‘Yeah, promo clip,’ I say lamely.
The clip-clop of heels on tiles saves me from having to say any more. Carly’s returned. ‘Carly, darling, don’t worry. I’ve kept your seat warm for you,’ says Jack. He winks at Carly in a way that he must presume to be cute and rubs his hand over the chair she was sitting on. Carly doesn’t return his wink but instead gives him a tight smile and totters over towards him.
My lip curls; Carly Chu might be a bit of a bitch, but Jack Peaks is more than a bit of a creep.
‘Did you miss me?’ says Jack, in a failed attempt at a whisper. ‘You even look different, since I last saw you,’ he continues, brushing one of his fingers along her bare arm. Carly’s head whips around to stare at him, the air of arrogance she was carrying gone in a flash.
‘I’d better go catch this,’ says Daniel, slipping away from me, his camera held in front of him.
‘What are you talking about? Did I miss you?’ Carly snaps. I shouldn’t be watching them but there’s something in their exchange that intrigues me; I can’t look away.
‘Yeah, darling,’ drawls Jack. And I thought I was drunk? Jack is something else right now. ‘Did you miss me when you were gone?’
‘Gone where?’ Carly, pale to begin with, is now white as a sheet as if Jack’s words have drained the blood from her. Jack stares at her; a half-smile lingers on his lips, his eyes aren’t quite in focus.
‘Oh, Carly, darling, I’m sure there’s more going up in that noggin than you give yourself credit for.’ He taps a finger to her temple. I prod Mo’s leg under the table and nod in their direction. I’m convinced a fight is about to break out.
‘Jack, I…?’ stutters Carly, her reaction more frightened than anything else. If Jack had tapped me on the head like that I’d have had him in a headlock seconds later.
‘I was asking if you’d missed me when you were in the toilet,’ says Jack, furrowing his brow. Carly’s shoulders drop, and she exhales loudly. ‘It was only my little joke,’ he says, lamely.
‘Well, I’d leave the jokes to someone else and stick to selling houses,’ snaps Carly, twisting her body away from him and towards Valentina.
‘Carly. Carly. Babe.’ Jack is practically shouting now. ‘Babe, don’t turn sour on me. Here, a toast.’
Jack raises his glass in one hand and with the other grasps Carly’s elbow, raising her glass. ‘To the best-looking couple on this island.’ Jack clinks his glass against hers and then downs it in one gulp. What he doesn’t seem to notice is that Carly is looking at him as if she could kill him.
Chapter Nine
Saturday 26th July, 20:00
It must be well into the evening now and the alcohol has wrapped its way around my senses. The sun hasn’t quite set but it’s on its descent and the noises of the forest change and grow as if the dayshift creatures clock off and are replaced with the night shift. The garden is lit by lamps dotted haphazardly around it. In the semi-darkness the light from them does nothing to illuminate but instead draws monsters in the shadows and I can’t help but think how easy it would be to hide in those shadows. The surface of the swimming pool is smooth now, absent of even a ripple, for this evening, unlike the day, is still and calm. The change in the weather is the complete inverse to the change in the Islanders and their behaviour.
‘Wahey,’ cheers Jack, raising his arms up in mock celebration. He dives forward, grabs one of the bottles of wine and replenishes his drained glass. ‘Go on,’ he shouts, stabbing a finger at us each in turn.
‘What?’ I ask, taken aback by suddenly being addressed by him. ‘I missed that.’
‘Finish it,’ shouts Jack from across the table. ‘I want to get the games started soon.’ He laughs raucously as if he’s just made a joke. ‘Glass is still full, mate,’ he says, raising his eyebrows at Mo and jabbing a finger towards him. Jack is too busy looking at Mo to notice that Sophia, Daniel and his camera have moved closer to him. Poor Jack, he seems to be having a fantastic time, but he is making a bit of an arse of himself.
Mo’s lip curls. ‘And by games, I presume you mean drinking games.’ Disdain saturates every word, making my body tense. I don’t know what it is with these two but they seem to have been at each other’s throats all night. ‘They’re not really my thing, mate. Much prefer to just enjoy this delicious glass of Tempranillo.’
Jack’s ears flush red and he plonks his elbows on the table, leaning in towards Mo.
