Chapter 17 Austen
The wet-cigarette man is at Mischa’s bedside when I return. I see him through the slit in the curtain. He gets up to leave and kisses Mischa on each cheek.
“Bye, Pumpkin,” Mischa says.
“Pumpkin?” I say, when he’s gone. Mischa’s head shoots up. “Kinda nuts that you took your boyfriend to Australia to pursue me.”
He pokes his neck around the curtain. “Where’s everyone?”
“They went clubbing. Isobelle volunteered me to babysit you.”
“No Kane?”
“We are in a hospital. I don’t think any of the nurses want to kill me.”
Mischa releases a tense breath. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I don’t care if he is.”
“I’ve just been throwing up seawater. It was very dramatic. He was upset, to say the least. He’s also my brother, by the way.”
“That’s a disturbing kink, roll playing incest.”
Mischa’s brow furrows. “You need to stop talking about my actual brother as if I’m fucking him. Please.”
“What’s with all the sexual tension?”
“Ugh, you’re killing me here. That’s just tension. The last twenty minutes were awful. It’s not sexual; he’s Romanian. They’re very passionate. You’re misreading the culture. What if I accused you of the same thing with Will?”
I grimace. “Christ. I don’t like to even think of William as having a sexuality. It’d be better if he didn’t, actually. Half the girls on this trip wouldn’t be so prickly towards me. But that’s beside the point because Isobelle invited you on the boat, and I hope you will say no.”
“I’m not with Max.”
“I don’t care...”
“But I do. A lot. You’re giving me shit for sleeping with my own brother, and your own brother, despite knowing I don’t even like him, and have too much fucking self-respect to sleep with someone who treats their intimate partners like dirt the way he does...”
“He doesn’t...”
“...and probably Kane too when you know damn well I’m sex-starved and you’ve been fucking Sabrina for five years and Amelia now too, and have been since Alice Springs. William told me he was there and saw it.”
What a ridiculous irony. “Oh that is just perfect.”
He huffs. “I care about you more than you understand. You are not exchangeable. Max is my brother. Can’t you just give me the benefit of the doubt? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Why are you still hung up on Kane though? I promise that was just for show.”
“He makes my gaydar go off, and I think he hit on me before Christmas and I think you’ll give me shit for it eventually so I’m shining a light on it right now so it won’t bite me in the ass when you and I are just about to get married or something.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. You have a tendency to read into things that aren’t there, and be very optimistic about your chances.”
“Certified closet-case,” I shake my head.
“Anyway, all this conversation is telling me is how hurt you’d be if I really did have someone else.
Being a little brat about it tells me that you like me but don’t trust me.
I’m hurt that you hooked up with Amelia, but I don’t own you.
You’re hurt because you don’t believe my brother is my brother, and that’s on you. ”
“All right; I believe you,” I say. “I don’t care, but I believe you.”
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t with Amelia,” I tell Mischa. “Billy saw me that morning at the campground, and knew I had been with someone, so I lied to him. Now I’m spending a bloody week with her.”
“Oh,” he relaxes a little. “Well who cares, really? William’s got some insane master-plan to fuck with me, just so you know.”
“He’s threatened,” I smile a little. “Although to be fair, he helped me drag you out of the water. You owe him your life.”
“I think you need to talk to him. He’s got feelings for Sabrina.”
I shake my head at the thought and push down a laugh trying to bubble up.
“He loves her like a sister,” I shrug, “but he’s obsessed with Izzy.”
“I’d be worried.”
I want to howl with laughter but I force myself not to.
“I’ll never worry about that.”
“It seems quite intense though.”
“I know him better than you. I’m his brother, does he seem intense with me?”
Mischa thinks about it.
“Point taken. Thanks for saving me. Again.”
“There are better ways to get another kiss, you know?”
“Good, because I never want to do that again.”
“Please don’t.”
I pat his head. He pulls me to him.
“You trying to give me a seizure?” I ask.
“Perfect place for it...”
“Good point,” I say, and kiss his eyebrow.
He looks at me in wonder. “Every time your lips touch me I feel like I might burst into flames”
“I think there’s an ointment for that.”
He snorts with laughter. “Anyway...”
Mischa pulls out his phone and brings up a photo of Maxim’s passport. Close up on the name. Maxim Abramov. He zooms out to his photo again. Then back to the name. Closer. Abramov.
A smile infects me. “Already told you I don’t care.”
“Your eyes look at me in a way that says ‘thank you’.” He combs his fingers between mine. “So am I coming or what?”
