Clusterf*ck

by Ash Harlow

  I pace the garden with my phone held above my head desperate to find a signal, and finish up walking to the top of the bald spur. Prue’s phone goes straight to voicemail, and Jake’s does the same.

  Returning to the house, composing an email in my head, I’m relieved that Reuben remains at work on his song. I want this issue sorted and settled before I confess.

  I type up the email, tweaking and editing until I believe I have the best wording to get them to delete the image and not ask further questions.

  My phone goes within minutes of the email.

  I tap the screen, hold it to my ear and cross my fingers. “Hi, Prue—”

  “What do you mean we can’t have that image?”

  “It’s private. It was sent to you in error.”

  “We want it. I’ve got two people already who want to buy it. Big collector in the US, Stella. Don’t blow this opportunity.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “No. I’m sorry Prue, it can’t happen.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Jake!”

  He’s obviously right there because he’s on the phone immediately. “Stella, sweetheart, what’s up with the photo?”

  “You can’t have him. I’m sorry.”

  “Why don’t you check with the guy. I’m sure he’d be flattered to be in this exhibition.”

  Oh, no he wouldn’t. “You don’t understand. I don’t have a model release form signed.”

  “Then get one.”

  “He won’t sign. It’s taken on private property. You can’t have it.”

  “Sort it for us, Stella. It’s your once-in-a-lifetime shot. Everything rides on that photo. Without it, you’ve got landscapes after a storm. That photo completes the series. If we can’t have it, there are a couple of shots we can hang, but not for the exhibition.”

  “I’m telling you, he won’t sign.”

  “You’ll talk him around. Call us back by five.”

  The phone goes dead, and I hurl it across the yard. No, I’m not the kind of person given to tantrums and slamming doors, but that felt good. It felt like I had control for a second as it flew through the air. Take that, phone.

  When I turn, I discover Reuben standing in the doorway.

  13 ~ REUBEN

  “How’s the song coming along?” Stella asks.

  Her face is tight and anxious. I didn’t hear her phone conversation, but the way she threw her phone suggests the news from the gallery wasn’t good. I walk across the yard, pick it up, brush the dirt off and hand it back to her. She hasn’t moved from her stiff leg stance on the veranda.

  “The song’s good. I’m really happy with how it’s coming along. How about you? What did the gallery say?”

  “They like the images. They want to put them in their annual exhibition where they showcase up-and-coming artists. Mine will be the only photos, the others are paintings and sculpture.”

  She’s hiding something. “So, the part where you tossed your favourite toy there, what was that about?”

  “We can’t agree on which images to use.”

  I keep watching her, because I get the feeling that’s not what’s truly bothering her. Then her face crumples and she lowers her gaze to the ground. Fuck that. If those gallery people have upset her, I’ll call in a fucking helicopter and get up to Auckland and make it right.

  By the time I gather Stella into my arms, she’s crying. Jesus, that’s the last thing I thought I’d see. I lead her to a daybed and pull her down with me.

  She’s sucking in big breaths, trying to stop the tears, and the more it goes on, the more anxious I become. Maybe it’s not the gallery that’s upsetting her. Maybe it’s something to do with her granddad.

  “Stella, please, babe, tell me what’s wrong.”

  A few breaths later she’s more composed, but then she tries to push away from me. She’s not going anywhere until I find out what or who made her cry. I hold her tight, lift the hem of my T-shirt and wipe her face clear.

  “I’ve done something terrible,” she announces.

  “Okay. Well, you probably didn’t, but I can’t tell until you give me more details.”

  “I, um…” She clears her throat. Her voice is all messy from crying. “That photo of you…the one you wanted for the album. I put it in my personal folder—well, I thought I had. Reuben…I accidentally put it in the gallery folder and sent it to them.”

  I go cold. My cover’s blown, and shit will rain down, and fucking paps and groupies will be all over the island in days. The last sanctuary on earth is about to be ruined. I’m trying to stay calm, trying to breathe through it.

