Twenty-Three
Tibby's head was swimming. The wine was dark and velvety, and it made the foie gras taste absolutely heavenly. She was almost to the end of her second large glass, and she tried to focus on the plate in front of her. She was pretty sure foie gras had something to do with ducks, or geese, or something. She tried to recall hearing something about it on the news recently, but the details escaped her. The small pinkish gray lump on her plate was garnished with a few spears of asparagus and a light brown swirl of vinaigrette. It felt light and smooth on her tongue, and when she sipped her wine, the whole lot slipped down beautifully. Etienne was saying something about the quality of the light in France, and how it made everything look so much better on film. Tibby nodded. She watched his mouth moving, his lips pressed together lightly. His vowels seemed to tumble out in a waterfall of eu and ou sounds, all of which were very attractive to Tibby's ears, but which didn't seem to make a lot of sense. Concentrate, she told herself, taking another sip and emptying her wine into her mouth. Without missing a beat, Etienne reached for the bottle and sloshed some more into her glass.
"Tibby? You are okay? You look sleepy." He was suddenly staring at her, his big dark brown eyes boring into her face.
"Mmmm, yes. Fine." Tibby replied, smiling too broadly. "I guess I just didn't sleep very well last night."
"You were nervous to meet with me?" Etienne looked at her quizzically. Tibby looked down at the tablecloth, then around the room. She felt embarrassed.
"Umm, well-"
"Elisabeth, you 'ave to trust me if we are going to work together. You must not be nervous. Have some more wine, then we will go and read, non? I 'ave such good vibrations from you!" He smiled, no more than a slight turning up of his mouth at the corners, but it had the effect of melting the discomfort Tibby felt. She pushed away her foie gras - she had almost finished it, anyway.
"I'm ready now." She said, looking him right in the eyes.
And at that moment, she almost believed it.
"Dammit!" Cursed Paige when she got to the hotel bar. The bar stools were all empty, apart from one at the end where a beautiful dark-haired girl sat by herself, sipping a martini. She had been hoping to find at least one rich, lonely guy to scam. She needed cash to get out of town, and she had just run out of options. She sighed. Oh well, maybe I can get a free drink on my room tab, she thought to herself. She walked casually up to the bar and sat down a couple of places away from the other girl. The barman looked over at her.
"Martini, please." Said Paige, glancing over at the other girl. She smiled, and Paige smiled back. She looked glamorous and she was definitely one of the most attractive girls Paige had ever seen, but she could tell she was no older than herself. It was easy for girls with money and good looks to pretend they were much older than they really were. Either that or the barman simply didn't care that they were both teenagers.
"Just arriving, or leaving?" Paige asked the girl sitting next to her. Her hair shimmered, and her make-up was subtle and elegant. Her eyes danced with anticipation for something.
"Meeting someone, actually. I'm early. How about you?"
"Oh, you know, just killing time." The barman put the martini in front of her. The glass was beaded with condensation, and a single olive nestled in the bottom, speared with a red plastic stick that looked like a pirate sword. "Cheers." She raised her glass and tilted it towards the girl. "I'm Paige."
"Cheers." The beautiful girl smiled. "I'm Mills."
Days Of St Croix Page 23
