Sun, Sea and Sangria Read online

  He groans. ‘Kat? Everything okay?’

  ‘Not really. That guy, Mike, was a real creep.’

  He sits up, concerned. ‘Mike? The guy you went on a date with?’

  I nod.

  ‘What did he do?’ Jay sits up straighter.

  ‘He implied that I must be kinky because of my work, and believe me, If I had a quid for every time someone made an insinuation like that, well, I wouldn’t be rich but I would be able to buy a signature cocktail from the fancy bar down on the waterfront.’

  Jay rubs his chin, trying hard to conceal a smirk. ‘Ahh. Okay, so he was a creep. Plenty more fish in the sea. Anyway, why are you narked with me?’

  I sigh. ‘Sorry. I guess you were the one who made me feel like it was a good idea.’

  ‘Because you were curious.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m just so annoyed that I gave in to this whim when I’m okay being single.’

  ‘You’re not going to meet your soulmate after one date, Kat.’

  ‘I know. Maybe my expectations were too high,’ I say, slumping on the lounger next to him.

  ‘No, he sounds like a nob. Sorry it didn’t work out,’ he says, patting my shoulder.

  ‘It’s fine. I guess my only real experience of dating comes from Hollywood movies and not the real world. I’m clearly not the greatest with men.’

  ‘I know the guys here really respect you.’ He pauses for a second. ‘Has nothing really ever happened with you and one of them?’

  ‘God, no!’ The thought horrifies me. ‘I’d never mix business with romance. I may need to fire one of you one day.’ I give him a mischievous wink.

  ‘Bloody hell, should I be worried?’ he says playfully.

  I shrug. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘In that case, I better get myself off to rehearsals.’ He stands up and walks to the edge of the pool before diving in.

  Funny place to rehearse.

  He comes up for air and reads my expression. ‘What? I haven’t got time to shower.’

  As I shake my head, he swims over to the edge and heaves himself out. Water droplets sparkle on his taut, bronzed skin as he rubs his dark hair with his towel. Even though I see his naked torso almost every night, this feels strangely intimate so I look away. As I do, I see Pauw approaching, looking fresh in a white Ralph Lauren Polo shirt tucked into navy chino shorts.

  ‘Morning, lovely.’ He kisses me on the cheek. ‘And hello, sailor,’ he says, giving Jay the once-over.

  Jay cocks his head to the side and pouts seductively.

  ‘Oh come on, you’re not my type. You don’t cut your hair nearly often enough and quite frankly, you’re a bit of a diva.’

  Jay raises his eyebrows with bemusement but doesn’t reply.

  ‘Have you been to the doctor’s yet?’ I ask Pauw as Jay lies back on his lounger.

  ‘Yes, yes. He’s going to remove it and send it off for analysis as a precaution. He thinks it’s probably healthy and I’ll get a scar—’

  ‘But if it is anything sinister, you’ll have done the right thing.’

  ‘Very true. So …’ Pauw clasps his hands together. ‘Where are the rest of our troupe? I didn’t see them at the gym today.’

  ‘Coming down any moment now if they know what’s good for them.’

  Right on cue, Marcus and Sammy emerge followed by Ant and Hugo. All four of them look like they hardly slept.

  ‘Time to shine. I want you to give it one hundred per cent today, boys. It’s our last show on the island tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.’ I clap three times to emphasise just how wide awake I want them to be.

  Marcus rubs his hair. ‘Kat, love, can I grab a strong coffee first?’

  I check my watch animatedly. ‘Yes, if you can rewind time, get up fifteen minutes earlier and make yourself one. If you can’t do that, then no. Sorry, it’s rehearsal time.’

  Marcus pulls a face but doesn’t argue. No doubt consciously saving himself the ‘this is why we’re the best in the business’ speech I bandy around when I’m stamping my authority.

  When we get to Andrea’s, she’s behind the bar putting the float in the till.

  ‘Hi, Andri.’ I throw my bag down on a barstool.

  ‘Are we having a drink?’

  ‘Just coffee please, Andrea. I have to keep a clear head. Can you do me a favour and brew some for the guys too? I think they’re going to need a kick up the backside today.’

