39
In the morning, Damian has a slight hangover—from booze and from guilt.
He glances at his partner, sleeping in after her emotional night, and climbs gently out of bed, trying not to disturb her.
Bianca’s silent grief stays with him as he dresses and slips out of the room.
He’s been having too much fun taunting Curtis, crushing on Sydney, focusing on the money and how it will change their future.
It’s not like he’s forgotten what Curtis Lowe did, but he’s been living in the moment.
His partner is still living in the pain.
Bianca has played the part of carefree Aussie traveler to perfection.
She’s buried her grief under a perky facade, but she’s still suffering.
Destroying Curtis is part of Bianca’s healing.
He’d promised to help her do that, and he will.
In return, Bianca has agreed to extort money out of Curtis Lowe and build a new life with Damian in Europe. A deal is a deal.
Even as a kid, Damian knew he was an extraordinary person trapped in a bland existence, biding his time until he could escape.
He’d grifted, scammed, and manipulated to get enough money to leave.
And then he’d fallen in love with Bianca, let her waylay his plans.
He’d done it willingly. The relationship had provided a sense of peace and belonging he hadn’t realized he was missing.
He’d gotten comfortable and complacent. But as the years stretched out and he remained stuck in Indiana, he began to feel antsy. And resentful.
And then… tragedy. As devastating as it was, it was also a release.
There was no reason to stay put anymore.
Damian and Bianca had managed to combine their goals into a trip to Spain, but he’s beginning to worry.
If Curtis can’t get the money together, if he backs out or double-crosses them, how will they stay here?
They’d paid for this trip on credit; their savings have dwindled.
Neither of them can legally work in the EU.
Bianca would be content to ruin Curtis, then return to their shitty little town.
But Damian has had a taste of the life he’s always wanted. He’s never going back.
As he brushes his teeth, he reflects on this new lease on life.
Since they touched down in Barcelona, he’s felt like a man emerged from a coma.
They’d spent a few days in the city playing tourist: eating, drinking, checking out the Sagrada Familia and Park Güell.
They bought the old van at a lot on the outskirts of the city, headed north toward Cadaqués.
The drive was only a few hours, but they’d agreed to camp out along the way.
It would make the van look more lived-in, make them more bedraggled and authentic.
And it was a chance to practice their Australian personas before they met Curtis and Sydney.
They’d hung out with other campers, sharing their made-up stories about life Down Under.
Bianca couldn’t stand all the shaggy kids living in tiny vans, posting photos of their picnic lunches and beach yoga.
She thought they were vapid and shallow, but Damian had enjoyed them.
They’d spent their days swimming and hiking, their nights drinking beer and smoking joints.
Of course he’d have preferred a suite at the Four Seasons, but this was a taste of the hedonism he’d always craved.
Being in Spain, in Europe, is the beginning of a new chapter. It feels like he’s finally arrived.
After splashing his face with water, Damian heads to the kitchen. Curtis and Sydney are seated at the dining table, drinking coffee in stony silence. He has the distinct impression he’s interrupted an intense conversation, but he plays ignorant. “Morning,” he says brightly, accent in place.
“Morning,” Curtis mumbles, but Sydney is silent.
As Damian heads to the coffee machine, he rotates his arm and winces. “Buggered up my shoulder unloading those boards yesterday. I’m going to need to rest it for a few days.”
A look flies between the couple at the table, but Curtis is quick to cover. “No problem. There are ice packs in the freezer if you need one.”
Damian makes a coffee, takes it over to the table, but he doesn’t sit. He hovers as he drinks it. “Since I’m no use around here, I thought I’d take Bianca to the beach. Can I borrow your car?”
He knows Curtis will say yes. He could ask him to strip naked and cluck like a chicken and he’d do it.
“Sure.” Curtis stands obediently. “Can you drive a stick?”
“I’m a little rusty,” Damian lies. He’s not about to admit that his experience is limited to racing video games. “I could use a refresher.”
The two men head out to the car in tense silence. It’s not until they’re alone in the driveway, several yards from the house, that Damian speaks. “Any updates on the money?”
“Not yet.” Curtis scratches his stubbled jaw. “I told you this wouldn’t be easy.”
“It’d be a real shame for you to lose everything you’ve worked for.”
