Page 111 of Cuts like a Knife
“Um… right.” Does Callum still seriously not get how fast I am? Even after more than two years? Or does he realize it and just not want to give me credit? Either way, it’s annoying. But then again, at least he has no idea what I spent the day doing, or with whom. “What about you? How was the grotto?”
He rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous. I mean, the place is incredible. Cool as f—. It’s on Stanley Cay and it’s like another f—ing world. An otherworldly experience. I’m putting that f—ing phrase in my piece, you can be sure. Turquoise water. Sunlight streaming through the openings in the rocky ceiling, colorful fish and coral, the whole nine. Of course, these idiots made a spectacle of themselves. They’re supposed to be snorkeling, right? And they are. For a little while. Both of them get drunk before noon, practically bone on camera, then Savannah goes and upchucks in the middle of their make-out session.”
“Oh my god, she didn’t.”
“She did. The babe spews chunks directly into the water.”
I feel my own stomach turn at the thought.
“That is disgusting,” I say.
Callum laughs. “Old Pete thought so too. So she spews — right in his face, mind you — but most of it goes into the water, and he starts full-on screaming at her. And like, seconds later, a whole school of tropical fish immediately swim up to them and start eating it. The vomit. Like it’s fish food. So there fish are eating the vomit, which freaks her out, and she starts screaming too. He’s screaming at her, she’s screaming about the fish, ‘They’re nibbling me! The fish are nibbling me!’ Craziest f—ing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen some s—.”
“Wow,” I say. I mean, what else is there to say? But a question lurks in the corner of my mind. How did Petar Timber end up on Stocking Island when he was supposed to be at Thunderball Grotto? “So did the shoot get cut short?” I ask.
“You could say that, because f—ing Pete disappeared. She barfs, they scream at each other, he storms off. Throws his mic pack right at some poor PAs head. Doesn’t come back.”
“He disappeared?”
“Yup. Got the f— off of Stanley Cay somehow. I heard a crew member say he must have bribed some random people for a lift. Anyway, before anyone realizes it, he’s gone. Once Savannah Jack quit the hysterics, they got a bunch of footage of her snorkeling, so between that and the early part of the day, I guess they have enough to cut together.”
“But where’d Pete even go?”
“Back to the hotel, I assume,” Callum shrugs. “He’s here tonight, so I guess he cooled off. Didn’t really have a choice. They’re all under contract. He’s got to finish shooting the week.”
I nod. “I hear the contracts are pretty intense.”
“A few days ago, I was going to suggest you think ahead for a How They Met on Savannah and Pete. It seemed like there was something there, but now I think it’s a no-go. Despite the fact that they keep getting drunk and grinding in public, I’m not even sure the pair of them even like each other.”
“Yeah. It’s not really a true love story is it?”
“Definitely not.” Callum takes a deep sip whatever’s in the cut crystal glass in his hand. “Listen,” he says, his voice taking on an unusual serious tone. “I wanted to tell you that you’ve done well over the past few days329.”
“I have?”
“Jesus, Madison, you’re going to make this difficult?”
“Sorry, it’s just that I don’t think you’ve ever given me. compliment before330.”
“It’s not a compliment, it’s a f—ing observation. Despite a, shall we say rocky start with those idiotic questions at the conference, you’ve done better than I expected.”
“I have?”
He ignores me and continues. “The mandate was to produce a lot of content. And you’ve done that. And most of it has been content that’s appropriate for our readership. Lars is happy. I’m happy. So.”
“So?”
“So well done. F—. That’s all. You don’t need to smile like that you know.”
“But you just said well done to me. I’m happy. You don’t want me to smile?”
“Don’t blow it out of proportion,” he says, sounding annoyed, but I can see a smile playing around the corner of his own mouth. “You did the bare minimum, that’s all.”
“And it’s not even over. We have a couple more full days here,” I say. “Think what I could do with those days.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s sort of the point. Since you’ve already managed to meet the objective, I wanted to tell you that you can take the day off tomorrow. If you want to. Go sightseeing around the island or something. Spend it with your little boyfriend, take a day trip. Go see barf grotto. I don’t f—ing care.”
“Thanks, but you’re not really my boss and I’m not sure Lars would like that.”
