Marbella Cool

by Oster, Camille

  Picking up the phone, he swiped and placed it to his ear. “Rosalie,” he said, his voice brusque. Sergei quietened and watched him, knowing it was not for everyone he would be rude and disrupt their lunch together.

  “Care to explain what you’ve been doing interfering with the staff at the business school?” She said it calmly, a mere edge of anger. Normal women—Malin for instance—would act with pure anger, swearing at him. Rosalie demanded he explain himself. No one demanded he explain anything he did.

  “No,” he said. He would not be explaining himself. Perhaps that was the lesson he wanted to teach—he didn’t have to explain anything and there was nothing she could do about it. That was the privilege of wealth and power. That was the very definition of power. He could make people do as he wished.

  “No? You go on and rearrange our staff for no logical reason at all. Would Jasper’s offensiveness have anything to do with the fact that he was my date?”

  Again, she used logic as her weapon—direct questions.

  “I can only assume,” she continued, “as I don’t see any reason for your interference. I would appreciate it is you’d cease any intervention on your behalf in the future.”

  “I do as I see fit.”

  There was quiet down the phone. “Alexi, I don’t know what’s gone awry in your life—”

  “There is nothing awry in my life,” he cut in. “My life is designed exactly as I want it.” Silence continued. “I get what I want.”

  “Which is what exactly in this instance?” Again, she honed in with logic, turning everything back to focus on his actions, as opposed to the message he was sending.

  “Money talks. You never understood that.”

  “Sometimes money just makes you a demented arsehole,” she said, her anger finally tripping her from distant, cold logic to the baser feelings below—the animal that swore and shouted. Not so refined, after all. Alexi smiled. “Please stay out of my affairs.”

  “As a major contributor to the school’s funding, the school is very much my affair. In fact any school can be my affair.” There was nowhere he couldn’t reach her. He wanted her to know that.

  “Then I pity you,” she said. “If this is what you must do to engage with people these days, I can’t do anything but.” She hung up. Alexi felt icy rage surge through his entire body. He wanted to rip her apart—destroy everything she stood for. Maybe have her beg for forgiveness.

  “Women trouble?” Sergei asked, taking another sip of vodka, his lunch finished.

  Not my woman, he wanted to say, but it wasn’t entirely truthful—she had been. For a while she had tempted him away from his path, her softness, inquisitiveness and unquestioning confidence had distracted him, made him weaver, like a siren. He was stronger than her now.

  He couldn’t shake the anger though. He could tear her apart; he knew that and she was smart enough to know it, too. But he also recognised that he was being unreasonable and that was a foreign feeling. He didn’t do unreasonable, illogical things, but here he was, persecuting someone who had no power, but there was the unflinching confidence, which he knew he probably would never be able to shake, even if he reduced her life to absolute rubble.

  “Women are always trouble, my friend,” Sergei said. “Once you get one under your skin, trouble is inevitable.

  “She is not under my skin,” Alexi said firmly.

  Sergei chewed along his top lip, a tell the man had when he thought someone was lying to him. Alexi refilled his vodka. The man could believe whatever he wanted. Someone like Rosalie could never get under his skin; he was beyond her now.

  Chapter 38

  Felix stood at the door, watching her as she packed her stuff. He was enjoying this. Shania hadn’t doubted this would come. It was unfortunate from her perspective; the perspective where she was still in real trouble, but she had more pride than trying to appeal to Felix’s generosity. He’d hated her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  He’d swaggered in here this morning, intent on one thing: throwing her out, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

  “I guess your last minute manoeuvring didn’t serve you in the end. What did you expect? That he would make provisions for you? You’re just some two-bit whore, so spreading your legs was just a waste of time.”

  So he knew what she’d done with his father a few days earlier. The heartless little bastard knew that, but he couldn’t be there when his father went off to prison. Straightening, she turned to him, stepping closer. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if some of his kids would bother to hang out with him the night before he goes away.”

  “Was that what it was?” he said incredulously. “A bit of charity?”

  It actually had been, in a sense. She had just wanted to make him feel better and it was the only way she could think of to distract him, plus a guy deserved to get laid before he was about to face something horrible. Felix would never see it that way though. There really was no point talking to him. The guy was so jaded, he only saw gold diggers around him. “Believe it or not, Felix, I don’t want anything from Dominic.”

  “Except to stay in his house rent free, eating his food, lying by his pool. Quite the life if you can get it, but you never did. And now it’s time to go. Bit of spring cleaning—taking out the trash, and all that.”

  Esme appeared at the door. “What’s going on?”

  “Time for our little house guest to go.”

  “You don’t get to decide that,” Esme challenged. Esme had been too caught up with her new guy to be at home and Shania was surprised she was here.

  “Yes, it is,” Felix insisted. As far as Shania knew, Dominic hadn’t officially left Felix in charge, but he was Esme’s older brother.

  “Well, I want her here.”

  “Don’t you know what kind of person you’ve invited into our house?”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “A friend who’s been fucking your father when you haven’t been looking.”

