Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 4

He had an American accent. Alex could see he was about their age.

'Who the f.u.c.k are you anyway?' snapped Miles, his cheeks colouring in the moonlight.

'I'm Bradley. I arrived this morning. Just working on the boats for a few days.'

'Oh yes?' said Miles. 'And what's that?' He pointed to the bottle in the boy's hand.

'Just a beer,' he said defensively. 'I'm just having a drink. It's Independence Day and all.'

'I don't care what day it is,' replied Miles, his voice hard. 'This isn't a holiday for you. You are an employee of my family and you shouldn't be drinking alcohol.'

'I'm sorry. It's just one beer.'

'Don't insult my intelligence,' snapped Miles. 'You're drunk.'

'No, I'm not,' said the boy nervously, backing away. 'Listen, I'd better go.'

Miles flicked his cigarette across the sand. 'If you're not drunk, then walk in a straight line and pick that up.'

For a few seconds the boat boy stood motionless, not knowing what to do.

'Go on,' said Miles, a nasty edge to his voice. 'Pick it up.'

Shrugging, the boy walked slowly over to the cigarette and bent to pick it up. He was still crouched on the sand when Miles took another cigarette from his packet and threw it six feet behind Bradley.

'Now pick that one up.'

Reluctantly, Bradley turned round and stooped to get the cigarette.

'Now that one,' Miles said, flicking another cigarette, 'and that one.'

Cigarettes rained down on the sand. Miles was laughing now as the disorientated boy crawled around, fumbling to pick them all up.

'Come on, get a move on,' he barked. 'It shouldn't be so difficult if you're sober.'

'Miles, stop it,' said Alex. 'This isn't funny.'

'Of course it's not funny,' snapped Miles, pulling his arm away. 'We have a drunk working for the family. I should fire this lying sack of Yankee s.h.i.+t right here and now.'

Finally Bradley had had enough. He stood up and glared at Miles. 'Just because you own this island doesn't mean you can speak to me like that,' he said, his voice trembling.

Miles' mouth remained in a thin, firm line. He took a step forward until they were just a couple of feet apart and slowly raised the last cigarette to his mouth, lighting it and blowing the smoke into Bradley's face.

'Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, boat boy,' he said coldly. 'This is, as you correctly say, my island and I make the rules here. So I suggest you do exactly what I say: take your lying face and your stolen beer back to the servants' quarters where you belong.'

The boat boy's lips curled into a sneer. 'a.s.shole,' he whispered.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion for Alex. He watched Miles' face twist in fury and contempt, his nostrils flaring, his upper lip curling back. He saw Bradley's look of quiet defiance change to fear and disbelief, his mouth slowly gaping. But most of all, he saw Miles lift his cigarette and jab it into Bradley's face. Then, just as suddenly, everything came back into real time: Bradley's stagger, his scream, his hands covering his face. Alex leapt forward, yanking Miles' arm away, but Miles pushed him so hard, he slipped over in the sand.

'Jesus, Miles,' cried Alex. 'What the h.e.l.l...'

The truth was, Alex was afraid of Miles in this mood. He was vicious, cruel, out of control. Alex had seen him reduce people to tears, seen him slap them, but never anything like this.

Miles was standing over the crouched form of the boat boy. 'Go on, f.u.c.k off,' he growled, throwing the cigarette b.u.t.t at his back in a shower of sparks.

With a hurt glance up at both of them, Bradley jumped to his feet and, still holding his cheek, ran up the path towards the house. For a moment it was silent except for the gentle lapping of the waves on the sh.o.r.e.

'What the h.e.l.l was all that about?' said Alex, but Miles didn't seem to hear him. The look on his face was distant and detached.

'I'm going for a walk,' he said quietly and strode off.

Alex watched his friend disappear away from the house towards the furthest part of the island and felt himself overwhelmed with anger, disgust and confusion. But above all, he felt regret and, to his surprise, loneliness. Because in the s.p.a.ce of a few short minutes, he knew that his relations.h.i.+p with his closest friend in the world had changed for ever.

6

Sasha was livid. The dinner on the beach had been her idea. She had arranged it with the staff, decorated the table and spent hours poring over the seating plan and then what happens? That pompous prat McKay spoils everything by falling out of a coconut tree.

Too busy voicing their phoney concerns for Oscar, not one person had commented on the ambience of the evening or her cleverness for thinking of moving their 'last supper' to the water's edge. To add insult to injury, Miles had practically ignored her for the entire meal and that s.l.u.t Freya had spent an hour doing some sort of hamfisted seduction on Robert Ashford. The whole thing had been a disaster from start to finish.

She sat down on the stone wall behind the beach and took a swig from the bottle she was carrying. At least it was Krug; the one positive of Miles' father arriving was that he had brought decent bubbly with him.

