Play Along

by T L Swan

  Moments later, we are walking through the reception area and he picks up my hand and takes it in his. My heart flutters. We haven’t been intimate since he told me he was bored in the cabin and was going to Chelsea, and he hasn’t tried to touch me at all. Not that I have wanted him to. He is probably lucky he hasn’t, to be honest, because I may have cut off his hand.

  Part of me—the insecure part—wonders if he turned off me when he heard about my fucked up family, of me being broke and hiding all of my life. Of my own flesh and blood murdering the mother of his child in front of that child. I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed and it’s not my fault, but I feel as though, in the eyes of others, it taints me.

  It takes away my shine and tarnishes my innocence.

  I mean, how would my future boyfriend introduce me to his parents or to his friends?

  He couldn’t. He could never truthfully tell them my story because it will never be accepted. Nobody would want their son to marry someone like me with the emotional baggage I have. I can only bring danger to their lives and pain. I’m good at bringing that and that’s why Mom kept us at a distance from normal people.

  My children will never have freedom as long as I live in the United States with my father alive. He will always find me.

  It is with the last thought strong in my mind that I pick up. I need to do this.

  I do deserve a new start where nobody owes me anything.

  I look him straight in the eye. “Lets go shopping.”

  This is fucking drug money and I’m entitled to it as much as any of those bastards.

  * * *

  We walk hand in hand down the street and I have a huge smile across my face. We have opened a bank account, which was surprisingly easy. Stace has gone crazy and we are loaded with shopping bags. He has bought me nightgowns and swimmers, makeup and hairbrushes, underwear, dresses, a hat, and three pairs of shoes. I tried to pay with the money he gave me but he wouldn’t have it. Funny thing is, the things he has picked for me are not my style at all, but because he has liked them on me, I have wanted them. As if somehow his opinion is the only one that matters. I am a new person now. I can be anyone I want to be.

  He stops in front of a designer boutique. “Let’s go in here.”

  I look at the expensive furnishings. “It looks too expensive. I don’t need fancy clothes.”

  “What if you have a date? You will need something nice to wear.”

  I smile up at him in wonder. “A date with who?”

  He shrugs and smiles sexily down at me. “Some lucky bastard.”

  My heart swells. I follow him into the store and we start to look through the hanging dresses.

  “How long since you have been on a date?” I ask as he slowly flicks through the dresses on the rack.

  He narrows his eyes as he thinks. “I don’t know. A long time. I would have still been in the Marines. Maybe five or six years.”

  My mouth drops open. “You were a Marine?”

  He looks down at me and smiles sexily. “Yes. I was a Marine.”

  I put my hands on my hips and stare in wonder up at him.

  “What?” He smirks.

  “That’s just so…” I shake my head as I try to articulate my words. “Frigging hot.”

  His face falls. “And being a criminal on a shipping container isn’t hot to you?”

  “Well.” Oh crap, that came out wrong. “I just meant…”

  He cuts me off. “I know what you meant.” He keeps looking through the dresses.

  He moves to the other rack along the window and concentrates on his task. I, however, have a million questions and follow him around like the annoying person I am.

  “What did you do in the Marines?”

  “I was a nautical engineer and a chopper pilot.”

  I get a vision of him in his grey uniform flying a helicopter, and a thrill of excitement runs through my deviant bloodstream. He would have been a fucking hot chopper pilot.

  “A pilot,” I gasp.

  “Of choppers.” He frowns.

  “Choppers, planes, same thing.”

  “No, not really. Different aircraft.” He smirks over at me and I beam a broad smile back at him.

  He continues to flick through the rack, distracted at his task at hand as he pulls out a little black dress. “I like this one.”

  I take it from him without even looking at it. I am too busy with my Top Gun fantasy.

  “How long were you in the Marines?” I ask.

  “Six years.”

  I bite my bottom lip as I think. He hands me another two dresses.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I missed home.”

  I frown. “But you are not home now, anyway.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me and my ten thousand questions.

  Damn it, this is the most interesting story I have heard, and just when he is about to leave, he tells me about it. I want to hear it all.

  “Do they know this on the boat?”

  “Ship,” he corrects.

  “Ah, yes, ship.” I roll my eyes.

  “No. Why would I tell them anything personal about me? They are not my friends.”

  I smile as a warm, fuzzy feeling runs through me. “Am I your friend?”

  He smiles and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I would like to think so.” He pulls me toward him and gently kisses my temple. What a sweet gesture. He instantly goes back to looking at his dresses and I stand and watch him with my mind going crazy.

  I don’t want him to go.

  I want him to stay with me and be my friend. My gorgeous, beautiful, fuckable friend.

  He is the first person who I could tell about my past and now he is telling me his.

  We buy two of the dresses and a pair of heels before we head back to the hotel. Silence has fallen between us as we walk hand in hand, and I wish I could act happy and joyful, but the fact is I really don’t want to say goodbye to him.

