Chapter Seven
I’m ok. This is fine. What’s the worst that can happen?
I’m simply abandoned in a foreign city with little more than some random stuff in my bag, a dead phone, lip balm and a pair of sunglasses.
Shit.
I run my fingers through my hair as I pace towards the port office. I’m hoping they’ll be able to slingshot me back onto the boat. Or maybe they have one of those human Iron Man suits I could borrow to fly myself back over there. Hell, I’d hang on tight to a drone. I’ve seen crazier things.
I take a deep, controlled breath before stepping into the building. There’s a large man behind the desk, frowning at his computer screen.
“Hi, erm, sorry,” I say, hoping to get his attention. He doesn’t acknowledge me, so I wait like the naughty, abandoned passenger I am. After a good minute or so of me awkwardly pretending this isn’t awkward, he finally looks up.
“Ah, you missed the ship.”
Heat spreads through my face. I swallow. “I did.”
“You are Sara?”
“That’s me… How did you…?”
The man opens a passport to the picture page before handing it over. “The crew left your passport when you did not sign back in. You must go to next port,” he says. “They leave Dubrovnik at four p.m. tomorrow. You must not ignore messages.”
“My phone died,” I explain, trying to defend myself. “I wasn’t ignoring my messages.”
He levels me with a sharp stare. “Do not let that happen.”
“Well, obviously,” I say, rolling my eyes. He shakes his head, the sarcasm clearly lost in translation. “It wasn’t intentional,” I add, for clarification, fiddling with my hands.
He scrunches his face. “You said that was what you did.”
“Yes. But not on purpose.”
“You charge phone better.”
This is getting painfully patronising. “Yes. Ok.” He nods as if the conversation is over. “Well, can you help me get there?”
“No.”
“No? I’m on my own then?!”
He shrugs. “You buy insurance?”
“Yes but—”
“Good. Call them.”
“I… All the details are on my phone. My phone is dead.”
He exhales sharply, like I’m inconveniencing him in ways I’ll never appreciate, “How do the young say it? This is a you problem?”
The thing I’ve learned about negotiations, during my career as a commercial manager, is that you can’t let the aggressor know you’re affected.
Unless they like that and eventually bend to empathy.
This man doesn’t give me that impression.
In fact, I’d say he’s sick of having to deal with disorganised holidaymakers who miss their cruise.
I want to tell him I’m not actually like them.
But clearly, I very much am.
“Ok… Thanks, I guess.”
I step out of the office back into the mid-afternoon sun. I stare longingly out at the ship, its sleek shape shrinking as it travels further and further from the port. I huff, placing my floppy hat back on my head to protect my forehead.
“Bollocks,” I mutter. Again. “Just great.”
But it’s ok. I am a strong, independent woman who can absolutely make this work. So what if I miss one night on the cruise?
It’s fine. I’m good.
First things first: find a phone charger so I can call my insurance company.
I push my hand into my bag to see what I have at my disposal.
There is about a hundred euros in there.
I left my wallet with my debit and credit cards in the room because I have contactless set up on my phone anyway and I didn’t want to risk losing them abroad.
Also in my bag, I have suncream (useful), the trinkets I foraged in the market (less useful), a packet of mint gum (eh?) and a few plasters that have been in this bag since I bought a new pair of heels about two years ago.
I haven’t needed them yet, but who knows when a crisis might strike?
There surely must be a phone shop in the more modern parts of the city. As soon as I have my phone back on, I’ll be able to sort everything else. I turn back towards the town and feel my tummy fizz. I blink a few times to check my vision is correct because…
Popstar is standing where the cruise is meant to be docked, camera hanging around his neck, a confused notch between his brows.
There’s nowhere to hide. Not a tree, not a building, not even a Goddamn person.
His gaze slowly turns to me, eyes sweeping up my (probably sweaty at this point) body, before fixing on my face.
I would run away if I could, but the only other direction I can go in leads to the sea. And I can’t swim to Dubrovnik. So, I’m stuck. This interaction is unavoidable.
“Hey, you,” he says, clearing some of the metres between us.
There’s a hint of playfulness in his tone.
“Did they move the ship or something?” He’s wearing a white t-shirt and a black backwards cap.
Curls spill out from either side, despite his clear effort to conceal them.
