She was back on her spot on the sofa by the time they returned a couple of hours later. Beau was clutching a magnum of champagne and singing at the top of his voice, one arm draped around Ari’s shoulder.
‘Come on, mate,’ Ari said, staggering with him over to the sofa opposite Clover and unceremoniously dropping him on it. ‘He’s pissed outta his head,’ he chuckled to her, in case she didn’t recognize what she was seeing.
Kit was right behind them and sat beside his brother’s slumped form. He slapped his shoulder affectionately. ‘You okay, buddy?’
Beau gave him a gappy grin. Seemingly he had drunk most of the magnum himself.
‘Don’t puke, all right?’
‘A’ight,’ Beau nodded, closing his eyes.
‘Celebrating something?’ Clover asked lightly, setting her laptop off her legs and onto the seat cushions. She looked at the three men’s assorted ranges of happiness. Ari, animated. Beau, paralytic. Kit, while hardly falling-down drunk, nonetheless in a better mood than she had ever seen if he was allowing himself to not only remain in her presence, but actively sit across from her.
‘You better believe we are!’ Ari said. ‘Kit pulled it out of the bag today. He executed a Switch Backside 1260 – to perfection.’
‘A Switch Backside 1260?’ Clover echoed. ‘They’re pretty out there, aren’t they? Didn’t Shaun White do one at X Games?’
Ari and Kit both looked over in surprise.
‘How do you know what Shaun White did at X Games?’ Kit asked, pinning her with an intent look.
‘Research,’ she said simply.
‘You research snowboarding jumps?’
‘I try to understand the world I’ve stepped into,’ she shrugged.
‘The world you’ve stepped into,’ he echoed quietly, mocking her; his sardonic gaze drifting over to Ari, and back to her again. For a moment he didn’t say anything. ‘Guess you must’ve been pretty bummed then, when you heard I’d moved into this. All that time you spent watching Cory, learning about goofy-foot and frontside riding.’ A sneer curled his lip. ‘And now you’ve gotta start all over again.’
Clover felt her heart beat faster as Cory’s name fell from his lips. It felt like a slander, a deliberate taunt. Did he see the shock of it upon her? He was watching closely, no problem with eye contact. He was an apex predator and he used it as a weapon, like boxers going nose to nose before a fight. He seemed barely to move and yet with every breath, Clover felt like she was being squeezed, tighter and tighter.
Beau giggled beside him, breaking the deadlock. ‘Goofy-foot,’ he slurred.
‘More than anything, I was intrigued,’ Clover said simply, answering a question they both knew had been rhetorical, refusing to be baited. She would counter his heat with coolness – she would be water upon his flames, mist upon his steam. ‘It’s a big move, switching sports. It can’t have been an easy decision to take.’
‘Who said I took it? Perhaps it was forced on me.’
Blame blazed from his eyes. He held her responsible for his Faustian fall. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said evenly.
‘Oh. You don’t?’
‘No. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who ever does something he doesn’t want to do.’
‘You don’t know me.’ He seemed bemused by the very suggestion.
‘Don’t I?’ She didn’t elaborate. Her assuredness lay in her brevity, but her heart was pounding away, deep in her chest. This was the longest conversation they had had in the five days she and her team had been here. It was the most he had looked at her – and she didn’t like it.
The curl on his lip grew as, for the first time, it seemed to occur to him that she had made studying him her business. ‘If you think you know me from what you read in those pissy interviews my sponsors made me do – or from Cory’s trash-talking me – you don’t.’
Clover started again at the mention of Cory’s name, coming from him. ‘He never trash-talked you.’
He gave a snort of contempt. ‘Now I know you’re lying. He hated me. He hated me more than he loved his own family.’
‘What?’ Clover felt outraged by the statement, her determinedly calm demeanour dropping like a wet rag. ‘I don’t know if that’s the most egotistical thing I ever heard or the most pathetic! What does that even mean? He hated you m—?’
‘Guys, guys,’ Ari suddenly walked in between them, blocking them from one another’s sight. ‘We’ve had a great afternoon. Let’s not spoil it. The adrenaline is still running high. We still need to come down a bit.’ He looked at Kit. ‘Mate, why don’t you go soak in the Jacuzzi? Or I can book you a massage?’
Kit said nothing for a moment. He was still glowering at Clover – or trying to, but Ari’s legs effectively blocked her from his sight. ‘Nah,’ he said finally. ‘I’m going to work out.’
‘Now? But you’ve been going at it all day. You heard Tipper – you’re taking hard knocks out there. Just take your foot off the pedal and relax.’