  She ogles each of them. ‘Their backsides look too good to kick!’ With that, she winks and walks off. I set up the music and drag a few tables away from the edge of the dance floor to create a bit more space.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ Andrea appears beside me and hands me a leaflet.

  I glance at it. ‘The Canary Islands Entertainment Act of the Year,’ I say, reading the bold lettering aloud.

  Andrea nods, a huge grin spreading across her face. ‘I think you and the guys are in with a real shot of winning. Look at the prize.’ She turns the flyer over.

  I squint at the smaller lettering, then my eyes goggle. ‘Ten grand and a chance to perform in Las Vegas!’

  That would be a nice little lump sum for each of us and a great gig. Not to mention the publicity that could help generate some much-needed bookings. I haven’t told the guys business is getting quiet yet, but I’m starting to worry. Aside from the cancellations, we don’t seem to be generating many new bookings.

  ‘Yes, the prize money is raised by all the tourist businesses across the islands – the hotels, bars – even I’ve donated and the gig in Las Vegas has been put up by some hotshot from the entertainment world. We get some free publicity from a local TV station and the Canaries Today, plus a UK tour operator will tailor a package holiday around your show. I’m thinking hen do packages to see the Heavenly Hunks would be a sure-fire winner.’

  ‘What do we have to do?’

  ‘There is an audition in a couple of weeks over in Maspalomas, Gran Canaria. From there, you have to get through a couple of rounds, and there’s a final here in Tenerife, which local people are invited to watch.’

  She goes back to the bar for the coffees and I read the leaflet once more. This is a huge chance to really put the Heavenly Hunks on the map. I’ll see what the guys think later.

  ‘So, what’s new?’ She lays out the cups and makes a broad gesture to the guys to show the drinks are for them before pulling out a chair and sitting next to me.

  ‘Oh, not much.’ It sounds so dull, so I add, ‘I did go on a date last night.’

  ‘Kat! On a date! Oh my goodness. With whom?’

  I fill her in on the Mike situation.

  She shudders. ‘Eurgh. Why do men think that’s how we work?’

  ‘Because, that’s how they work. You know, Andri, I’m not even sure dating is for me after all. It was a bit of a whim really. I’ve been single so long and happy the whole time too. I’ve got all the freedom I want to form my own opinions, make my own choices, go wherever I want …’

  Andrea puts her hand on mine. ‘You know, Kat, if you find the right man, none of that should have to change.’

  I ponder that thought. It’s a nice idea, and perhaps there are characters on TV who live their free independent lives with their modern-world partners, but it’s not reality. Not in my experience.

  ‘So, anyway. Why the change of heart? Why start now?’

  I draw a breath. ‘An old school acquaintance of mine died suddenly a few days ago. It got me thinking about my life, and I guess I feel like I’m just treading water a little. I’m getting older, that’s for sure. Look.’ I prod at my emerging crow’s feet for emphasis. ‘But I’ve not got much to show for my life. I guess I thought I might like to do the whole settling-down thing, maybe have kids even. It sounds stupid when I say it all out loud.’

  ‘It’s not stupid, Kat. There’s no harm in trying. Just because the Mike guy was a douchebag, doesn’t mean your next date will be.’ I shake my head at her phrasing. Andrea’s perfect English comes
partly from the fact that she watches a lot of American films and TV.

  ‘I know that. I just don’t know if I want to dedicate any more of my time to weeding out the Mikes.’

  ‘I have a guy who is perfect.’

  Another blind date? Do I really want another night of prawns and perverts? Okay, that was harsh; the prawns were great.

  I’ll humour her. ‘Perfect how, exactly? Is he made out of chocolate and huge packets of cheese and onion crisps?’

  She casts me a sideways glance. ‘You and your cheese and onion crisps. He’s a local businessman. Never married but he’s had a series of serious relationships. He’s good-looking, wealthy and kind.’

  Whilst wealth is obviously an important factor in keeping Andrea in her diamante-encrusted kaftans – which have unfathomable price tags – it isn’t to me. I earn what I need and I certainly don’t want anybody else’s money.

  ‘He’s kind, you say?’

  ‘The kindest. He rescued his dog from a shelter and donates lots of money to charity.’