Where is Miles? she thought angrily. she thought angrily. What does he think he's playing at? What does he think he's playing at?

Sasha certainly had better things to do than spend the whole night wandering around the island looking for her so-called boyfriend. After dinner, he'd practically sprinted to the beach then spent half an hour goading Angus to drink a bottle of rum and jump over the bonfire. He'd barely looked in her direction. What was was his problem? She had a good mind to dump him then he'd come crawling back. Well, maybe. After this evening's performance Sasha wasn't entirely sure of anything. It certainly wasn't going according to plan; she had to admit that it didn't look like a proposal was on the cards tonight. his problem? She had a good mind to dump him then he'd come crawling back. Well, maybe. After this evening's performance Sasha wasn't entirely sure of anything. It certainly wasn't going according to plan; she had to admit that it didn't look like a proposal was on the cards tonight.

'Has he abandoned you for the boys again?'

Robert Ashford strolled up to her, cupping his tumbler of peach juice.

'No, just taking a break,' she said, trying to lift her mood. 'Miles' friends can be a little ...'

'Immature? Stupid? Irritating?' suggested Robert with a smile.

'Yes, exactly.' She giggled.

He took a seat next to her and suddenly she felt very grown-up. Robert Ashford was one of Britain's most successful entrepreneurs. Under the umbrella of Ash Corp., he had a commercial property portfolio that spanned the globe, with interests in everything from hotels to casinos, car parks to out-of-town shopping malls. The smart parts of London that weren't owned by the older, moneyed families like the Grosvenors, Cadogans and Portmans were, by and large, part of the Ashford group. But Robert Ashford was a self-made man and believed in the famous Tory slogan of getting 'on your bike'. He'd started his empire from a run-down guest house in Notting Hill in the 1960s and worked his way up to a billion.

She was glad she had prepared for moments like this. Although her usual reading material consisted of Tatler Tatler and and Vogue Vogue, in the days before the Bahamas trip she had swotted up on the Financial Times Financial Times to deep-freeze some conversational nuggets. to deep-freeze some conversational nuggets.

'So will we be seeing you at Ashford Park over the summer?'

'Well, I start modelling as soon as I get back,' said Sasha confidently. 'But I'm sure I'll be seeing you at some stage.'

He eyed her closely. 'Miles said you had no plans for college.'

'No, but I've been taken on by one of the best agencies in London. It's too good an opportunity to pa.s.s up. I'm not convinced about the merits of university to be honest. I sometimes wonder why Miles is bothering with Oxford. Not having a degree didn't stop you from becoming one of the country's most successful businessmen.'

She silently congratulated herself on making this point. She didn't want Miles at Oxford next term, she wanted him in London. And the only thing that could stop it was intervention from his parents. If only Robert could see the good sense in her suggestion.

'I don't know, Sasha. I think college will give Miles the time to mature. Make contacts. You should think about it yourself once you get your A level results. See what you can get through the UCAS clearing system. Modelling isn't easy, you know. Have you thought about how the recession is going to affect the fas.h.i.+on industry?'

She visibly smarted. Was he implying she wasn't beautiful enough to model?

'Well, Linda Evangelista says she doesn't get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day, so I'd say the modelling world is having a boom at the moment.'

'So you're going to be a top model?' he chuckled.

'Of course,' she said matter-of-factly. 'Why wouldn't I be?'

Robert nodded as he smiled. 'I've always liked that about you, Sasha. You're ambitious and you're not afraid to admit it. We're alike, you and I.'

He took a drink and smiled at her. 'Just do me a favour, huh?'

Sasha felt a flutter of antic.i.p.ation. 'What's that?'

'Never sit around waiting for Miles.'

Her face betrayed her surprise. What was he suggesting?

'I don't intend to, Mr Ashford,' she replied coolly.

'Good,' he said, holding her gaze. 'Because I think you could do better. Much better.'

He looked at his watch and put his empty tumbler on the wall. 'I'm just going to talk to Nelson. A few things to sort out for tomorrow.'

'Of course,' said Sasha. 'And thanks for being an incredible host. I speak for us all when I say we've had an amazing time.'

'You're very welcome, Sasha.'

Sasha watched him go, perplexed and anxious at the same time. Had he just been pointing out the obvious, that his son was a heartless deadbeat? Or had he been coming on to her? If he thought Miles was a deadbeat, at least he had a point. Her boyfriend had certainly been distant and vague all holiday, preferring to spend time with Alex b.l.o.o.d.y Doyle and ducking the question whenever she wanted to discuss plans for next year. Sasha didn't like to admit to weakness even to herself, but the truth of it was that she had felt lonely, even used.

