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“What’s wrong, Isaiah? Talk to me, mate.” Wes says, his brow furrowing down at me.
And before I can stop it, the truth comes rushing out.
“I can’t breathe,” I whisper. He nods; I know that he’s felt like this. He gets it. “I can’t—” My chest is too tight. I try to laugh it off, embarrassed. “Sorry, man. Sleep deprivation and… other things. I can’t talk properly.” I rub my eyes, trying to focus. “I was reading poetry and thinking about the sea and how I might be able to breathe there,” I finish lamely.
My hand hovers over the end button, I’m so embarrassed. But this is Spence I’m talking to. He might be a film star and a girl magnet, but all of that doesn’t matter, because he’s one of the best human beings on the planet. He nods, the light catching in his green eyes and making them sparkle with kindness.
“I get it, dude,” he says. “The boat is yours.” Just like that.‘It’s yours.’Freaking Wes Spencer. “How long do you need it for? It’s docked somewhere in Spain right now. I’m in New York for two weeks with Ari, we’re doingSNLthis weekend.”
His whole face lights up just saying her name. Ari is his girlfriend. Did I say how disgusting it is that he looks so happy? Because it is. It also sends a searing pain right through my chest seeing him talk like that about his girl.
“SNL, huh?”
It’s snowing outside his limo’s windows. Here, there’s only a slight breeze.
“Would you believe it, we’re both doing it, but I’m the one who’s nervous,” Wes chuckles. “Ari is so cool about it. They have us doing stunts together, and then falling on our faces like Ollie and I did in those Laurel and Hardy remakes. It will either end up being or being weird. Will you watch our episode? I’ll send you the deets.”
The dude has acted in psychological thrillers, in Austen and Shakespeare adaptations and has won an Oscar. And this is what he gets all excited about. Doing freakingSaturday Night Livewith his girl. I let out a laugh, I can’t help it.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I reply.
Thing is, I think I mean it for real.
My brother, Spencer and Teddy got famous for producing a short dystopian film,Sweet Prince, last winter. The tabloids say that they are an example of what ‘billions poured into a creative endeavor can make’. Spence and Theo have been named People’s wealthiest person under thirty several times over. I have too, but I don’t give interviews. I did one or two before Issy Woo’s fame exploded, but I stopped the minute things went global.
On the phone, Spence nods.
“Good. Anyway, we’re not flying to Europe until June, so feel free to have it till then. Or even after, I don’t think Ari will mind a guest.”
“I’m rehearsing all through the spring and touring from June onwards,” I say, trying to breathe past the weight on my chest. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”
“Then use it in between the shows,” he says immediately. “Pan told me you’re doing Europe, right? It’s perfectly doable. Or maybe split your time between hotels and the boat, that’s what I’d do.”
Is he serious? Also, ‘Pan’ (that’s what Wes calls James) has a big mouth; I’ll have to have a few words with my little bro.
“Relax.” Wes seems to read my thoughts on my face. “He didn’t tell me the countries or anything. He just worries about you. I think. It’s hard to tell.”
I chuckle. “Vienna, Berlin, London, Zurich, Paris,” I tell him. “There, now you know more than my brother. We need to add a few more stops, and that’s the whole tour. Do you really think I can use your yacht at some point? Even for a week, it would be…” I close my eyes, almost smelling the salty air across the waves. “Heaven.”
“It is, man,” he replies. “You’ll get a taste of freedom.” My heart skips a beat. “Leave it to me, I’ll take care of everything. There will be a full crew and everything. I’ll have my assistant contact yours… I’m thinking April.”
My eyes are stinging. For the first time in a long time, I feel excited about something.
“How can I thank you?” I whisper.
A palm tree sways outside my window, a dark shadow against the fading sky.
“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. I smirk. If I had a nickel for every rich guy who is so free with his belongings… I’d have one nickel. He’s it, there’s no one else like him in the world. “One suggestion, though.” He leans forward, his face tight with intensity.
“Let’s hear it.” I find myself leaning forward as well.
“Well, it’s more of a condition, actually.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that scares me.
“Lay it on me.”
“Greece,” Wes says. “Greece is the condition.”
The Elliot sisters chat room