But Kit got up with a shake of his head. ‘I need to box.’ He looked down at his brother, now asleep on the sofa. ‘You’ll keep an eye on him?’
Ari sighed. ‘Of course, mate,’ he replied, slapping Kit’s shoulder reassuringly. ‘You go box then.’
Kit walked off without another glance. Clover watched him go up the stairs, saw the light go on in his room.
Ari was watching her. ‘He just needs to—’
‘Punch the bejesus out of something?’ Clover finished for him.
‘Look, that was progress. He actually talked to you.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a meaningful conversation, but if you mean he was able to tolerate being in the same room as me for more than three minutes, then yes – I guess that’s progress of a sort.’
Ari’s shoulders slumped, his elated mood all but gone, and she felt almost sorry for him. She didn’t envy him, having to negotiate around Kit Foley’s ego all day long. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Johnny’s chilling downstairs. Matty’s on her way back from Salzburg.’
‘Salzburg?’ He sounded surprised. ‘What was she doing there?’
‘Julian wanted her to meet their PR and marketing guy at the head office for all the Orsini-Rosenberg ventures.’
Ari stiffened. ‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘They said something about synergies. I don’t really know.’
‘But why? It’s JOR Clothing sponsoring Kit – not any of the other O-R businesses. He’s not got the name of Rosenberg Hotel on his back – thank Christ! Why’s he bringing in their head office team?’
‘You’d have to ask him. Mats will give me a full debrief when she gets back but I imagine she’s just had a nice lunch and a day trip. We’re not exactly busy here.’ She gave him a pointed look.
He got it. ‘I’ll keep working on him. I have been working on him. You can see what he’s like. What makes him a winner also makes him . . .’
‘A nightmare?’ she finished for him. ‘Ari, look. We’ve done all the B-roll and we’ve spent the best part of our first week here lying low. But that, just now, was the first time he’s literally looked at me, talked to me, shared a space with me – and only then because he had a good day at the office. But as a result of sharing air with me, he’s now knocking ten bells out of a punch bag. If you keep waiting for him to “come round”, we’re both going to be sporting impressive facial hair.’
Ari gave a surprised laugh, but Clover straightened up, getting to her point. ‘So we start rolling the cameras tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Ari looked horrified. ‘But—’
‘It’s that or we walk.’
Ari gave a defeated sigh.
‘We’ll begin by trailing him low-level.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Fly on the wall stuff. Daily life – meals, training, him on the slopes, coming back here. Everything that makes up his day. Only bedrooms remain private spaces – we won’t go into those unless invited, which I don’t see as necessary on this project. At this stage, we’ll just run the cameras, no one needs to look at or talk to us. They can carry on pretending we’re not there and go about their lives as normal. We won’t start the talking heads’ – Ari frowned – ‘sit-down interviews’, she clarified, ‘just yet; those can wait a little bit longer, till Kit’s further “acclimatized” to the situation.’
‘But—’
‘We need to start getting footage. On average, forty hours of film will give us five minutes of edited footage. We can’t lose any more time. Our exec producers want this film to debut at Cannes,’ she said, no word of a lie. She was now the executive producer and she needed it to get to Cannes or her flat was gone. ‘That means we need to wrap by Christmas. And even then, Johnny and I will need to work around the clock to make it.’ She picked up her laptop and stood up. ‘So will you tell him? Or should I?’
Ari looked drained. ‘Better from me.’
‘I agree. Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘Listen, I’ll tell Carlotta we’ll all take our meals in our room again tonight. We can at least give you a last evening without us.’
‘You really don’t have to—’
‘Yeah. We do.’
He sighed and nodded, knowing there was no point denying the blatant truth. Kit Foley was no further down the road to accepting this project than he had been a week ago. Tomorrow was going to be the start of a war.
She walked across the room towards the kitchen.
‘Clover?’
She turned.
‘I know there’s no reason for you to believe this, but Kit’s not the guy you think he is.’
Clover hesitated. ‘Jeez . . . I really hope not.’
*
Clover Phillips How do you feel about Kit Foley making his debut this season?
Snowboard girl Kit Foley? He was the surfer, right? Oh yeah! He’s hot!
C. P. Did you know he’s based locally now?
Snowboard girl Is he? (Twists around) I hope I see him around!
*
Lift operator I think everyone’s excited to see what he can bring. From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty focused. I think he’s gonna surprise a few people.
C. P. Do you think people will care about his past?
Lift operator Nuh. You gotta live in the moment. Let shit go.
C. P. Even though a man died as a consequence of his actions?
Lift operator (Shrugs)
*
‘How’s it looking?’ she asked Johnny, throwing herself onto his bed and staring at his back. He was working at the pale oak desk where he had set up his laptop and editing equipment.
