Chapter 17
Thought of the day…
When life feels overwhelming, start with something small, then move onto the next small thing.
(And, yes, eating a packet of biscuits one by one counts.)
For the second time today, I stood outside Julian’s villa, but before knocking, I listened at the door to see if he was alone. Which I soon realised was silly. Is Fortress Chic an architectural style?
I knocked loudly, then waited. And waited. Perhaps he’d gone down to his office or had flown somewhere in that on-call helicopter. I was about to go when the door swung open.
Julian cocked his head at me in surprise. ‘Why do you look like a Beastie Boy?’
‘That reference dates you, Jules. And didn’t they wear baseball caps?’
I pushed past him, but paused in the entry – this would be a quick visit.
He closed the door. ‘All right, then why are you dressed like… whatever that is?’
I was wearing baggy trousers, a hoodie, trainers, and giant sunglasses, with my hair piled under a bucket hat – my go-to I-don’t-want-to-be-recognised-at-the-airport outfit.
‘Because of this,’ I said, shoving my phone in his face.
He squinted at the screen; longsightedness gets everyone eventually and Julian was still too vain to wear glasses. Two seconds later, his eyes widened.
‘Oh no.’
‘That’s putting it mildly. Do you know anything about this?’
‘Why don’t you come in?’ he said, heading towards the bar – not a minibar, mind you, but a full-sized, fully stocked bar. ‘Drink?’
‘No. Just an answer, thank you very much.’
I edged into the enormous room and perched on the end of a sofa. Julian poured himself a slug of his favourite whisky – fifty-year-old Highland Park – knocked it back, then poured another finger.
Finally, he faced me. ‘I really am sorry. I got it in my head that—’
‘Jules! So, this was your doing?’
‘No, not exactly. I mean… sort of.’
‘Explain better.’
He took a deep breath. ‘I should probably back up a bit, start from the beginning.’
‘Good idea.’
He came over and fell into the armchair next to me. ‘You know the expression there’s no such thing as bad publicity?’ he asked.
‘Of course. I know people who’ve built an entire career around that philosophy.’
‘Well, once you agreed to be the face of Aetheria and I told Niki, she was wary.’
‘Niki was? But she and I have got along just fine. I thought she liked me.’
Apart from that odd exchange in her office earlier, which I didn’t mention.
‘No doubt she does,’ replied Julian, ‘but she still found it problematic.’
‘Because we used to be married?’
‘Yes.’
‘But how is that connected to the photo? And why would you allow her to set me up like that?’
‘It wasn’t a set-up, Ally – that was a genuine moment between us. I only learned about the photo after the fact. Minh took it.’
‘Okay,’ I said, my anger dissipating by a fraction. ‘But you agreed to the post, right?’
Reluctantly, he nodded. ‘Niki convinced me it would generate buzz – that’s the word she used.’
‘Well, it’s certainly done that. But do you have any idea how much damage this will cause – has already caused?
My followers watch everything I do, hang off every word I say.
And when my actions are counter to the core ethos of Divorced Diva – especially my adage that an ex is an ex for a reason – they become disillusioned.
In me. In my platform. And that impacts our charity work…
God, Jules, you know how hard I’ve worked. ’
‘I do – truly. And I’m sorry. It was misguided but I only agreed because… well…’
I’d never seen Julian this contrite before – or tongue-tied. But that didn’t mean he was off the hook. He’d better have a bloody good explanation for what he’d done.
I folded my arms across my chest. ‘Well? Go on then.’
‘Right. Well, this may come as a surprise, but I’m in a bit of a bind – and not just losing Emma Watson as our spokesperson.’
What came as a surprise was Julian admitting he was in trouble – and so readily. When I’d planted the seed earlier, I’d thought it would take much longer for him to trust me with his problem – if he ever could.
While it didn’t disappear entirely, the Instagram-post matter receded into the background. Julian really was in trouble.
‘Tell me, Jules. You know I’ll do whatever I can,’ I offered.
‘Look, it’s complex and all my own doing and I really don’t want you caught up in it any more than you already are. Just know that I need Aetheria to be successful. It’s my… exit strategy, for want of a better term.’
None of this allayed my concerns. If anything, I became even more worried for him. Exit strategy? From what? What were he and Kovalec embroiled in? And where did Dale fit in?
Julian stared into his glass. After a long moment of silence, he tipped his head back, downing the rest of his whisky. He got up to pour some more and brought it back to the armchair, a faraway look on his face.
This Julian was a far cry from his typical affable self and a heavy stone settled in the pit of my stomach.
