“I might start getting the wrong idea.” His smile tilted even more and I could almost see that dimple through his hair.
“What. Wrong. Idea?” I emphasized the words.
“That you might actually like me,” he said.
I shook my head at him. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”
“So you do like me, then?”
“Put it this way, I don’t totally and utterly dislike you,” I teased.
He smiled the biggest smile I’d seen so far. “I’ll take that.” He started walking away, but walking backwards, hands in pockets, watching me as he went. He looked ridiculous.
“You’re going to trip.” I pointed at the ground behind him.
He turned round and started walking the correct way. “Your concern for my wellbeing is rather heartwarming, Ash.”
“For the record, the only reason I didn’t want you to trip was because then you would trip me too.”
“Don’t believe you.” He shot me a look over his shoulder as he climbed into the vehicle. The drive was short and when we got to the camp, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes.
“This is incredible,” I whispered in utter awe as I stared at the bedouin-style tents in front of us. All the sides were open, and the ground was covered in large Persian rugs. Furnishings from the early 1900s made you feel as if you were stepping back in time, the intrepid explorer setting out to explore unknown lands.
“Amazing, eh?” Max said next to me.
“You could say that again. This is one of the most unique places I’ve ever been to. And it’s going to require zero styling from the art department too.”
I walked through the massive tent, running my hands over the swathes of fabric that hung from the roof, billowing in the growing wind. I dropped down on one of the plush velvet couches and threw my head back to look up at the tented ceiling where giant crystal chandeliers hung. This place was an eclectic mix of things: African artifacts, opulent crystal and velvet, and then worn rugs that gave you the feel of an opium den somewhere.
“Can I show you to your rooms?” the ranger came over and asked.
“Sure.” I stood up and followed him out of the main tent. The wind had picked up even more and walking in it felt difficult. He led us down a wooden pathway with smaller freestanding tents off it.
“Dinner will be at seven in the main dining tent, just off the tent you were in. And if there’s anything you need, feel free to call us.” The ranger took my bags inside and then left me to step into my tent alone. The interior of the tent was just as spectacular as the main tent, the only difference was the size and the presence of a massive fourposter bed. I threw myself down on it and let out a very contented sigh. Max was right—I was exhausted. This job had taken it out of me and traveling always made me stressed and tired. I turned my head to the side and noted what was on the bedside table. The product that had caused all this stress. A bottle of African Dreams cream liqueur. The company launching it was putting a ridiculous amount of money behind the product. They were clearly very confident about it. I hadn’t even tried it, so I didn’t know whether it tasted good or not.
But that wasn’t my job. My job was to make it look like it tasted good. To make it look as if sipping it was like drinking a little slice of opulent African luxury. My job was to sell a dream of the product, which in turn would sell the product. The ad agency had come up with what I considered to be a rather generic, slightly cheesy ad, but I also knew that this kind of ad sold alcohol, so it was perfect for the brand. And I wasn’t going to complain: the budget was huge and I seldom got to work with such a large amount. In fact, thanks to African Dreams, I was basically livingmyAfrican Dream right now on this comfortable bed.
I woke up to the sides of my tent flapping wildly in what felt like borderline gale force winds. I could see why the pilot had been told not to take off in this. I raced to the edge of the tent, and tried to wrangle the material down, but it was like wrestling with a giant anaconda, and the anaconda was definitely winning. A clap of thunder made me leap backwards and almost out of my skin.
“Let me help you,” the ranger said, coming out of nowhere. I stepped back to let him tie everything down.
“We’re going to drop the weather screens,” he said, and I watched as large heavy canvas sheets fell to the ground and were fastened tightly. But despite them, the inside of the tent felt alive. Everything rattled and moved. The sides billowed in and out in the wind. The ceiling shook, the chandelier swung wildly and bolts of lightning lit up the room like a strobe light in a club.
“Is it safe here?” I asked the ranger, not hiding my concern at all.
He nodded, but told me that dinner in the main tent had been cancelled and it would be brought to our rooms instead—they didn’t want guests walking around outside. That made me feel less safe than I had been feeling moments ago. I walked into the very middle of the room to the large center pole that held up the tent. I grabbed hold of it and then sat down on the floor, clutching it tightly.
CHAPTER 22
Max
I lay on my bed staring up at the flapping roof. Ash would be hating this. She’d never been one for feeling scared. She hated horror films, hated roller coasters, and anything else that made her anxious or fear for her safety. I knew this need to always feel safe came from her little sister’s freak death when Ash was only thirteen. It had been a tragic choking accident, the kind no one could ever imagine happening. Ash had seen the whole thing happen, seen her mother trying to save her sister. It had affected her profoundly, devastated her, and since then, she didn’t like feeling even vaguely unsafe or scared. And this wind, this howling storm that was shaking the tent, I knew it would be making her feel just that. The need to go over there and make sure she was okay had me on my feet, pacing the room. But I wasn’t sure she would want me there . . .
“Fuck it!” I said, exiting my tent. Whether she liked it or not, I was going to make sure she was okay. She could kick me out if she wanted to, but I just needed to know she wasn’t freaking out. It was hard to walk straight down the wooden path as the raging wind battled with me, knocking me sideways off my feet. I finally made it to her tent and tried to scream her name above the wind, but my voice was carried away. I squeezed my way through the heavy canvas weather sheets and then found a small slit in the tent that I climbed through. And there she was, sitting on the floor in the middle of the tent, holding on to the pole.
“You okay?” I had to stop myself from running up to her and scooping her into my arms.
“Yes! No! Sort of,” she said. “I figured that the safest place to be when the roof and sides blew off would probably be here. So here I am.”
