I felt a surge of irritation that she was close enough to Rosie to touch her and pissed that she’d had to lean over my lap to do it. I was relieved when Sam turned up breathless with a bottle of water. He pulled Octavia up. “Come on, Octavia, let’s keep walking, and look, I’ve got you something to drink.”
“Oh no, I don’t want any more to drink,” she groaned.
“It’s okay, it’s water,” he reassured her.
“I’m so horrendously drunk, aren’t I?” she said to everyone and no one. “You must all hate me.”
“No one hates you,” Sam promised. “Besides, no ones really noticed. Carol is totally wasted. Did you see her flirting with that Nigel guy?”
“Dear Nigel. At least someone’s pulling.” Octavia murmured.
Sam looked confused. He shrugged. “The dervish dancer’s started. Wanna go inside and check it out, Octavia?”
“You go, darling. I wouldn’t want you to miss that for the world, Sam.”
Sam looked at me with one of his, I’m-drowning-here-man-what-do-I-do? looks.
“Yeah, he looks kind of cool, Rosie. Want to come check him out?” I suggested.
Rosie opened her mouth to reply.
“No,” Octavia snapped.
“So what do you say, Rosie?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard Octavia’s objection. “Sam can hang out with Octavia.”
Rosie replied, “I’d actually quite like to …”
I wasn’t sure how to play this, but I figured that given how drunk Octavia was, maybe, just maybe, I could maneuver Rosie downstairs and leave Sam to Octavia.
And then Sam threw me a life preserver. “Yeah, Octavia needs some more air. You guys go ahead. We’ll be down in a bit.”
We went inside where the lights were low and the dervish dancer was spinning around in the center of the room. We stood at the back and Rosie had to shout in my ear to be heard above the noise of the music. “It’s just that she overheard you discuss her with Sam, and she’s pretty upset about it.”
I wondered nervously what it was Octavia had heard and then I remembered Sam asking me for the green light on Octavia. “Do you think she likes Sam?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Rosie giggled and then said, “God, I would be sick if I spun around like that.” She pointed to the dancer who had been spinning around and around without stopping for over ten minutes. “I used to love making myself dizzy when I was little,” she added.
I smiled, imagining her as a little girl, her long strawberry-blond curls whirling about like the dervish dancer’s skirts. I took the opportunity to drape my arm loosely around her as I leaned in to reply. But then as I smelled her hair my mind went blank and I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just wanted to kiss her. In the end I managed to shout, “No, you’d be a natural.” But I don’t think she heard.
She clapped her hands along with everyone else.
“I’m really looking forward to the belly dancing,” she said a moment later. “It sounds really cool. Not that I’d ever do something like that.”
More than anything I wanted to put my lips on her bow-shaped mouth, but I felt too nervous to kiss her, she was too, too …
Too ethereal.
After a while Rosie shouted in my ear, “Octavia wants you to know she likes you. That was why she was upset by your conversation. She heard you telling Sam he could have her.”
I took a breath and thought about it. “Yeah, that would suck. I’m sorry about that.”
“She thinks she’s given you the wrong impression. Sort of, you know, made you think she doesn’t fancy you. She can do that sometimes.”
“It’s nothing like that,” I assured her. “I think she’s hilarious, but I’m interested in someone else,” I shouted.
I watched her bite her lip like a little girl and look away. “Octavia can have any boy she wants.”
Again I was stuck for what to say. I didn’t want to waste this opportunity to be alone with Rosie, so I just pulled her closer and pretended I hadn’t heard what she’d said.
“All the boys prefer Octavia,” Rosie continued, “even when they pretend not to. I mean, I don’t blame them. She’s much prettier than me. Not to mention more exotic!”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I told her.
“It is,” she insisted. “I’m shy and ordinary and Octavia is, well, look at her! It’s just no fun being second best all the time. Do you know what I mean?”
“I don’t see why you should feel that way. For what it’s worth, I think you’re way prettier than Octavia.”
She bit her lip again. “Octavia’s not pretty, she’s stunning.”