  Stella’s still speaking, but I can hardly hear over the roar in my ears.

  “…I’ve betrayed you. I’m so sorry. It was an honest mistake and I never meant to do it.”

  I know she never meant to do it. I have to believe that she wouldn’t break my trust. “We’ll get it back. What have you told them?”

  “I’ve told them I have no model release form and that they can’t have it.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” I cannot get the hard edge out of my voice, and I can feel Stella stiffen in my arms.

  “They won’t exhibit my pictures without it. They say it ties everything together.”

  Fuck, so now I hold her big break opportunity in my hands. “Stella, babe, I’m sorry, but they can’t have it. You understand why.”

  “I know. And I don’t want them to have it. It’s private. It’s not for anyone to see.”

  Fresh tears look imminent, and I can’t stand to see that. “Tell them it’s sold. And tell them I will sue if they don’t confirm they’ve deleted the image.”

  Stella nods, pushes off my lap and walks inside. I follow her through to the bedroom, astounded as she takes her holdall bag and starts stuffing things into it.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I expect you want me out of here. I’ll go back to Granddad’s cottage.”

  I take the holdall off the bed and empty the clothes on the floor, tossing the bag to the corner. “You’re not going anywhere. Come on, we both need to settle. Let’s take a walk.”

  I find her hat among the mess I’ve made of her clothes and pull it over her head. She’s so sad. I’m uptight, but I’ll be able to walk it off. Taking her hand, I lead her out of the house and down to the beach.

  “I’ve ruined everything, Reuben, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  “We’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.” We get down to the shore and walk along the sand. I keep squeezing her hand until I get a response back. That’s better.

  “It’s hard for me to explain to you if you’ve never experienced it, but if the media find out I’m here you can guarantee this pretty little bay will be filled with boats and jerks aiming their zoom lenses at us any time we venture outside. If there’s one thing the paps love, it’s revealing a secret hideaway. You’ll be dragged through the kind of muck I live with, and our relationship will be under constant scrutiny. It could go either way for your career, but it will be difficult for you to achieve the honest acclaim you deserve because everything will be appended with my name.

  “We’ll be under siege in the house, our world ever-shrinking behind drawn curtains because they’ll become bored by the lack of activity. They’ll be on the beach, then up around the house. It will be unbearable. I’m accustomed to it. This is my territory. I don’t have to like it, but I do have to live with it. But it’s not you, Stella, and you’ll fucking hate it. You’re so fresh and pure and untainted by all that bullshit. I want to protect you from all of that.”

  She shivers, and I wrap her in my arms, scared a new bout of tears is imminent.

  “Do you hear me, sweetheart? It’s you I want to protect…and us. The groupies, they freaking love it. They want their moment in the sun, hoping some of the celebrity rubs off on them on the off-chance that someone will pick them up and make some kind of offer—a reality show, a paid tell-all interview—anything
will do. They slow down for the cameras and wave, or pout. It’s so unreal. What we have here, this is real.”

  “But it’s not real, Reuben. We’re on an island, cut off from the world. And look how easy it has been to unintentionally give the secret away. I know we can’t stay like this. I know that soon you’ll have to go back to your life. I just hope I haven’t ruined that for you. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you’re sorry, and I don’t want to hear you say that again. It was a mistake. Got it, cracker?”

  Finally, she smiles.

  I tip her chin up to me, holding it until she meets my eyes. “You’ve been the best thing that’s happened here. The only way you could ruin it would be by leaving.”

  “Yeah, well, about that. I have to go to Auckland to do some work.”

  “Okay,” I say. My throat tightens. I don’t want her to go, but I don’t want to interfere with her work. “Ah, how long will that take?”

  “It’s not something I can rush, Reuben. A few days, maybe a week.”

  I can deal with a week. I’ll get a lot of work done, and then Stella will be back. I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve shifted from being annoyed at her being here in the first instance, to this thing where I want her with me all of the time.

