by Giulia Skye
He’d already pitched the tent, not that they would be sharing it. Evie had already insisted that she would sleep in the truck because she could easily fit onto the back seat whereas Adam couldn’t. It would only be for a couple of nights anyway and after that, when they were away from the town, they’d be sleeping out under the stars on their mattresses, on opposite sides of the truck, like they’d done the night before.
They said goodbye and Evie walked along the waterfront back to the campground, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of alone-ness. But what was the point in pretending to herself? There was no one else from whom to hide her disappointment because Adam was the only person she knew in Derby, and he’d chosen to do his own thing tonight. She hadn’t been expecting to be having dinner alone, not after such an eventful day. She felt like kicking back with a glass of crisp white wine to toast the start of her next adventure, as if her holidays were beginning all over again.
And there was cause for celebrating too. Earlier, she’d logged on to the visitor center’s Wi-Fi to check her messages and had written back to Zac. She told him his baby was beautiful and wished him well. Maybe it wasn’t a cause for celebration exactly, more a wistful farewell to their fifteen years together, but her cry last night and the view from the outcrop this morning had put everything into perspective, snapping the frayed shackles of their relationship. She let Zac go, her pain eased by her acceptance that he’d moved on, and—more importantly—so had she.
Evie had also emailed her friends back home, as well as Lorraine, telling them all about her new travel plans. She had then submitted her video to Webbo’s site, made a donation and shared the link on Facebook. Her mother was still away at music camp, but Evie had emailed her anyway to say that she would call the day after tomorrow when her mother would be back home. That would also be the day she and Adam would be leaving for Windjana National Park.
On her way back to the campground, Evie stopped to watch a flock of wading birds in the shallows of the mudflats. An old man walking his dog passed by and they exchanged chitchat about the birds while his dog licked her toes. She carried on toward the campground wondering about all the things she and Adam would see and the people they’d meet as they traveled through the Kimberleys. She knew the last of the tours to Darwin were leaving Derby and Broome this weekend—the same tours that had been too full for her to squeeze on to when she’d been investigating her Plan B—and she wondered if her homemade itineraries would coincide with some of the tour buses at the most popular sights.
But once she and Adam went farther into the Kimberleys, would it be just the two of them as the gray nomads had predicted?
“What if we don’t get on?” Adam had asked when they were back on the road to Derby this morning. He was always discussing the negative points of her job offer though she never sensed that he wasn’t keen. At times he looked just as excited as she was about their adventure, but thinking about it now, was she putting too much faith in him? She still knew very little about him.
“We’re both grown-ups,” she’d told him. “I think we can manage to be civil even if we’re getting on each other’s nerves. And besides, when you get to know me, I’m an extremely likable human being.”
He’d smirked at that as if to say the jury was still out, but she knew he’d been teasing.
When she reached the campground, she set about checking the food supplies she’d bought earlier making sure they had enough for several days, though she knew there was probably enough for several weeks. She’d bought plenty of staples, flour, powdered milk, pasta, rice, oats, and what Adam had calculated as a million cans of vegetables, beans, lentils and fruit.
As daylight began to fade, Evie locked the truck and made her way back to the wharf for sunset. She stepped to the side at the entrance as a convoy of four-wheel drives passed her by. New arrivals to the almost empty campground which, like the Camel’s Back in Broome, would have been crammed full if this were peak season.
She got to the wharf and saw that it was busier now than it had been earlier. People strolled up and down or simply leaned over the railings like she and Adam had done that afternoon. She looked around for him wondering if he’d come to see the sunset too but he hadn’t. On the wharf the railings were silhouetting black against the orange sky and she could hear the water swirling louder beneath her. The tide had come in.
The sky was streaked gold and silver, then turned a deep red as the sun slipped into the sea. When only a dark purple strip of sky remained above the horizon, Evie walked back to the campground; the last strains of daylight fading as she reached the entrance. Her stomach rumbled. She unlocked the truck, glanced through all the supplies her money had bought and wondered what meal she could cook for one.
