Sunlounger - the Ultimate Beach Read (Sunlounger Stories Book 1)

by Belinda Jones

  The girls finished their breakfast in companionable silence and when the waitress brought the cheques she also presented the girls with the next clue.

  ‘We were once a place of wealth / But our silver was mined away / Yet we still sparkle in the light / Our ghosts remain all day,’ Amelia read aloud, and she knew instantly where they were going – she couldn’t help but notice all the leaflets for the place in the foyer of the Oak Tree Inn. ‘We’re going to the Calico Ghost Town!’ she cried.

  Jo laughed. ‘We are!’ she said. ‘So finish up and let’s get moving.’ Amelia didn’t need to be told twice.

  Amelia and Jo walked around the Calico Ghost Town in awe. The former old West town had once produced over $20m in silver ore – but when silver had lost its value so had the appeal of the town, and it had been completely deserted. The wooden buildings sat in front of dirt-mountains dotted with scrubby little plants, and Amelia could easily imagine the prospecting miners who’d walked the same path over 100 years earlier.

  ‘Do you think there really are ghosts here?’ Amelia whispered as they wandered past a replica of the old Calico schoolhouse. Since they’d entered the town her imagination had been on overdrive, and all thoughts of Charlie had been pushed aside.

  Jo shrugged. ‘Possibly,’ she said, as she peered into one of the windows. ‘But who knows? What’s important is that the town is kept alive so that its memories can still exist.’

  Amelia glanced at her friend. Every stopping point on the treasure hunt seemed to be easily associated to her failed relationship with Charlie – yet she wasn’t quite sure what Jo was trying to say.

  Jo noticed the confusion on her friend’s face, and she realised she had to be more articulate. She took a big glug of water from her bottle and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow as she considered her next words. ‘What I’m trying to say is that even though the town is no longer a mining town, it’s still useful. It looks like it used to, but it now serves a different purpose.’

  Amelia suddenly understood what Jo was trying to explain and she spontaneously hugged her. She may not be in a relationship with Charlie any more, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t the same person she had been, or that she couldn’t be an even better version of the girl who’d fallen in love with the wrong man.

  ‘I get it,’ Amelia whispered into Jo’s ear, and Jo pulled back and looked puzzled.

  ‘Get what?’ she asked, but Jo couldn’t keep a flash of amusement from her eyes however innocent she could make her voice.

  Amelia didn’t open the next clue – handed to her by a man dressed as a cowboy – until they were on the road again. This time the solution didn’t come quickly to her. ‘In a town that’s oven-hot,’ she read, ‘This store’s like Area 51 / It sells the best dried meat in the universe / And also some Martian fun.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I’m supposed to work this out,’ she said. Jo just kept her eyes on the road.

  ‘Look at the map. Look at your phone. You’ll work it out, I promise – and you have about an hour to do it.’

  The landscape of the country outside of the car was beginning to look more and more like the desert. Joshua Trees grew from the sandy land on either side of the highway, and the traffic had thinned even more. The burning sun blazed onto the tops of the girls’ heads as they sped across the blistering tarmac of the road, and there was no need for music or conversation; the deathly quiet of the desert was awe-inspiring.

  ‘We’re going to Baker,’ Amelia said eventually after she consulted the map. ‘A town that’s oven-hot represents Baker.’ She had spent a while Googling different things on her phone before the clue became clear.

  ‘Next stop, the Alien Fresh Jerky store.’

  Amelia couldn’t believe her eyes as they pulled up in the parking lot of Alien Fresh Jerky. ‘What sort of place is this?’ she asked as both she and Jo climbed out of the Mustang.

  Jo turned to her. ‘It’s a shop that sells Alien-themed beef jerky, primarily,’ she replied seriously.

  ‘But why are we here?’ Amelia couldn’t understand how aliens or jerky could ever relate to her break up with Charlie – and the ‘jerk’ reference was far too obvious.

