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  Even Felix had a superiority complex, in ways competing with Inns’ superiority complex, because in Inns’ book, Felix was on the new money side; hence, distasteful. New money was particularly distasteful as they, in reality, were so very much wealthier than Inns and his crowd. There was precious little money in old money these days, which had made them cling to their superiority with a frantic desperation.

  To Aggie, Ricky was interesting. He was utterly different, saw the world differently. It had been the same with Cory. She’d experienced things she’d never thought she would hanging with Cory. They were a damned sight more interesting than Inns—by a mile and a half. If he wanted to place limitations on himself in this day and age, when the world was so very vast, that was his loss.

  Megan was a little the same way. Modelling had opened her eyes to things outside the insular culture of Marbella. And she’d honed her attention on sexy-as-hell Ricky. Saying that, Aggie wasn’t entirely sure Ricky was boyfriend material. Megan knew him better, obviously, but Aggie wasn’t sure she would have clapped eyes on him and decided he would make a good boyfriend.

  But then what did she know; she wasn’t exactly successful in the relationship department. Admittedly, she hadn’t been dedicated to the concept, of late. There wasn’t really anyone around that floated her boat. And the last real relationship she’d had, with Quentin, had been non-stop drama. She wasn’t exactly rushing back to that. Single was better. Besides, who knew what would come around the corner? Wouldn’t want to miss that.

  Chapter 19

  There wasn’t a carpark so Megan had to park on the grass and her heels sank in as she stepped out. Perhaps she shouldn't have worn heels; she hadn't expected the new club to be quite so unready. They were out of town a bit, what looked like two or three beachfront sections. She knew this area used to have houses previously, but it seemed to be redeveloping. Landscaping still needed to be done, so the wall surrounding the compound looked quite spartan. She hoped that wasn't his intention, to keep it that way.

  There wasn't a gate so she walked in, hearing the sharp shrill of a saw cutting something. This was definitely a construction site.

  She came across a woman with a clipboard. “Do you know where to find Jesus?” Megan asked. The woman looked up and pointed over to the left. She didn't say anything, just returned to her business examining something large and wrapped in plastic.

  Megan followed the direction the woman had indicated, dodging piles of material and men crouching down, catching a whiff of body odour as if she was walking through an odorous minefield.

  She spotted Jesus standing next to a wooden box, leaning over a set of blueprints.

  “Hello?” Megan said and he turned to her. A fission of nervousness worked up her spine. She wasn't entirely sure why she was nervous, perhaps it was because she was embarking on something new. Jesus also made her nervous—again, she didn't know why, but he did. “It's quite a construction site, isn’t it? One underestimates how much effort goes into creating something like this. Most take it for granted, I think.”

  "It is a messy phase, but things are coming together quickly now. I am glad you're here. Let’s talk where it is more quiet.”

  Walking around the box towards her, he placed his hand lightly at her back, urging her in a direction away from the noise. She was monumentally aware of the touch, feeling it was perhaps inappropriate. Well, it wasn't strictly inappropriate; the Spanish tended to be more liberal with touch. It was part of their culture and she knew this.

  They walked through the rest of the construction area and emerged onto grass, which gave away to the beach. It was a nice part of the coast he’d chosen—not too far away. Some would say one of the best beaches, which had initially been developed years ago and many of the houses weren’t up to current standards. Timing had allowed him to catch this space when the residents had more or less concluded it was time to regenerate the neighbourhood.

  He led her to an awful set of white plastic table and chairs. “I hope this isn’t something you’re keeping,” she said, taking a seat.

  “No,” he said with a chuckle. “It is left over from the house we tore down.”

  She wanted to ask what he needed, to clarify what he wanted from her.

  Jesus sat leaning back in the chair and considered her. The scrutiny made her uncomfortable. She turned her thoughts back to the space she’d just walked through, trying to look past the workmen and piles to see the intention of the space. There were pools, bars and what she assumed was a performance stage. That was where Ricky would perform. She could imagine the adoring crowd appreciating him as he played his set.

