Chapter Sixteen
We stroll down the portside, past the cruise ships, towards the smaller docks with the fishing boats and private yachts, at a loss. A seafood restaurant beckons us. It’s quiet, with small, clothed tables set up outside on a raised front overlooking the bay.
Gus selects a table closest to the view but discreet enough for his face to be obscured from passers-by. He gives me an apologetic look. I’m still trying to come to terms with our situation.
“I can’t do another day of this,” I say. “It’s not that it’s been so bad. It’s just, well, I want to be the adventurous type, but I’d just like to do it in extreme comfort and surrounded by copious amounts of free food and drink.”
“Not me,” Gus says, smirking. “I’m having the time of my life. This is the closest I’ve felt to freedom in years.”
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of the ice-cold water I ordered.
“What are we going to do? We can’t drive to Sicily. It’s a whole sea away. The cruise will be on their way already, docking tomorrow morning. I don’t know how we catch them up now.”
Gus sits back, sighing. “We could fly?”
“Through a storm?”
“Well, I’m sure they’d go around it.”
I open my phone and growl. The damn battery is flashing again. It’s like it’s taunting me. “Stupid thing. Why now? Why pick now to start dying on me?”
Gus tries not to laugh and hands me his phone over the table.
I google flights but everything that’s from an easy airport to reach from Kotor has a switch in either London or Paris.
We might as well go home. And besides, I don’t fancy dragging Popstar through a busy terminal and queuing for security.
He’ll almost certainly be recognised, and where would that leave me?
I’m searching for ferries that cross from Kotor to somewhere in Italy when his phone lights up with a call from ‘Grace’.
I practically throw it at him like it suddenly became a live, slippery fish.
Gus catches it and groans when he checks the name.
It’s probably a girlfriend or a hook-up, surely popstars have a few of those on speed dial?
I expect him to hang up and shrug it off as nothing (you know, like a lot of men would) when he answers and pops her on speaker phone.
“What do you want?” he asks, dryly.
“Just checking you’re not dead,” the woman says.
“Why would I be dead?”
“Your security team is on to you. Apparently, they find it surprising your phone hasn’t moved from the ship at all, despite docking several times. They actually asked me if you’re just hiding in your room. You know, like a fucking freak.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said that’s likely. Because Gus is a fucking freak.”
He grins. “Good. Glad you cleared that up.”
She drops something at the other end of the line and curses. “I didn’t tell them I have this number or that you’d decided to abandon the cruise.”
“No idea what you mean.”
“Oh please! You were seen in Dubrovnik three hours after your cruise left port with a pretty blonde, dickhead.”
Gus bites the inside of his cheek and eyes me from under his curls. “Wasn’t me.”
“Alright, Shaggy.”
“Have you handled it?”
She sighs. “I tried. The girl who posted it isn’t replying to my DMs. I reckon you’ll be ok though because your face is fairly obscured.
I think they’re more interested in the woman, truthfully.
Which, speaking of, who is she? She’s not in my social circle.
Is she a model? She looks tall. Or an up-and-coming actress?
Fair play if she is, that’s a great way to get your name out there.
Oh, of course. That’s who I sent money to, isn’t it? It better had been for a good cause.”
He glances at me again. I’m pretty sure the warmth in my face is giving me away. “It’s… actually not like that.”
“Shut up,” she says. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“But you like her? Oh my God. Was she on the cruise? Is she some normie?”
Gus cringes. “Grace,” he warns. “She’s right here.”
There’s a moment of silence down the line.
I mouth, “Is this your sister?” at Gus. Who nods slowly, a spark of humour in his eyes.
“She’s a whirlwind,” he mouths back.
“Erm… Ok, first of all,” Grace begins, “I don’t appreciate being bombarded like that. Secondly, hi? Gus’s new… friend? I guess?”
“Sara, meet Grace. Grace, meet Sara. Grace, Sara is helping me, well, collaborating with me to get back on the cruise. She’s been a lifesaver so far since my burner phone doesn’t have any banking set up.”
