I peel off my dress to a nautical striped bandeau bikini and lie back with a contented sigh.
‘It feels good to lie down,’ Amanda says, turning to face me. ‘I’ve felt like I’ve been on the boat all morning. Kind of dizzy drunk without the hangover.’
‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ The question is rhetorical. Of course it’s nice; it’s thirty degrees and we’re out of work. I’m lounging with my best friend, people-watching. Tens, maybe even hundreds, of people line the beach, waiting for the show of aeroplanes flying just feet from our heads to land on the airstrip right behind the beach. And I’m getting married. Not just getting married but getting married to a freaking billionaire who truly, genuinely loves me back.
There are things lingering, things that make me uneasy. Katrina Martin being number one. Tabloids that shouldn’t be interested in Gregory now that the case is old news, two. There’s some unfinished business, for sure, but things are changing, I think. He told me about the tabloids and notmonthsafter it happened, onlyhours. He’s trying to let me in. Hopefully, in time, it will all become a distant memory. His nightmares will stop and the pain of his past will get easier.
‘Don’t tell him or anything, Scarlett, but the CEO is starting to grow on me. I like how happy he makes you.’
Jake returns with a punch that looks more rum than juice but I take the brownish-reddish-orangey drink from him and sip through the straw. ‘Jesus Christ! Is thereanyjuice in there?’
He plonks onto the bottom of my lounger and hands Amanda her water. ‘Orange, cranberry and pineapple. It’s like a fine wine; it takes three sips. Trust me.’
I scowl across my plastic cup as I take another sip.
‘I’ve only just met you.’
‘But…’
I stare at the now half-full cup. ‘Well, I guess it is quite fruity after a few sips.’
‘That’s my kind of woman. I’ll fetch another.’
I don’t argue. I’m parched, it’s fruity, and with the combination of sun and only having had pastries for lunch, it’s really making my head pleasantly fluttery.
Punch two down, Jake heads back over with a virgin piña colada for Amanda and punch three for me. ‘All right, ladies, this is it. There’s a 747 headed in. Do you see it over there in the distance?’
The faint lights of the plane twinkle in the clear, blue sky, inbound for the beach.
‘This is the plane all you tourists flock for. She’s the most powerful and the biggest to land on the strip. Do you have a camera?’
I nod, sipping my rum-laced juice or juice-laced rum. Whichever.
‘If you stand right there, you’ll get a great picture. If you stand in the middle of the beach, you can really feel the force of the engines but it can get pretty dangerous, bowls people right back into the sea. I’ve seen it carry sunbeds and pushchairs into the water, so, ah, given your current physical state…’ he gestures to Amanda’s torso, receiving a huffy exhale in return, ‘…I’d suggest you keep your distance.’
‘Why do the planes get so close if it’s that dangerous?’ Amanda asks.
‘Well, there are warning signs all over the beach. See on the railings back there? But the runway is short for the size of planes coming in.’ He points to the airfield abutting the beach. ‘The pilots have to land right on the start line to make sure they stop before the end. That means the planes have to come in low to touch down and you never really appreciate how fast they’re falling when you’re inside but you’ll see now. Here she comes.’
We sit upright on our loungers, our legs straddling the sides of the bed. I finally let go of my punch, turning the plastic cup in the sand until it stands unaided. Then I take out my camera and brace myself as the 747 comes drifting in.
‘Holy shit!’ Amanda says, pulling down her shades to the tip of her nose, her eyes following the belly of the plane.
Holding up my phone, I snap away at the aeroplane until my head is leaning back to look up at the giant metal bird. Jake wasn’t lying; people daring enough to stand in the middle of the beach, directly under the plane’s path, are clinging onto the railings. Hats fly, hair blows back, a young girl loses her grip and her footing.
‘Wow, that’s incredible.’
‘Told ya,’ Jake says with a smug smile. ‘Another?’
I shake my head fast. ‘No. I really shouldn’t; these three have already gone to my head.’
‘They should,’ he laughs. ‘They’re free-poured measures.’
‘Urgh, if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d?—’
‘Oh, God, enough already. Bring me another please, Jake.’
‘On it,’ he laughs.