After emailing his accountants and talking to his lawyers about his divorce and his defense against Saskia’s defamation, Adam started googling himself and, as always, wished he hadn’t.
FEARS GROW FOR EX-OLYMPIAN
Urgh.
Adam glanced around the internet café to check if anyone had heard him groan. There were only two other people in here and both were plugged in to headphones, staring at their own screens. He read on.
The troubled ex-Olympian was last seen ten days ago in Port Douglas, Queensland, in what eyewitnesses called a shocking bout of rage when the usually mild-mannered record-breaker punched a photographer outside the luxurious Sheraton Grand Mirage, sparking further fears that Adams is experiencing what his estranged wife has called an “acute nervous breakdown”. Former Miss Canada, Saskia Williams, currently the face of Strive Sportwear for Women, has separated from Adams, her husband of only five months, admitting that his “extreme mood swings” had often caused her to leave their Shaw Tower apartment for several days at a time. “He needs help,” she told a close friend. “The sooner he comes home, the sooner we can all help him recover.” Sports anchorman, Bobby Adams, has refused to comment on his son’s whereabouts.
Adam ground his teeth together. He should have known blackmailing Saskia would backfire. It had started out with him wanting to make her realize that she needed help, that there was never a happy ending to the type of lifestyle she was living.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she’d screamed. “You’ve got too much to lose.”
But she hadn’t taken into account that he no longer cared whether he lost it or not. The fame and the money, they weren’t important to him and in his desire to make her see sense, he’d only thought about what he’d be leaving behind, not what he’d be creating.
And the morning he’d left Vancouver, the single tweet he’d posted had created a media shitball-spouting monster—one that had bred and multiplied. He realized now that he’d given Saskia more media attention than any of the schemes her highly paid assistants could ever conjure up—and to think that there’d once been a time when he thought the only PR stunt to top their wedding would be their divorce.
Saskia’s breath stinks of old eggs and cocktails in the morning.
#StayOffTheSaskiaDietGirls #GetFitInstead
Saskia’s lawyers could twist the tweet whichever way they wanted and call it defamation of character, but in Adam’s world, it was the truth. An empty stomach will cause bad breath to any hungry woman, no matter how beautiful she is, and the more weight-obsessed teenage girls who knew the truth about Saskia’s bad eating habits and alcoholism the better. Saskia was a role model. Together they’d become a brand built on healthy, active living—the beautiful and fit people—and yet she ate leaves and air and bathed in frickin’ vodka. It just wasn’t right.
Adam’s thoughts dashed back to his last week in Vancouver. Howie scheduling in another photo shoot, another magazine interview, another studio recording where he had to act like Saskia’s devoted husband, loving his life. He’d gone through that last recording—a tacky panel show where the rich and famous reeled off their best and worst habits—and thought, I don’t want this anym
ore. He hated the makeup on his face, hated sweating under bright lights. Hated having to laugh and smile when all he wanted to do was scream.
He’d left the after-studio party as soon as the audience and autograph hunters had cleared outside, giving the excuse of an early engagement the next day. He’d had to kiss Saskia goodbye. “Lay off the booze,” he’d whispered in her ear, but later that night he’d found her on the bathroom floor anyway, unconscious from too many cocktails and not enough food. Again.
He’d already told her the week before that he wanted out of their agreement, but she hadn’t taken him seriously—and neither had his father, whom he’d caught, two days later, riding Macie the new PA, like a bronco. They hadn’t seen him standing in the doorway, hadn’t heard him simply backing out of his apartment as quietly as he’d walked in—as if walking into that had been the most natural thing ever.
When had his world gotten so crazy?
And was it any wonder that amidst the madness around him, he hadn’t anticipated Saskia turning the tables on him so spectacularly? Now he was the one who needed help. Now he was the one with the problem.
