Page 48 of Footprints in the Sand
“You’ve seen her work,” William said to Calvin. “Don’t you think she handles the concepts of pain and beauty and outrage wonderfully?”
“You want us to outrage her even more?” Calvin asked. “Is that why you’re bringing this up?”
“Why don’t you tell her what you did in Taiwan?” William suggested. “Why don’t you tell her how much money you made? How many people got sick after that? Do you remember the number? It was higher than initially believed, wasn’t it?”
“Give it a rest,” Calvin said, barking with laughter.
Dimitra’s head spun with confusion and fear. It was unclear to her if William was making up these stories, teasing her, tryingto get a rise out of her. Then again, these men were enormously wealthy, with their fingers in every pie. She wouldn’t put it past Roger to force a bunch of Greeks from their home—maybe to build a hotel or put in a pipeline or something of the kind. She wouldn’t put it past Calvin to look the other way if something was making people sick, something that was poised to make him enormously wealthy.
Where was her moral line? Where was her moral compass?
“Let’s calm it down a second,” William said, tapping ash from his cigar and onto the floor.
But Dimitra didn’t want to calm down. She was on her feet, her eyes burning both from the cigar smoke and her anger. She made eye contact with all of the men in this sinister circle, trying to gauge who they were and where they’d come from and why they’d become so cruel.
She realized, with a funny jump in her gut, that there was no way she could take these men’s money. She’d had enough.
“I have to go,” she said.
William stood. “You’ll sit down and talk to us,” he informed her, as though he owned her. Maybe he was right to think that. Perhaps, because he’d thrown so much money at her career, he’d assumed he’d receive different treatment.
“I don’t want to be associated with you,” Dimitra said as coolly as she could. “Thank you for the invitation. I will leave now.”
In her chic Alexander McQueen gown, she strolled from the top deck, down the stairs, and along the ramp back onto the boardwalk. From there, she could hear the men upstairs, howling with laughter at what had just happened, how they’d chased her off the boat. She stayed still for a moment too long, her eyes stinging.
That was when William Cottrill leaned over the side of the railing, still smoking that cigar, and said to her, “You’ve made an enemy, Dimitra.”
Dimitra glared up at him. In her mind’s eye, they were situated like opposite Romeo and Juliet, the woman down here and the man up there, and so much hate between them, instead of love.
“You know I can ruin you, if I want to,” William said. “I have ways of doing that.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Dimitra said.
“You’d risk everything? For your morals? Just because of people you don’t know anything about?” William asked.
Dimitra couldn’t believe she was in the position to answer this question.
“I have nothing to hide from you,” Dimitra said, her voice firm. “Do your worst, William Cottrill.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away from that yacht, her heart burning in her throat. The incredible influx of money over the past few weeks had come to an end, but it had to be all right. The money was safely stowed away. Nobody could touch it. She’d make do for the rest of her life, selling paintings here and there and maintaining her commitment to a moral universe.
If she couldn’t do that, then who could?
Oriana called her a few minutes later, drawing Dimitra out of her haze. “What happened?” Oriana asked, her voice high-pitched.
“I can’t work with that man or anyone he associates with,” Dimitra said. “And I can’t work with you if you continue to work with him. Okay?”
Oriana was stunned into silence. “Okay,” she said finally.
Dimitra’s heart lifted the slightest bit.At least I found good people here, she thought.
“Let us come find you,” Oriana said. “Meghan and I are worried about you. We don’t want you to be alone.”
After a moment of thought, Dimitra said they could.
It sounded nice to relax and complain with friends by her side.
Back at Eva’s, she undressed and put on a pair of pajamas and waited for the Coleman girls to come find her. They came with wine and potato chips and cookies and apologies. Dimitra found herself ranting at length about the men on the boat. Meghan had her fair share of gripes as well, before Oriana broke down and agreed, “They’re horrendous, but I had no idea how bad it was.” For hours, they snacked and gossiped and drank wine and switched to tea. Eventually, they fell asleep—Oriana in the guest room, Meghan on the pull-out sofa, and Dimitra in what had once been Eva and Finn’s bed. When they woke up, they were slightly hungover and ready for a massive breakfast and to take on the day.
