Strings Attached (25 page)

‘Take the Jeep; it’s yours for the stay. Give your name in at the gate, follow the signs to
Calle
Bosques
and your villa is number one hundred and eighteen. Just so you know, I’m up on the hill over there,
Calle
Ballesteros
, number one,’ Quinn informed.

‘With a view of all your subjects,’ George replied.

‘There’s only one subject I want a view of,’ Quinn told her.

‘That is so lame,’ George said with a laugh.

‘But true,’ Quinn answered.

He leant over to kiss her and George pulled back.

‘We can’t. Not here. We’re outside the venue of the wedding of the century. One false move, I’ll hit the horn or something and we’ll be front page news. Like you said, they’ll be over here before you can say
...
’ George said.

‘Cold shower,’ Quinn finished.

‘Yeah.’

Quinn let out a sigh and just looked at her.

‘You’re right, I’d better go,’ he said, opening the door of the Jeep and getting out.

‘Quinn, I’m just being sensible, for you. I d
on’t want to make trouble and...
’ George began, feeling a bit disappointed their wonderful afternoon had come to an end on a slightly sour note.

‘
Calle
Bosques
, one hundred and eighteen,’ Quinn told her, ending the conversation.

He pulled his baseball cap down over his head and set off down the road on foot.

George climbed over into the driver’s seat and started the engine of the Jeep. She looked at Quinn disappearing in the rear view mirror and then drove the car towards the entrance.

‘Quinn! Over here! Quinn! Just a couple of shots!’ the group of paparazzi shouted as they moved away from the gates and began following him down the street.

‘Man! Can you give me a break? I’m getting married in a few days. How about a little privacy?’ Quinn called back to them.

He watched George drive the Jeep up to security and made sure she was waved on through. Absence hadn’t lessened his feelings for her; he’d been close to kissing her in front of the world’s press and not giving a shit. She was pushing her way inside him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back from telling her everything.

It was a five minute drive around the complex to reach
Calle Bosques
and it gave George a chance to take in the sights and sounds of La Manga Resort.

There was a huge lake in the middle of the complex, directions to two golf courses and villa after luxurious villa. There was a roman style hotel building, what looked like a mall full of shops and a three storey restaurant overlooking the lake. Everyone George passed, seemed to be pulling golf bags or driving around in golf buggies.

The villa had cream walls, a red roof and palm trees guarding the entrance. As George parked the Jeep, she could hear the familiar sound of Marisa’s high pitched laughter and the splash of water. She got her case out of the back of the car and wheeled it towards the entrance.

The door was open and she went in. She walked through the marble entrance hall and into a large, state of the art kitchen. It was well equipped. If the catering wagon wasn’t up to scratch, she was sure they could manage in here if they had to.

Marisa’s laughter grew louder and George moved through to the sitting room. She took in large terracotta sofas, bowls of fruit and urns of flowers. Everything was perfect, not a thing was out of place. Looking through the patio doors she could see her team.

Adam and Marisa were in the pool and Helen was in a swimsuit, sat on a sun lounger reading
Star Life
magazine.

‘Hey!’ Adam greeted, noticing George walking out onto the terrace.

‘Hi. I see you’re all getting accustomed to your new surroundings,’ George remarked, smiling at Helen as she removed her sunglasses and sat up.

‘What happened at the airport?’ Adam questioned, hauling himself up from the pool and joining her by the six seat teak table on the veranda.

‘Oh it was nothing, just a random check. I had to answer a few questions and open my case,’ George told them.

‘But you’ve been gone like hours. You totally missed the fantastic lunch we were sent over. It arrived in like a golf buggy on silver platters. It was fish and salad and these gorgeous potatoes done with herbs and
...
’ Marisa began.

‘I hope it wasn’t too good or they’ll be taking our catering contract back,’ George said.

‘Oh they can’t! That’s why Taylor has to get in outside caterers. Would you believe it, there’s another wedding here on the same day?! Some Spanish soap opera star is getting married in the clubhouse. Have you seen the clubhouse?’

‘Yes, it looked like t
he Colosseum,’ George replied.

‘Well the famous Spanish chick – can’t remember her name, it will come to me - she’s getting married there and Quinn and Taylor are getting married in - wait for it - the castle,’ Marisa announced.

‘What castle?’ George enquired.

‘It’s like huge, but it’s not real. They had it built. It’s right on the other side of the complex from here, on the cliff top. There’s this like canvas tunnel thing they’re building that leads from the hotel to the castle, like two hundred yards of it or more. And that’s where our catering wagon is and all the television trailers. Dennis, our driver, took us for a tour and we have maps and instructions,’ Marisa gabbled as she ducked up and down filling the cleavage of her swimsuit with water.

‘Right,’ George replied not wanting to think about the wedding at all.

‘Shall I make you a drink? We’ve got a jug of sangria or there’s fresh juice,’ Adam offered.

‘Sangria would be nice,’ George accepted.

‘Well, why don’t you go and get your bikini on and get in the water. It’s really warm,’ Adam told her.

‘Yeah and we still have a couple of hours before the briefing,’ Marisa stated.

‘Briefing?’ George remarked.

‘Yes, we’re all meeting in a confer
ence room of the hotel at five
, to be briefed about the week’s activities,’ Helen informed her.

‘That sounds ominous,’ George said.

‘I can’t wait! A whole week of being in the thick of the wedding of the millennium,’ Marisa exclaimed, splashing about in the pool.

‘The wedding of the millennium now,’ George said to Adam with a smile.

