The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER THIRTEEN




Kerr was positioned between Tatiana’s thighs.

‘See, I can hold you in my grip like this?’ she said, tightening her thigh muscles. ‘And then I can flip you like this. Da?’ she said, and swiftly flipped Kerr off the sun lounger onto the decking of her yacht.

Kerr landed with a heavy thud on his coccyx. ‘Bloody hell Tatiana, that hurt!’ he yelled out in his broad Scottish accent.

‘Hmm,’ she said, and readjusted her diamond-encrusted Dior sunglasses.

She was bored with Kerr now. They had been sailing around the Mediterranean for five weeks and all he wanted was blowjobs and coke, which she had an endless supply of, but what was she getting out of it? She was sick of these pieces of shit that leeched off her. What she wanted was a man who had his own life; a man who could do things, make things happen.

Kerr had promised her a recording contract and that he would do a duet with her on her album, but so far nothing had come through. What Kerr hadn’t told her was that he was on notice with his record company, and that he was behind on his deadline for his next album.

He was supposed to be in London, writing and recording, but he wasn’t inspired. He hadn’t been inspired for years, he realised. He didn’t have the music inside him any more, and he wondered how he could get it back. The last time he had written great music was when he met Willow. The songs had just poured out of him, and he had had a hard time trying to keep up with them. That was the album that produced three Grammys and went platinum several times. The follow-up album did alright, mostly because it was filled with songs he had written when he was with Willow, but the album after that had failed dismally and ticket sales for his concerts were slow.

When his lawyers and banker rang to tell him he was out of cash, he was incredulous. How could it be? he wondered, until they sent over the list of chattels and houses and he saw where his money had gone.

Now Willow and the children were gone, his reputation was in tatters, his mother had been emailing him articles about what people thought of him. It wasn’t flattering, he thought.

Kerr ran his finger down her muscular thigh but she moved it away.

‘Don’t,’ she said, rolling over onto her stomach and opening her copy of Hello!, the only thing he ever saw her read.

As he peered over her shoulder, still sitting on the deck, he saw pictures of Willow in Victorian costume. Snatching the magazine, he read, ‘Willow Carruthers has wasted no time mourning the death of her marriage and has stepped into Harold Gaumont’s new picture epic, filming in Bristol. It is believed that Willow will be in Bristol for six weeks with her children filming the multi-million dollar epic.’

Kerr looked at the pictures of Willow. She did look beautiful, he thought, and then he looked at the muscular and groomed Tatiana on the sun lounger.

So different; the Madonna and the whore, he thought. Tatiana grabbed the magazine back from him.

‘That is your wife, yes?’ she said with distaste.

‘Yes,’ said Kerr, looking into the distance. No other boats in sight.

‘She is an actress, yes?’ asked Tatiana, her thoughts ticking.

‘Yes,’ said Kerr vacantly.

‘I think I would like to be an actress. I think I would be good, yes?’

‘Sure, sure,’ he muttered. Three words from the article played over in his mind. Multi-million dollar. How much would she be getting paid for this role? he wondered.

Walking over to his phone on the table on deck he picked it up and saw he had thirteen missed calls and eight new messages. He ignored them and rang his lawyer, who took his call immediately.

‘You’re alive,’ came the voice down the phone.

‘Yes, I’ve just been having some time out,’ said Kerr. ‘Rethinking my options.’

‘Willow is desperate to get a hold of you, as is your manager,’ said the lawyer.

‘Tell me, if Willow and I are split up then does she have to share with me what she earns still?’

‘Not really. The kids are with her full time aren’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘If you have the kids then yes, but otherwise no.’

Kerr waited for a moment and then looked at Tatiana. He knew she was tiring of him. It was time to get his life back on track: music and money, that was what he wanted, and Willow held the key to both of them.

‘I think it’s time I came back to London,’ said Kerr.

‘High time,’ said his lawyer. ‘Call me when you get here. There are a few things we have to discuss. Actually many things.’

Kerr hung up the phone and turned to Tatiana. ‘I have to go home,’ he said.

She didn’t bother to turn around. ‘OK.’

Kerr waited. ‘Can I use your jet?’

Now Tatiana rolled onto her back and sat up. ‘What’s in it for me, darlink?’ she asked slowly.

‘I could f*ck you,’ he offered.

She shrugged. ‘Boring. What else?’

‘I could write you a song?’ he offered again. He was tired of her games and bullshit. He just wanted to be back in England with a pint in his hand and a full bank balance.

‘Maybe, but first I want to be an actor. I want to meet your wife. Maybe she can help me.’

Kerr looked at her, shocked. She couldn’t be serious? There was no way Willow would ever entertain this woman, whose nipples he had been seen sucking in pictures all over the world.

‘Umm, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ he stammered.

‘Then no jet,’ she said and she rolled onto her stomach again.

Kerr picked up his phone, dialled his phone banking number and keyed in the details. He would check his bank balance and then make his own way home. He had hidden this credit card from Willow, and it was strictly only to be used in an emergency. He considered being held hostage off the coast of Sicily as an emergency, and he waited while the automated voice gave his balance over the phone.

‘You have one hundred and eleven pounds available,’ the automated voice stated.

That can’t be right, he thought, and he pressed the button to hear it again. ‘You have one hundred and eleven pounds available,’ said the voice again. ‘To hear the last six transactions press two.’

Kerr pressed two, his hands shaking. There had been twelve thousand pounds on this card. ‘Last six transactions. Monday the twelfth of June – The Apple Store – two thousand and twenty-one pounds. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Net-A-Porter – three thousand one hundred and two pounds. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Ralph Lauren – one thousand and seven pounds, twelve pence. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Whole Life Foods – five hundred and forty-two pounds, eighty-two pence. Wednesday the fourteenth of June – Harrods – two hundred and twelve pounds, eleven pence. Thursday the fifteenth of June – Harrods – eight hundred and fourteen pounds, ninety-nine pence.’

Kerr hung up, rage pouring from him. F*cking Willow had his card details. Well she could go f*ck herself. She was going to teach his girlfriend how to act and he was going to claim half of her wage; maybe even more if he got the kids.

Looking over to Tatiana, he said, ‘Fuel the jet babe. I’m taking you to London to visit the Queen.’

‘Really?’ she asked, sitting up again. Perhaps she had misjudged Kerr.

‘Not the real Queen, but I’m going to make you an actress. I spoke to Willow – she can’t wait to meet you,’ he said, and Tatiana clapped her hands and opened her legs.

‘Then come and get your ticket to ride,’ she purred and Kerr smiled at her open legs.

God knows Willow wasn’t much in the sack, he thought as he moved towards Tatiana.

As he swapped positions with Tatiana and lay on the sun lounger, she jumped on top of his cock and rocked back and forth until she felt herself beginning to come.

‘And the Oscar goes to Tatiana Rusellov!’ she cried as she came, and Kerr watched her with bemusement. What the hell, if Willow could win one then there was no reason Tatiana couldn’t either, he thought as he felt himself beginning to finish, and he grabbed her face as he came.

‘You know it baby,’ he said, and the two of them smiled at each other, each absorbed with their own satisfaction and their own sets of plans.