But what could I do to help? I quickly sifted through every solution that came to mind but there was only one I had any control over.
The Divorced Diva.
Somehow, we had to spin that photo into something positive, then give this PR campaign everything we had. If Julian needed Aetheria to be a massive success – no matter the reason – then I would do everything in my power to make that happen.
‘I’ll have Niki take down the photo,’ he said, interrupting my thoughts.
‘No, don’t do that.’
He looked up sharply. ‘But I thought you said—’
‘I know, but I think we can make it work in our favour.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know yet, but there are very clever people on my team. We’ll figure it out.’
‘You’re very clever.’
‘I know.’
We shared a smile.
‘Why are you helping me, Ally?’
‘I care about you – you know that.’
He reached out for my hand, and I gave it to him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, giving it a squeeze, then releasing it.
‘Thank me when it works.’
He smiled wryly and was about to take another sip of whisky when he regarded the glass. He leaned forward and set it on the coffee table, which I took as a positive sign.
‘I need to get back to my villa,’ I said, standing. ‘Lots to do.’
Normally I’d expect Julian to see me out – his ingrained good manners – but he stayed seated, staring into space.
What in the world had he got himself caught up in?
When I closed the door to Julian’s villa, the sun was starting to set and I stood on the porch for a moment to appreciate the swaths of colour sweeping across the sky.
In the distance, a bird swooped, then rode a current of air upwards.
The falcon! I watched her a while longer, her graceful movements a panacea for my frayed nerves, and the stone in the pit of my stomach started to dissolve. She flew out of sight, my cue to leave.
But on my way to my villa, I heard two people speaking in harsh, hushed tones. I stopped, creeping nearer, and listened in.
‘I didn’t plan for this to happen.’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re risking the entire operation.’
It was Tommy and Elsa. But what was the entire operation?
‘And I don’t appreciate being raked over the coals,’ she added spitefully.
‘I was raked over the coals. You were toasting marshmallows.’
‘Hardly – and I’m not the one shagging my ex-wife.’
I inhaled sharply and clapped my hand over my mouth. Our paths were about to cross and I didn’t want them to catch me spying, so I did the only thing I could think of – I ducked into the bushes.
And I know how ridiculous that sounds, given how much time I’d already spent amongst the foliage, but I told you this was a bonkers story – and this isn’t even the really bonkers part yet. My life had become an episode of The White Lotus. I half-expected Mike White to pop out and yell, ‘Cut.’
Hidden by the leafy branches, I strained to hear the rest of their conversation, but there was only silence. Had they stopped talking or gone the other way? I slunk between the bushes, parallel to the path, and then I saw them – they’d stopped where the paths intersected.
‘I’m not sleeping with her,’ he whispered harshly. ‘And you could take some accountability. That was a gross oversight on your part.’
‘Just stay away from her,’ said Elsa. ‘It’s only one more day. Do you think you can handle that?’
‘I can handle it. You just focus on Cushing and leave Kovalec to me.’
They exchanged angry looks and Elsa stormed off towards the staff quarters.
What the actual fucking fuck was going on?
Once he was alone, Tommy turned, seeming to look right at me. I ducked out of sight.
‘I can see you, Ally.’
I stayed perfectly still. Maybe he’d think he was mistaken and go away.
‘You’re wearing a stupid hat.’
‘Hey!’ I whispered, popping out of my hiding spot. ‘It’s not stupid.’
‘Will you just come out of there?’
I scrambled out of the bushes, swatting away branches – again wishing I had a machete.
When I made it out, Tommy was looking in the direction Elsa had gone. Maybe he was worried she’d come back and tell him off some more. I was about to ask when he turned and gave me a frosty look.
So, I gave him one back. ‘What’s that look for, Tom? I’m not the one who’s been lying. So, Elsa’s not your girlfriend then?’
‘I never said she was.’
‘You let me believe it.’
His frown deepened.
‘So, what is she to you, then? And don’t give me the just-a-colleague line – I heard you two talking about “the whole operation”.
And I caught her snooping in Julian’s office.
Meanwhile, you’re trying to get me off the island.
’ I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘You’re not just a boat skipper, are you? ’
‘Look, we shouldn’t be out here – together.’
‘Where should we be together then?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I really, truly don’t.’
Conflicted thoughts danced behind his eyes. But I had my own and Tommy and his non-girlfriend and whatever the hell this operation was still hadn’t made the top of the list. First, I had to sort this social-media mess. Tommy and his bullshit could wait.