Marbella Cool

by Oster, Camille

  “You’re fucking unbelievable, Felix,” Esme said before storming away. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

  No, this was all bullshit, Felix decided; something orchestrated to get her cushy set up back. She’d slept with their father, remember, he wanted to call out. That was the kind of person they were dealing with. They were being manipulated. Those could have been fake policemen for all they knew.

  Esme returned to the house that afternoon. She was crying, running up the stairs and slamming the door. Felix sat on the sofa and he couldn’t help wondering what had happened.

  Her door opened again. “She’s in a fucking coma,” Esme yelled and slammed the door again. Felix knew she blamed him. He hadn’t done whatever was done to her. This was not his fault. No, this couldn’t be true. How fucking outlandish? No, this had to be fake. Esme was just too gullible to see it.

  Taking the Porsche, Felix drove. He would have to see for himself. Girls like Shania couldn’t afford any private hospitals so it would be the big public one, which was a giant, yellow bunker-looking blight. It was insanely busy with light-green vinyl floors and white walls. It was clean, but there were people everywhere.

  “Que?” a man said at the main desk, when a space presented itself amongst the throng of people. Most were Spanish and everyone spoke Spanish.

  Felix’s Spanish was pretty crap, but he could generally get by. “Chica Americana. Shania Tyler,” he said.

  “Esta con la embajades?”

  “No. Amigo.” It grated saying he was a friend, but what else could he say? Some woman jostled him with an elbow in his ribs and Felix gave her a dirty look.

  “Solamente familia.”

  “No tiene familia aqui.”

  The man grumbled. “Tercer piso,” the man said.

  Felix pulled himself away from the crowd and found an elevator. The smell of disinfectant was inescapable and he still felt every surface was covered in germs from people likely dying from flesh eating viruses and other unpleasant fates. The elevator was huge and people crowded in. They stopped at every damned floor. Thank God for private hospitals. This place was a zoo.

  The third floor was just hallways and it took Felix a moment to orientate himself. He finally reached a reception of some sort and announced whom he wanted to see. He had to sit until a nurse finally arrived, urging him with a wave to follow, who then led him down a corridor with white doors along each side, little glass rectangles allowing a look in. This was a ward and it didn’t look like it was for lightweights. Many of the beds had curtains drawn around them.

  The nurse pushed a door open and let him inside. She didn’t follow, instead leaving him there. As opposed to what he expected, the bed was in the middle of the room. The horrid noise of a ventilation machine was the most prominent sound, along with other indeterminable beeps. The thing in the bed looked nothing like her, except maybe the same hair colour. Bits of tape lay across her eyes and the breathing tube twisted her mouth awkwardly. There were tubes everywhere, coming out of her jaw and her nose. Her face was swollen and multi coloured, unrecognisable. It looked sticky like it was covered with petroleum jelly or something. By no means was this a set up. Something awful had happened to her and Felix refused to move closer; the awful sound of the machines making his skin crawl.

  A man walked in the door. “You are family?” he said in English.

  “Friend,” Felix said. “She’s been living with us. Is she going to be alright?”

  “She’s not dead yet, so she’s fighting. It was very close though.”

  “What happened?”

  “We don’t know. She was found on the street and they brought her in. She is doing better now,” he said.

  “Really?” Felix asked. She didn’t look it.

  “She is more stable now.”

  Felix looked over at her again, but hated seeing her, hated everything about this whole situation. He felt like throwing up and the hospital smell wasn’t helping. He had to go. Saying a hasty salutation, he shot out of there, feeling a slight panic until he finally reached fresh air outside.

  Chapter 40

  Rosalie didn’t tell Paul about her strange conversation with Alexi. It was incomprehensible and she didn’t know what to make of it. And then for him to threaten her, out of the blue, it was just… outlandish.

  Sitting in the small back garden, she watched a droplet of condensation run down the outside of her ginger beer glass. He’d just reached into her life and messed it around, and for what? None of this made any sense.

  And the more important question was: what was she going to do about it? Here was this very powerful man, flexing his muscles in front of her, and how was she supposed to react? Was she supposed to up sticks and disappear out of town; hope he forgot she existed out of fear he would wreak havoc in her life again out of sheer malice? Bending to someone’s will was not something she was used to. Standing up for principles was what they did.

  The ball was very much in her court now. Her reaction would formulate her character. She may have relatively little power in this thing, whatever it was, but she was in the right, and that meant a great deal.

  Finding where he lived wasn’t difficult. Everyone on the coast apparently knew where Alexi lived. She was going to confront him and this absurd behaviour, so she waited, down by the entrance into the building’s complex. She wanted privacy for this, uninterested in causing a spectacle, but there might be some harsh words coming.

  She stood in the middle of the driveway, in front of a large, white electronic gate that the residents in this tower used to gain access to the basement, where the people living here parked. Alexi had the penthouse apartment, she had been told.

