26. Nikos

26

NIKOS

I'm drunk - utterly fucked up.

Selina is so focused on the multitude of emails, wi-fi calls, and texts that she doesn't care that I'm draining the airplane's bar dry. I clutch the tumbler, hand shaking beneath the tautly wrapped bandage. I can only imagine what my father's face looks like right now. My hand caught little of the shattered glass, but the damage is there and a sour reminder.

But the more I drink, the more I'm pleased with the scars. In fact, by my sixth whisky I'm almost sad that I have no other reminders of last night.

By the time I make it back to my seat, I can barely walk straight. I tumble into the lap of an expensive looking man, splashing the remains of my drink on his suit and computer. My drunk brain tells me I've just broken his computer, the anger across his face certainly proves it, but all I can do is laugh.

How can he care about something so trivial when my life is in pieces behind me?

‘I'm so sorry, sir!' Selina sweeps in from seemingly nowhere. She's laying square napkins over the spillage, attempting to mop up my mess.

‘Fucking drunk,' he spits at me, standing up with his arms outstretched as if displaying the growing patch on his grey suit. ‘Leash him, would you?'

‘Yes, I will.' Selina snaps around to me, eyes ablaze. ‘Get to your fucking seat, Nikos.'

I'm hit by the power in her tone and double back. I mumble another wasted apology and flop into my seat. Already an air stewardess is fussing over the man who is pointing at me, his face red with rage.

I can see it in him, the desire to punch me. I lock eyes and silently beg him to do it. Knock me out. Put me out of my fucking misery.

The scene of the chaos in first class is blocked out by a body. My lazy eyes trace upwards until they land on an equally pissed-off looking woman.

‘Hello, Selina.' I slur her name as though it can't fit into my mouth.

‘Drink this.' She hands me a glass of clear liquid. I take it, hoping for vodka but getting water. I wince at the crisp bite. Before I can give up, painted nails anchor at the bottom of the glass and tip it up, not relenting until the entire thing is down my throat.

I slump back on the seat, mind swimming, chin and chest wet with water and alcohol.

‘You're a mess,' Selina says, towering over me.

‘Can you - ' I actually hiccup, making her anger intensify ‘ - leave me to sleep.'

I check the screen in front of my seat and see that New York is only two hours away. We're so close to home - to reality - that I want to sleep the rest of the way.

At least in sleep I can't think.

‘What's happened to you, Nikos?'

I close my eyes, hoping to ignore her but find the words tumbling out of me. ‘I fell in love and was reminded I'm not worthy of it.'

I can't see Selina's reaction, but I hear it. She sighs. ‘Oh, Nikos. When will you learn you're worthy of what you allow yourself to have? Start treating yourself with kindness, and maybe you'll understand that. Keep punishing yourself, and you're right. You can't love someone if you don't love yourself.'

In the dark of my closed eyes, my mind conjures faded images of Oli. I try and grasp onto them, but he slips through my mind like sand through fingers.

‘How bad is it?' I ask next.

‘Well,' Selina slips into the seat next to me, laying a hand on my knee so I know whatever she is going to say is bad. ‘Every major and minor news site currently has your face plastered everywhere.'

‘Fuck.' Hiccup.

‘Luckily, our last counter-offer worked. Although the news is out that Nikos Ridge was seen in Greece on a romantic getaway with a man, they haven't linked it to Oli. Anonymity laws in England are strong enough that we were able to blur his face and protect him.'

I smile into the dark, not bothering to open my eyes. ‘Good. This is good.'

Even though my father has won, I was still able to protect Oli. He may not know it, but I do. That eases some of the guilt, but not all of it.

‘And damage control, what are… are they saying?' It's becoming hard to form words. With my eyes closed, my mind sloshing in alcohol and my stomach as empty as a church for sinners, I know sleep is close. Not sleep as I need, but a comatose state I can drink myself into.

‘A couple of days of solitary confinement for you to gather yourself, then you're on a press tour to explain yourself.'

‘Is loving a man such a terrible thing?'

‘No,' Selina says, softly. ‘Not at all, and please don't think I think that way. The issue is the fact that the second film going into production was riding on your proving your chemistry with your co-star. Everyone went wild over Armin and Gwen on screen, and it's your romance that is going to draw people back to seats in theatres. She is willing, for a price, to stand by your side during this time and keep up the flirtation we had going before the first movie.'

My stomach churns again with memories of how I'd had to act even off-screen to sell the ‘romance' that was the heart of the movie. My co-star was fine enough, but right now I can barely even remember her name - let alone conjure a single shred of desire for her.

‘She'll be meeting us at your first appearance with the host of Mornin' America,' Selina continued. ‘You'll explain that the man you were seen with was a childhood friend, and that it is simply good-old-fashioned Greek touchy-feeliness between utterly platonic and definitely not gay mates that got you into this mess. Convince every straight woman in America it's nothing to worry about, just some very European…close hugging, and you'll convince the board at the production company to sign off on the second film - '

‘I don't want to do it,' I say, peeking open my eyes enough to see her.

‘I know, but you need to.'

‘Because I'm broke.' Or near enough as of this morning, when I wired away the majority of my bank account to pay off my father. To keep him silent about my attack yesterday, to stop him sharing scandalous images that would ruin Oli's life - but most of all, to stop him from bringing to light the case of my mother's tragic demise.

‘Because we're broke,' Selina corrects. ‘If you don't work, it's the end of the line. Especially if Mr. Grey Suit over there presses charges that a drunk and careless Nikos Ridge assaulted him during a flight. We can sugarcoat some secrets, but not all of them.'

I roll my head over to face Selina, my neck aching at a strange angle. ‘The more I work, the more money I get, the more my past will haunt me. Being broke makes me boring. I don't want the money, I don't want the fame - if it means I get… I get…'

Get what? Peace, quiet… the list is both short and endless.

‘What do you want, Nikos? Tell me and I'll make it happen.'

I close my eyes again, giving into the quiet rush of alcohol induced silence. I have no control over my mouth in this state, which could lead me to more trouble than it's worth. But I hear my voice, broken and pained, reply through the roaring in my mind.

‘I want Honey.' Tears roll down my cheeks. ‘I want Oli.'