A Place Beyond The Horizon Ch. 05

[Aidan's marriage has been shattered by his wife's cheating. Unable to cope with the thing she did, he boarded a plane and put as much distance between them as possible. He finds himself in Australia, making new friends in Sydney, including a pair of mates on a road trip around their vast, empty continent. He's also met Kat, sharing her bed, the first time in many years that he's been with a woman who isn't his wife. Now, he's working for Mara Fey, the Hollywood A-Lister and one of the most famous women on the planet. Meanwhile, Rosa had cut off all contact with him, leaving Aidan more lonely than ever.

The background to Aidan's story can be found in Oxygen Games by oneagainst, continued here with permission.]

---

JUST BUSINESS

Even allowing an extra half hour travel time, Aidan is nearly late. The address Marley gave him is a long way up the peninsula, on the ridge with a view across the ocean. He doesn't have transport and he's trying to save money so he takes the bus and decides to walk the last part, realising too late that it's uphill and the day's already getting warmer.

The house is on the ocean side, a single-storey building architected carefully from concrete and glass, backing onto the road. It doesn't look very different to the houses around it. He checks the address again and presses the intercom on the steel gate. After a few seconds, he hears the latch click and pushes through. Before he can get to the front door, it opens.

A woman is standing there. She's a head shorter than him, wrapped in tight-fitting lycra with one hand pressed to her ear and her phone in the other.

"Tell him fuck no."

She glances up at Aidan, tapping her ear to indicate the earbud, and waves him in. Then, she turns and wanders back into the house.

"I said that. You remember? I was at the fucking table. I said that."

They're in an entrance hall, with a set of shallow steps leading down into the rest of the building. At the bottom, there is an open-plan area with a wide view of the sea. Silhouetted against it, the woman is nodding vigorously, her back turned to him.

She agitated, her hand playing absently with the blonde hair caught up in a clip behind her head. The lycra tank top reveals bare shoulders, narrowing down to a slim waist and toned legs. She's barefoot.

"Yeah, I said that. He was gonna go take care of it and I was meant to have the contract yesterday. Yeah. Assholes. Can you?"

She nods again, looking over her shoulder and holding up a finger to Aidan. He finds himself face to face with one of the most recognisable women in the world.

"Thanks, yeah. Really appreciate it. We'll get there."

She taps the phone and lets out a long breath.

"Motherfuckers," she groans.

"Uh, problems?" Aidan replies, tentatively.

The woman ignores the question. "You're Aidan."

"You're Mara Fey."

"Yeah, I know who I am. There are posters. You Aidan, yeah?"

He's looking into blue eyes, blonde hair framing a mesmerizingly beautiful face. She's wearing just a little make-up, enough to accent her soft lips and wide eyes. Mara's older than him by more than a decade, he seems to recall, but she doesn't look it. She blinks.

"Uh, Aidan, right?" she repeats.

"Yeah," Aidan stammers, "Uh, that's me. I... Marley sent me. For personal...."

"I know, I booked you."

"Uh... that's right."

Mara is watching him as he struggles, then she smiles.

"Take a breath. Let it pass."

Aidan draws a breath and nods. "I'm just... I wasn't expecting, uh, you."

Mara winks and it's adorable. "That's because I'm not here. I'm not even in the country, at least not for a few more days."

She beckons him over to a table. There's a bag. She extracts a set of papers and a pen, and holds them out to him.

"Read and sign. Let me know if you have any questions. I'll be downstairs."

Wordlessly, he takes them and she turns, slinking down the stairs. He watches the way she walks, the way her hips roll in her lycra exercise tights, then forces his attention to the document in his hand.

It reads like a contract, detailing a non-disclosure agreement and then terms of service, like they are going into business together. Flustered, he scans it and signs at the bottom. When he's done, he carries it down the stairs to where Mara is standing in the open-plan kitchen area with a glass of water. There is a hint of amusement in her expression.

"You could have just left it upstairs," she says, "If it's signed, I don't need to see it."

Aidan comes to a halt in the middle of the room, clutching the paperwork and the pen, feeling foolish. Mara relents.

"Just leave it on the counter."