  A car approached, a Volvo, and Rosalie stepped out of the way. A Volvo was not nearly gaudy and ostentatious enough for Alexi. She wasn’t sure how long she would stay here waiting—at least until her anger ran out. He might not come, but then again, she was adamant about doing something.

  And then it approached, a champagne-coloured Maserati. Now that was ostentatious enough. She stepped out in the middle of the driveway and stood with her arms crossed. The car slowly approached and stopped. It was him; she saw him in the driver’s seat. His face was passive as he sat and stared at her. He edged forward a bit, but she refused to move.

  “If you have an issue with me, you can come out here and face me like a man.”

  The window slowly retracted. “Get out of the way, Rosalie,” he said, his voice typically harsh.

  “No. We’re not done here. You started this, so you can see it through.”

  “See this through by standing in the middle of the road?”

  “Come out and face me, Alexi. I want you to explain yourself.”

  His hands twisted on the steering wheel as if he was considering his options. Finally he opened the door and stepped out, wearing a light suit with a steel grey shirt underneath. She’d forgotten how large he was and felt herself swallow her unease. Confrontation wasn’t something she naturally embraced, but recognised this had to be done.

  “What in the world are you doing?” she said. “Is this what you do now, lay random threats on people? What’s become of you?”

  He looked uncomfortable.

  “You threaten me on the phone, you remove people from my life. How is this acceptable behaviour? Explain yourself.”

  “Because I can.”

  A frisson of anger ran through her. “So that’s it, because you can. Am I going to be subjected to more of this childish behaviour? Please, can you let me know now, because I have things I need to do and would appreciate doing so without your interference. So, you’re obviously trying to send me some message, so let’s have it.”

  He looked even more uncomfortable. “This is not a discussion I wish to have.”

  “Well, I’m not moving out of the way until we do. I don’t care if people jump at your word, Alexi. You started this, now you finish it.”

  His eyes were blazing at her, his hands on his hips. He was so
different from the guy she’d known.

  “It saddens me this is what you do,” she said after a while. “This is not the person I knew.”

  “That was a long time ago. You don’t know me, Rosalie, you never did.”

  She stared at him now. She knew him. They had been lovers. She knew what made him smile, what made him sad, what made him angry. But he was incomprehensible now.”

  “I don’t think I know you anymore,” she said. “If that was the message you were trying to send me, then received. Is there anything else you wish to discuss? I would much rather get it out than suffer this underhanded and immature behaviour.”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment. He certainly wasn’t taking the challenge well, but the point she was trying to make was that she wasn’t playing.

  She snorted. “Well, I hope this all serves you well,” she said. “Please leave me alone, or we will have this discussion again.”

  With a straight back, she started to walk away. There was apparently no dealing with him. Perhaps he was too far gone with his power plays and manipulation to deal with as a rational human being.

  “I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Alexi stated as she was about to step up on the sidewalk.

  “What?” she said, stopping short.

  “I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he repeated. “And I reacted. I’m sorry.”

  She returned to face him. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. He’d apologised and had also acknowledged that his actions had been less than rational. She still didn’t know what to say. “Why?”

  Alexi shrugged. Perhaps he didn’t know himself. “He had his hands on you and I didn’t like it.”

  Rosalie was dumbfounded, opening her mouth, but nothing came out. What did this mean? “It’s not your place to determine who I spend my time with,” she said quietly.

  With a frown, he looked down at the ground.

  “Okay, I accept your explanation, while stressing how misguided you actions were.” It did make sense now, admittedly in terms of sheer, irrational male behaviour—probably unconscious in large part. He obviously felt some residual ownership issues over her as a consequence of their prior involvement. “But we were together fifteen years ago, Alexi.”

  He crossed his arms, his face still inexpressive. He had always been hard to read that way. “Please don’t interfere again. You have your fiancé, so please turn you attention there.”

  “She’s not my fiancé,” he said.

  “Okay, your girlfriend, then. I honestly don’t care.” On the boat they had seemed very happy together, so this was obviously just a blip. “I wish you the best, Alexi. I always did. I think it’s best we part company now.”

  With a calming gesture, she walked away, throwing a look back when she reached her car. He was still watching her, with his hands on his hips, although not in the aggressive stance he’d had before. He was just watching her go. Looking again in her rear-view mirror, she saw him walking back to his car.

  She did feel better, as if they’d cleared the air. A little bit of her faith in him had been restored. Male territorial behaviour was not a topic she was overly familiar with, but this had all been some throwback to their past entanglement. Everyone had a bit of irrational behaviour in them. Not everyone acted on them, but then not everyone was in Alexi’s position where he could. Hopefully he wouldn’t again. Unless he insisted on coming to the school events, it was unlikely they would ever run into each other again.

  Chapter 41

  Work had been okay. No major dramas. Trish had danced. There had been a few scuffles on the floor, but nothing the bouncers couldn’t take care of. It was time to go. Chrissy was going to Nathan’s house and Amber wasn’t working tonight, so Trish would have to make her way home alone.