‘Mo, is it?’ says Jack.
‘Yeah, we were introduced about nine hours ago,’ replies Mo. Our group is silent now, all watching the exchange between the two men. Daniel raises his hand slowly and twiddles with something on his camera, probably zooming in. Of course he wants to get this; I get the impression Jack is about to make quite the performance.
‘Your face is so familiar, mate,’ says Jack. Mo flinches in the way it is only possible to do when someone you don’t know or greatly dislike calls you ‘mate’. It’s how I feel when men call me ‘sweetheart’. ‘Where d’you live?’ Jack’s words run together; he is slurring quite noticeably now.
‘Birmingham,’ replies Mo, turning to his right, towards me. I look from Mo to Jack, and Jack’s expression tells me he isn’t giving up that easily.
‘Nah, can’t be that, mate. Never been to Birmingham.’ Jack’s voice increases in volume every time he speaks. ‘You didn’t ever live in Essex, did you?’
‘No.’ Mo is practically snarling now, and I draw back from him, surprised at his vitriol. Good God, is Jack really so oblivious he can’t recognise that this isn’t something Mo wants to talk about?
‘Do you work?’
‘Of course I work, I’ve already told you I’m a chef.’ Mo pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘Look, man,’ he continues. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re confusing me with someone else. It wouldn’t be the first time. I have one of those faces.’ Mo turns his body away, again towards me.
Come on, Jack, take a hint.
‘What about—’
‘Just leave it, for fuck’s sake,’ I interject, unable to take it any longer; it’s excruciating to watch. ‘Stop being so bloody nosy.’
Everyone turns to look at Jack, waiting for his reaction to being shut down like this. He flops back in his seat and stares at me for a moment. I stare back at him, holding my breath. Then he roars with laughter. ‘Feisty one, you are,’ he says, giving me a wink. I exhale.
Jack twizzles to his left and launches himself into conversation with Valentina. Valentina’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback at this sudden change in focus. Mo’s jaw relaxes, and he leans closer to me.
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘What is his problem?’
‘He’s just a bit drunk. Plus, he probably likes making you uncomfortable because it makes him look better.’
‘Oh yeah, so he can impress the ladies,’ scoffs Mo. ‘He seems like such a creep.’
At Mo’s words, Jack’s head whips round so fast I can almost feel the movement of air.
‘What did you call me?’ he barks at Mo.
Valentina leans away, trying to get as far away from Jack as she can within the confines of her seat. Mo’s mouth flaps lamely but no words come out; he clearly didn’t expect Jack’s reaction to be this and it looks like he is regretting saying anything. Carly, sitting on Jack’s other side, poorly suppresses a smirk; she seems to be enjoying all this drama.
‘I am not a creep,’ says Jack, banging his hand on the table, making the cutlery clang against our empty plates. ‘And I won’t have you accusing me of anything.’
Jack goes to rise from his seat but Sophia, the assistant producer, appears out of nowhere and places a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
‘Cool it, Jack,’ she says and crouches forward to whisper something in his ear. I can only assume she got the shot she wanted if she is stopping the fight now.
Jack nods as she speaks and then says, ‘Sorry, mate, took it the wrong way.’ Mo gives him a pained smile and locks eyes with Sophia. I’m not sure if it is my i
magination but I swear she gives him a tiny head bob and with it she turns around and leaves. Chatter resumes almost immediately but I don’t join it instantly. Instead, I look from Mo to Jack and back again. Both men seemed to know the right buttons to push in one another and I can’t help wondering what they’re both hiding.
Chapter Ten
Saturday 26th July, 21:00
I’ve lost all track of time. My body warms and unwinds as the alcohol courses through it. I throw my head back and laugh at something Daniel says to me. I’m not even sure that what he said was funny. But I’m drunk now, so it was funny.
I place a hand on my belly; it has swollen slightly owing to the large quantity I’ve eaten but this food is so worth the food baby. Living alone, I rarely cook for myself and I can’t afford takeaways regularly. My go-to dinner is usually a microwave meal or, if I’m in the mood to prepare it, pasta and a jar of sauce.