From here, she could see he was cleaning up some of the footage they’d taken yesterday. Johnny had managed to get an arty shot of a front of rain racing across the lake, the droplets striking the glassy water like bullets on tin.
‘Okay. Hardly groundbreaking. I’ve imported everything we had on the B-roll and now I’m setting up my folders,’ he murmured. ‘I want to keep up to date with the house admin if we’re going to have any chance of getting this done in time for the March submission date.’
‘Well, I literally just finished explaining that to Ari, and you’ll be pleased to hear we are all stations “go” from breakfast tomorrow.’
Johnny turned on his chair, looking impressed. ‘How’d you pull that off?’
‘I gave it to Ari straight. He just witnessed Foley giving me both barrels again, and then implied I was supposed to be grateful that at least he was talking to me!’ She sank back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. ‘He’s such a dick.’
‘Ari?’
‘No, Foley.’ She straightened her arms up in the air and examined her nails. ‘I reckon Ari’s actually halfway decent.’
‘Ha, if you say so,’ Johnny said with a disbelieving laugh, turning back to his screen. ‘He’s not spoken to me yet. I’m obviously not worthy. Don’t you reckon he looks like an actual photofit of a psycho. I mean, what are those knife scars on his face?’
Clover pushed herself up on her elbows, bored. ‘I said we’d eat down here again tonight.’
‘Suits me.’
‘Have you heard from Mats?’
‘Yeah. She says they got delayed and are getting back late so to tell Carlotta she’ll have dinner at the hotel.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Oh . . .’ Johnny murmured. ‘She’s definitely shagging him. And if she’s not yet – she will be by the end of the week.’
Clover groaned, falling back into the pillows. ‘God, how bloody depressing. We’ve been here almost a week and Matty’s pulled the local lord. Meanwhile we haven’t even had a drink, much less a shag!’
‘I’m always available,’ Johnny shrugged.
‘Hey!’ Clover tossed a small cashmere scatter cushion at him.
‘I meant for the drink,’ Johnny tutted. ‘Obviously.’
Clover laughed, getting up from the bed. ‘I’m going for a swim. If I can’t get laid here, then at least I can get fit.’
‘Okay.’
‘Drink afterwards though? We could walk into town.’
‘Okay,’ he murmured, already distracted. She had lost him to technology.
She slipped out of the room and crossed the corridor towards her own room. She supposed if Matty was having a fling with Julian, it would mean more space for her, at least – and privacy. She changed into her bikini and grabbed a towel, throwing it over her shoulder and skipping quickly downstairs to the ground floor before she saw anyone.
She pushed on the door and— ‘This isn’t the pool!’ The words leaped from her, almost as a cry.
Kit stopped punching the bag, his gloved hands up by his face. He let them drop as he stared back at her, panting. ‘Evidently.’
He was wearing a pair of black shorts, his skin glistening with sweat. Clover felt frozen in her confusion. ‘Sorry, I—’
Time seemed to bend; like glass being mouth-blown, it slowly turned and oozed away from her. His eyes travelled slowly down her. With a start, she realized he wasn’t the only one half dressed.
Kit frowned. ‘Is that . . .?’
But with a gasp of horror, she was tugging the towel around her and already backing out of the room. The door slammed shut in her face and she stared unseeingly at it, her heart hammering in embarrassment and anger at her utter, utter stupidity. She stood there for several seconds, cursing herself. How could she have been so mindless, walking into the gym in her bikini? When he was in there. Him, of all people.
On the other side of the door, there was an equally baffled silence. Then she heard a pounding start up again. One-two. One-two. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.
She turned away and hurried across the corridor, pushing on the correct door and walking into the swimming pool area. The lights were dim – consciously considered again along the rough stone walls – and set at intervals along a twelve-metre black-bottom pool. But she didn’t give a damn about its tranquil beauty. She was furious with herself. She dropped her towel on one of the loungers and stepped into the water. It was warm and silky, a languid embrace of her weary body. She sank up to her shoulders and immediately began to swim, face-down, a regular paced front crawl.
She went up and down the lengths without bothering to count, perfecting her tumble turns and wanting only to wear herself out. She felt discomfited and agitated. Everything felt out of sorts and jarring. It had been a hard week.
She didn’t know how long she went for. The stress of the project seemed to propel her along, her legs kicking, hands reaching, her face only half rising from the water. But when she finally broke the surface, her hand reaching for the shallow end wall, she was panting hard and she felt purged somehow. Empty, again, of the anger he brought out in her.
She stood up and swept her hair back from her face, smoothing the water off her skin. She opened her eyes.