“I’m going to make some more calls today. I—I’m still hopeful.”
“I’ve been thinking…” They’ve reached the car, and Damian leans a forearm on the roof. “What if you signed this house over to us?”
Curtis’s laugh is incredulous. “How would I do that?”
“I don’t know.” Damian shrugs. “Talk to a real estate lawyer.”
“This is Sydney’s house, too. Her name is on the deed. How would I convince her to just hand over our dream house to you?”
Curtis is mocking him and his idea, and Damian feels a strong urge to smack the condescending look off his face. But he takes a breath, stays calm. “Tell her you miss New York and want to go back. You can say you sold the house, then lost the money in a bad investment or something.”
“That would never work. Sydney’s way too smart to fall for a story like that.”
“I’m trying to help you out here,” Damian snaps, eyes glowering at the other man. “Bianca wants you to fail, you know. She wants an excuse to tell Sydney everything. To share that video with everyone you know.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Curtis whines, but it’s half-hearted. He knows how easily he could be destroyed.
“I want you to get the money so you can live happily ever after with your wife, and I’ll do the same. You’re going to have to get creative.”
“I will. I’ll get it. Don’t—” He stops talking when they hear the door open. Bianca emerges, her face stormy.
“Beach day, babe. Grab your stuff.”
Without a word, Bianca moves back inside. Damian turns to Curtis. “Use your time wisely.”
Driving a stick is more challenging than anticipated.
Thankfully, Damian doesn’t have to worry about burning out Curtis’s clutch.
As long as he can get them back up the hill, he doesn’t care what happens to the car.
After a couple of stalls, a few hops, they arrive in Cadaqués and park in the dusty lot.
Bianca had been quiet in the car. Yesterday, they’d celebrated putting their plan in motion.
They’d had sex in the van, sunbathed in the nude, drank beer in the sunshine.
But now Bianca is sullen. Her encounter with Curtis upset her yesterday, and she’d spent the night in tears.
The conversation he needs to have with her is not going to improve her mood.
They lay their towels on the patch of sand in the center of town and run into the surf.
There’s a raft floating several yards from shore, and Damian suggests they swim out to it.
With strong strokes and focused breathing, he churns toward the platform.
But when he arrives, Bianca is not in tow.
Grabbing the ladder, he pulls himself up to the wooden surface and sits there catching his breath.
He looks back to shore, watches Bianca wade out of the water, wringing out her long hair.
She’s wearing her red bikini, and he notices some older men on a nearby bench watching her with open admiration.
His partner is undeniably sexy. So why can’t he stop comparing her accessible beauty to Sydney’s cool elegance?
He pushes away the thought and dives back into the sea.
Bianca lies on her back, face placid, eyes hidden behind dark shades. She doesn’t lift her head when Damian settles himself next to her and he wonders if she might be asleep. For a few moments, he’s silent, savoring the stillness, the peace of the moment. But he has to broach this subject.
“Curtis is having a hard time getting the money.”
“Too bad.” Bianca doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even move. Her indifference is clear.
“He may not be able to get the whole five mill.”
“So? Then we’ll tell Sydney everything. We’ll tell his mom and all his friends back home, just like we planned.”
“But what about us?”
She lifts her head then, lowers her sunglasses, and peers over them. “What do you mean?”
“We need a certain amount of money to stay here. I’m not going back to the States, Bianca.”
“I know.”
“We need to be flexible. If Curtis can’t get all the money, maybe we settle for three million. Or the house.”
“Sydney owns half that house. She’d never give it to us.”
She’s right. He lies back, imagines living in the Spanish house with Sydney. He can’t abandon Bianca, but maybe the three of them…? But that’s a teenager’s wet dream. He knows Syd would never entertain it. Neither would Bianca.
“We need a good chunk of money to get ourselves set up,” he continues, eyes on the cloudless sky. “We need to do some calculations to figure out what we’re willing to accept.”
Bianca rolls on her side to face him. “I want all his money. I want him in debt, and starving, and in the dark. I want his wife to leave him and all his friends to turn against him. That’s the only punishment I’ll accept for what he did.”
She returns to her back, ending the conversation. Damian glances over, sees the grim line of her lips, the tense set of her jaw. But behind her dark glasses, a tear seeps from her eye.
He watches it trickle down her cheek, untouched.