I stand up and, with a lot of clattering, collect everyone’s plates. It’s the least I can do given how much trouble Mo has gone to. Valentina rises to help and between us we manage to clear the table of a significant amount of the debris that has collected during our first meal. As the two of us walk to the kitchen, carrying a dangerous amount in our arms, I realise that I haven’t had much interaction with Valentina so far. The petite blonde has a standoffish vibe but there’s a softness to the woman’s eyes that makes me think she is shy, not rude.
‘What are you thinking so far?’ I ask her as we load the dishwasher.
‘About what?’ she replies, slamming the dishwasher shut.
‘About LoveWrecked, the villa, the others.’ I say the last word in a whisper; I’m not really interested in hearing her bitch about our fellow Islanders at this stage, but I am intrigued about what she thinks. From what I’ve gathered of her up to now, she is different to your typical Islander.
‘I’m thinking…’ says Valentina, biting her lip, ‘that I’m not the right fit for this show.’
‘In what way?’ Though I’ve sort of been thinking it too, I didn’t expect her to say this nor did I expect the sad tone with which Valentina said it.
She shrugs. ‘I’m shy, and while I know I’m not unattractive, my general look is quite different from the typical contestant they go for.’ She looks me and my tiny dress up and down. ‘No offence.’
‘None taken.’
‘And…’ Valentina glances over her shoulder before leaning in closer to me. ‘I actually hate this show. Always thought it was a pile of shit filled with vacuous individuals in search of fame.’
I chuckle. ‘You’re not entirely wrong about the last part.’
‘But then, I’m not much better than them, not really. I’m trying to make it in the music industry. What about you? Why are you here?’
‘I guess, I had nothing better to do,’ I say, truthfully.
‘I’ll drink to that. Though I probably shouldn’t, I haven’t had too much tonight but I’m feeling really drunk.’ Despite this, Valentina shrugs, strides to the fridge and collects a cold bottle of vodka. Filling two glass tumblers with enough vodka to strip a wall of its paint, she holds one out to me. ‘Cheers,’ she says, raising her glass then downing it in one.
I’m impressed; Valentina manages to make shooting vodka look classy. I follow suit, gasping as the clear liquid slips down my throat.
Valentina giggles. ‘Stick with me, you’ll get used to it.’ It might be the effects of the alcohol but I’m warming to Valentina in a way I haven’t to any of the others.
‘Hey, beautiful ladies,’ shouts an obnoxious male voice. I don’t need to turn around to figure out who it is. Jack Peaks has been drinking so aggressively for the last couple of hours that the smell of alcohol coming from him stings my nostrils.
All the progress I’ve made helping Valentina relax shatters as he staggers towards us. Valentina’s body visibly tightens and her arms fold across her body. I don’t blame her; there is something in the way he says ‘ladies’ that makes me clench. If we were in a bar and not being screened on national television, I probably would have told him to fuck off, but I hold my tongue. Jack flops onto one of the bar stools positioned around the kitchen worktop. He folds his bottom lip down in the way a child about to have a tantrum would.
‘You’re doing shots without me?’ He grabs the vodka bottle and swigs directly from it. I narrow my eyes at him; he is repulsive. ‘So,’ says Jack, somehow managing to stumble over the two-letter word. ‘Tell me about you. What d’ya do?’ He points his finger at Valentina.
‘I’m a DJ,’ she replies curtly. Jack’s mouth falls open.
‘Teacher? Better behave myself, then, shouldn’t I? Don’t want to get spanked. Or do I?’ Jack erupts into laughter. I stare at him, pulling my face into an expression that I hope allows me to convey as much contempt as I feel. This man is a pig.
‘No,’ replies Valentina. ‘I am a DJ.’ She places particular emphasis on the final letters, ironically like a schoolteacher trying to explain something to a particularly dense teenager.
‘Nice,’ says Jack, elongating the vowel so the word drags on. He leans into her, licking his lips like a hungry wolf. I take a step closer to Valentina, feeling a sudden urge to protect her. ‘You’re a DJ? You’re a DJ.’
‘Yes,’ I snap at him. ‘She literally just said that.’
Jack slides off the bar stool and stumbles to our side of the worktop. With every movement he makes, the smell of alcohol and sweat wafts in our direction. Jack comes right up to our faces and prods Valentina in the arm.
‘Stop that.’ I slap his hand away.