  A look of shocked surprise crossed Esme’s face, soon replaced by disgust.

  It isn’t like Felix is making it out, Shania wanted to say, but already knew she had lost this fight. There was no point dragging this out. Esme would never understand, even if she explained it. If it was some other person, then maybe, but her father? No, she would never understand.

  Esme put her hands up in distaste, as if she was refusing to deal with this.

  “Esme,” Shania called, wanting to explain that she didn’t mean anything by it, but Esme was never going to listen.

  Felix gave her an ‘I told you so’ kind of look. “Want some help packing?” he said sweetly.

  “No,” Shania said and turned her back on him. This was horrible, being treated like this. She wasn’t a whore, even if Felix had never bothered to look beyond his assumption. She left behind the stuff Esme had given her, which was a lot. Beautiful clothes and shoes, but she couldn’t cart that stuff around. It also wasn’t the kind of stuff that would serve her where she was going, which was where precisely? she asked herself. A hostel probably.

  She didn’t know any of the girls from Shine well enough to ask them to stay and what was the point?—she needed to leave town at the earliest opportunity. It was late afternoon now and she could hop on the next bus out of Marbella. So, yes, she needed to travel light and she didn’t need to look like a victim wearing the stuff she’d been dressed in for the last month or so.

  Esme didn’t come back and Shania didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her. Maybe that was it with these people, they just moved on when someone didn’t serve them anymore. Getting out of here was probably a good thing. Felix was jaded beyond anything she’d seen and Esme, under her superficial confidence, was just lost. It was the reason she’d stayed, to help Esme. Felix was entirely beyond her. But now Esme was bitterly disappointed and Shania would never get to explain she was only trying to help. Maybe these people were so fucked up because they pushed everyone away.

  Shania hadn’t meant
to stay here more than a few days anyway, she’d just got sucked in. It had been both fun and interesting, but it was now time to move on—definitely.

  Swinging her backpack on, she walked down the stairs, dressed in her black leather pants, the uniform that set her apart from these people, but communicated the right messages in the places she was going—that she was a tough girl and should be messed with at your own peril.

  Felix followed her down the stairs, probably to ensure she didn’t steal anything on the way out. I don’t want your crap, she wanted to yell, but knew Felix would not change his mind about her no matter what she said.

  He slammed the front door behind her before she had a chance to say anything.

  Biting down the hurt and humiliation, Shania made her way off their property. There was a bus stop some distance away and she would have to walk there. She had about a hundred euros which she would have to make last as long as possible. It wouldn’t be hard to find the bus station—a bigger decision was where to go. Amsterdam maybe. London might be easier to deal with because of the language.

  Finding the bus stop, she waited, the humiliation burning through her entire body. That should teach her for trying to help someone. Okay, the having somewhere to stay, the lovely pool and regular meals had been fun, so had having a friend. But that was all over now. Time to move on, close this strange little chapter and get back to something a little less crazy.

  The intercity bus station was as far from the glitzy streets of Marbella as possible. This was the seedy underbelly, where its victims and wasters were. Rows of chairs were bolted down to the dirty and worn vinyl floor. Men touted buses from the tiny offices for the various bus lines. There was a bus to Paris and they wanted thirty euros for it. It was more than she wanted to spend. Perhaps hitchhiking was an option, to make her way north with some harmless kids driving home from their holidays.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” a voice said in the harsh Russian accent. “Michele want to speak to you.”

  “Well, I have nothing to say to him.”

  Two guys grabbed her by the arms and forced her to the door. They were huge and her struggles were useless. People just stood by and watched. No one did anything, but then again, what could they do to two gorillas? The men forcefully walked her out of the door and into the back of a black SUV, which quickly drove away. She had one of the gorillas on either side, her heart hammering in her chest.

  She should have known they had someone watching the bus station. It was stupid going there and now she was in a world of trouble.

  They took her to one of the seedy strip joints. Tierry had taken her there, saying he had some business to attend to. They’d only stayed a moment, but it was nothing Shania wanted anything to do with.

  The place was covered in cheap red velvet. A black floor had scuff marks and dropped coasters all over it. A woman was gyrating on the stage; practiced moves in front of a salivating man. The men led her through to the back where Michele was, sitting in an even darker room, a girl dancing completely naked and oiled in front of him and some other man.

  “Shania,” Michele said. “I’ve been looking for you. You have a debt to pay.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve never had anything to do you with.”

  “But Tierry has, yes, and he stiffed me.” The man sat back, his dark hair long and curling down to his shoulders. He wasn’t outright ugly, but his eyes were cold. There was no beauty in his life, only ugliness. That shit rubbed off. Michele’s eyes were travelling up and down her body. “We make use of you,” he said dismissively.

  “Like hell,” Shania said, suspecting that ‘use’ didn’t mean standing up on the stage, shaking her arse while completely naked. She wanted nothing to do with anything Michele did. This was all crap and she was having no part of it, and in this case, she suspected Michele’s term ‘use’ was intended to be more intimate. And once in, she would never get out; she’d belong to these bastards and no one could help her. They already had her passport and they would never give it back.