I wanted to say something remarkable then, something that would make Rosie look up into my eyes and see what I saw—that not only was she incredibly talented but she was gorgeous; an angel whose big golden eyes warmed my soul. I wanted to kiss her and reassure her that she wasn’t second best. She was most definitely the Best. Gorgeous, and more important, real.
In that second as the music stopped and the lights went on, I realized that for the first time in my life I wanted something from someone else. Worse than that, I wanted something that I wasn’t one-hundred-percent certain I could have.
Everyone was clapping and cheering. I looked over and caught Yo making out with Perdita in one of the corner booths. Lucky bastard. Even Carol and Nigel were gazing longingly into one another’s eyes.
Mohammed stepped forward again armed with his note. “And now we are proud to present the beautiful Sorayah. The Egyptian belly dance is the most ancient of all surviving dances. It tells the story of a woman’s life; her spiritual life, her loves, her longings and losses. It is a prayer to her family and a celebration of life. I ask each of you to hold your hands out and express gentleness in your own way.”
“Oh no!” cried one of the girls, and Rosie and I both laughed.
Mohammed clapped enthusiastically as the belly dancer skipped into the bar in her sparkling costume, her long black tresses flowing down her back. “You let the music move through you. Many peoples of the Arab world perform this dance, but it is from Egypt they learn the language. We are a proud and ancient people. There is a saying, Egyptian belly dancers glisten, other belly dancers sweat.” He laughed at his little joke. “Enough now,” he insisted, taking off his hat. “Let us clap our hands and celebrate the glistening Sorayah.”
Sorayah was standing on the brightly lit glass dance floor. The overhead lights dimmed, the music began, and cheers went up from the jocks as she wriggled and swayed her spangled hips hypnotically. It was a sight to behold, but not for long because that was when Rosie put her arm through mine and looked into my eyes for the very first time. “God, she’s really good, isn’t she?” she asked.
But I didn’t get to revel in the shock of her skin against mine or the look she’d given me, because just then Sam charged in. He grabbed me and insisted, “Quick, Salah, you’ve got to help. Octavia climbed onto the other boat.”
“She what?” Rosie asked, removing her arm from mine.
“Just hurry up! She totally lost it. I couldn’t stop her, dude.”
“How did she make it over there?” I asked Sam angrily as the three of us made our way out to the dock. “That boat’s railing is over six feet away.”
“She made me help her.”
“What?” Rosie shrieked.
“Rosie, why don’t you go back inside and make sure none of the teachers come out,” I told her, taking control. “The last thing we need is one of them busting us.”
“But what about Octavia?”
“I’ll go and bring her back,” I assured her.
Sam argued, “I can get her, I just need a hand.”
“No you’d better leave it to me,” I insisted. “If there’s a problem with the other boat, I speak Arabic. The last thing we want is a security problem, or worse, for the police to get involved.” Believe me, I don’t want to be the one to rescue her, I wanted to add but didn’t.
/> “Promise you won’t be mean to her,” Rosie begged.
“I promise.” I was so going to wring Octavia’s neck. “Just go and keep the teachers inside.”
When Rosie was out of earshot, I turned to Sam. “What the hell were you thinking, helping her climb onto the other boat?”
“Okay, I know it was dumb, but the girl’s amazing. She was goofing around. She kept daring me to do all this crazy stuff and I kept saying no but eventually, well, I felt like this chicken, so I agreed to help her over the railings.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“I thought I’d join her, but once she was over there”—he pointed to some figures visible through the window—“she went straight in and started dancing like a maniac. If any of the teachers see that, she’ll be sent back to London.”
I looked in at the crowd inside. It didn’t take long to spot Octavia dancing while a crowd of elderly people clapped and cheered.
“Okay, wait here and pray we don’t get busted. I’ll need your help to get her back.”
“Sure. And Salah. Thanks. I owe you big-time.”
“Don’t you always?” I said, tossing him my suit jacket. I climbed over the railing and jumped across to the other boat.