  She turns for the house. “I have to call the gallery by five. I’d better get back.”

  I pour Stella a glass of wine while she makes her call. She’s out on the veranda, and I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can tell by her body language that it’s not going well. She finishes the call and flops onto the daybed, so I take the wine out to her.

  She’s twirling her phone in circles on the table. “They’ve agreed to delete the photo, but they’ve rescinded the invitation to the exhibition.”

  “Then they’re assholes. They’re trying to bully you, Stella. Find another gallery.”

  “I don’t have any choice. This is a small country. There aren’t any other decent galleries that will take me. Especially once word gets out Prue and Jake dropped me. Prue warned me I’d get a reputation for being ‘difficult’ and nobody would deal with me.”

  “Jesus. What is it with the non-creative gatekeepers who deal with artists? Why can’t they be a little more nurturing and a little less greedy?”

  Stella sips her wine. “They said they’d look at the prints when I’ve done them. Who knows, I might be okay. They’d already sent out a sneak peek to some of their overseas clients who’d shown interest in other work I’d produced. It sold well. In the first phone call, Prue said she had overseas interest. I’ll make my prints and take it from there. I guess at the end of the day I can shove the pictures up on some stock photography site and see if I can sell any.”

  “Don’t do that, Stella. The album cover is a year away. I’m sorry, that’s the speed we work at. But once it’s out, you’ll have labels at your door wanting your services. And I can pay you for those images right away.”

  “You’re unbelievably kind. If this gallery door closes, it must be because a better one is about to open.” Her mouth breaks into a smile. “I don’t want to be on this downer anymore. Put the wine away and come with me, I need to hunt. I’m going to find us something delicious for dinner.”

  Right there, the fact that she’s had a major disappointment, yet she’s prepared to push through it, is so refreshing. No moping for days, no tantrums. Her glass is still full, and I return the wine to the fridge.

  “Meet me at the shed,” she calls out.

  The shed. I smile. It’s a treasure chest in there. All of Stella’s toys and much of her magic lives in that shed.

  When I get there she has a full wetsuit on. It’s unzipped to the waist, the top half hanging off her. She’s wearing a sweater over the bikini she’s changed into. She hands me an old burlap sack, and a broad webbing belt threaded with lead weights. Then she gathers together flippers, a snorkel and mask, and some sort of snare arrangement.

  “Hopefully, Reuben, we’re having lobsters, for dinner.”

  “I’ll marry for lobsters,” I say. It sounds like a tease, but I’m not that certain.

  We walk together to the eastern shore through a narrow track in the bush.

  “You know, cracker, you’re not doing a lot for my machismo by constantly being the hunter-gatherer in this partnership.”

  “I think you caught the biggest fish the other night.”

  “After you showed me how to work the rod and reel. Are all New Zealand women Amazons?”

  “Every one of us. Nah, just kidding, but I can take you pig-hunting if you’re comfortable with a Bowie knife.”

  “I hope you’re joking.” To be honest, I can easily picture Stella in camo gear, stalking through the thick bush, carrying a knife between her teeth.

  “Yeah, I am. There’s a reason I don’t eat meat.”

  “I’ve seen you eat meat. In fact, I’ve felt you eat meat.”

  “So crude, Rueben.” She nudges me. “Anyway, I didn’t chew.”

  “You all but inhaled. It was amazing.”

  “I was hungry,” she counters.

  We’ve made it to a rocky part of the coastline. I help Stella into the confines of her wetsuit and zip it up.

  “That’s a fucking ugly piece of clothing, Stella. This better be worth it, because I hate looking at you in that. It hides your sexy body.” My hand dives to her neoprene-covered pussy. “You can’t even feel that, can you?”

  “I feel your intent,” she says. “It’s enough…for now.”

  She pulls on her flippers, drops off the rocks and vanishes. You have no idea how my heart reacts to the sight of Stella disappearing into the thick kelp.