  This is it. I will never see him again. We get to the room and I open the door. We walk in and throw all of the bags on the floor. I’m not sure what to say, so I start with the lame stuff. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  He smiles, knowing my tactic. “No, I’ve got to get going.”

  I nod. I knew he was going to say that.

  He walks over to the desk and takes the pen and paper and scribbles down a number and hands it to me. “This is my mother’s phone number. If you need to contact me.” He hesitates. “Call her. I check in with her every few weeks.”

  I nod and take the paper from him and fold it in half.

  He watches me intently. “You going to be alright?”

  I nod as my eyes stay fixed firmly on the floor. I’m not good at goodbyes. I’ve said goodbye to everyone I cared for at one stage or another.

  He puts his fingers underneath my chin, brings my eyes up to meet his, and we stare at each other for a moment. It’s like he feels the same… but then he doesn’t say anything.

  “You should go,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  “Thank you for everything.” I smile. I can feel the tears welling and I just need him to go before he sees them. I am suddenly scared to start a new life on my own.

  Stop it.

  He holds me in a tight embrace and I feel his large, warm arms around me one last time. We cling to each other for an extended time, and without another word he turns and walks out of the door.

  It clicks softly as it closes behind him.

  I blow out a large breath as the tears slowly well in my eyes. I head over to the window so I can watch him walk away one last time. I stare down at the street below at all the people merrily going by with their lives.

  I feel a sense of closure… of who I used to be.

  I feel a beginning of who I want to be and I smile.

  No remorse, no regrets, just a sense of gratitude that I met him for even a little while.

  He gave me freedom.

  I see him exit the front doors. I
put my hands on the glass and lean into the window to watch him. He heads over to the cab rank and talks to the driver, and then gets into the backseat. In slow motion, the cab pulls out and drives away.

  He gave me my freedom.

  * * *

  Three hours and a good cry later, I am lying in a semi-conscious state in the deep, hot bath.

  It’s okay to cry sometimes, Mom used to say. It purges the bad to make way for the good. I think I was crying for the loss of my life rather than the loss of Stace.

  Although that feels pretty shitty, too. He would be back on his boat now. Ship, I correct myself with a smile. My diamonds are all packed safely away and I have an appointment tomorrow with a master jeweler to sell one of them. I have to sell them one by one to not raise suspicion. I’ve also made an appointment to get a safety deposit box. I can’t keep the remaining diamonds here. I need to have them somewhere secure.

  I smile in my heated, relaxed state. Everything is going to plan and how it should be… finally.

  Once I get the diamonds all sold off and money into an offshore account, I’m off to Europe to start my new life.

  Far, far away from my father, where he will never find me again.

  I climb out of the bath and put on my robe and wrap a towel around my head. I pick up the room service menu and scroll through. I glance outside as the sun is beginning to set. I really should go out tonight to celebrate my new life, but I honestly can’t be bothered. I will stay in and then tomorrow make the effort spend the day sightseeing.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Shit, who’s that?

  My heart rate picks up and I sneak over and peer through the peephole.

  It’s Stace. What?

  I open the door in a rush.

  “Hello.” He smiles nervously.

  I frown at his demeanour.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking.” He seems so nervous that it brings a broad smile to my face. “I saw you downstairs having dinner with your parents.”

  My heart freefalls from my chest.

  He remembered.

  “I spoke to your father.”

  I smile.

  “The doctor.”

  I put my hand over my mouth in shock. He remembered everything.

  “It took a lot of convincing, but he said you could go on a date with me tonight.”

  I stare at him through blurry eyes.

  He swallows nervously.

  “What’s your name?” I whisper.

  “Stace.” He smiles softly. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Roshina.”

  A frown crosses his face at my real name.

  “What do you do, Stace?” I ask.

  “I’m a Marine.”

  A broad smile crosses my face.

  “What do you do?” he asks.

  “I’m an intensive care nurse.”

  He holds his hand out and we shake hands as the electricity jolts through me from his touch.

  “Can I pick you up at seven?” he asks hopefully.

  I nod as my eyes hold his. He has no idea how much it means to me that he remembered what I told him.

  “You’re playing along with my lifeline?” I whisper.

  His eyes hold mine. “Maybe it’s my lifeline, too.”

  12

  I stare at him as a clusterfuck of emotions whirl around me like a tornado.

  “Asking my dad if you can take me on a date is your lifeline?” I whisper.

  “Taking you on a normal date is,” he answers as his eyes search mine. He’s genuinely nervous. Maybe he thinks I’m going to say no.

  “Seven sounds wonderful.”

  He smiles. “I’m staying downstairs on the next level.”

  I smile. He even booked a room for himself.

  He stands awkwardly in front of me. “I will…” He pauses as if not knowing what to say next. “I will see you at seven then?”

  I nod through my smirk. He turns and walks up the hall and I watch him. The elevator doors open and he disappears, looking very pleased with himself.

  Holy shit!

  I jump up and down on the spot. He asked me on a date, he asked me on a date. I run into my room and punch the air. Oh my God, what am I going to wear?

  I have to look good.