  “Be a good girl and do what you are told.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, buddy.” The amusement on Michele’s face darkened. This was going to hurt; she knew it. It might even kill her—still worth it. There was no way in hell she was placing herself under these guys figuratively, or literally.

  The first punch was so hard it knocked her out. Probably a mercy.

  Chapter 39

  Breakfast was served out on the covered seating area. The sun was glittering off the pool when Felix made his way downstairs. Esme was already there, spreading the merest layer of butter on a triangle of perfectly toasted bread.

  Maria approached. “Some coffee, Mr. Felix?”

  “Yes, Maria, that would be good.”

  “Careful, Felix, you might actually sober up.”

  A smile tugged on the corner of Felix’s mouth. With that girl gone, he could finally relax in his own home. She had literally driven him out of his house, but now she was gone. Sometimes you just had to roll up your sleeves and get on with the dirty work. It had been blissful to be back home the last few days.

  With the shock of the last week, he actually needed some down time. He’d been drunk for most of it, and worried when he wasn’t. That girl being here, like a viper in their house, had just been the icing on the foulness cake. One thing he had managed to establish some control over.

  “Have you heard from mother?” he asked.

  “She says it’s getting really cold in the UK,” Esme said.

  Felix snorted. Their world was falling apart and all their mother could talk about was the weather. Just like her to put her head in the sand and pretend nothing was happening. Maybe a large chunk of the unease he felt resulted from the fact that his mother refused to face facts. But all he wanted was for someone to spell the facts out to him—everyone had overlooked that part. So far nothing had happened, but Felix didn’t know if that meant they could relax. Maybe the best thing to do was just go about their business.

  Esme was checking her phone, lazily putting a slice of melon in her mouth. Felix wondered if she was going to spend the day salivating after whatever guy she was interested in at the moment.

  Maria reappeared, “There are some policemen here to speak to you,” she said. “About Miss Shania.”

  “Oh, here we go. Act three. What sob story has she dreamt up now? She’ll do anything to get back in here. I should have expected this,” Felix said. “This should be good.” Esme gave him a dirty look before turning to watch the policemen approaching. One in uniform; the other dressed more casually. “Well played,” he muttered as they approached.

  The casually dressed man introduced himself, clearly Spanish, as was his constable, or whatever they called themselves here. “We understand you know Shania Tyler and she had been staying here for some time,” the man said, looking around the space.

  “Yes,” Esme said.

  “What has she done now?” Felix asked, curious what she’d managed to concoct.

  “Miss Tyler has met with some trouble,” the man said flatly, still looking around.

  “Of course she has,” Felix said with amusement. “Out of money, is she? Was unfortunately robbed of everything she owned?” Felix turned his gaze on Esme, whose lips were in a straight line. She saw through their little house guests plays now too, but she was still more reserved. “She was always using you, using us,” Felix said. Esme kept quiet, refusing to respond.

  “What is the matter with her?” Esme asked.

  “She is in hospital,” the man said. “Someone has hurt her.”

  “Naturally,” Felix said, not the least bit surprised, expecting a severe sprain so she couldn’t walk, poor thing. They would have to take her in again as she, sob, sob, had nowhere else to go.

  The policemen questioned them about Shania’s movements, and no they hadn’t seen her in the couple of days since she’d left. They talked about her acquaintances.

  “She was the girlfriend of a drug deale
r,” Felix finally said, starting to wonder why they were so interested in Shania. Maybe they realised she was playing games. He wasn’t above making her life harder. She could as well defend the class of people she hung out with.

  “You know her family?” the policeman asked.

  “She has a mother, in Nevada, I believe. I don’t know her name or have any details for her. Why are you asking?” Esme asked.

  “We need to contact her next of kin.”

  “Why do you need to contact her next of kin?” Esme continued drilling.

  “It’s just procedure,” Felix said.

  The man shrugged. “She is unwell. It might be necessary.”

  “Necessary for what?” Esme said, growing more concerned, now staring daggers at Felix.

  “She is in a bad way,” the man said, trying to ask more questions about her drug dealer boyfriend.

  “They broke up,” Esme said. “He made her uncomfortable; she was scared. She’s had no communications with him for the last month at least. Did he do something to her?” Esme said, leaning forward. She turned her stare on Felix. “This is all your fault. She was scared and you threw her out. You’re a heartless bastard. Is she okay?” Esme said, turning her attention back to the policeman.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said with a shrug only the Spanish could do.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “They don’t know,” he finally said. It was dawning on Felix that this actually sounded serious. A pretty big act of desperation if she’d orchestrated this. Or maybe Esme had been right and she’d been hiding from that boyfriend. Tierry was harmless though. Everyone knew him. Granted, Felix couldn’t remember seeing him around for a while, and he was always around.

  The policemen finished their questioning, leaving a card on the table and asking them to be in contact if they heard of anything relevant. They looked bored and turned inward toward the house where Maria was waiting to escort them out.