His skin is already sun-kissed, the tip of his nose a little red, and his shirt is fitted enough I can make out the shape of his toned physique underneath.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find him mildly attractive, but that’s ridiculous.
Obviously, I’m attracted to a celebrity.
The issue is, so is everyone else. He could have any woman he wanted.
What am I even talking about? Obviously, that is irrelevant!
I shake myself out of it and use words like a grownup. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“Where’ve they moved it to?”
“To Dubrovnik…” I say, letting the moment linger.
He blinks a few times and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Oh, like it’s gone?”
“Yeah.” I frown. Where else would they have moved it to?
His lips fall apart and he stares out into the distance. “Shit. Is that it?” he asks, pointing at the sleek beauty disappearing across the horizon.
I nod. “The very one.”
He runs a hand down his face and kicks a loose stone. “Crap. This is…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but laughs instead. “What a fucking moron,” he mutters under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Me. I’m the moron,” he adds, without looking my way.
“Oh.” I mean, clearly, I am too. So, how could I judge.
Finally, he turns to me. “What will you do?”
I shrug. Honestly? My brain is still calibrating, trying to figure out how any of this is real.
Because, right now, I’m stood next to a world-famous popstar I’ve been cyber-stalking for the last forty-eight hours and my luxury cruise, that was meant to be repairing my mental health, is but a dot in the distance.
Did I pass out? Did I slip and hit my head as I ran through the cobbled streets?
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage to choke out. “I’m trying to…” I just wave my hands at the general situation, hoping he’ll catch on.
He smiles. “I understand. This…” He waves his hands the same way as I did. “…is super inconvenient.”
“Yes.” And embarrassing. Probably expensive too.
“I’m Gus by the way,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
I give him a look. “Yeah. I know who you are.” It feels like a confession.
He tilts his head, curiously. “Hmm. I didn’t think you did.”
“Oh.” I blink rapidly. “Well, I didn’t before… when…” Oh, this is mortifying again. How wonderful. He grins, a sparkle in his eye that tells me he now knows I’ve researched him. Walked right into that one, Sara! “What I mean is…”
Ugh. I can’t talk myself out of this one.
Thankfully he rescues me. “I only introduced myself because I was hoping you’d give me your name.”
I click my fingers. That makes sense. Hopefully it won’t take long for me to revert to being a normal person with mature communication skills, instead of this sweaty, socially inept, horridly embarrassed and fumbling version of me.
“You mean you don’t know who I am?” I say, pretending to be mock offended.
He laughs. “Should I?”
“Wow.” I shake my head. “Rude.”
He waits for me to answer his original question, brow raised. I blow out a breath, brush down my dress and reset.
I hold my hand out like he did. He takes it in his large, warm hand, squeezing firmly as I say, “Hello, Gus. My name is Sara. Nice to meet you. Even if it is, once again, in unfortunate circumstances.”
He schools his face to play along. “Nice to meet you too, Sara. Like myself, I see you are lost in a foreign city.”
“Ah, I can see why you would think that. But I’m actually not lost at all. I am, in fact, stranded.”
“Quite right. Me too. Tell me, Sara, what do you plan on doing to correct this situation? Because I myself,” he says, pointing at his chest, “am probably going to walk to the next city.”
I laugh, shaking my head and planting my hands on my hips. “Why are we talking like this?”
“I have no idea. You started it.”
I probably did. I’m being supremely awkward. “Good point. But sorry, did you just say you’re planning on walking to Dubrovnik?”
“I did say that.”
I nod as if that’s a very sensible thing to say but end up frowning in confusion. “Why, exactly?”
He raises his hands like it’s obvious. “I love an adventure. And I have no money.”
“So, you are not a wealthy popstar?”
“No. I mean, yes. But I have no money on me.”
“Why on earth not?” I sputter.
He winces. “Because I only took a handful of notes with me this morning and I spent it all on lunch. I didn’t want to carry a massive wad of cash around with me. You know, for security reasons.”
I take a slow breath. But surely he has everything set up on his apps. “Well, do you have your phone on you?”
He cringes, running a hand through his curls. “This is really embarrassing. I’d like to point out that, normally, I’m much more organised than this.”
“Ok?”
“I have a phone,” he says, slipping it out of his pocket and glaring at it. “But it isn’t my normal phone. I don’t have anything set up on here.”
