Nightclub Surprise

by Michelle Love

  She never thought she would be a street girl, but she found, with only a little human interaction, she didn’t need to trust anybody and that way no one could hurt her. Even the kindness of these three other humans – she didn’t know when it might end so she took every advantage of anything offered.

  Sofia discovered she was more resilient that she had ever thought. She avoided the roughest districts now – she’d learned that lesson the hard way. She kept her back-pack with her at all times. If nothing else, it had her art supplies and her toothbrush. It did make her ponder how easy it was for a human to disappear so totally. After a few weeks, she had stopped thinking about the Rutland family – who had been her family for over thirteen years – as people that she knew anymore. It was only Jonas who she even let herself think about – she wondered if he missed her, if he was looking for her. Forget me, Jonas, don’t make yourself unhappy. Sofia didn’t think about Fergus and Tamara at all, if she could help it.

  Now as evening set in, she decided to go find food. It was a Monday and she knew her friendly waiter wasn’t working tonight, so it was a case of grabbing what she could. She scored some bread and some left-over fries. She used her last few cents to buy a couple of water bottles and headed down towards the river to eat. She sat with her legs swinging over the side of the river wall. Stefan always gave her any spare fruit after the day was out, and tonight she had a few apples and oranges. Stave off the scurvy, she thought as she bit into the apple. At ten p.m. she would head to the pool. She had a routine now; she would swim for forty-five minutes then the last fifteen she would wash herself and her clothes if needed, tying the damp clothes to the straps of her backpack. It was August, and still warm, even at night, so her clothes dried quickly. She hadn’t yet figured out what she would do in the winter about any of it – where she would sleep…how she would stay alive.

  Sofia didn’t let herself think about it. One day at a time. And for the most part, astonishingly…she was happy. Free. When she wasn’t sleeping, eating or swimming, she was sketching. She found paper everywhere, especially discarded where the artists would hang out in Montmartre, or in the Marais, or along the Left Bank. She kept it all, and when she couldn’t find blank paper, she would sketch in the margins of abandoned newspapers, or free leaflets from the tourist information office. Stefan had given her a brand-new sketchbook after she’d helped him out on the stall – he couldn’t afford to pay her a lot and the gift had really been something she treasured. Sofia swore that if she ever made it off the streets, she would never forget her three guardian angels.

  Tonight, Leonie sneaked her into the pool office earlier and bought her some snacks from the vending machine. “I’ve told the security guard that you’re my cousin,” she said, piling junk food on the table. “I still think it’s safer for you to swim later on, but I thought you could paint or something in here until then. There’s a kettle, make yourself some hot drinks, or there’s soup in the vending machine. It’s free in here, just use my code, four-oh-six, okay?”

  Sofia shook her head, grinning. “You are the sweetest person I have ever met. Why are you doing this for me?”

  Leonie smiled. “Because two years ago, I was where you were. I was fifteen, on the streets. I got picked up by the police one night and taken into care. It was just the luck of the draw that I got fostered the next week. You’re not that much older than me. I wish I could do more for you, but my foster parents are already at full stretch, which is why I work three jobs to help them out. Hey, I could get you a job here?”

  Sofia felt herself tear up again. “I can’t. I can’t work here, I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t have visas…and there’s no way they’d let me stay and I can’t go back to the States.”

  Leonie nodded in sympathy. “I get it. Well, if I hear of anyone looking for someone who can draw like a dream. Have you thought of selling your work?”

  Sofia chuckled. “I’m not that good.”

  Leonie nodded. “You are, you just don’t realize it.”

  Ivo slid the swim cap onto his head and dived into the deep end of the pool. He felt the tension in his body slide away as he began to swim, the water streaming past his limbs. Swimming had always been his method of meditation. He swam a quick ten lengths then floated on his back, looking up at the night sky. Despite the light pollution from the city, he could see the stars. Nothing else mattered really, he thought, when you looked out into the vast cosmos.