She puts her glass down and strolls out into the sunshine. Aidan drops the document onto the white marble surface and follows her out to a deck paved in limestone squares,with a plunge pool sunk into the middle of it, and framed glass balustradingthat doesn't obscure the breathtaking view: they are high above the water, looking directly out over the ocean. The sky is an incomparable blue; there isn't a single cloud. Mara is standing next to an exercise mat, waiting. Aidan finds his voice.

"So, where do you want to start?" he asks.

"You mean, what do I want?"

"Yes."

Her eyes glitter. "Everything," she purrs, an elegant hand resting on the clear glass balustrade.

Aidan finds himself staring, trying to work out what he's gotten himself into.

"You did read the fine print, didn't you?" she asks.

"I... kinda."

Mara's expression changes, and she breaks into a wide grin.

"Oh, dude, you would not make it five minutes. Always," she shakes her head, "Always read the contract."

Aidan is taken aback by the mercurial shift in her demeanour. He frowns.

"What if there was a clause in it? Like you now had to call me Empress? Or you were banned from going to the bathroom while you were here?"

"What?"

"Oh, stranger things, believe me. Some really fucked up things."

Aidan turns, looking back to the document, its pages ruffling in the gentle breeze sweeping in from the sea.

"Relax, dude. It's a standard non-disclosure. It means you say nothing about any of this. Or...."

Aidan watches her expression change again, hardening.

"Or I will bury you."

The blue eyes are locked on him now. Aidan tenses. Seeing this, Mara changes again, relaxing, her expression softening. Aidan is struggling to anticipate what she'll do next.

"It's a standard," she tells him, her tone now neutral and business-like, "It gives me protection that you aren't gonna go to the paps and then suddenly I'm ass-deep in telephoto lenses. Read it again, you'll see that's what it is."

Aidan shifts uncomfortably but doesn't reply. Mara surprises him.

"Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. Dude, you okay?"

"I... yeah."

"Sure?"

Aidan nods. "It's just a lot, all at once."

"Yeah, it is."

Mara claps her hands together, as if that's the end of the matter. "Okay. Shall we get down to business?" she asks.

Aidan gladly throws himself into it, relieved to be back in familiar territory. Mara's a client, like any other; she has a set of goals she's aiming towards and Aidan begins to work through the process of assessing her and putting a plan together. She's focused and attentive, asking little questions when she's unsure, taking instruction easily. The fact that she's one of the most famous women on the planet begins to fade into the background as he takes her through the session.

They spend a couple of hours on the back deck, moving under the shade as the sun builds up to its zenith. The wind dies completely and the sea is like glass all the way out to the horizon. Mara works hard, opting for a mixture of strength and body conditioning exercises, until her skin is slick with perspiration and her tank top is dark with moisture. Aidan is impressed by how far she goes, how hard she works, and they settle into a steady rhythm. Finally, they do a set of warm-down stretches on the mat and then she pulls her legs in, sitting cross-legged opposite him.

"So, whaddya think?" she asks.

"Good, really good. You keep in shape."

Now that they're done, he finds himself braced for another broadside as she reverts to her initial demeanour. Instead, she just shrugs.

"So, here's the deal. Remember the non-disclosure. I am fucking serious about that."

"Okay."

She pauses, lacing her fingers together, suddenly, and for the first time, unsure of herself.

"I'm forty-two. Forty-three in a few months. I need to be ready to walk onto set in a cocktail dress that comes down to just below my waist. I need to not look ridiculous when I do that, which is why you're here."

She waves a hand to indicate the house.

"Which is why I'm hiding out in Australia in a rented house that no-one knows about."

"You already look great," Aidan replies.

Mara wrinkles her nose.

"Yeah, look. Maybe, uh, you're not getting it."

She rolls to her feet and is suddenly in motion, heading back up to the steps.

"Make yourself at home, get a drink, the cooler is fully stocked," she calls over her shoulder, "I'm just gonna shower and change."

Aidan watches her go, surprised again by her sudden mood shift. He plays the conversation back, trying to work out if he's offended her somehow. He gave her a compliment, that was all. Surely that wasn't it?

He gets himself a drink of orange juice, dropping a couple of ice cubes in. It's getting hot now. He wanders outside again and leans on the glass balustrade by the edge of the pool, looking out to sea. With Mara gone, he's able to begin processing it all.

