It Never Rains in Colombia (15 page)

             
“No way,” she insisted.

             
Mei added, “He's been everywhere.”

             
Christian shook his head mockingly. “I'm going to tell him you said that.”

             
“No, don't,” Harlow insisted.

             
Christian shrugged, “It's my duty. Bros before...”

             
She pushed him playfully, “I dare you to continue.”

             
“I'm just playing,” he said, smiling at her. “So, how are things?” he asked.

             
“Mmmm,” she shrugged, “same old, same old.”

             
“It feels like we haven't talked in a while.”

             
“Yeah, I know. It's weird, I thought,” she looked at his maths book then at his face. She felt her eyes begin to linger on his face and cleared her throat surreptitiously. “I thought you—it seemed like you were avoiding me.”

             
“No, no, I wasn't. I just, well, you and Sophia are always rushing off somewhere. You seemed kind of busy.”

             
At the sound of her name, Harlow began to paw through her bag, distractedly pulling out textbooks and placing them on the table. “Not anymore,” she muttered.

             
“I thought something was up.”

             
They spoke simultaneously.

             
She said, “It doesn't matter.”

             
He asked, “What happened?”

             
“I don't know, ever since that party she's completely changed toward me, like I'm not good enough to hang out with her and her followers.”

             
“That doesn't sound like Sophia,” Christian said thoughtfully.

             
“I'm sure she prefers you to those yes men,” Mei said.

             
“How do you know?” Harlow asked, fishing for answers.

             
Christian said, “That's what I would prefer: Somebody who likes me for who I am, not what I can give them,” he shrugged. “Look, I think she's probably just angry because you humiliated Roberto.”

             
Harlow nodded slowly, saying, “But he's over it.”

             
“Is he?” Christian asked, wanting to know more. He explained, “Maybe he is, but he's the only family she has left and she's bound to be protective of him, as long as you're Roberto's enemy, you'll be Sophia's.”

             
“What, why? We're not enemies,” Harlow rushed to explain.

             
Christian looked unconvinced, “You turned half the school against him,” he pointed out adroitly.

             
“Aaaargh!” Harlow exclaimed in frustration, “I'm the victim here. He turned the school against himself.”

             
Christian chuckled, “You're the victim. Okay, anyway, I'm not taking sides. I'm just trying to give you some perspective.”

             
“The wrong perspective,” she said.

             
He looked at her seriously, “Would you side with someone else against your brother?”

             
“Yes, if he were in the wrong.”

             
Christian tipped his head. “Oh really?” 

             
“No,” she admitted looking around the room, “hmm.”

             
“What?” he asked.

             
“It's nothing,” she smiled. “I've missed our little chats, you guys are the best friends I've ever had.”

             
Christian looked down, frowning at his watch, then waited until Harlow was totally immersed in studying before getting up and saying, “I have to go,” starting to pack up slowly. “I'll see you later, okay?”

             
Christian left without another word.

Chapter 10 - Thursday Night

             
Harlow walked toward the VIP section of the club and peeked behind the stocky bouncer to look for Sophia. She was harder to find now that her hair was back to its lush dark brown colouring. The room was speckled with random faces all of them new to her eyes. She saw Sophia, a dazzling beauty surrounded by jewel-coloured cushions—rose, green, purple—in the midst of a large entourage. She looked happy, perfect. Christian was seated very close to her, he was whispering into her ear with his hand on her knee. The music was loud. They looked so comfortable together. Harlow wondered whether she had imagined the animosity she had seen between them. The bouncer was looking at her strangely. She smiled at him, “My friend’s in there,” she said. He didn't budge.

             
“Are you on the list?”

             
“I'm friends with Sophia,” she shook her head, “Sorry, Monica Valdes.”

             
He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Yeah, me too. Sometimes, I Skype with Kanye West and all three of us have a catch-up. Look, if you're not on the list, I can't let you in.”

             
“Harlow Beauvoir,” she said, waiting as he inspected the clipboard. “Under B.”

             
After a short time, the bouncer shook his head. “Nope.”

             
“It must be there,” she said in irritation, grabbing the clipboard.

             
“It's not,” he said, snatching the clipboard back.

             
Then she saw Amy coming up to her with a group of girls.  “Amy,” she called, “Amy.” Harlow watched as Amy passed by her nonchalantly and the bouncer raised the red rope cordoning off the VIP room to let her through to the other room.