You’ve got too much to lose.
Yeah, and now he realized exactly what he had to lose—and so had Saskia. Not the money or the reputation. She was gunning for something way more important, his privacy.
His eyes caught another headline.
EX-OLYMPIAN IMPOTENT CLAIMS WIFE SASKIA
He massaged the back of his neck where his muscles pinched. Just give it up, Saskia. But he knew she wouldn’t. Not until she had his balls on a fucking plate.
Just then his phone, plugged in to the PC to charge, vibrated and he saw Howie’s name on the display. Adam glanced around. One of the other internet users was talking in her native tongue, staring at her screen. And the other looked to be deep into an email, two-finger typing at speed. Adam turned his back to them.
“Howie,” he drawled. “So nice of you to call.”
“I’ve been calling you constantly, you bag of shit.”
“Yeah, it’s cold here, too, and I think they said it’ll rain tomorrow. I wish I’d chosen somewhere sunnier for my vacation.”
“Cut the crap, Mikey. Where are you?”
“I’m kicking back, Howie. Where are you?”
“I’m with your father.”
Adam sat straighter. “Well, give him my regards.”
“Give them to him yourself.”
“What the hell, Michael?” His father’s voice came on the line. He was using his hard business tone, the one he used with Howie when he negotiated Michael’s deals. Howie handled the legal side of things, but his father still managed his career and his endorsement and sponsorship deals. All Michael had to do was turn up. That had been the deal. “Is this all about me not taking you to Disneyland when you were a kid?”
Adam sighed. “Yeah, Dad, it is.”
“You can still save this, Michael,” his father continued, unmoved by the sarcasm. “Saskia’s bounty is creating a worldwide stir. Get found, get home, get back together with her. This is gold dust.”
“Gold dust? For you maybe, but not for me.” His father was a well-known sportscaster and Adam knew the media frenzy wasn’t doing Bobby Adams’s popularity any harm. In fact, his father’s career had really taken off this past year, piggybacking on the sensation of the Saskia-Michael whirlwind love affair.
“Stick it out with Saskia,” his father was saying. “The deals are going to be pouring in as soon as you return. In a few months, she gets to end it, and you can move on with your life. That makes more sense than whatever you’re doing now.”
Adam cut the call, wishing he’d done it sooner.
If he were one of those argumentative, confrontational people who enjoyed tearing others to shreds, he’d rip his father apart. He’d list all of his father’s fuck-ups, dating back years: walking out on his mother, taking him away from Edmonton, telling him to “stop dicking around” whenever he felt the absence of his mother. And then into adulthood, his father’s women, his love of the limelight, and the money that came pouring in. His assumption that his son should love it too.
But Adam just wasn’t cut out for that type of brutal honesty. Better to act like it didn’t matter than own up to the truth. What would his father do with that truth anyway? He wouldn’t change his ways or apologize. He wouldn’t acknowledge that maybe there was the possibility his son was tired of putting himself in the limelight and just wanted to be left alone.
Adam’s phone vibrated with another call, but he ignored it and turned back to his screen. Tomorrow, he’d buy a new phone and text Shane the number. It’s what he should have done the day he became Adam. God, he was slow. Slow to think, slow to act. He’d never been outstandingly good at school, but he could see now just how much his brain had turned to mush since he’d stopped competing.
Frank, his coach, had been right. Someone like Michael Adams needed the competition to keep going. He needed to have a goal. “What you gonna do now, Mikey?” Frank had shouted at him. “You can’t retire without a plan. You can’t just stop!” But then came the TV appearances—and of course, Saskia—and it was only now that the ground had cleared enough for him to think clearly again.
Pushing his memories of retirement aside, as well as his issues with his father, Adam refined his internet search to stories of the bounty. The only true sighting he could see of himself was from five days ago in Perth, a blurry snapshot of him at the airport. He reminded himself that he’d be safe, deep in the Kimberleys where the mounting heat of mid-October was beginning to keep out most of the tourists. And he’d have Evie by his side. She blended in and unlike Saskia, wasn’t the type to draw a crowd.