‘Need more… you know. Something to really kick this party into gear. A higher gear.’ Jack gives Valentina a slow wink.
‘I don’t do that,’ she snarls at him and storms off.
‘Ooooooh, touched a nerve, have I? Hey, DJ. Where are you going?’ Jack shouts. Valentina ignores him. ‘DJ. Come back, babe, we’re chatting.’
My nostrils flare.
‘Jack,’ I say softly. ‘I think it might be wise if you slowed down a bit. And, maybe, you should have a big glass of water.’ I grasp Jack by the shoulders to steady him.
‘Oh, fuck off,’ he roars, swaying with every word. ‘I know your game. Need me out of the picture. So Mo can get to Carly.’ I frown. What is he talking about?
‘Leave me out of this,’ calls Carly, who is still sitting at the dining table with Mo. ‘And for the record, I’m not an object you can just get. Prick.’
‘Come on, leave him to it,’ I say to Daniel, realising now through the haze of my own drunkenness that he’s been standing nearby this whole time, filming everything. ‘I’m going for a swim. Do you fancy coming with me?’ I ask, beckoning him away from the kitchen and towards the pool. He gives me a wry smile and unclips the camera from his body.
‘I’m sure a quick dip won’t hurt me. Just don’t anything too interesting because Sophia and Rosalind would kill me for not filming it,’ he says, and I giggle.
Daniel unclips his belt and once it’s free he pulls it through trouser loop after trouser loop. As his belt reaches the final loop, he flicks his wrist, pulling out his belt with a flourish. The leather cracks as it rips through the air. I throw my head back and laugh, applauding him as I do so. He is so funny.
‘Whit woot,’ I shout after failing an attempt to wolf whistle. The other Islanders turn to see what I’m whistling at. He smiles at me and gives me a cheeky wink. Despite being behind the camera, Daniel clearly loves the attention and as he stands there shirtless, I don’t hate giving it to him.
‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, seems we’ve got ourselves a fucking show-off.’ Jack’s shout reverberates through the still evening air.
Daniel’s trousers, now unbuttoned and unzipped, fall to the floor and gather around his ankles but he doesn’t step out of them. Under different circumstances this would be funny, but Daniel’s jaw tightens, and he narrows his eyes at Jack. My stomach clenches; here is a man who doesn’t wear embarrassment well.
I want to say something funny, to get us back to the relaxed vibe we had moments before, but the alcohol clouds my mind and I can’t think of anything. I’m frozen.
Come on, Daniel, say something. Everyone is watching now. Their eyes moving from Daniel to Jack and back again. The silence that hangs in the air pains me. I want to scream at him to speak, reply, save face.
‘Nice to see you’re impressed, mate,’ says Daniel, flexing his arms in an imitation of Hercules.
My shoulders drop, and I want to applaud him; he played it well. Daniel steps out his trousers and swings them around his head. I whoop, giving him all the encouragement I can, wanting Jack to know that he didn’t win this round. The hilarity of the situation is amplified by the awkwardness that came before. Daniel lobs his trousers in the direction of Jack, who is advancing towards us. The trousers hit Jack square in the face and hang there for a moment. My breath catches in my throat and then I roar with laughter. We all do. Well, all of us except Jack.
Jack rips the trousers from his face, throws them to the floor and charges towards Daniel. ‘Two can play this game, mate.’
‘Hey, come on, Jack. It was a joke,’ I say, stepping in Jack’s path. I’m getting a bit sick of him ruining everyone’s fun. Jack’s sweaty palms wrap around my arms and I stumble as he pushes me out of the way. I regain my balance quickly and whirl round just in time to see Jack press two hands against Daniel’s chest and push.
The sound of Daniel’s skin hitting the water makes me wince. Jack stands at the pool’s edge and a Joker-like grin spreads over his face. I stand, transfixed, watching as Daniel’s head emerges from the water, gasping for breath. A vein in Daniel’s neck throbs violently. It beats almost in time with the laughter that is coming from the others, but I don’t laugh. Daniel’s eyes bore into Jack’s and he looks as if he’s about to jump from the pool and throttle Jack. I can’t let that happen and I can’t let this humiliation hang in the air any more.
The Islanders Page 5