             
She looked at Harlow with disinterest then sighed, “What?”

             
“They won't let me in.”

             
“So?” Amy said.

             
Sarah's laugh came out like the tinkle of bells.

             
“Are you surprised?” Amy asked coldly.

             
The red and blue strobe lights bounced off the bouncer’s large bald head making it look like a disco ball. Harlow walked away, submerging into the crowd. She pushed her way through the crowd angrily. She felt hands pushing back against her.
What's wrong with her?
Harlow thought as she lost herself amongst the dancing, writhing bodies. “What's wrong with me?” she asked aloud, then realised how crazy she must seem quietly talking to herself in the middle of the dance floor. She headed up the stairs to the roof and felt a hand on her wrist.

             
“Where are you going?” Christian asked, releasing his grip on her wrist as she turned toward him.

             
“I need some air.” When Harlow saw Christian, she felt her heart leap, the pressure of his hand on her arm made her heart beat faster.

             
He moved past her up the stairs and said, “Let’s get some air, then.”

             
They made their way upstairs to the roof garden. Twinkling, gold, fairy lights were twined around the vines on lattice frames that hung above the dance floor. There were people scattered all around the large area talking, laughing, drinking, on a lawn of green grass. She walked in front of him feeling the icy breeze against her cheeks. Without turning to look at him she wandered amongst the revellers then stopped at the edge of the roof and gazed out across the city looking out at the lights of Big Ben shimmering over the river like a ghostly golden tower on the water.

             
“What's going on with you and Sophia?” Harlow asked quietly.              

             
“Nothing,” Christian came to stand beside her, then looked quickly away, guiltily, or so she thought.

             
The thing about Christian was that his eyes were always earnest. Now for the first time she heard Sophia's voice echoing in her head, “I don't trust him.”

             
“We go way back,” he said, “I worked in her dad's bookshop for a while before coming to Rutherfords. She's always had a princess complex.” He paused. “I was looking for you,” Christian said, and that soft expression returned to his face, the one that made Harlow think she was being silly.

             
The breeze swept her hair back from her shoulders and she shivered.

             
“Are you cold?” he asked.

             
“Yes, a little bit.”

             
“We can go back down if you want.”

             
“No, I like it up here. It's peaceful.”

             
“I left my coat downstairs,” he explained.

             
“It's fine.” 

             
Christian drew her into a hug and she found her face against his neck, his arms holding her softly but firmly. She leaned in a bit and every time the thumping of the music paused she swore she could hear his heart. It wasn't racing like hers. “Why do you worry so much about her?” she asked. The question came out of the calm and pounced on him.

             
He sighed, “If you knew where she came from, you would worry too. She's like a sister to me,” he explained. “She helped me to get the scholarship at Rutherfords.”

             
“She's a good friend,” Harlow admitted, “but sometimes...” She looked at his face. “Sometimes she's out of control. I feel like I don't know her. One day she's happy, the next…” Harlow went quiet. “Maybe it's just my imagination.”

             
“Maybe,” he agreed, looking at her for a long time, and for a moment she wanted to kiss him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. He leaned in and she pressed her fingertips against his chest as she leaned up to meet his lips, tilting her head to the side. The silence was shattered by a loud scream.

             
“Oh my God! Monica, Monica,” Harlow heard as she turned around in irritation to look at the disturbance.

             
Sophia was walking on the ledge with her arms spanning the air above the three-storey drop, tightrope walking in the darkness. The music stopped and the crowd surged toward her.

             
“Monica, Monica.” “It's her,” came the awed voices. People took out their phones taking photos of her.

             
Christian pushed Harlow away with an urgency she had never seen. In that moment she hated Sophia, balancing like a lunatic, her hair whipped back by the wind, her full lips laughing, still in the short, sparkling, costume she had worn onstage. Beautifully crazy, drunk. She stumbled. There was a loud gasp. Christian was pushing his way through the crowd toward her. “Stop this,” Harlow heard Christian shout as she followed in his wake.

             
“Why? It's fun, come and try,” Sophia called to them both, “I can fly,” she laughed. “Shall I fly?” she asked the crowd with a mischievous smile.

             
“Monica, don't joke,” Christian said in Spanish. “Come on, come down.” He reached out for her and Harlow stopped him.

