‘Is there something wrong?’
And I suppose there is. It’s like that kid’s song, the one about things being different. One of these things not being like the other. I’m one of these things that just doesn’t fit in. I’m the cheap end of the mall; Forever 21 and H&M, while he’s the Gucci end. Probably not even that, probably more custom made and imported, Saville Row or Milan. I thought the hotel was strange and the cars a bit over the top. How can I tell him this boat is just another wedge of difference between us, without making him feel as bad as I do? Because, when faced with reminders of his wealth, its depths, it makes me feel more than a little ill. It’s an uncomfortable reminder of how different we are, where we’ve come from. How this is likely to end, at some point. And always in the background is this nagging awareness of what people will think.Gold digger.That’s how I’ll be labelled, regardless of how I feel about him.
‘I’m just tired, I think.’
If he’s unconvinced, he hides it well, stooping to place a kiss behind my ear. I’ve never been a fan of scotch but the faint tang spurs me to turn as I wonder if it’ll taste any better from his tongue. I slide my arms around his neck, placing my lips against his. Yes, okay, I’m trying to blot out the thoughts, and as his free hand curls around my waist, I can almost anticipate its onward journey.
His soft lips curl against mine, one hand sliding down to cup my butt. ‘Tell me where we’re going, or unhand me booty, mate.’
I feel his smile against my own before a breath of whiskey and pleasure crosses my cheek as he laughs. ‘A party, of sorts.’
‘With other people?’ I pull back to peer up at him.
‘That’s the usual state of affairs.’ He smiles, sort of secretly. ‘A meeting of like minds, or perhaps an acquired taste. But we don’t have to stay.’
As I swallow the remains of my drink, we dock at an island, which can’t be far from the mainland given we haven’t been moving for more than one glass. The island itself seems to be covered in palm trees and lush with greenery. In the distance, a palatial house rises from the surrounding green as lights, reminiscent of a runway, make a path to the house, disappearing into the trees before reappearing on the path beyond. A dozen boats of similar calibre to theLaylafloat alongside. People—some dressed for cocktails, some for a club—mingle at various points between the large jetty and the house, most making their way along the path.
‘What is this place?’ I ask as we stand on the deck.
‘Sweetheart, this is the world,’ he replies with a wry smile.
‘Comedian. We’re still in Dubai technically, right?’
‘We are. Haven’t you heard ofThe World?’ My blank expression answers him. ‘It’s a manmade archipelago, made to resemble a map of the world. It hasn’t been fully developed. The recent financial crisis put it on hold but for a few points on the map.’
‘Huh.’ His explanation triggers vague memories. I must’ve seen a TV program about it or something. I seem to remember thinking it a bit mad, but that’s Dubai, I suppose. ‘So, what’s this one, which part of the world, I mean?’
He laughs as he offers me his arm. ‘I’m not sure anyone really knows.’
Music pulses from the house as we approach the massive, and manned, front door. On second thought, a more accurate description might be amountainedfront door, judging by the sheer size of the door denizens. As well as being huge, they’re also not unfamiliar to Kai, greeting him with a nod and a murmured welcome as they push both heavy doors wide.
The dull thud of the music increases in volume as the doors open into a pulsing trance beat, or would that be dubstep these days? I doubt I’m hip enough to know. Arrhythmic lighting highlights flashes of bodies writhing on a huge dance floor.
The interior of the house seems at odds with its outward modernity, dark and dimly lit, it oozes a kind of theatrical Parisian bordello look. Women in tiny silver striped dresses serve drinks from trays, barmen—bare-chested but for matching vests—man a gilt-coloured bar running almost the length of the room.
Holding my hand, Kai seems very at ease as we enter the fray.
We pass by a woman wearing not much more than strings herself as she dangles from the ceiling, spinning and entwining her arms and legs in velvet ropes, veryCirque du Soleil. Pausing to watch, each movement of her choreographed show twists her bonds this way and that, her face an artful rictus of pleasure and despair. Further into the room, a man dressed in an old-fashioned wrestler’s outfit, handlebar moustache to match, spins from the ceiling holding two hoops, his powerful build turning gymnastics into art. And that’s just the staff. The patrons,wow, what a hedonistic bunch. All nationalities and ages, dancing, drinking. Wearing little and having a lot of fun.
‘Kais,salam!’ At the far side of the room, it’s quieter as Kai is drawn into a masculine hug. It’s an awkward moment as Kai refuses to release my hand. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’ A flashing light reflects from the hugger’s twin rows of perfect teeth, his open-necked shirt revealing a deep tan. ‘And who is this, habibi?’
Habibti for girls, habibi for boys.Hala’s explanation rings in my ears. Darling or my dear and generic, but still... it’s a bit much from a ... friend?
‘Françoise, this is my girlfriend, Kate.’
Françoise’s gaze opens fractionally, surprise so subtle I might not have seen it at all but for a flare of the lights. Reaching for my hand, his thinning blonde head bows decorously over it. ‘Enchanté, Katarina.’
‘Actually, it’s just Kate.’ I give his hand a firm business-like shake, my expression serious to his amused.
‘You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend.’ Kai’s gaze sweeps the room. ‘Quite the cabaret.’
‘As have you.’ Françoise’s fingers loosen almost reluctantly on my own. Not particularly tall, and a little rotund, his shoulders rise as he claps his hands. ‘Tonight is a cabaret of the senses. You must promise to stay to see the shows! Ah, here comes the light of my life,’ he adds, holding out his hand. Call me presumptuous, but I’d expected hislightto be a guy with a fabulous haircut and washboard abs, when he adds, ‘My Sofia.’
If her name alone wasn’t enough to freeze the smile on my face, then the look on Kai’s would.
‘Darling, come say hello to our Kais.’Our Kais, really? Am I missing something?Françoise’s fingers entwine with her gracefully lifted hands, her sultry sway drawing nearer until she’s there. Right in front of me. Not that she seems to notice. As she only has eyes for Kai, of course.
Double kisses are meted out as she leans towards Kai, murmuring his name.
