rooms. I’ll never forget the massive bathroom with the Turkish tub covered in green-and-gold mosaic, with the solid gold faucet. We pass through room after room, but his favorite things are always tech gadgets. Somehow, he has access to products that I’ve never even seen on the market. He demonstrates how his laser-disc player plays movies and music videos.
We join Dominic in the dining room, where his chef has prepared an informal lunch. Adnan sits at the end of a long dining table with me on one side and Dominic on the other. During lunch Adnan peruses divorce documents. He talks about Soraya, his ex-wife, wanting a community property settlement through California law. I don’t understand these legal terms, and am surprised he’s sharing this private document with me. The fact that he’s so open makes me feel closer to him.