  He felt a shift in the water and realized someone had dived in. He looked around and saw a figure, under the water, her long dark hair streaming behind her. She wore only her underwear and her lithe, athletic body cut through the water easily, gracefully. Ivo suddenly felt as if he were intruding on her space and looked away, concentrating on his own swimming.

  After a while, it seemed as if their separate rhythms were coordinating as they began to swim side-by-side, the young woman easily keeping up with him. Ivo, never very competitive, enjoyed the weird camaraderie he was sharing with this stranger as they swam, as if by some silent agreement, they were in this together.

  After a half hour, his swim companion pulled herself out of the water and Ivo felt a little bereft. He swam another couple of lengths but his heart wasn’t in it and he soon got out and headed for the showers. He stood under the hot spray, washing off the chlorine. He was tired now, the jetlag finally catching up with him.

  As he left and thanked the young receptionist, he saw the swimmer outside of the pool entrance. His heart began to beat quickly as he took in her delicate features, her dusky skin. Her long black hair hung in damp ropes around her shoulders, her large dark eyes wary. Her face was exquisitely beautiful and Ivo felt a tug in his groin. He stepped out into the night, and paused a little way from her, not wanting her to feel alarmed by his presence.

  “Same time tomorrow?” He said lightly, not looking directly at her until his question was asked. She started slightly and met his gaze. A shot of pure desire went through Ivo’s body. She gazed back at him, unsmiling, then gave a quick, barely perceptible nod, before turning away and disappearing into the night.

  Ivo stood for a second, gazing after her. He gave a short laugh. Maybe he was jetlagged and overtired because what the hell had he been thinking, saying that to a stranger? Man, you sounded like such a creeper. There’s no way she’ll be here again tomorrow night after that. He shook his head and turned back towards the direction of his hotel.

  Westchester, New York

  Jonas Rutland didn’t wait to be invited into his father’s study. He opened the door in time to see his father screwing the new housekeeper and rolled his eyes.

  “Gee, Dad, all class as always.”

  The housekeeper, whose name Jonas hadn’t bothered to learn, jumped up and rushed past him, her face red. Fergus tidied himself up, shooting his son an annoyed glare. “How about knocking next time?”

  “How about not being an asshole, next time?”

  So far, the conversation had been nothing different than for the last six months. Since Sofia had been thrown out, Jonas had barely talked to his father – hadn’t talked at all to his sister who he knew had orchestrated the whole fiasco. At the start, Jonas, heartbroken and confused, had begged his father to tell him why he had done such a horrendous thing, but Fergus remained tight-lipped. Jonas had raged at him.

  “You put my sister out on the streets for nothing!”

  “She isn’t your sister, Jonas.”

  “Sofia is my sister! More than that viper you call a daughter. Tamara is evil, Dad, twisted. She always has been but you, god, you always turned a blind eye. Mom saw it, Devika saw it, Sofia saw it. Tamara is a fucking little jealous bitch whose only goal is to screw her darling Daddy and take his money. Literally screw, probably.”

  His father’s eyes had lit up with rage then and he punched his son across the room. Jonas had gotten straight up, his own anger a seething, violent thing. “You disgust me in every way.”

  He turned to leave. “Get back here
, boy. Don’t think I won’t cut you off the same way I did Sofia.”

  Jonas gave a mirthless smirk. “Cut me off from what? Haven’t you got it yet? I don’t want your money. I’ve always made my own way ever since I left college. Screw your damn money. Some things are more important.”

  “Don’t be naïve, boy.” Fergus was dismissive. “Your love for Sofia was nothing more than a schoolboy crush. She was never your sister.”

  Jonas had heard enough. “Only you would twist it to make it seem like that. Sofia was my family. Dad, I’m going to find her and make sure she’s okay. And then when I do, I’m going to tell the world what a shitty father you are.”

  He left the house, knowing he would never go back there. He drove home to his tiny apartment in New York City. His girlfriend, Megan, a nurse at the local hospital, was working nights and so Jonas did what he always did when Megan wasn’t there to distract him: he brooded. He got out the only photo he had of him and Sofia together – taken on her graduation day. It was the last time they had all looked happy together. “Where are you?” He said to the photograph of her step-sister, but of course, no-one answered.