  “As you can see, we have the main structures in place,” he said. “But now I need to address the fitout and the finer details; I need the brand of the place—the feeling, the image that we are trying to portray.”

  “Coolness,” she said. “That this is the place to be. You will be competing with Blanca Beach, of course.”

  “Yes, but also not. The customers at Shine and the customers at Blanca are very different.”

  “Tourists,” she said. There was no need to beat around the bush, the bulk of Shine’s patrons were tourists, here for a week or weekend, with the ambition to party and have a good time before they go home, back to their real life. Blanca Beach had a very different crowd—there were more locals, but there were also visitors, and not the kind that went to Shine—celebrity and socialites, and others who came to Marbella to relax and spend. The patrons at Shine couldn’t afford the drinks at Blanca.

  “So we want the exclusive experience, without the exclusivity,” Jesus continued.

  “A bit of glitz.”

  “But not tacky. It needs to be just right. But more than glitz; it needs to mean something. Coolness, as you say.”

  “How about a little old Hollywood? Not diligently so, more an echo.” She looked over at Jesus, who was looking out to the sea. He seemed to be considering it.

  “Maybe too specific,” he said.

  “Maybe a little more eighties?” she said with a question. “Neon and palm trees, little bit of a throwback to old Miami.”

  He smiled. He looked different when he did; it softened his face. She hadn't seen him smile much. He was a very serious man. Investing in this club must be a very big deal for him. Failure would probably ruin him. To him the marketing, the ideas they were bandying around, were crucial.

  He turned his attention to her, sitting back in the chair. For having so much on the line, he looked relaxed. Megan felt self-conscious when his attention was on her. He was broader than Ricky, more muscular, in a sense. Well, perhaps not. Ricky was built; he spent enough time in the gym. But Jesus was naturally fit. There wasn’t that artificial look of him that a gym slave had. She doubted he spent any time in a gym pumping iron. But the muscles on his bare arms couldn’t be denied—the dark skin showing every curve and sinew.

  “And what image is it that you have?” he asked.

  “Me?” she said, not quite certain what he was talking about.

  His dark eyes were studying her face and again Megan didn't quite know where to put her arms, so she draped them across her lap. What was it he saw when he looked at her?

  “You have a very elusive quality,” he said. “Something that makes a person want to know more about you. Aloof, but also relatable. That is something quite unique.”

  Megan didn't know what to say. Was he stating a perception, or was he complimenting her? And for what reason?

  “There is perfection about you,” he continued after a while. “That's the image I want – that perfection. It is unapologetic and at the same time attainable. That's how I want my customers to feel: that they are perfect.”

  That was actually quite lovely, Megan thought. It was as if he really cared about his customers, cared about how they felt. And for some extraordinary reason, that was how he saw her.

  Chapter 20

  Shania lay on the plastic sun lounger by the small pool at the back of Ricky'
s apartment building. It was shaded by the building itself, which meant a cool breeze caressed her body. It wasn’t exactly cold, but enough to make her nipples tighten.

  Closing her eyes, she lay her head down and enjoyed it for a moment. There was a sun lounger at the very edge that had sun and she should probably move over there, but she couldn't be bothered. She heard Rick sit down on the next one over, the plastic creaking slightly as it took his weight. Then she felt his hand run up her calf, continuing up until it skimmed the edge of her bikini. She’d stayed last night. It had been hot, and they were taking a bit of a breather.

  Further creaks told her that he lay down and stillness followed.

  “Do you like it in Marbella?” he asked.

  That was a loaded question and she didn't quite know how to answer. Marbella had both good and bad memories. “In a way, but I do have a past here and there are some people that I probably don't want to run into.” Well, she ran into Felix a hell of a lot more than she wanted to. Esme was the one she felt most uncomfortable about. Shania didn't know how she'd react if she ran into her. The relationship had never really resolved, although Esme had pretty much hated her when she’d left. “I hate it when things are messy,” she said.