  Irresistibly good.

  I open the closet and find the two date dresses that we bought today. Damn it… I wasn’t even paying attention to them when we bought them, I was too distracted by my Top Gun fantasies. I pull out the one that was his favorite—a flowing, backless, ice-pink number. It has shoestring straps and a cowl neckline that dips low into the back. I can’t wear a bra with it.

  If I’d have known I was actually going to get this date I would have paid more attention to his choices and maybe picked something better. I slip it on and look at myself in the mirror. I turn to check out my behind. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I smile broadly. I pick up the phone and ring reception.

  “Hello, reception,” they answer.

  “Yes, hello.” I smile. “It’s Mrs. Williams from 1204.”

  “Hello, how can we help you?”

  “Is your general store still open?” I ask.

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Would I be able to get a razor and a hairdryer brought up to my room, please?”

  “Of course.”

  I glance down at my toes. “Oh, and… and some nail polish,” I stammer. I don’t think I have painted my nails since prom.

  “Of course, Mrs. Williams. Which color?”

  I shrug. “A natural pink, or a color not too bright if you have it. Just something pretty and feminine.”

  “Okay, we can do that.”

  I smile broadly. “Can I also have a toasted sandwich?” I am starving already and I don’t want to look like a pig on my date. I fumble around with the menu. “Um.” I scan the choices. “A club sandwich, if that’s okay?”

  “Yes, no problem. That will be about ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.” I hang up, and with a twirl of happiness I flop onto the bed.

  * * *

  I stand in the mirror and look at my reflection. He was right, this pretty pink dress is amazing, although something that I would have never picked for myself. It’s feminine and yet sexy. I have nude, strappy stilettos on and I’m pimped to the nines. My long, dark hair is straightened and I have smoky eye makeup with pink glossy lips. My fingers and toenails are manicured and painted.

  I look good, I know I look good… but then that could just be because I looked like total shit for the last two weeks. Who could tell?

  The only thing missing is perfume, but Stace picked my deodorant so I guess that will have to do. I sniff my underarms and shrug. Smells okay, I suppose. He seemed to like it.

  I stare at my reflection.

  This is it. Unlike any date I have ever been on before, there are no preconceived ideas. I know for certain that I will never see him again after tonight. Butterflies rise in my stomach. Maybe that’s why it feels so important.

  This is all we have.

  This night is all we will ever have. I want to make it good for him.

  I close my eyes as reality sets in.

  I desperately want my memory of him to be happy and good, because that’s what I feel he could have been if he hadn’t got…

  I cut myself off. Stop it, you idiot.

  He is a criminal and you have one night. Stop thinking, stop fucking feeling, and look at it for what it really is.

  My thoughts are interrupted by his knock on the door. I put my hand on my stomach to calm my nerves and take one last look in the mirror.

  Go time.

  I open the door and there he stands, six foot four in a navy dinner suit and dress shoes. His sandy curls are styled, and he is clean-shaven. My eyebrows rise by themselves as I inhale his heavenly scent.

  He wore a suit. Oh my God, he wore a suit.

  He must have gone out and bought it after we organized our date. The night is perfect alre
ady.

  “Hello.” He smirks.

  I smile broadly. “Hello.” The electricity zaps between us.

  His eyes drop down my body. “You look beautiful,” he whispers.

  My poor heart won’t be able to bear much of this, and unable to speak, I smile goofily. He makes me giddy.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asks.

  I smile and grab my bag and he leads me out into the corridor.

  * * *

  The restaurant is dark and moody with candlelit tables. We are seated in the alfresco area in the courtyard that sits between two tall buildings. Fairy lights are hanging diagonally above us from building to building creating a romantic canopy. Large plants in pots are surrounding the border. We held hands as we walked all the way here, deep in discussion about our surroundings. It seems Stace is quite the Google traveler and could tell me all about the scenery and buildings as we passed them. Salsa music is piping throughout the space and the crowd are all late twenties and above. Loud, relaxed chatter echoes all around.

  “Thank you.” I smile to the waiter as he fills my glass with champagne. He then fills Stace’s.

  I hold my glass up. “A toast.”

  He brings his glass up to meet mine.

  “To new beginnings.”

  He smiles. “To new beginnings,” he repeats

  We both take a sip.

  “So what do you think of Bogota?” he asks.

  “It’s gorgeous.” I can’t hide my surprise. “I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”

  “I thought this would be better for you than in Columbia itself. It seemed safer and easier for you to get your bearings.”

  I smile softly as I imagine him Googling places to drop me off. “My safety isn’t your concern, but thank you.” I sip my champagne. “This is so good.” I hold my glass up to him.

  “Hmm, yes it is,” he replies as he eyes the bubbling liquid in his glass.

  “So you bought a suit for me?” I smirk.

  He smiles bashfully. “I did.”

  Our eyes are locked on each other. “It looks really good,” I whisper.

  “I had to try and match my beautiful date. I had an advantage. I already knew what she was wearing.”

  His beautiful date.