  Sofia knew something was wrong when she woke under Stefan’s fruit stall. Her neck was stiff, enough that it was agony when she moved it, and her head screeched in pain. She stuck her hand on her forehead. Fuck. She was burning up. She gave a groan as she opened her eyes, and the bright light seared her retinas. Jesus. She’d never known pain like it. She checked the coast was clear and crawled out from underneath the stall.

  “You look like hell, girl,” Stefan said, and he too stuck his hand on her forehead, wincing “Oh dear god. Hey, Philippe, would you watch my stall for ten minutes? I need to go get Sofia some pain relief.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Stefan supported her as they walked to the nearest pharmacy, Sofia still clutching her backpack. Stefan lowered her into a chair of a café across the street and ordered her some hot tea. “Is she okay?” The waitress looked alarmed.

  “Migraine,” Sofia managed, thanking the gods that her clothes were somewhat clean and tidy. They’d never let her stay there if they knew she was homeless. Stefan slipped the girl some Euros. “Just watch her for a moment until I get some paracetamol, would you?”

  The waitress nodded and sat down next to Sofia. “You really don’t look well. Let me get you some food, my treat. It’ll help the headache.”

  Stefan was soon back and Sofia popped three tablets gratefully, rolling her neck, trying to ease the stiffness. The waitress brought them both some pastries and bread rolls, waving away Stefan’s offer to pay.

  Sofia thanked them both, grateful for their kindness. The headache pounded away at her temples, and she felt sick, but the hot tea and food did make her feel a little better. Stefan looked at her with concerned eyes. “I really think we should get you to a doctor.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just a bad headache, Stefan, really. These will help.” She held up the packets of tablets and smiled at him. “I don’t know why you do it but your kindness means everything to me. You are a true friend.”

  He didn’t smile. “You’re slurring. Look,” he dug around in his pockets, “take this.” He handed her a key. “This is the key to my place. Go there, rest for a few hours. Elizabeth won’t be home until five so she need never know.”

  Sofia shook her head. “I can’t, Stefan, you’ve done so much for me already. I’m not going to risk upsetting your wife. What if the neighbors saw me go in and out?”

  Stefan hesitated, but he knew he was beaten. His wife was a formidable woman, whom Stefan was terrified of. Sofia thanked him again and persuaded him to go back to work. “I’ll just stay here until my head eases off.”

  She waited until he had gone, then thanked her waitress and took off, stumbling down the street. She decided to go to Montmartre, hang out with the artists there. Maybe the bustle of tourists would distract her from the pain, and maybe she could sell some work, afford a cheap motel room for one night.

  As she walked, she could feel her body start to reject the food she had eaten, the pain increasing, her neck and shoulders tightening until she had to rush to the side of the road and throw up. She heard the disgusted snorts of passers-by – no-one stopped to help her.

  As she stood, wiping her mouth with a napkin she had taken from the café, she felt someone brush past her, and suddenly her back felt very light. “Hey!”

  The thief who had taken her backpack ran and Sofia, her whole body screaming with pain, panic rising in her throat, took off after him. They ducked and weaved along the sidewalks and across roads and just as she was beginning to lose hope, the thief tripped and she caught up with him.

  They had a tug-of-war between them, the backpack’s sturdy canvas holding up to the fight. “Let go, motherfucker!” Sofia screamed, tears of anger pain and panic streaming down her face. She kicked him in the balls, hard, and cursing loudly, he let go unexpectedly.

  Sofia felt herself falling backwards, through space, as if in slow motion. Her head ricochet off something metallic, and she heard screams ring out, as she bounced off the hood of the car.

  Overwhelming pain then, and she could smell blood. She came to rest on the cold, damp asphalt. Consciousness ebbed and flowed and then there were people crowding around. All Sofia could think of was she had to hold onto her bag. Her life was in that bag.