  Hmm, I’m not sure that’s the comprehensive, all-encompassing definition of kindness, but there doesn’t seem anything inherently wrong with him thus far.

  ‘Will he even want to go on a date with me?’ Andrea can sometimes get ahead of herself and I want to be sure this isn’t her own romanticising.

  ‘He will love you, Kat. I’ve set him up on dates before. He’ll thank me, I promise.’

  I frown, not at all convinced. ‘Okay, something casual like sundown drinks or lunch. We’re going on tour tomorrow so it will have to be when I’m back.’ She’s tapping furiously on her phone and I don’t know if she’s even listening. Her phone makes a zoop (for want of better onomatopoeia) sound as a text message sends, and then she looks up and nods.

  ‘Okay.’

  The guys take a coffee break. They’re already sweaty.

  ‘Might not need the coconut oil tonight, lads,’ Jay says, catching my eye.

  ‘Pongy blokes don’t get rebooked,’ I say, pointedly.

  ‘I’m winding you up!’

  I flick a towel at him but miss. ‘I’ll get you next time. Now drink up, quick loo break and back to it. I want to wrap up in the next hour so you can all go and get some beauty sleep this afternoon.’

  The next hour passes well. The guys are on form and I make a few minor tweaks to the choreography to make things look a little smoother in light of the smaller stage we’re on tonight. When they’re finished, I gather them around.

  ‘What do you think about this?’ I hold out the competition leaflet Andrea gave me and wait a few moments whilst they all scan over it.

  ‘I say go for it. It’s over a grand apiece and a trip to Vegas. It looks like it could mean some great publicity for doing what we do anyway. I’m up for it,’ Marcus says.

  ‘I’m in,’ Jay adds.

  Sammy and Ant agree too. I look at Pauw, anticipating another yes.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he says.

  ‘Why ever not?’

  His shoulders sag. ‘I have a bit of a phobia of competitions.’

  ‘You? But you love being on stage.’

  ‘I love being on stage, but it’s different being up on stage and pitted against other acts.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that.’ I look at the other guys. ‘Listen, you guys go and get some rest; I’m going to have a chat with Paul.’ I pronounce his name properly to be more sensitive.

  ‘We’ll be doing the competition together, and I really think we could win,’ I say when the others have gone.

  Paul sits down on a chair next to me. ‘I just get super-nervous, Kat. I think if I force myself up there, I’ll screw it up for you all.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. We’re a team and you’re an amazing performer. Can’t you just tell yourself it’s a show, not a competition?’

  ‘What if I fall flat on my face?’

  ‘You’re a trained acrobat and an experienced dancer – if you fell flat on your face it would be incredibly graceful and look like part of the act anyway. Look, it’s never happened before, so why would it happen in a competition?’

  He shrugs. ‘I sound ridiculous, don’t I?’

  ‘A little bit,’ I say, adding a warm smile.

  ‘I entered a school talent comp when I was in year nine.’

  ‘Brave,’ I add, thinking back to my own teenage school years.

  ‘I was doing so well in front of my mirror each night. I sounded good. I was doing Craig David’s “Fill Me In” and I had a little dance routine and everything.’ He clasps his hands together.

  ‘And what happened?’ I ask softly.

  ‘I got up on stage and saw all those people. It was the whole school, teachers and parents. I was terrified. Anyway, when the music started, I counted the beats in. My heart was racing and I could hear that too. My hands started to tremble and I took deep breaths but it all got worse. Somehow, I managed to get the first line out on time but it was high-pitched and out of tune. I remember thinking it wasn’t even my voice that I could hear. It was awful but I carried on because that’s what you do. I thought if I pulled it all together and people heard what I’d heard in my bedroom when I practised they’d forget about my ropey start, but it just got worse. For some reason, I couldn’t get into the right key and I kept getting brain-block with the lyrics. In the end, the sight of people laughing was too much. I ran off stage in floods of tears. For weeks after that kids stopped me in the corridors to either impersonate my awful singing or say things like “Bet you wish you’d got someone to fill in for you”.’

  I put my hand on his knee. ‘But that was when you were a kid. The pressures are different when you’re that age. You’re a confident man now.’ It seems a bit hypocritical of me to offer this advice when I’ve let my own high-school woes dictate part of my life before now, but I don’t go into that.

