The St. Tropez Lonely Hearts Club (24 page)

‘Oh, I know the type,’ Carlotta replied. ‘Buenos Aires was full of them. I wonder why they’re so driven to make more?’

Fabrizio wanted to say, ‘It’s because they have small dicks,’ but decided raunchy dialogue was off the menu with this lady. She definitely had class. My God, she was such a catch! Very rich, extremely beautiful, quite young and absolutely sweet and adorable, with no side to her – how different was Carlotta from Lara and the coterie of rich bitches she surrounded herself with in New York?

‘I think the super-rich need to set themselves totally apart from the rest of the human race,’ said Fabrizio, remembering what Lara had told him about Jonathan. ‘They live on planet “opulence”. It’s all they really care about. They only need to impress the tiny group of people that inhabit the same planet as them by achieving even more enormous wealth and making it grow each year. They only compare themselves to other mega-rich; no one else exists on that world.’

‘What about their families – their wives and children?’ asked Carlotta, who thought she knew the answer to that. Wives and children were definitely secondary in the lives of wealthy men.

‘They must be of the best quality, just like their yachts or mansions or artwork. Why do you think they trade in their wives every ten years or so?’

Carlotta shuddered, remembering the times that Nicanor had screamed at her, ‘
You’re old and ugly – I’m sick to death of you – get out of my sight!
’ Well, death had claimed him just in time. She wondered how many more years he would have stayed with her. If it wasn’t for their beautiful daughter Flora, she was sure he would have ended their marriage years before and seen to it that she had no money either.

While Fabrizio waxed lyrical, she observed him from behind her shades. He certainly was magnetically good-looking, tanned and toned – she could see that now he had taken off his shirt. He had a well-defined six-pack . . . it was almost an eight-pack, in fact. How many hours did it take at the gym to get abs like that? Maybe she had misjudged him by thinking he was just a cheap parvenu.

‘Look at that.’ Fabrizio was pointing at a humongous ocean liner a few hundred feet away. ‘That’s the sort of thing these guys like.’

‘What is it?’ asked Carlotta. ‘I’ve never seen such a huge boat!’

‘He’ll tell you,’ Fabrizio gestured towards Roberto, who was extolling the virtues of the monster ship.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, behold the eighth wonder of the world. That, my friends, is a floating country, for those of you who don’t want to live the great life I’m about to show you in Saint-Sébastien. It’s called
The Planet
, and it’s not only the biggest cruise liner in the world, it’s also apartment living at its most glamorous and secluded.’

‘Jesus,’ gasped Monty, ‘people
live
on that thing?’

‘They do indeed – very
few
people. The owners thought they would be fighting them off to buy apartments, but sadly,’ he laughed, ‘very few takers. Nobody wants to live on a floating mega-hotel that is as long as the Shard and broader than the wingspan of a 747. It cost £800,000,000 to build, and at 225,000 tons, is 40 per cent bigger than any other vessel that’s ever docked in France. It holds 550,000 passengers and 2,400 in crew. Problem is, only about a hundred people took up this golden chance, so the old girl cruises around the Med and the Aegean like the “Ship of Fools” in
The Dead Zone
!’ He chuckled at his wit and his competitors’ misery.

‘It looks like a floating shopping mall,’ said Nate, examining it through binoculars.

‘Yeah, but how much time can you spend shopping?’ laughed Henry Phillips.

‘Ask your wife,’ quipped Khris Kane, getting an ice-cold stare from Blanche in return. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t get me on it, let alone buy an apartment there.’

‘Me neither,’ chimed Harry Silver.

‘So they
do
have some taste,’ Fabrizio whispered conspiratorially to Carlotta, who smiled back.

The supermodel Zarina and her pop-star girlfriend Sin were cuddled up together, eyeing up Fabrizio and giggling, making it difficult for him to keep his focus on Carlotta. Carlotta noticed Sin’s pink-lacquered toenails, encrusted with sparkling gemstones.

‘They’re Swarovski crystals,’ Sin explained, noticing her gaze.

‘They’re amazing,’ said Carlotta.

‘Yeah, I get them done in this place in the port.’

‘Give me the name of the salon – I may try it,’ said Carlotta.

As they passed the seven-storeyed high-rise abomination of a ship, Zarina and Sin, bored of talking to Carlotta, let out appreciative ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’.

‘I want to see it, Uncle Monty,’ whined Zarina. ‘Let’s go visit!’

‘No, kids, sorry – only a couple of minutes before we arrive at the most beautiful island in the world,’ Roberto said proudly as they zoomed past the floating monstrosity. ‘And there she is, boys and girls – Saint-Sébastien in all her glory!’

Meanwhile, Maximus sat fuming at the elegant Tahiti Beach restaurant, talking on the phone to Fabrizio. He hadn’t been invited on Roberto’s trip to Saint-Sébastien and he was beside himself to discover that Fabrizio was on the outing.

‘
Bastardo
,’ he hissed.