  “Not one of those girls into drama, then?”

  Shania snorted. “I don't stick around long enough for drama if I can avoid it. Life’s too short.”

  She heard Ricky turned his head. “I like a girl who doesn't like drama,” he said.

  That was her, the one trying to avoid drama, but always finding it. Maybe that was because she found arseholes attractive, and always ended up getting punished for it. Felix had openly hated her and definitely did so now, but for a while, they’d been really hot. Then he’d gone and expected her to drop her opportunities for him. Not gonna happen—ever. Then there was Tierry, who had totally screwed her over and nearly gotten her killed when he’d been too pussy to man up to his own messes. No, guys sucked and Shania refused to trust anyone.

  “I thought I might go check out this club everyone’s talking about in Malaga,” Ricky said. “So you wanna come?”

  “Are we the kind of people who go checking out clubs together now?” she said with surprise. “No, I don't want to come.” The point of having a fuck-boy was not to hang together.

  He remained quiet for a while, then he got up abruptly and walked away. From his manner, she could tell he was pissed off. She didn't care. They were just fucking—surely he realised that.

  The problem Shania invariably had was that she wanted only so much, but the guys wanted more than she was ready to give them. And Ricky was a dog, salivating at every girl that walked past. She knew exactly what he was, so why was he getting tetchy now? And now he was in the mood, and now there was drama. This was his fault; he shouldn't have gone where he wasn't supposed to go. She felt absolutely no qualms about him being in a grump. If he hadn't understood that they had already hit the extent and confines of their relationship, he would now. Better not to have any misunderstandings.

  Shania got up and pulled her jeans on over her bikini. Drama ensued and it was time to go. Maybe he would learn, or he wouldn't. Honestly, Shania didn't care either way. Picking up her bag, she left. Obviously, Ricky felt he deserved better. Because girls chased him, he thought she would as well, run after him and beg him not to be angry with her.

  He obviously didn’t know her; Shania chased no one, least of all a fuck-boy. Making her way outside, she hopped in her little Mini parked outside the apartment building and drove off.

  It had been a nice time and it had taken care of the tension in her body. He was quite gifted, but it wasn’t hard finding someone to take care of a girl’s tensions, was it? Plus the fact that Shania was getting the feeling that Ricky wanted to be appreciated more than he was. That pretty much spelled ‘it was time to go’. She certainly wasn't going to tie herself to some guy who was drooling after every girl that walked past. She had absolutely no expectation she was the only one, and she was happy with that. But it had to go both ways. He couldn’t expect loyalty from her if he wasn't going to give any himself. Not that she wanted it from him; he was just a bit of fun.

  Her phone on the passenger seat rang and for a moment she expected it to be Ricky ready to have a blow-up. Like hell that was going to happen. She was about to dismiss it when she saw something she didn’t expect. It was Esme, her blond, smiling face was plastered on the screen.

  Shania didn’t know what to do for a moment. It was the last thing she expected. On one hand, she didn’t want to take it, but she did kind of owed Esme. With a groan, she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Shania, it’s Esme. How are you?”

  “Good,” Shania said, feeling uneasy. “Back in town for a while. I guess you’ve heard. No doubt Felix has been bitching about me. He can’t seem to help himself.”

  “Actually, I heard it elsewhere. Felix is curiously silent on this development.”

  So they’d had a moment to bitch about Felix, which was always common ground, but now Shania couldn’t see a way forward in this conversation. Awkward.

  “So how long are you staying for?” Esme asked.

  “I’m not sure, actually,” Shania admitted.

  “Were you going to call me?” And now it got personal.

  “Not sure about that, either. We left things a little… you know. Everything felt a little tense.”

  Esme didn’t say anything for a while.

  “Besides, your brother hates my guts, which all round makes things awkward.”