Aidan had grown up watching her movies. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the sexy smile on camera, it was all familiar. Having her actually in front of him, struggling to not come across as a fool, isn't something he'd prepared himself for. Marley knew what she was sending him into, but she hadn't said a word. What had Flint called it? A hospital pass: you see the tackle coming and you pass the ball to some sucker next to you to get taken out instead. He hears the clicking of heels on concrete and turns.

Aidan freezes.

Mara descends the last few steps and crosses the polished concrete floor towards him. She has her hair back still, her chin raised, and an icy, defiant expression on her face. Mara is wearing a wraparound black cocktail dress with a low v-shaped neck and a hemline that comes down to her mid-thigh, showing off endless, trim legs down to black stiletto heels. She slinks over to him, hips rolling seductively with each step, to come to a halt right in front of him, feet together, hands together, shoulders rolled back in a way that lifts her cleavage.

"So?" she says.

Aidan opens his mouth, then closes it again. Mara's eyes tunnel into him.

"What do you think?" she prompts.

"You look stunning."

Mara frowns and again Aidan feels like he'd messed up. His mouth opens to speak, but then he stops, watching Mara's eyes drop and her shoulders sag. Slowly, she begins to turn, displaying her body for him. When she's facing him again, the icy composure has vanished like it was a memory.

"I'm not," she manages at last.

Aidan doesn't reply, waiting for Mara to elaborate. He can see she has something to say.

"The breasts," she begins, cupping herself and lifting to enhance her shape, "That's fixable. And I don't mean that way. The girls are natural, still. I mean that with tape and a good cut of the dress, we can get to here."

She presses her breasts together into eye-catching cleavage.

"It's this that you can't fake."

She releases her breasts and pats her thighs, pinching the skin. She presses her tummy and then brushes her hands over her buttocks.

"This is also fixable, though with so much elastic that I'd struggle to breathe."

"You really look good," Aidan ventured.

"Good isn't good. Great isn't good. Jawdropping is what's required. Remember when Samantha Paine walked down the stairs in Two White Rooms? That's what's required."

"Ah, okay."

"And yeah, I know. She's ten years younger, but that doesn't make a difference. That's just what's required. I need to be able to make an entrance like that."

She looks back up at him. He can finally read her expression, see her guard has dropped at last. He's been asked this before, but for other reasons. He knows enough to know it isn't vanity that drives it. It's a cheating husband, or a passed-over promotion, or, in Mara's case, someone breathing down her neck. It's just business.

Suddenly emboldened, he reaches out to grasp her shoulder, spinning her body around slowly.

"I saw the scene."

"You remember that dress?"

"I do."

"So, you see my point."

"Yeah," Aidan acknowledges, "But we can get you there."

She's facing him again, blue eyes uncertain, as Aidan assesses her.

"We can get you beyond there," he tells her, "How long do we have?"

Mara looks forlorn. "Not nearly enough time."

"Let me be the judge of that," Aidan says, and for the first time since meeting her, he smiles.

---

Marley takes him to lunch at a place on the wharf. As soon as they sit down, she slides an envelope across to him. Aidan picks it up and opens it.

"Like I'm paying my dealer," she says, "But I guess you don't have any accounts or banking set up, do you?"

Aidan finds a bundle of notes inside the envelope. His eyes go wide.

"Hollywood," she says, by way of explanation, "They expect the best and they pay commensurately."

"I guess she was happy with me, then?"

"Yes. Quite. I got a lovely note from her. Well, it was a fairly standard note, but based on my experiences of famous people, it was positively gushing by comparison. You made a good impression."

"Thanks."

"Hah, no, I should be thanking you. Pain in the arse that you saved me from."

Aidan frowns and for some reason her comment irks him.

"She actually seems nice."

"I know. You've heard the term diva though, haven't you? Best to look it up if not. You'll need to step up your client management skills. Just a heads-up."

Marley waves the waitress over.

"Oh, and get yourself a bank account. She's going to be dealing with you directly from now on. Apparently you signed some sort of contract?"

Aidan's mind flashed back to the document on the countertop.

"I guess. Look, sorry, I didn't... I'm not trying to cut in."

Marley holds up a hand and waits for the waitress to approach. She orders a salad and Aidan settles on pasta, hurriedly. When the waitress is finished, Marley turns back to him.

"Oh, believe me, you're not. I was only doing this as a favour to a friend. I really want to be nowhere near. I've done my bit."

"Lucky for you I came along."