  ‘Because sometimes it’s good to be surprised,’ Jo explained with a glint in her eye, and she held open the shop door for her friend. ‘And because no matter the journey, you always need to stop for gas. ’When they were back on the road Amelia was handed her final envelope by Jo; the last clue that would lead them to her final destination. They were only an hour or so away from Vegas, and now that she was enjoying herself Amelia wasn’t sure she wanted it to end. It had been years since she and Jo had spent any proper time together, and once they got to Vegas, Jo would be consumed by her business meetings. She willed Jo to drive slower.

  ‘Your treasure hunt is nearly complete / Paris will hold your final clue / At the Eiffel Tower restaurant your prize you will meet / Come for 8pm, do.’

  Amelia stared at the piece of paper in her hands for several minutes before she looked at Jo. ‘This isn’t really a clue,’ she eventually said. ‘It’s more dinner instructions. Have you organised a secret dinner with all of our friends?’

  Jo laughed. ‘If I told you it wouldn’t be a secret,’ she remarked, and as they drove past the state line into Nevada, Amelia felt something deep in her belly that she’d not experienced in a long time: excitement.

  ‘We’re nearly there!’ she exclaimed as she gazed at the mountains to either side of her.

  ‘We are,’ Jo agreed, and then she told her best friend how she’d booked them a spa treatment at the Bellagio before they went for dinner. Amelia instantly forgot about how she didn’t want their trip to end, and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get to the bright lights of the city. Suddenly Las Vegas seemed like the best place in the world to end up.

  Amelia stared up at the glittering, golden replica of the Eiffel Tower and thought how pretty it looked in the dusk. After their spa treatments, Jo had suggested they buy new outfits for dinner – and despite all her recent heartache, Amelia felt pretty for the first time in a long time. Her skin was tanned, her light brown hair had been made golden by the Californian sun, and the black Hervé Léger bandage dress she wore clung to all her curves as if it had been made especially for her. Amelia had teamed the dress with sparkling silver Louboutins that she hadn’t really been able to afford, but when she’d seen them she couldn’t resist – they were a nod to the Calico Ghost Town, and were also a permanent reminder of her road-trip with her best friend.

  ‘I’m going to leave you here,’ Jo announced as she gently touched Amelia’s elbow, and Amelia turned to her in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Where are you going?’

  Out of nowhere, William appeared in a suit, and he grinned at the women. ‘I’m taking my wife for a romantic dinner,’ he said, as if suddenly materializing in Las Vegas was something he did all the time. ‘My mother has flown over for a visit and is looking after Jasper, so I want to make the most of tonight.’

  Jo laughed and quickly kissed Amelia on the cheek. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  As Amelia was led into the Eiffel Tower restaurant she felt as if the butterflies that danced in her stomach could be visible under her tight dress. She paused for a moment to take in the magnificent view, but as she was shown to her table Amelia thought she would faint. For standing there, with a rose in his hand and a hesitant smile on his lips, was Charlie Rutherford. Her Charlie.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Amelia managed to whisper. Charlie was meant to be in London, not in Vegas.

  ‘I wanted to say I was sorry,’ Charlie confessed. He brushed his floppy dark hair away from his face, and even though he’d apologised to Amelia a hundred times before, this was the first time she’d seen sincerity in his hazelnut-coloured eyes. ‘And I wanted to tell you that I love you, and that I’ve been an idiot. You’re the only girl for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
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  Amelia allowed herself to be guided into a chair and for a napkin to be placed on her lap. Before she’d come to LA she would have fallen into Charlie’s arms just to take the pain away, but her road-trip had shown her that she could be strong without him, and that her life had infinite possibilities even if he wasn’t next to her side.

  ‘That’s not enough,’ Amelia said. ‘You’re not willing to settle down with me, and I want to stop partying and to form my own family.’

  Charlie didn’t say anything but reached into his pocket so he could present Amelia with another envelope. It was identical to all the others she’d been given on her treasure hunt.

  ‘Jo and William weren’t behind the treasure hunt at all, were they?’ she murmured, and a flush crept up Charlie’s neck. He shook his head.