‘You didn’t see her when she saw her bedroom. She practically passed out,’ Adam answered.

‘So, you’ve all picked rooms. What am I left with?’ George asked.

‘Yours had your name on the door; Marisa sneaked a peek and got jealous. Said something about there being a box on the bed,’ Adam informed her.

‘Right, well, I’d better go and check it out. See you in a minute,’ George said, taking her suitcase back inside and looking for the staircase.

She hurried up the marble stairs and her room was the first door she came to. She opened it up and let out a gasp.

It was filled with stargazer lilies, bouquets of them stood in vases in every space, the fragrance filling the air. The bed itself was at least a king size and it had crisp white linen covering it and sumptuous, plum coloured, silk cushions.

On the bed, was an expensive looking box. It was cream, with a plum coloured ribbon wrapped around it and seemed to coordinate perfectly with everything else in the room. She pulled at the ribbon and carefully opened the lid. Parting the tissue paper inside, she took out the contents.

It was a bikini, in midnight blue, with inch wide straps and a silver toned and diamante cross, joining the two cups in the middle. The bottoms were just her style, not too skimpy and made to complement her boyish shape. It was undeniably her.

She picked a card out of the box and smiled as she read it:-

Spain’s too hot for jeans – I want to see you in this Q x

‘Oh.
My.
God. Where did you like get that bikini from?’ Marisa exclaimed loudly when George joined them by the pool.

‘Why? Is there something wrong with it?’ George asked suddenly feeling self-conscious.

‘It looks lovely. Is it new?’ Helen asked.

‘It’s like designer! That must have set you back about five hundred quid or more,’ Marisa informed.

‘No way! For a bikini!’ Adam remarked, staring at George.

‘It wasn’t anything like that much! I got it from Peacocks, it was about twenty quid,’ George insisted hurriedly.

‘Peacocks don’t do stuff like that, not even copies. I shop in Peacocks and I’ve never seen anything like that in there,’ Marisa continued.

‘Well obviously they were popular and sold out,’ George responded quickly.

‘Leave George alone Marisa. Come on, I’ll come in and swim with you,’ Helen said, putting her magazine down and walking to the edge of the pool.

‘What? You don’t swim properly, you just kind of float and wave your arms around a bit,’ Marisa said.

‘Well we’ll race each other then shall we?’ Helen suggested, slipping herself into the shallow end.

‘For money?’ Marisa suggested eagerly.

George laughed as Helen splashed her daughter in the face and they set off swimming to the deep end.

Adam came and sat down on the lounger next to George and handed her a glass of sangria.

‘Thanks. It’s so hot isn’t it? Have you got plenty of sun cream on?’ George asked.

‘Yes yes, factor fifteen. How about you?’ Adam enquired.

‘Yes, here it is, just about to do it,’ George said, taking the lid off the bottle and squirting some into her palms.

Adam took a sip from his glass of sangria and picked up some paper he was writing on.

‘So, you like Marisa,’ George spoke quietly.

Adam looked up at her and his cheeks reddened straight away.

‘Come on, I’m your sister. You can tell me anything. You told me you liked her at the airport - ah, I see. This song you’re writing is for her isn’t it?’ George guessed, looking at the paper.

‘Sshh, don’t let her hear! I’m not going to play it for her or anything I just, you know, wanted to write something,’ Adam said, trying not to appear flustered.

‘She can’t hear. She’s too busy trying to beat her mother at swimming, or water bombing, or something,’ George said as she watched Marisa pushing Helen under the water and laughing hysterically.

‘You think it’s stupid, to like her,’ Adam spoke.

‘I didn’t say that,’ George replied.

‘You don’t think she’s right for me,’ Adam spoke.

‘I didn’t say that either.’

‘You don’t need to, it’s written all over your face,’ Adam answered grumpily.

‘Well, I like Marisa, you know I do,
but I’m not sure she’s really...
’ George began.

‘Really what?’

‘I don’t know. She’s just not - I don’t know - not ambitious like you,’ George said.

‘Ambitious?! What does ambition have to do with anything? Anyway, how can you say that? She’s a caterer, just like you,’ Adam said, raising his voice.

‘OK, well maybe ambition was the wrong word. She’s sweet and she’s funny but
...
’ George began again.

‘You don’t think she’s good enough for me,’ Adam said bluntly.

‘I think she might hold you back, take your focus away from your music, that’s all,’ George stated, taking her sunglasses off to look at him.

‘I’m not talking about marrying her,’ Adam said huffily.

‘I know, but apart from the distraction, you’ve known her a long time and I work with her. When things go wrong it would be difficult,’ George spoke.

‘
When
things go wrong? Thanks! Maybe you shouldn’t judge everyone by your own standards,’ Adam snapped.

‘Hey, that’s uncalled for,’ George retorted angrily.

‘Yeah well, I wish I hadn’t told you anything. I thought you would get it but you don’t,’ Adam said, standing up and preparing to dive into the pool.

‘Adam, I do get it. Come on, sit down,’ George encouraged.

‘Pretty stupid of me to ask relationship advice from someone who’s never had a relationship,’ Adam snapped.

He dived into the pool and swam up to Helen and Marisa who were now playing with an inflatable ball.

George let out a sigh. She had handled that particularly badly. She was making Marisa into a female version of Paul and she was playing the role of her mother. Who was she to say who was right for Adam? That’s what her mother had done and look what had happened there! She would apologise as soon as he had calmed down. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate him at the moment. There was enough fragility in their family right now.

‘Oi George! Catch!’ Marisa screamed, lobbing the inflatable in George’s direction.