‘Can’t talk – I’m on a launch. Se ya later, Maxie –
Ciao!
’ said Fabrizio breezily, then hung up.

‘
Stronzo
– stupid asshole. He’s made a major mistake leaving Lara at home,’ he fumed to himself and took a gulp of his piña colada. Lying back on the comfy orange cushion of the beach lounger, he reviewed his strategy.

What to do about Fabrizio? He was becoming too big for his Gucci loafers. Didn’t he realise how imperative it was for him to get Lara to commit? Maximus lifted his binoculars to study the horizon. The huge cruise ship
The Planet
was slowly chugging in towards Saint-Tropez, getting as close as it could.

‘An abomination,’ he muttered, and then commanded to a passing waiter, ‘Another piña colada!’

The waiter acknowledged Max’s demand with a smile, causing Max to take off his shades to examine the boy more closely. He looked familiar. In fact, he was familiar.

‘Don’t I know you?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ replied François amiably. ‘I’m usually at the Sénéquier but one of the boys is sick so Madame Felix asked me to help out.’ He grinned, showing a fine set of what were obviously his own teeth, and Max inspected him with an expert eye.

‘You get around, then?’ Max asked him.

‘You bet,’ he smiled. ‘Gotta make a buck while the season is jumping. It’s a long cold winter, you know.’

As he took Max’s empty glass, the older man scrutinised the slim, lithe body beneath the uniform white shorts and T-shirt. The waiter had a profusion of tight black curls and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. A fighter, Max mused. He was wearing dark mirrored aviators, but Max seemed to remember that he had black eyes, which were curiously flat and showed no emotion – disturbing.

Nevertheless Max thought he could be a potential candidate to add to his stud stable, which was getting smaller by the day. He handed François Lardon his card, along with a twenty-euro note as a tip.

‘Call me,’ he added, ‘I might be able to offer you something that could be of interest to you.’

LoBianco’s speedboat docked expertly at the jetty of the island of Saint-Sébastien. They had passed several small islands – the Iles D’Hyères – but Saint-Sébastien was the furthest away from the main coast and very secluded.

‘Ooh, fabulous! Look at the white sand!’ giggled Zarina, as she and Sin started jumping about and throwing it at each other.

‘C’mon girls, cool it – let’s see the island!’ yelled Monty.

‘Oh, Uncle Monty, you’re
such
a downer,’ pouted Zarina. ‘All I wanna do is have some fun!’

‘And all I want to do is show you this amazing place,’ said Roberto LoBianco, irritated by the two teenagers. However famous they were in their respective professions as a supermodel and a pop princess, they had no idea how to behave properly in public. They were rolling in the white sand – sand which had been specially imported from the Bahamas and which had cost him a fortune.

‘Stop it, kids,’ Monty ordered, sensing Roberto’s irritation.

‘Yeah, if you didn’t want to see the island then why did you come?’ asked Roberto.

‘Well, you did ask us,’ Sin shot back, smirking. ‘Guess all you wanted was to show the folks what pretty young pussy looks like here on your magical island.’

‘Girls like having fun,’ giggled Zarina. ‘And I don’t wanna see your stupid island, I just wanna play in the sand with Sin.’ She stuck out her tongue at Roberto in full Miley Cyrus mode. And then, giggling hysterically, leaned across to rub sand all over her girlfriend’s now naked breasts.

‘C’mon guys, let’s go,’ Roberto urged, conscious that the sandy floor show could potentially be more interesting than his island tour, and pissed off at the girls’ shenanigans. ‘Leave ’em, Nate – let them get on with their little lesbian cabaret.’

‘Cool it, kids,’ snapped Monty, aware that their behaviour could potentially reflect damagingly on him and his retail business. ‘This isn’t the Crazy Horse.’

‘Oh, Uncle Monty, you’re such a drag!’ yelled Zarina petulantly as the group wended their way across the beach.

As she passed the girls, who had now dropped on to the sand and lit a joint, getting ready to feel each other up and make out, Blanche threw her beach towel over them.

‘Disgusting,’ she sniffed, hobbling across the sand in unsuitably high-heeled boots. ‘Young people today –
really
. They have no idea how to behave.’ This declaration was met with chortling and guffaws from the two prone bodies in the sand.

The island tour was a great success, and Roberto LoBianco was absolutely delighted. Three of the ‘titans of the universe’ had asked for the investment papers and had called their lawyers in front of him, and Carlotta had expressed interest in purchasing a property, as had Harry and Blanche and Khris Kane. Everyone agreed it was going to be an elegant and fantastic resort.

Fabrizio was delighted to receive an invitation from Sophie Silvestri for yet another event honouring Marvin Rheingold. The legendary Hollywood producer was remaking
Suddenly, Last Summer
and Sophie really wanted to nail the Katharine Hepburn role. Fabrizio too had thoughts of Hollywood stardom with Mr Rheingold. He was still waiting for the perpetually elusive call from
The X Factor
in Kazakhstan, an offer Lara felt was beneath him.