             
“Don't, she might fall.”

             
He stopped. His hands fell, his face pleading. “Get down,” Christian asked Sophia quietly. They weren't far from each other. He was afraid. Fear was etched in the lines of his face.

             
Sophia jumped down with a little flourish, landing lightly beside Christian. “I was just playing,” she said, looking at him innocently.

             
It could have been a game the way the watching bystanders went back to talking, whispering, comparing photos. The music came back on but Harlow's shoulders were knotted with stress. Tension was still trapping the muscles in Christian's face. He could neither smile nor frown. His eyes were dark with anger and something else. He looked perturbed, as if he had seen a ghost.                            

             
Amy came running up to Sophia, drink in hand, and all eyes followed Sophia. Harlow felt so insignificant that she could have been blown away by the wind at any time like a discarded crisps packet and nobody would have noticed. Invisible, that feeling she hadn't had for years now kept coming back. Amy was talking animatedly with Sophia a short distance away. Sophia nodded at Amy then went up to Harlow, linking arms with her, began to pull her through the crowd. “Shall we go downstairs? It’s boring up here.”

             
Harlow looked at her as if she were a lunatic. She realised that the girl she had first met had disintegrated before her eyes and been replaced by this...Monica, this glittering troubled drama queen who had arisen like a phoenix from Sophia's ashes. “That was really dangerous,” Harlow said with barely contained anger as they pushed through the crowd.

             
“What?” Sophia shouted above the music.

             
In the silence of the dark stairwell, Harlow felt that she couldn't let Sophia get away with her crazy, attention-seeking behaviour without saying something. She had to know it was wrong. Somebody had to tell her. “That was dangerous,” Harlow repeated, watching Sophia skip down the stairs. Harlow caught up with her.

             
“It was just fun, nothing would have happened,” Sophia said dismissively.

             
“You could have fallen,” Harlow almost shouted, “don't you care about yourself at all?”

             
“We all have to die sometime,” Sophia retorted.

             
“That doesn't mean you have to throw your life away,” Harlow snapped.

             
Sophia pushed the emergency exit bar down opening the stairwell up to the bouncing, colourful lights of the main club.

             
“I wasn't,” Sophia explained simply linking arms with Harlow. “Relax,” she commanded, pulling her friend forwards.

             
Harlow pulled her hand away, stopping just outside the exit door on the edge of the dance floor. “I can't relax when you act like that.”

             
Sophia had been going full speed toward the dancing crowd but came skidding to a stop, shocked by the violent way Harlow had retracted her arm. She turned toward Harlow seriously. “It was just a joke,” she shouted above the music as Amy came barrelling down the stairs in hot pursuit, spilling her drink all over Harlow's back. Amy's eyes widened in surprise and then she burst out laughing.

             
“I'm so sorry,” Amy said, holding the empty glass in one hand, posing in the door frame.

             
Christian emerged from the darkness behind Amy like a ray of light. “Wohh,” he exclaimed, surveying Harlow's dress, “I think it's time we went home.”

             
“It's too early,” Sophia complained.

             
“She can't stay here like that,” Christian said simply.

             
“So,
she
can go home. I don't want her here anyway,” Sophia remarked, disinterestedly walking past Harlow as if she were a shadow. She disappeared with Amy into the crowd.

             
“I'll be back. Wait here,” Christian said following them into the crowd.

             
Harlow stood there for a while, feeling the red-wine-soaked dress clinging to her skin like a heavy slug. She waited, but Christian didn't come back. The material felt uncomfortable against her back, beginning to dry from the heat of her skin. The pungent scent of alcohol wafted up to her nostrils and she left the club bursting out into the fresh air past the burly bouncers in their black suits. It was darkest night. The whole street was silent as she wandered down the road.

             
“Why do I always make friends with these crazy girls?” Harlow asked the open starlit sky. The sky replied with a raindrop, landing squarely on her forehead. Within a few strides, the slow downfall of rain had become an incessant shower, as if the air were shouting words at her that she couldn't understand. The rain soaked her hair and she jogged toward the distant light of a bus stop, thankful that she had rescued her coat from the cloakroom. Harlow perched on the edge of the cool red plastic bench surrounded on three sides by transparent Plexiglas and watched the shower of rain as it fell. It took her fifteen minutes to get up and look at the post that stood next to the bus stop.