  And the she saw him. The merman…no, that wasn’t right…where had she seen this angel-faced man, with the most beautiful green eyes? He was bending over her, telling her was sorry over and over again. Other people were talking now, talking about calling ambulances and soon it seemed she was being loaded into one. Angel-face was with her and she clutched his hand. “My bag, please, don’t let them take my bag.”

  He squeezed her hand back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m here, I’ve got it. I won’t leave you or it. Just let them take care of you…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  Sofia felt some kind of relief as she let herself sink into the darkness and it was only as she passed the point of no return that she remembered where she had seen him.

  The swimming pool. He was her merman.

  Chapter Three

  Ivo sat with his head in his hands and didn’t see Desiree walking down the hospital corridor. The police had just left, and now Ivo felt hollow. He felt his friend put her hand on his back and looked up.

  “I hit a girl, with my car,” was all he said and Desiree looked distressed.

  “Oh, Ivo. Is she okay?”

  Ivo shook his head. “I don’t know, they haven’t come to find me yet. The police were in there with her but they won’t let me in to see her.”

  Desiree nodded and looked around for a nurse. “Let me see what I can find out, darling. They might be more responsive to a woman. Go get yourself some coffee, and splash some water on your face.”

  When he got back, Desiree was talking to the doctor. After a few minutes, she came back to him. “They say the injuries from the accident are not serious. She hit her head, but there’s no sign of brain damage. What’s concerning them is that she’s sick. They think it might be meningitis.”

  “Oh, god, poor kid. I can’t believe this. Listen, I actually met her, last night at the swimming pool. We swam together. I mean, we didn’t talk or anything, but it felt like we…I sound crazy. When I saw it was her that I had hit…Jesus.”

  Desi rubbed his back. “From what the doctor’s told me, you couldn’t have hit her at speed.”

  He shook his head. “No, I was crawling along, Paris traffic. She was having some kind of physical fight and then she fell onto the hood of my car.” He rubbed his eyes. “And you say she’s sick?”

  Desiree nodded. “In a bad way, apparently. She’s conscious, but rambling. They don’t know who she is and she won’t tell them her name. It worries me, because without insurance…”

  “She doesn’t need to worry about that,” Ivo said immediately, and got up. “Doctor, can I have a word? About
the patient…please, I want to cover all the costs.”

  The doctor peered at him over his glasses. “You realize it could run into hundreds of thousands of Euros, Mr.…?”

  “Zacca. Ivo Zacca. And it doesn’t matter. All costs are to be billed to me. If the patient doesn’t want to say who she is, I’m sure she has a good reason.”

  The doctor sighed. “It would help if we knew her medical history but…okay.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “She’s sedated at the moment, but…as she doesn’t have anyone else, I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you sat with her. I will need her permission though.”

  “Of course.”

  The doctor stepped into the girl’s room and a few moments later, he waved them in. Ivo felt irrationally nervous as he walked into the room. The girl’s skin was wan, almost yellow and she looked doped up to the eyeballs. Ivo smiled at her and pulled the chair up to her bed. Desiree stood back a little. Ivo took the girl’s hand hesitantly. The girl turned to look at him with deepest brown eyes he’d ever seen. Warm. Intelligent. Her hair, so black it was almost blue, fell in soft waves except for the places where it was matted with blood.

  “Hey there…how are you feeling?”

  She murmured something and Ivo frowned. “I didn’t get that, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

  “Merman,” Sofia said a little louder and Ivo laughed softly.

  “That’s right…that’s where we met. I’m Ivo Zacca.”

  “Sofia,” she said softly, opening her eyes fully now and looking at him. “I’m sorry I fell on your car. I didn’t mean to. He had my bag, he was stealing my bag…” Her eyes opened a little wider, alarmed. “Where is my bag? Where…” She gave a sigh of relief when Ivo held it up.

  “Don’t worry about anything, Sofia, your bag is here. I haven’t looked inside, everything is as you left it.”

  Desiree walked slowly to Sofia’s other side. “God, she’s so young.”