  ‘I know I’ve been an idiot, but you need to believe that I was going to give this to you in London. I’d been planning a big romantic gesture for months – but when you ran away to LA I knew I had to do something on an even bigger scale here. Did you like the road trip?’

  Amelia looked up from the envelope. ‘It taught me that I don’t need to be with you,’ she said, and she held Charlie’s gaze.

  ‘That’s good, because you should be with me because you want to be and not for any other reason.’

  Amelia opened the envelope and let out a gasp when she saw what the pieces of paper held.

  ‘What is this?’ she whispered but even as she said the words she knew what this piece of paper represented.

  ‘When you last saw me you accused me of not wanting to settle down with you, but Ames, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I wanted to buy this for you – for us – so I used my savings as a deposit to secure it. This flat in London is ours. Both our names are on the deeds.’

  Amelia’s eyes ran over the estate agents details in her hands: it was a three-bedroom penthouse on the South Bank, exactly the sort of place she’d fantasised about living in.

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’ she whispered.

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ Charlie replied, and he took her hand in his and got down on one knee. This was the moment she’d been waiting for: it was finally here.

  ‘Amelia Gladstone-Denham, will you do me the honour of moving in with me?’ he asked.

  As the golden lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkled next to them, and as the fountains of the Bellagio began their magical dance, Amelia knew what her answer would be.

  She said yes.

  About the Author

  Ilana Fox has written three novels – THE MAKING OF MIA, SPOTLIGHT, and ALL THAT GLITTERS (all Orion Books). Her fourth is due to be published spring 2014. Ilana has worked for the Daily Mail, Telegraph, the Sun, Evening Standard, and ASOS.com. She's also consulted for brands like Topshop, Miss Selfridge and River Island. Ilana is also training to become a competitive rifle shooter.

  Website: www.ilana.xxx

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/IlanaPiglet

  Twitter: @ilana

  Visit the Sunlounger website at www.va-va-vacation.com/ilana-fox

  We have everything you need to make this your Best Summer Ever!

  You can also chat with the authors on the Belinda Jones Travel Club Facebook page.

  Return to the contents list.

  THE VENICE TRAP

  ***

  Victoria Fox

  Destination: Venice, Italy

  Meredith Castille was an easy person to hate. Over a glittering thirty-year career as a Hollywood icon, she had cowed many a co-star, terrified many an interviewer and snubbed many a photographer. Some argued this was how she had reached the stellar heights she had, the kind of hard-ass broad who demanded not just respect but reverence; others that she was a ball-breaking bad-hearted bitch who had it coming.

  Damien Gant watched his girlfriend disembark the Venetian water taxi. Ripples lapped at the boat’s sleek wooden flanks, its bow conker-glossy as it bobbed amid a crop of lagoon poles, jutting from the canal as ragged as corn stalks. A servile Italian helped Meredith step into the sunshine and she thanked him with a precise ‘Grazie,’ flaunting her silk scarf over one shoulder and adjusting her brimmed sunhat.

  ‘Thirty seconds,’ their security informed the teeming crowd of paparazzi, who were out in force ahead of tonight’s Città d’Oro film festival. Cameras clicked and danced, photographers calling the couple’s names and begging for a kiss, a smile, a touch; frantic for the killer snap before the duo disappeared across the Piazza San Marco. Galaxies of stars would be arriving ahead of the glamorous event, a golden keynote in the awards season, but Meredith Castille and her model toy boy were undisputed royalty.

  ‘One more of you together! Beautiful! Bellissimo!’

  Meredith’s grey eyes skimmed across him: a summons. She pulled him up next to her. ‘Smile, will you?’ she slid through gritted teeth.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if I was permitted,’ Damien answered, obeying nonetheless because letting slip any indication of the fight they’d had on the way over would be gravely answered for later on. It was a routine he had become used to. They were forever rowing, obliged to fake it in public with brittle grins and cold, clasped hands. Things had started off well with Meredith – she might be old but she was still a fox – and she had promised him the world, vowing his talents were wasted as a pretty boy and really he was destined for the silver screen. She was the one who could make it happen. He had believed her. Yet all she had done in the months they’d been together was to emasculate him, to corrode him, to keep him as a fucking pet; a pretty accessory she could pick up and put down, proof she still had what it took to snare a younger man. He had been pledged a feast and instead had been thrown only crusts. He couldn’t bear her humiliations, her constant put-downs, her snide belittling.