He texted Shane an update of his travel plans, and as he waited for a reply, Adam clicked away the stories of his old life and instead began to research the places Evie had mentioned she wanted to see in the Kimberleys. He scrolled through image after image, one gorge looking pretty much like all the others to him, not that he cared. The plan was to keep out of reach from Saskia’s cyberclaws. He’d have his vacation. He’d have a rest. Spend time with Shane and Krista and hopefully start to regain control of his life.
The phone vibrated when Shane replied.
Great idea re Kimberleys tour. Adam and Eve? Did you make her up?
It’s Evie. And no, she’s real.
Is she hot?
Despite his low mood, Adam smiled.
Are we sixteen again?
Krista wants to know.
“Yeah, right,” Adam muttered to himself. His fingers paused over the keypad, choosing the best words to describe Evie. If he went for the physical, Shane would get the wrong idea, and it didn’t seem right or appropriate to sum her up in terms of big brown eyes, pert behind, lovely smile.
She’s from England.
He wanted to add something else about her, like what she did for a living, or which part of England she was from, but he didn’t know.
She’s normal. No fuss.
Shane replied.
Zzzzzz …
Adam smiled again.
Zzzzz is what I need right now, but no, she’s cool.
He looked up and saw that it was already dark outside. He’d missed the sunset and imagined Evie standing on the wharf watching it by herself.
Say hey to Krista. I’ll be in touch tomorrow with a new number. Howie and my dad are wearing this one out.
He signed off with Shane, then paid the dude behind the counter for the internet time and walked to the campground along the waterfront path. It was just one straight road. The sea was dark and the wide streets dimly lit, and he wondered if the campground would be too. He’d noticed it had been almost empty when they’d arrived but nothing like the rough camping they’d done last night. They were in the middle of town here, not in the middle of the bush. Evie’s eyes wouldn’t be widen
ing at the slightest sound, she wouldn’t be scrutinizing shadows in the scrubland.
Either way, she was most probably fast asleep by now, curled up on the back seat.
But just in case she wasn’t, he quickened his pace.
CHAPTER 14
Adam heard the shouting first.
And then the music.
The noise was coming from the opposite corner of the campground where people gathered around a camp barbecue. He looked in the truck searching for Evie, but it was empty and so was his tent. He raised his head as another roar of cheers went up, and a choir of male voices belted out what sounded like a well-known chorus. Adam pursed his lips. She was there, he thought. Right in the middle of the party.
So much for her being curled up on the back seat.
He’d leave her to it, then. He’d have a shower then lie in his tent, aim for sleep and try to forget the evening he’d just had.
But all his stuff was in the truck, which was locked and Evie still had the keys.
The delightful smell of barbecuing meat reached his nostrils. He looked across the campground, weighing up his options. Approach a party of strangers or lie in his own sweat? Wash and change, or fall asleep in his clothes for the second night running? Get depressed by his own company or spend a few minutes with Evie?
Adam ambled across the campground, telling himself he’d only chosen Evie because he needed the distraction, and she had a habit of making him forget who he was. He got nearer to the party, keeping to the shadows as he surveyed the scene. A light had been rigged to the campground’s power supply, along with what looked like an iPod deck and speakers which were perched on a canvas stool.
The barbecue sizzled with meat being poked with a fork by a guy wearing only Bermuda shorts. Discarded plates were piled to one side next to several empty bottles of beer and wine. Adam spotted Evie leaning against the hood of a four-wheel drive, similar to his own, with one of the tall plastic beakers she’d bought earlier that afternoon in her hand. Her head tilted and swayed as she talked. The older woman next to her whispered something in her ear which made them both burst out laughing. They clinked beakers in whatever toast had just been made, and Evie chose that moment to look in his direction.