The guests who’d been staying had made themselves scarce, heading to the Hippie Market or the other attractions. Friday had been the wild party. Yesterday’s had been far more glamorous, ending earlier rather than continuing into the hours leading up until dawn.
Today could’ve been any day in summer. The same blus skies, the same calm seas. Safir was at its most tranquil; a refuge away from time or expectation.
Lala had disappeared to meet friends in Sant Antoni, suggesting she might miss the final party tonight.
It was a lie, of course. My sister couldn’t miss a party in the same way she couldn’t miss Paris Fashion Week. Or breathe.
I read by the pool, checked my email for half an hour to make sure I hadn’t missed anything to do with my course in New York, and swam laps, up and down the pool, feeling muscles I hadn’t used for so long start to stretch and loosen.
The sun was high in the sky before I realised I wasn’t alone. I looked up from the water to see Marcus, sitting at one of the tables, his sunglasses stopping me from seeing where his gaze was landing.
I suspected it was on me.
I stopped swimming and held onto the side, looking directly at him. He lifted his glasses and looked at me without smiling.
“I shouldn’t have knocked on your door last night.” He was wearing his standard chinos and a T-shirt that was definitely designer.
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”
“Can you keep what I asked between us?”
I studied him, wondering exactly what was happening in his life right now. “No. I told Lala already.”
He rubbed his face.
“Why do you need the money, Marcus? Can’t you ask your dad?”
“No.” He stood up. “Can you ask Lala not to say anything?”
“I suspect she’s already forgotten about it.”
He shrugged. “Tommy – the bloke who ownsCòctels. You might want to give him a wide berth.”
“Given the company you keep, I’m not sure I’m going to listen to that.”
He didn’t laugh, didn’t respond. Not at first.
“How do you know Tommy?” I was curious though.
“You’ve not been here for a few years. The island’s changed.”
“Doesn’t feel like that to me. Everything’s similar. New bars and restaurants, but that’s happened every year.”
He shook his head. “No, the infrastructure. Who runs what. I know Livi and you always believed that it was the artists that run the island, but it isn’t. It’s not where the money is.”
“And money makes the world go round.”
“And power. He who pays the piper calls the tune.”
We finished off the end of the sentence together. It was a favourite of Lawrie’s, and we’d heard it since we were kids.
“Why do you need the money, Marcus?”
He looked up to the skies as if saying a prayer. “I made a bad business deal. I owe someone for something I bought but couldn’t sell on.”
“What did you buy?”
He shook his head again. “You really don’t need details.”