  “Felix hates most people. Can’t live your life according to his many dislikes. Why don’t you come over for lunch?”

  “Can’t. Working,” Shania said, almost feeling relieved she had a reason to turn it down.

  “Drinks, then.” Okay, Esme was bending so she couldn’t really say no.

  “Alright. Tomorrow?”

  “See you then,” Esme said and rang off.

  Shania threw the phone back on the seat. Well, the intention to avoid Esme was shot to hell.

  Chapter 21

  Ricky was in a foul mood, and he had a hard time hiding it. Megan was trying to cheer him up, sitting in the passenger side next to him, excitedly recounting her meeting with Jesus. Partially, he was worried about Jesus paying attention to Megan. Jesus was a cool dude, and if it was another girl—Shania perhaps—he’d be worried about Jesus sniffing around, but not with Megan. Megan was loyal, and he appreciated that about her. In truth, Megan was too caught up with him to even look at another guy. Ricky liked that.

  She really was a sweet girl and he should probably do better by her. He wished he could; he wished he was that kind of guy, but he wasn't. You have to know your limitations, right? And one of his big things was his relationship with girls. It was kind of at the core of who he was. And he wasn't sure he could change. In all honesty, he wasn't really sure he should change. This was who he was.

  He didn't wish Megan any harm; he was just being true to his nature.

  He sighed heavily, as they drove up into the hills. Megan was directing him and they were going to her friend Aggie's house. Ricky didn't mind. Megan's friends were cool and interesting. He didn't exactly fit in with that crowd, but he didn't mind either. The guys were weak and underwhelming, which helped. For all their money, they barely had any game. The girls were hot, though. None quite as gorgeous as Megan. Megan, out of the whole lot, was the one who was really successful. The others looked up to her.

  The driveway Megan indicated was full of cars, so they had to park on the street. They were a fair bit out of central Marbella, up in the hills. The houses were more sparse here, but the one they were walking towards was awesome. Massive. Lush greenery surrounded the driveway, which flared into a turnaround area. There was a parapet over the doorway so you could park underneath when it rained. This was really nice, Ricky conceded. He would love to live in a place like this—obviously not someone else’s place like this, like Megan’s parents’. The d
esire to make himself successful renewed and strengthened. He would have a place like this at some point. He just had to be better than anyone else at what he did. The superstar DJs earned fortunes, so this wasn't out of his reach. If he was smart and diligent, it was inevitable that he would get here one day—a house just like this.

  Megan didn't bother knocking; she just opened the door and walked in. The inside was just as gorgeous as the outside. Large furniture was artfully scattered across the open plan area. Incomprehensible art hung on the walls.

  They kept walking through to the patio out the back. It looked almost like a jungle. The pool was dark green with hibiscus and palm fronds hanging down almost like a canape. The view was spectacular. In the distance, the sea was blue and misty, the hills in the foreground.

  Ricky was getting used to seeing the faces he saw sitting around a table in bean bags or chairs. They looked comfortable. A nice place to get drunk.

  “Hey,” Aggie called when they drew near. “I'm glad you came. Take a seat. Well, find one somewhere. We’re going a little more informal today.”

  “Hi, everyone,” Megan said brightly. There was a round of greetings and Ricky shook hands with some of the guys, again wondering how they could tolerate being so weak. These guys didn't put a lot of effort into their bodies, but then they didn't have to. They had dough, and girls overlooked a score of weaknesses for that fact.

  Aggie had risen from her bean bag and walked over to them. “Would you like a drink?” She turned her attention to Megan with clear blue eyes. Her mouth had a little bow shape to it; plump and rosy. He hadn't noticed before. She was actually quite attractive, in a different way from Megan. Megan was so smooth, everything was perfect. Aggie, however, was more real. “You got any Southern Comfort?” he asked when she turned her blue eyes on him.

  “I'm sure we can rustle some up,” she said. “Champagne, Megan?”

  “You know me so well,” Megan replied.