  Tonight, it ended.

  ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ Meredith’s face pinched its way through the narrow catalogue of expressions still viable after her forays beneath the surgeon’s knife. ‘Anyone would think I had forced you to come.’

  Damien had a flashback to their villa in LA. Meredith, naked from the shower, hair bedraggled, eyes ablaze, hands shaking, screaming:

  ‘If you do not accompany me to Venice I will personally remove that pathetic excuse between your legs and toss it to my dogs, do you understand?’

  Of course Damien had always been set to go with her, had only stalled to throw her off the scent. In any case, such hysterical lashes were more easily absorbed than the ones concerning his longed-for movie career. I’ve told Searchbeam they can look elsewhere… I was forced to put a word in with Neil Carver – I just don’t believe you’re right for the part… No, I haven’t spoken to Krystal Baranski like I said I would… Sorry, that one simply didn’t come off…

  He had tried to get out of the relationship but she had issued the killer threat. If you leave, you can forget all about your precious acting career. Such was the extent of her power: a whisper from Meredith Castille and his dreams were slayed. She was insecure, three times divorced and trapped in a cycle of surgery and shrinks: another desertion would be an embarrassment she could not abide. Last time he had tried to leave she had thrown a vase so close to his head he’d suffered tinnitus for a fortnight.

  A reporter craned in with a microphone. ‘Are you ready for this evening?’ she enthused. ‘Meredith, could the trophy be yours?’

  The trophy… That was all Damien meant to her, all he had ever meant.

  Security steered them away. They were hurried through a gauntlet of tourists and fans, a sea of arms outstretched, and he watched Meredith stop to greet an elite few: as a film star she was consummate, professional, tightly excellent.

  As a girlfriend she was cold, heartless, a poisonous bully.

  A bead of sweat trickled past his ear.

  Oh, yes, he was ready for this evening.

  Damien had a plan. There was only one obstacle to his future – and once she was removed, everything would work out perfectly.

&
nbsp; He checked his watch.

  Meredith Castille had just entered the last twelve hours of her life.

  *

  ‘Isn’t it divine?’

  With a flourish she laid out the Valentino red drape dress that had been designed for the Città d’Oro festivities. For an eternity Meredith had been harping on about this gown – a crimson floor-sweeping swathe with every gem considered, every detail devised, every dip and nip and tuck and fold scrutinised at painstaking weekly meetings, every diet adhered to as insurance against putting on just an ounce of fat. Meredith was to be the most glamorous woman at the ceremony bar none – after all, it was her own movie The Heavenly Ones that had been nominated for a slug of accolades, and she herself was up for Best Actress.

  Damien replied flatly: ‘I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.’ In the same breath he pictured Meredith sprawled on the bedroom floor before the ceremony had even begun, before any of her admirers got to clap eyes on that precious red dress, while the world’s press waited below and the blood spread around her, dark as the material…

  He shivered.

  ‘Damn right I will,’ Meredith muttered, holding the fabric against her as she preened in front of the mirror. She sighed. ‘I think I’ll take a shower.’

  Damien opened the shutters to their suite, looking down over the square in time to see a chaos of pigeon wings take the sky. He lit a cigarette.

  He heard Meredith disappear into the bathroom and lock the door with a neat click. Gone were the days when he might have joined her. She liked to make love when the mood took – quick, to the point, a brutal fuck; like men were supposed to fuck, he thought, not women. She would wonder at his struggle to get hard. Her towering scowl, her muscle grinding on top of his: no warmth and no tenderness, only that sneer and the iron grip of her thighs. Only with you! Damien would be desperate to shout, as she mocked his dying erection, laughing at him, taunting…