Marley smiles. "Oh, come on Aidan, you're a lot smarter than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been doing this a while. I've got any number of people I could have farmed this out to."

"And you picked me."

Aidan sits back in his seat. "It's not about my qualifications, is it?"

"You're the best man for the job."

Before Aidan can respond Marley changes subjects, and they begin to discuss bank accounts, getting some transport, good areas to live in. The food comes and they chat about small things. It's quite relaxed, and at the end, Marley pays the bill and they part.

It feels like an amicable separation, as if Marley has arranged it all as a celebration lunch as he goes out on his own. Aidan feels something else though, and it leaves a subtle, sour taste in his mouth. He was the best man for the job, she'd told him. Mara had requested someone to get her into shape, he assumed, and also required something nice to look at. Marley had obliged, scoring herself a favour in the process. It's just business.

---

He finds himself on the rocks, just above the tide line at the south end of the beach. The phone is in his hand and he taps the contact. It rings for a while and just before he thinks it's going to ring out, it connects. Aidan takes a breath.

"Rosa, hi."

There is noise on the other end, muffling. His wife clearly hadn't expected the call. The muffling ceases.

"Hey."

Rosa doesn't say anything else, leaving a silence that needs to be filled. Aidan shifts on the rock.

"I just thought I'd give you a call," he begins, "Just check in."

"Check in, or talk?"

"Uh, talk."

"Okay, because otherwise I guess you've already checked in. I know you're alive."

It's difficult to work out her mood over the phone. He's trying to read between the lines, long-distance.

"How you going?" he asks.

"Okay, I guess."

"You guess?"

There is another pause.

"Going as good as I can, since."

"Yeah?"

"Uh, since my husband walked out on me."

There it is, the barb, and now Aidan knows where he stands. He tries to keep his voice level.

"That's not fair," Aidan replies.

"Sure."

"Really, you're not being fair."

He hears another muffled sound and then, "What's not fair is vanishing without a trace for a month, without even having the fucking balls to sit down and have a conversation, Aidan."

Aidan's head drops into his hands, his phone plastered against his ear. He doesn't respond immediately.

"I didn't have anything to say," he manages, at last.

"And sounds like you still don't."

"That's not...."

"A month. Nothing."

He can hear that she's angry and it riles him up. Despite his best intentions to keep it civil, he reacts.

"You went and fucked a guy from a coffee shop. You did that. You cheated, not me. I've been waiting to see what you'd do and all I've gotten is radio silence."

"Yeah, but...."

"And once again, I'm the one making the running, reaching out, trying to... fuck... I don't even know what I thought I could do."

There is a brief pause on the line and Aidan feels better that he's gotten his point across.

"You abandoned me, Aidan," Rosa fumes, "I wasn't myself. You walked out without a word and left me on my own when I needed someone. I... more than I ever have done. And you just weren't there."

Aidan is taken aback and before he can think, he replies, "So fucking a random guy was a cry for help?"

"Yes."

"That I should have just grown a pair and gotten over it?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what the fuck are you saying, Rosa? Tell me, 'cos I don't know. I can't quite fucking work it out."

Silence.

When his wife speaks again, she's subdued. "Me neither," she replies.

"You fucked up, Rosa, you get that don't you? After everything we've gotten ourselves through, you went and fucked it up."

He needs to hear her say the words. He needs Rosa to take responsibility and admit her mistake. There is perhaps a way forward if they can reset, he thinks. Not back to how they were, but at least to being able to talk to each other without screaming. He needs this one thing, for his wife to show him that she understands. Then, at least, they can move past this.

"You wanted to win, Aidan, remember? You could have changed things, but you were too proud to do that."

Aidan can't speak. All he can do is listen to the words in dumb silence.

"You knew what was going on with me," she continues, "All you had to do was man up and stop it all. You couldn't bring yourself to do that. Instead, you just let it all play out."

"That's not how it went."

"That morning, do you remember? When I said I was going out? You looked at me and I thought you were gonna stop it all, the games, and just...."

The voice fades into silence. Aidan remembers that morning, the way she looked in the kitchen doorway in her summer dress, heading out on her own. He'd known where she was going, but he hadn't stopped her.

"I was trusting you not to cross the line, Rosa. It was all your call, all along. You needed to want to not go that far. It wasn't up to me to stop you, it was up to you to stop yourself."