  She pops up again a few seconds later, blowing water from her snorkel like some sort of sea mammal, and points to where she’s going.

  I hate this.

  She vanishes for up to a minute, then pops up where I’m not expecting her. I don’t know how long she should be down there, and when I should be calling up the rescue services.

  After what feels like a week of torture, she comes ashore, pushing her way through the kelp. She makes some crazy roaring sound through her snorkel, then raises her arm to show me her catch.

  Two beautiful angry lobsters.

  I have never met anyone like her before in my life. She stuns me. I think she could live on this island and be completely self-sufficient. By my heart and soul, I want to do that with her.

  14 ~ STELLA

  I’m on my hands and knees on the bed. Reuben is behind me, his fingers digging into my ass, holding me wide as his tongue slides through my folds. Time has gone somewhere else. I exist as a quivering mass, reacting only to the long licks and murmurs he makes, telling me how beautiful I am, how sweet I taste. Whenever he strikes my clit my hips buck.

  My heart pounds in my ears, my breathing is ragged. I’m making begging sounds that are ignored. Finally, I get the reward of a finger in my pussy, and I clamp down on it. It’s not enough. I’ve become used to being stretched by his magnificent cock, and my pussy demands that now.

  “Please, Reuben,” I can scarcely get the words out between groans. “Please, fuck me now.”

  His chuckle vibrates through my pussy as he continues to lick and suck. Eventually, I’m allowed some relief with a second finger, pushing and curling inside me. It’s heaven.

  “Yes, Reuben, more,” I say, rocking against him. I’m so close, my orgasm hovering at an edge I’m about to reach, when he stops. “Nooo.”

  “Shh, don’t complain. You’re going to come around my cock while I’m fucking you, hard, deep, deeper than you’ve ever taken me.”

  His hand slides up my spine, clasps my head and pushes it to the bed. He lies over my back, his erection digging into my thigh. My head’s turned, I’m resting on one cheek, and he kisses my neck, my shoulder, along my jawline and up to my ear. His breath is hot as he whispers to me, telling me how hard he’s going to fuck me, what it feels like for him when his cock is buried in my cunt. His words are dirty, and exc
iting. I moan, telling him that’s what I want.

  “Please, Reuben…now.”

  “Now, what?”

  The fat head of his cock is at my entrance, and I try to ease back on him, but he draws his hips back, and continues to tease me.

  “Fuck me, now.”

  He’s still kissing my ear, whispering to me. “So impatient, Stella. Such a hungry pussy you have that always needs filling. I’m going to write a song about it. About its heat, and how wet and tight it is. I’ll write it in code, and when I sing it, I expect you to be in front of the stage, getting wet and ready for me. Is that what you want? An Ode to Stella’s Ravenous Pussy?”

  I giggle and groan. He’s pressing lightly at my entrance now, and pulling away.

  “It’s about to die of starvation,” I warn him. “Nobody wants a song about a starving pussy.”

  “I’ll never let you go hungry, Stella. I’m always ready for you. Ready to take care of your precious cunt.”

  His hand comes to my shoulder, gripping tight, holding me in place as he drives into me. He makes good on his promise and fucks me hard. Relentless. The hand staying on my shoulder, the other drifting across my belly and down between my legs to play with my clit.

  I’m held tight against him, moving with his thrusts. His mouth is at my neck, kissing, nipping, and my body is a wreck of conflicting sensations.

  We climb together, summit our peak at the same time with loud cries, our names thrown at each other like bullets.

  His pierces my heart.

  Sex with Reuben is always intense. He draws it out, playing me like a song he doesn’t want to end. This time, though, eclipses anything we’ve done before.

  We collapse together among tangled sheets, and sleep, still connected by his cock that never seems to tire.

  We wake just before midnight. The moon is full and Reuben pulls me from the bed.

  “Come on, let’s eat in the moonlight.”