  Going home alone at two thirty in the morning wasn’t comfortable so she tended to take a taxi when it did happen. She stood outside Shine with her backpack on, hailing a passing taxi. There were plenty around this time of night, looking for partygoers trying to get home.

  One was pulling up and she stepped into the back when someone followed her. “What the hell?” she protested as she looked over to see Felix, again drunk out of his tree. “What are you doing?”

  “I might have to sleep on your couch again.”

  “No.”

  “You owe me.”

  “I don’t owe you.”

  “Yes, you do, your Neanderthal of a boyfriend—”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Felix just stared at her with his glassy, unfocused eyes. “Cory,” he stressed, “fucking decked me.”

  “What?” She could see the bruising on the side of his face. It wasn’t recent, but it was there.

  “He hit me; I hit the floor. Yes, it was one of my more manly moments, I have to admit.”

  Trish only stared at him. Cory had hit him. Wha… ? “What did you say to him?”

  “I didn’t say anything; he just came up and decked me.” The taxi pulled away and started carrying her home, with Felix in tow.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Cause he’s in love with you.”

  “Oh, you mean between his marathon sex sessions with Mirabel Sunning?” Nathan had been quite vocal in his admiration in how Mirabel had finally let Cory get some, and apparently she was ravenous. This must have been from Cory’s retelling—how else would they have known the details? “Fuck him,” she said, turning her gaze away to the passing darkness out the window.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty shitty,” Felix admitted. “You have to give him credit though. Mirabel Sunning, that’s some… ”

  Trish gave him the filthiest look. “Haven’t you got a home to go to?”

  He didn’t answer, just stared at her with large, glassy puppy eyes. Was he doing that on purpose? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m a shit person.”

  “Can’t argue that,” she said, sitting back and crossing her arms. What the hell was she going to do about Cory? This wasn’t making sense. Well, it did if you considered that Cory had no idea what he wanted, other than having his cake and eating it, too. No, fuck him. Arsehole. “And you know what? You’re not the only one.”

  “No, no one is as big a shit person as I am,” Felix slurred. “I’m heartless.”

  “Yay, rich boy pity party. How’d I get so lucky to witness this?” And as for heartless, so was Cory. Immature prick. And this was what she’d been wrapped up in for months and months. Why was she putting herself through this? He did this. Dissed her publicly, then lost the plot if she so much as walked near someone else. Talk about double standards. And why exactly was she putting up with this shit, over some guy who’d repeatedly decided that she wasn’t good enough? Enough was enough. “If you were remotely sober, Felix, I would fuck you right now.”

  “I’m sober,” he said, sitting up earnestly, but unable to not wobble around.

  Trish shook her head. “Seriously, even when the truth is so beyond obvious, you can’t stop yourself from lying.” She wasn’t exclusively talking about Felix in this instance. No, it was time to move on. Time to put immature arseholes behind her. “And that includes you. I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “Go to sleep, Felix.”

  He leant his head down on her shoulder and she shrugged it off. “Not on me.”

  Felix was still on the couch when Trish came down in the morning. The whole room stank of his sour alcohol breathing all night.

  “Is this what you do all the time?” she asked. “You know you’re not going to survive until thirty if you keep this up. And how the hell is it you end up here all the time?”

  “Cause you’re mean to me and I feel like punishing myself.”

  “You need to work on your self-esteem issues. Do you want a coffee?”

  “Can I have a Frappuccino?”

  “No, you can have a coffee.”

  Trish poured two cups. Amber’s protein shake glass was in the sink so she was obvi
ously out running with Hannah. Chrissy wasn’t home. So it was just her and her unwanted house guest.

  “I love how mean you are to me. It really does turn me on.”

  She ignored him and walked over to the couch, giving him the coffee. He took a sip. “Any sugar?”

  “Do you deserve sugar?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted and took another sip.

  “You are one fucked up little ninny.”

  He lay back again, putting his arms across his eyes. No doubt his head was pounding. “You know that American girl, Shania?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Got herself beat up. She’s in hospital. Pretty serious.”

  This was news to Trish. “Is she alright?”

  “Apparently she will be, provided nothing further goes wrong.”

  “You didn’t beat her up, did you?”

  “No, what do you take me for?” he said, sitting up sharply, grimacing with pain.

  “Just checking. I don’t know you from Adam.”

  “Except I spent a weekend inside you.”

  “Shut up.”

  He was quiet for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee, wincing with the bitterness of it. If he wanted nice coffee, he could crash somewhere else.

  “So what are you going to do about Cory?”

  She sighed. “Time to cut the cord, I think. We’ve gone around the block a few times. Time for new scenery.”

  “You don’t think we’d—”

  “No.”

  Chapter 42

  She had that arsehole in tow when she turned up at José’s. Cory watched as she walked up the steps and continued towards the bar. Felix was looking around, a slight look of distaste. Sheer fury threatened to overtake Cory, but he pushed it down. Bitter disappointment took its place.

  After ordering, Felix paid and they both walked over to the table where everyone was sitting. Felix had a large whiskey in his hand.