“Wow,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re such a moron.”
“Thank you, as always, for your kind and loving support.”
Then she cracks up laughing. “So, wait. This cruise you went on to prove you could holiday by yourself for two weeks…” More laughter. “You ended up missing the boat on the second day and now you need some poor stranger to help you?”
“And I did seriously consider not helping him,” I point out.
Gus tilts his head at me as if to question whose side I’m on.
Grace is laughing harder, proper big belly laughs. “This is brilliant!”
“Right. Thanks for your useful input, Grace. We need to go since we’re currently stuck in Montenegro.”
“Sorry, you’re what?”
“I’m not saying another word. We just need to get to Italy as soon as possible.”
The laughter intensifies.
“Sara, please steal my number from his phone and message me if you need someone to bitch to about him,” Grace says.
I smile. “Thanks for the offer.”
“Any time! Oh, and Gus. Do you want the update or not?”
A shadow passes over his face, the light in his eyes dimming. He lets out a steady breath and says, “No. I think it’s best I wait.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me.”
“Alright. But be warned, the news might find you.”
He nods like it’s a given but doesn’t expand. “Bye then.”
“Love you,” she sings.
Gus rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Love you too. Now bugger off.” He hangs up and sighs, watching me with an amused look on his face. “Well, that’s Grace. Luckily, we have too much shit on each other for her to dob me in.”
“At least now you know they’re tracking you.”
“Oh yeah. That does put my mind at ease,” he jokes.
Now that we’re off the phone, the waiter comes over to take our food and drink order. “I’m Petar by the way. You are a beautiful couple.”
“Thank you,” Gus says with a huge smile before I can correct him. “Hey, you don’t happen to have any ideas on how we can cross that,” he says, pointing at the sea, “and get to Sicily by tomorrow, do you?”
Petar holds a tray in one hand, his other on his hip. He frowns and it makes his forehead scrunch up. “Right now? There is a storm coming, you’ve not heard?”
“Yeah, we know. But it won’t be that bad, will it? It’s summer.”
We all once again stare at the blemish free skies above us.
“You would be surprised. The storms. They hit hard and fast.” He frowns for another second before holding a finger in the air. “Hang on, I may have an idea. I will speak to my cousin,” he says, striding back towards the kitchen.
“Gus,” I lean forward, “what if he’s in the Mafia?” I whisper.
He laughs. “What makes you think he’s in the Mafia?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the way he said cousin. What if this restaurant is just a front for some kind of smuggling.”
“Right. And now we’re about to be… what? Smuggled across to Italy by the Mafia?”
I screw up my face. “Well, fine. When you say it like that…”
Twenty minutes later, deep in a plate of garlic king prawns, another man comes striding out towards us, closely followed by Petar.
“This is my cousin, Luka,” Petar says, “he will help you.” He gives him a firm slap on the back before moving off to help another table.
“I’m told you need passage to Italy.”
I stare wide eyed at Gus who definitely sees me but pretends not to.
“Yes. We are in need of passage.”
“My brother’s wife’s son’s friend is a fisherman. He boats over to Bari in Italy once a week. It just so happens he’s going this evening. You will arrive by sunrise. I can put you in touch if you like?”
Gus chances a glance my way, but I have questions.
“What kind of boat does he have?” I say, my voice tight.
“It is red.”
What?
“What will it cost?” Gus asks.
The man shrugs. “I can ask him. He usually just enjoys company.”
“Isn’t there a storm coming?” I say.
“Roko is excellent captain.”
“Well of course, he has a red boat,” I say, kicking Gus’s foot under the table.
“Exactly. Yes. Red boat.” Luka smiles with full sincerity.
Gus clears his throat to stop himself from laughing. “Luka, my man. This is incredibly helpful. Can we take minute to think it over?”