She shook her head. Maybe she'd just had too many c.o.c.ktails. She was tired too; last night she and Miles had been up till 5 a.m. s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g. Sasha had used every trick in the book literally. Unbeknownst to Miles, she had been using a s.e.x manual she'd bought in Soho during the Easter holidays and she was determined to try out every position before the summer was over. She already considered herself s.e.xually experienced, having lost her virginity at fifteen to a thirty-six-year-old Iranian businessman she'd met at the L'Equipe Anglaise nightclub behind Selfridges. She'd told him she was twenty, he'd given her a Rolex. Between him and Miles there had been four others and she had swiftly learnt that there was only one word which would keep a rich man happy and that was S-EX. It had worked with Miles, after all. Just two months after the start of term in the lower sixth, she had seduced him at the school bonfire party simply by ignoring him. Well, that and not wearing a bra. She had dragged him behind the science block and, their breath puffing in the cold air, panted in his ear that she would do anything he wanted her to. Anything Anything. It was a policy she had stuck to ever since to keep their love life on track.

G.o.d, this is making me depressed, she thought. I need a pick-me-up. I need a pick-me-up.

She walked through the house and up to the room she and Miles had been sharing before she had moved into a single room when Robert arrived; Miles had claimed his dad would 's.h.i.+t a brick' if he suspected they were sleeping together. Sasha rummaged through his leather suitcase. She knew he had some c.o.ke in the room somewhere. She walked through to the en suite and checked his wash-bag. 'Ah-ha!' she whispered to herself, finding a little ziplock bag hidden in the side pocket. She fished out the wrap and dug a long fingernail into the white powder, taking a quick hit and slipping the rest into her bra for later.

On her way out, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the cigarette packet sitting on the dressing table and lit one, waving her hand to clear the tarry smell from the air. She knew that Robert Ashford didn't approve of smoking: he was a health nut. Miles had told her to his great amus.e.m.e.nt that his father had recently taken up yoga with 'some fit French bird' and had been on a health kick ever since, as Miles said, so he could keep up with her in bed.

Her jewelled sandals click-clacked down the stairs and out past the pool. In the distance she could make out laughter coming from the bonfire, but she didn't feel like going back there just yet. She turned the other way, taking a path that wound down to a quiet cove. There was a store house for kayaks and a short jetty, and she kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge as she finished her cigarette. There had to be a way of manipulating Miles into a commitment. She just didn't know what it was right now.

A noise behind her made her turn.

'Hey there.'

A boy her age was standing on the path next to the kayak store. Light from the single bulb over the door shone on his face. He was quite s.e.xy.

'I don't suppose you have a spare one of those on you?' he asked, pointing to the cigarette.

'Sorry, no,' she said, standing up and throwing the stub into the black water. As cute as the boy was, she felt a little vulnerable out here in the dark with a complete stranger.

'Sorry,' said the boy, as if he felt her discomfort. 'I'm Bradley.'

'Ah, you're the new boat boy I heard the girls talking about earlier, aren't you?' said Sasha. 'You were quite a hit.'

The boy shrugged, a little embarra.s.sed.

'Where are you from?'

'West Virginia.'

'I mean recently. I haven't seen you on the island before.'

'I just got here today to work at Robert Ashford's party.'

Sasha began to walk back the way she had come and Bradley fell in step.

'Long way to come, from West Virginia for four days.'

'Ah no, I've been b.u.mming around the islands since I left high school last year, picking up work at the resorts. I heard Mr Ashford wanted some extra crew for some corporate thing he's having this weekend. Money's good and I go to Harvard in the fall, which isn't cheap.'

Sasha looked at him again, her head feeling fuzzy. 'Harvard, eh?' she said. 'Clever boy.'

'We'll see,' said Bradley. 'Anyway, shame it's just until next week. I'd love to work here all summer. Nelson and his family have a real cushy number. I hear the Ashfords are only here a few weeks of the year.'

'Most of the time I come with them actually,' said Sasha with a hint of superiority. 'Miles Ashford is my boyfriend.'

Bradley smiled. 'I know.'

She glanced at him again, smirking. She was flattered despite herself. He obviously had noticed her.

'I'm Sasha, anyway. Sasha Sinclair,' she said. 'Although I guess you know that already.'

He shook her hand with a firm grip. 'Bradley Hartford.' He smiled. 'Real pleased to meet you, Sasha.'

A string of hurricane lights hanging from the trees warmed his face. She could see that he was even more good-looking than she had first thought. Nothing striking about his face, but clean-cut all-American good looks that worked well with his plain navy polo s.h.i.+rt and shorts.

'Shouldn't you be down on the beach with the others?' he asked, pointing down the track which led to the beach.

She pulled a face. 'Not much of a party. They're all a bit drunk and acting stupid.'