  ‘I know. I guess that fear is just embedded.’

  ‘We will get through this together as a team. We’ll be there by your side.’

  ‘I know you will. Thanks, Kat. You know the worst thing about it all?’

  ‘Things got worse?’ I say with soft humour.

  ‘The winner was one of the popular football kids who rapped “Slim Shady” – he had no musical talent whatsoever. He knew the words though.’

  ‘He had confidence,’ I say. ‘Confidence gets you further than any talent or skill. You’ve had a good eighteen years of being on stage in some form. You already have the confidence you lacked as a kid.’

  He smiles. ‘Thanks, Kat. I just panicked. I’m going to do this. For you, and the boys.’

  ‘Good!’ I say, patting his back. ‘Now go and get some rest.’

  ‘I will. Do me a favour though – don’t tell the guys, will you? Pauw is bad enough – I don’t think I’ll cope with them calling me Craig David for the rest of eternity.’

  I laugh softly. ‘My lips are sealed.’

  He hugs me and leaves. Whilst I’m gathering my things Andrea comes over, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  ‘What’s that look for?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, I’ve just spoken to Alonso, and he’s free today!’

  ‘I can’t do anything today. I’m working later and I’ve a tonne of stuff to sort out.’

  ‘Your show starts at ten p.m. and you already look fabulous. He’s going to be at the Hawaiian Beach Bar in half an hour for sundown drinks as requested.’

  ‘Half an hour?’

  Andrea rummages in her glossy tote bag and pulls out various beautifying items. ‘Here, live spontaneously!’

  With that, she walks off. I study the things she dumped on the table. A brush, some bits of make-up (not all fathomable), perfume, antiperspirant and chewing gum. If I didn’t know Andrea was happily married, I’d say spontaneous dates were her thing.

  ***

  The mirror reflects a person I don’t recognise. Sparkling eyes, glossy hair and a healthy glow. The woman is smiling, full of confidence with just a hint o
f familiarity – a flashback to more carefree times perhaps? I’ve put in a huge amount of effort for tonight. I’ve been to the MAC counter and had my make-up done and even had a blow-dry in a Saks salon. The floaty dress I borrowed from a friend, and the gold strappy sandals were a charity shop steal. It’s not often I feel this confident; most of the time I’m back to being the invisible frumpy kid nobody likes.

  I hear the front door open and I jump to my feet, smoothing down the wrinkles in my dress and grabbing the cake with ‘3 Years’ written on it in pink icing. Okay, the cake is cheesy, but Iain isn’t big on anniversary gifts so I went for a small gesture that would at least taste good. He works so hard that I want to make tonight special for him. I’ve booked a table at the curry house in town that he loves and filled the fridge with his favourite beers and snacks.

  I wander downstairs hardly able to contain my grin. Iain is already slumped into the squishy sofa cushions, so I creep up behind him and hold the cake out.

  ‘Surprise!’ I bend down to kiss the side of his face. ‘Happy anniversary.’

  I walk around the sofa to face him. His expression is more irked than surprised.

  ‘It’s three years today.’ My voice falters at his expression. He’s almost sneering.

  ‘Is it? Is that why you’ve done that to yourself?’ He flicks his hand in my direction.

  ‘I, er …’ My insides squirm.

  ‘God, you look like a dog’s dinner.’ He laughs at his own joke and slugs one of the beers I’d got him.

  ‘It’s just a look I was experimenting with. I didn’t do it, it was just one of those free make-up counter things.’

  ‘Well, I’d be flabbergasted if you’d paid to look like that. Where’s that dress from?’

  ‘Oh, a girl at work said she thought it would suit me so gave it to me to try on.’ My cheeks burn as I try to play down my efforts.

  ‘Looks like you’ve spent the day working with the blind.’ He chuckles, and for some reason, I do too.

  ‘I booked the Bay of Bengal for seven if you fancy it?’

  ‘A dinner date with Coco the Clown? An offer I can’t refuse,’ he says drily, popping the lid off another beer. I notice a half-eaten box of chocolates on the side and can’t help but feel a little miffed, which I shouldn’t really because he wasn’t to know I’d planned anything special. That’s the risk of a surprise though, isn’t it?