???
We use a private jet to fly south. This is a new experience for our two guests. Amelia and Mischa are wide-eyed getting inside it. Before we depart the flight attendant asks which one of us is Mikhail Abramov, and we all look at him. He looks confused.
“Am I in trouble?” he asks.
“Your father arranged a gift for your trip,” she says.
She shows him a box in the cargo hold, and he pulls out a bottle to show us.
“My dad sent us a case of wine,” he explains.
Isobelle examines the bottle. “Fancy wine.”
“A case of that costs a fortune,” William says.
“Yeah,” Mischa scratches his head. “My dad is one of those rich Russian guys who buys English football teams and superyachts and stuff. Owns a jet too, I’ve just never been allowed on it.”
I look at the note that came with it.
“You are carrying precious cargo,” it reads. “My deepest love and admiration goes with you all. Thinking of you always, Victor Abramov.”
“Weird note,” Mischa frowns. “He is not a touchy-feely man. He’s never told me he loves me. I don’t actually think he does love me, definitely doesn’t admire me. Maybe he was drunk or something.”
“What should we get to thank him?” I ask.
“Oh,” Mischa’s eyes shoot up. “Nothing. The man has everything.”
???
New Zealand looks gorgeous from the air.
It is every single green woven together, and the land is sculptural.
We get in cars and drive inland. There are no other vehicles on the road.
The sky is a deeper blue than anywhere else.
After miles of flat grass fields a color so lurid they could be radioactive, the silvery lake and steep forested mountains of the fjord are a dramatic revelation.
Waterfalls mist the sheer granite cliffs. The clear water laps a pebble shore.
We arrive at the tiny lakeside marina around midday. The boat is pea green too, and called The Runcible. It’s a mammoth double-hulled ketch, with polished wood and brass everywhere. We lock everyone’s phones and cameras in a safe. William gets up on the bow and claps his hands.
“Right,” he says to the audience. “Thank you all for signing the no-shit-talking-agreement and handing over your phones, because this is the only time we get to be normal. This is the one week of the year we get to act like nothing’s wrong.”
I hand out drinks to everyone. “And I don’t have to have a bloody bodyguard for Christ’s sake...”
Hayden shoots me a look. “Love you too, Austen.”
“Yes,” William continues. “For one week, Kane and Hayden are not our bodyguards, they are only our friends and guests, so if you are attacked by a bear, you’re shit out of luck.”
“Just let it eat me,” I tell them.
“No more egg white and broccoli dinners, working out, no fucking study, and no sobriety,” William says.
“You’re not getting wrecked though, Bee,” I say.
“Any worry or care,” he continues, “any fucks that you have, you better leave them on the dock of the lake. They are too heavy to carry, and could sink the ship. This is the only serious rule. Any fucks smuggled on board may result in you being left behind on a distant shore.” He holds up his drink. “I propose a toast; to indifference!”
“To indifference!” everyone cheers.
“Where to first?” Kane asks, as we head out.
“Northwest until we hit the narrow channel, and just follow the shore,” I tell him. “I’m not sure if we should try the north arm.” I look to the others. “It really depends what you guys want to do? We can access parts of Fiordland most people can never reach.”
“I wouldn’t mind a fishing expedition,” Mischa says.
I am surprised. “You like fishing?”
“I do,” he smiles at me.
“Have you been trout fishing before?”
“I spend most summers at my dad’s dacha in Russia.”
“I’m going hunting,” William says. “I really need to kill something.”
It’s almost time for dinner when we stop in a small cove. Mischa inspects boxes of fresh produce. He holds up a head of cauliflower and looks at it, confused.
“Who brought the vegetables?” he asks.
Isobelle rolls her eyes. “Boys.”
“William and I did. We’re cooking this week. We’re trained chefs.”
He eyes us incredulously. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say, annoyed. “I asked you for a job, remember? Our dad’s a chef in New York and we work for him every summer. We even went to cooking school in Paris.”
“I thought you’re dad’s a CEO?” Amelia asks.
“Our other dad,” I groan. “The one we like.”
“What about Daddy?” Isobelle asks.
“Other-other dad,” I smile at her. “You can call anyone our dad and we’ll only get offended if you’re talking about the animal who married our momma.”
“I’d call you Daddy before I ever called James Blazey that,” Billy tells Mischa.
“Please don’t do that,” Mischa says.
Billy laughs, juggles some onions and throws one to me. “Let’s show off.”