Luka nods, giving us thumbs up as he walks backwards towards the bar and doesn’t once take his eyes off us.
“I have chills,” I say.
“I know, what are the chances?”
“I really hope you’re joking,” I hiss.
Gus tilts his head, splaying his hands like it’s obvious. “We’ll be in the right country by tomorrow. It’ll be an adventure. Come on! Think of the photos I can get out at sea. The sunrise?”
“Oh yeah. And what about those forty-foot waves? And the fork lightning?”
He looks at the clear, dazzlingly blue sky as if to make his point.
In fairness, it’s mocking us. “Yeah, I don’t know.
I think that storm stuff is nonsense. There’s barely even a breeze.
” He blinks, pressing his lips together to prevent a smirk.
“And besides, as you said, he is a great captain of a red boat.”
“What if the red is rust?”
“Then the boat has experience. Even better.”
“No,” I say, affirmative. “No. It’s over. I’m going to go to the airport and get the next flight back to the UK. I think I’ve tested my karma plenty. It’s time.”
Gus blows out a breath, sitting back again. “Ok, fine. I’ll come with you, then.” His tone is resolved. Defeated.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to.”
“Nah. We’re in this together now. I’m not going on without you, it will just feel weird.”
I throw my hands up. “Gus. That’s very annoying. I’m just going to feel horribly guilty now!”
He smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Nothing to feel guilty about, you’ve been very helpful. And,” he takes a breath, “exceptionally good company.”
Of course he’s going to be sweet about this!
“Ugh! You’re telling me you really want to get on some random boat and cross to Italy? You don’t think that’s insane?”
He shrugs. “I think a little crazy is good for you. Either that, or life is going to be dreadfully boring. Making decisions based on what’s sensible can really wear your soul down.”
Pfft. I don’t think he knows how much his words cut through me.
It’s a throw away remark, I suppose, if you’re a wealthy superstar who can fall back into a bed of cash without harming anyone else on the way down.
However, in my experience, whenever I’ve taken a risk and failed it’s hurt other people in addition to myself.
Before I started in my current role, I wanted to work in TV.
I had this idea that I’d follow my passion, that I’d do something for me just this once.
I took an unpaid internship for the summer instead of stepping straight out of my business economics degree into the well-paid graduate role I’d been offered.
The very next week, Dad was injured at work and was on a reduced salary, Millie had driving lessons that needed paying for, Gemma and Abby were both at university and needed a maintenance fund to pay for their accommodation or they’d lose their housing.
Just like that, one selfish choice and I was the problem.
Luckily, the graduate position was still open. And, in hindsight, the TV job wouldn’t have been for me. But it taught me a valuable lesson: it isn’t practical to dream. Not when you have people relying on you.
And yet, there’s nobody relying on me right now. If I’m going to do something risky, take a chance, maybe this is the time to do it.
“So?” Gus asks, signalling to Petar for the bill. He raises one eyebrow, a quirk in his lips. “We heading to the airport or the docks?”
I groan, running my hands through my hair. The real-world version of me would never do this. I’m the girl who plays it safe. And there’s nothing wrong with safe, right?
Right?!
I’m just fighting this feeling that heading to the airport and calling this adventure off would be something I’ll regret.
If I’m being honest with myself, which I rarely am, I’m enjoying Gus’s company, with his charming humour and cheeky quips.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m not quite ready to give that up just yet.
Even if it does mean heading out to sea on an unknown vessel in a potentially horrific storm.
Is it reckless? Absolutely. But what if I don’t go? Will I just wonder for the rest of my life at what might’ve been? Somehow that feels worse.
“Fine,” I say, resolute, almost surprising myself as much as Gus. “Let’s do it. I mean – what’s the worst that could happen?”
Gus presses his lips together, thoughtfully. “I’d hate to say. Let’s not tempt fate.”
“Excellent suggestion. I won’t dwell on it.”
We share a nervous but excited smile.
“Luka?” he says, “Show us to the red boat!”