“But why?”
“Ah, it’s a long story.”
“Well, can you not call someone? Get us helicoptered back onto the cruise or something? You don’t have any contacts?
A private chauffeur to Dubrovnik? Charter a yacht to chase down our yacht?
” I realise as soon as I’ve said it that it’s highly presumptuous of me to say ‘us’ but, other than the spritz incident, he’s been fairly sweet so far so he might include me.
He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. “The thing is, I’m trying to prove I don’t need them.”
“Who?”
“My team.”
“Ok,” I say, considering this revelation. “Well, I’d suggest you maybe do. You know, need them. Because you’re stranded.”
“We’re stranded,” he points out.
“Yes. We’re stranded. Is there really nothing you can do?”
He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I mean, I could call my team. If it was absolute worst-case scenario.”
I feel like this qualifies. “Great! Do that!”
“But I don’t want to,” he says, cringing.
“Why not?”
“Because I spent so much time convincing them I could do this alone. And I can do this alone.”
“I’d argue…”
“Hey,” he interrupts, laughing when he notices my incredulous expression.
“I know this looks bad. I do. But if I call them, they’ll send people out here.
I’ll lose my anonymity and be forced to do this with people shadowing me the whole time.
All in the guise of them being worried about me when in actual fact they just want to keep tabs on me.
In fact, I’m pretty sure they’ve tapped my other phone and can track me. ”
“What?” I say, genuinely concerned for him.
He squeezes his chin. “Yeah, I don’t want them to know I’m onto them but there have been some unexplained scenarios. I need the space. I need to just be a nobody for a couple of weeks so I can live my life the way I want to.”
I blow out a breath. “Right. I see.”
He nods. “So, like I said, I’d walk to Dubrovnik to catch the cruise, if it meant not having to call them.”
“Right.” I really do not understand his plight.
“But we could walk together?” he suggests with the innocence of someone who thinks that is a sensible suggestion.
“Do I look like the kind of woman who would be up for walking God only knows how far, in this blistering heat, to another city?”
I realise as soon as I’ve said it, that it invites him to study me. His gaze starts at my sandals (see also: inappropriate walking footwear) and carry on up until he meets my eyes again with a grin. “I suppose not.”
“So, I won’t be doing that.”
“What will you be doing?”
I make another wild gesture with my hands. “I don’t know! I was kind of hoping I’d just bumped into my solution. But you’re not being very forthcoming.”
“I am. I offered to be your walking companion,” he jokes.
“Point. Made.”
He cringes. “I’m sorry. Do you have a phone? Any money?”
“Yes. I have some cash and a phone.”
“Great!”
“But it’s dead. I need to find a charger.”
He nods. “Then let’s do that.”
I glance behind him at the city and have this sudden anxious thought that we’re still chatting and I haven’t researched how long it will take to get to the next stop yet. What if it’s a whole night of travelling and here we are, wasting time?
I purse my lips. This is still feels a little too surreal for me. “Let me just clarify. You want to help me find a phone charger?”
He shrugs like it’s obvious. “I’ll help you. You can help me.”
“And how would I help you?”
“By letting me join you to the next stop,” he says. “I don’t actually want to walk to Dubrovnik. I realise that would be insane. Besides, going it alone feels far riskier than in company. Especially for me. Please?”
I can hardly say no. My eldest sister complex would never abandon someone who needed my help.
And besides, he was sweet enough to help me when I was in a bad way.
I’m sure some men would’ve run in the opposite direction or even taken advantage of the situation.
It’s only one night, right? I’ll find a charger and once my phone is working again, I’ll call the cruise and insurance company and I’m sure all the pieces of this puzzle will start falling into place.
Tomorrow, we’ll reboard the cruise and carry on with our holidays. Simple.
I laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Tell me about,” he agrees.
“Ok then,” I say. “You can tag along with me. But on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m in charge.”
For some reason this seems to tickle him. When he realises I’m not joking, he swallows his laughter, clears his throat and nods. “Ok. That is fine with me,” he says, almost too easily. Hmm.
“Oh!” I suddenly remember. “You should check the port office first. They had my passport.”
He presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah, I best not leave that here. I’ll be right back.”
Once he returns, passport in hand, I jump to action, striding back into the city in search of the shops.