Kit blinked back at her. He was sitting on the lounger, her towel in his hands.
Clover stared at him in disbelief. How long had he been there?
‘I won’t interrupt. I just need to . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘I need to apologize. For that.’ His gaze flickered down her again and this time, following it, she saw what he had seen earlier: several vivid bruises on her arm, perfect imprints of fingertips. Her mouth parted in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed them. She’d not looked in many mirrors lately.
‘I was angry but I never should have . . . It doesn’t excuse . . .’ His mouth was small, his face pinched with tension. ‘Look, I know what you think of me. And I’m many things. But I’m not that.’ He swallowed. ‘So I’m sorry.’
She blinked, stunned that this was happening. Kit Foley was apologizing to her? On account of a tiny bruise? ‘. . . Okay.’
He got up, saw the towel was in his hand. He held it out questioningly.
She took it blindly. ‘Thanks.’
He stood there for another moment, staring at her, and everything in his being – his posture, his energy – was different to what she’d seen before. She waited for him to say something else, but then he turned.
‘Kit—’ It was a half call, notably tentative. She had no idea what she was going to say but this had to be the opening, surely, she had been looking for?
He stopped walking but didn’t look back at her. ‘This changes nothing,’ he said tersely over his shoulder, reading her mind.
She watched him go, seeing the marks still on his back from his fall the other day.
The door closed definitively and quietly behind him. It was a fire door, to stop fires from spreading, and she felt the tiny spark of a truce that had glinted between them – a promise of a different way of communicating with one another – extinguish again.
*
‘What time do you call this?’ Her whisper in the dark was like a firework in the night sky.
‘Holy shit!’ Matty hissed, almost falling on the bed in shock. ‘You gave me a heart attack. I thought you were asleep!’
‘I was. You’re not as quiet as you think you are. Or perhaps you’re not as sober?’ Clover reached for the switch on the table lamp between their beds. Light bloomed like a midnight flower.
Matty grinned back at her. Her eyes were bright, a little mascara smudged around her eyes. ‘Whoops.’ A small hiccup escaped her too, proving the point.
‘Oh god,’ Clover groaned, unable not to grin back too. She’d seen that expression before. ‘You didn’t?’
‘No, no. I didn’t. I’m being really good,’ Matty said, tucking her legs up on the bed and settling in for a gossip. ‘But it was so hard.’
Clover hesitated. ‘Being good?’ she clarified.
Matty spluttered with laughter. She was clearly very drunk. She lay back on the pillows, her arms spread wide as she stared up at the ceiling. ‘God, he’s gorgeous.’ Her head turned to look at Clover. ‘Don’t you think he’s gorgeous?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it at all.’
Matty wrinkled her nose. ‘You don’t think anyone’s gorgeous. All you think about is work. You’re dead from the waist down.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I mean it! When was the last time you went on a date? 1982?’
‘I wasn’t even born in ’82, much less dating. And besides, I can’t date. I have a baby.’
‘Baby?’ Matty’s befuddled brain stalled. ‘Oh,’ she said disappointedly. ‘You mean Honest Box. You know, there is more to life than work.’
‘Is there, though?’ Clover tried to remember when exactly she had last gone on a date. Henry? That runner guy she’d met in the park? That had been . . . August? ‘Well, maybe once I’ve got an Oscar.’
Matty sighed, sticking one slim leg into the air and examining it. She was wearing navy tights with a little cream skirt. Clover sensed the look would have worked well in Salzburg.
‘So, how was it, anyway? What did you do all day if not that?’
‘Well,’ Matty smiled, stretching like a cat. ‘We began with breakfast on the train.’
‘A breakfast meeting on the train, you mean.’
‘Sure,’ she shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘His family mainly. I had no idea they had such . . . reach.’
Clover knew that this was Matty code for ‘rich’.
‘They’ve got seven five-star hotels! Two in Salzburg, one in Innsbruck, three in Vienna, Zell am See obvs, one in Lech—’
‘That’s eight.’
‘Is it?’ Matty frowned. ‘Oh . . . well anyway, they’ve got lots. Julian’s brothers run the ones in the cities but he says he’s always loved being in the mountains. That’s why he’s so focused on developing the winter sports sides of things. His grandfather set up the first hotel here in Zell and then his father expanded the portfolio into what it is now; but Julian’s determined to branch out into other ventures altogether. He doesn’t want to do hotels.’
‘He wants to be a fashion designer.’ Clover couldn’t keep the wry note from her voice.
‘No! The clothing range is nothing. He’s got such big plans, he’s been hiding his light under a bushel. Did you know he was the person behind getting the snowpark built at Kaprun?’
‘No,’ Clover sighed, not really that interested. Julian’s other ventures didn’t concern them. He was Kit Foley’s sponsor, that was all that was relevant. ‘I did not.’
‘Oh yeah. He’s invested in all the machinery and equipment for building it. And he brought in these famous parkitects.’ She giggled. ‘Isn’t that a great word? Parkitect. They design the snowparks especially for you. He said it cost a bomb but he’s so focused on really getting the area on the map.’ She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. ‘He’s even in talks with the World Snowboarding Federation about the town becoming a sponsor.’
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘Because he said it was a secret.’
‘Well if it’s a secret, then why did he tell you?’
Matty grinned. ‘Because he trusts me.’ This was code for: ‘and therefore must love me’. ‘He’s such a blue-sky thinker. He has these massive ambitions and just . . . goes for them. No hesitations.’
‘Yeah, you can do that when you have money to burn,’ Clover muttered, rolling onto her back. ‘And what about Salzburg?’
‘So pretty!’
‘I mean, the contact he introduced you to. The entire point of the trip?’ Clover’s hair rustled on the pillow as she looked over at her friend.
‘Oh, him.’ Matty’s giddy smile faded. ‘Yes, fine. Dull.’
‘What were the “synergies” they wanted to discuss?’
Matty’s brow wrinkled as she dug into her champagne-soaked brain. ‘He mainly wanted to know about our marketing channels for the film: what festivals we were entering it into; our publicity plans; whether you’re doing a promotional tour.’
Clover considered for a moment. ‘Visibility, in other words. They want a good return on their investment in pretty boy.’
‘Pretty boy?’
‘Foley,’ Clover tutted. ‘Who else?’
Matty’s mouth opened. ‘You’ve never called him pretty before!’
Clover stared at her incredulousness, incredulously. ‘I didn’t actually mean it! It’s a saying! And hardly a complimentary one, either.’
‘Who doesn’t like being called pretty?’
‘Um, a guy who’s eighty-five kilos of solid muscle and has made a career out of chasing adrenaline rushes!’ She pointed a finger warningly as Matty’s mouth opened again to say something else. Clover could see from the gleam in her eyes that she wanted to pull her into her overblown fantasies. They could fall together! ‘Oh my god, stop! Do not insult me with any stupid comments. You’re very drunk right now. In the morning, you’ll remember exactly what he did and what it led to and why I find him utterly abhorrent. Okay?’
Matty bit her lip. ‘. . . Then you’re not going to like this.’
‘Not like what?’ Alarm flexed through her voice.
‘Julian wants us to have dinner tomorrow night.’
‘Again? But we just had dinner with him the other night.’
‘No. This time it’s just the four of us: you, me, Julian and . . . Kit.’
‘What?! . . . Why?’
Matty shrugged. ‘Why not? He just wants us all to get on.’
‘No.’ Clover’s eyes narrowed. ‘He wants to influence us and make sure we turn Foley back into a hero.’
‘He does not.’
‘Of course he does! He is love-bombing us, to make it impossible for us to present his pet in anything other than glowing terms. He’s manipulating us – with a smile.’
‘It is a lovely smile.’
‘Ugh, you’re in lust. You’re not thinking straight,’ Clover groaned. ‘You’re no good to me.’
‘It’ll be fun.’ Matty somehow managed to thread the word out over several syllables.
‘It will be hell on earth!’ she cried impatiently. ‘Thankfully it’s entirely academic. We can rely on Foley to be his usual charmless, obdurate self and refuse to go.’
‘It’s just so we can all bond properly.’
‘You two can, you mean. Have you kissed him?’
‘No.’ The daft smile spread over Matty’s beautiful face again and she gave a sigh of happy anticipation. The words not yet hovered, unspoken, in the air.
‘This would just be some glorified double date to legitimize you two being together! Keep me out of it.’ Clover reached over and switched off the light again.
‘Hey!’
‘Go to sleep. It’s almost two and we’re filming from breakfast.’
‘Huh?’
Clover turned over and faced the wall, making it clear the conversation was over. She heard Matty sigh, then get up and stagger into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. She closed her eyes wearily. Matty and Julian getting together really was a complication she could do without. In the cold light of day, Matty knew full well they needed to keep the boundaries clear. No matter what he liked to think, Julian was not a main player in this film; he was a facilitator and nothing more, and this charm offensive could become obstructive. Affairs always got messy and they had several weeks here yet.
But Clover also knew trying to stop them would be like shouting into the wind. The ball was already rolling down the hill, momentum starting to gather, and she knew perfectly well that the laws of attraction couldn’t be stopped. Only ignored.