Octavia’s audience wasn’t about to let me get near her. They’d formed a circle around her and were clapping in time to some fifties music as she writhed around the dance floor like a demented gazelle. It wasn’t very goddesslike.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” I called as I grabbed Octavia. “Show’s over. The performer has another engagement elsewhere.”
“Aw shucks, fella. We was enjoying the show,” an old guy in a cowboy hat and a walker told me.
“I’m sure you were,” I said as I led Octavia through the crowd.
“Salah?” Octavia asked when the fresh air hit her. I could smell the wine on her breath. “You came.” She smiled.
“Looks like it. This really isn’t cool, Octavia. They could have called security if someone had reported a strange guy climbing onto the boat.”
“But you’re not strange.”
The old folks had followed us out onto the deck, so I shut up.
“You take care of that girl there,” the Texan warned, tottering ahead of the group, the rubber wheels of his walker squeaking. “She’s a pretty little thing. One in a million. We haven’t had so much fun since …”
“Oh, he will,” Octavia called out, then added in a southern accent, “Y’all take care now!” She waved and they clapped their approval. She wouldn’t walk, so I finally had to lift her up and carry her over to Sam and that was when she put her arms around my neck. I was about to say something when she kissed me.
I pulled away but the damage was done. I looked across the railing at Sam and watched his face go cold. And it got worse. Carol and Nigel were behind him. I probably should have been worried about expulsion or getting sent back to New York or a million other things that could change the course of my life. But Rosie was there, too, and all I could think of as I saw the look of agony slash across her face was how much I wanted to throttle Octavia, and I’m not even a throttling sort of guy. At least I never thought I was.
And don’t give me the lecture Sam gave me later. I was there, and it is a hell of a lot harder than you might imagine to push a girl off you when she’s got her arms wrapped around your neck and her tongue halfway down your throat.
But my protestations seemed weak even to me.
Chapter 8
Rosie
It only took one sentence, and like a pharaoh’s curse, all hope was dashed.
I was rooted to the spot, rendered as stonelike as the Sphinx by what I’d seen.
“What on earth were you doing on that boat?” Nigel demanded.
The passengers on the other boat were still waving and cheering loudly to Octavia. Salah passed Octavia to Sam and then athletically jumped over to the Nefertiti himself. He was annoyingly fit despite being the most hateful boy in the world.
Bloody Octavia and bloody Salah! At least Octavia was drunk and she was also, well, Octavia. Besides, I knew she fancied Salah, so I couldn’t really be surprised by her behavior. It was Salah I hated for having deceived me earlier in the evening with all that rubbish about fancying someone else more than Octavia. And I hated myself even more for being so sad and stupid to have thought he meant me.
Most of all, I was disappointed in him for being like every other boy in the entire world who claims to fancy this girl or that when really all he really wants is to pull Octavia.
“I don’t think she’s as cute as you.” He’d actually said that. The liar! He’d almost made me believe he thought I was prettier than the most beautiful girl in the world! The madness of it all didn’t make it less galling. What had Sam called her, a goddess? How is any girl supposed to compete with a goddess?
“Oh, do stop going on,” Octavia chided Nigel. “I’m sure Carol would rather be whisked off her feet to trip the light fantastic than listen to you berate a spirited girl like moi who was merely having a little fun.”
As if on cue, the pensioners opposite called out, “Bye, Octavia. Thanks for the show!”
She had the world at her feet.
Octavia waved back and blew kisses.
“And what have you got to say for yourself, Salah?” Carol asked sternly. Even so, I spotted a look pass between Carol and Nigel and knew at once that Octavia was going to get away with it again. A really, really mean part of me would have quite liked to see her gated. Only then she’d be upset and I’d probably end up feeling sorry for her.
Salah was looking at me as he replied, “Well, I didn’t think it would be safe to let her go alone, Carol.”
And Sam quickly added, “They insisted she go and visit them. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, would they Octavia?” He nudged her to agree.
“No’s never much of an answer,” Octavia replied, batting her ridiculously long lashes at Salah.
I could tell without looking that Salah was trying to make eye contact with me, but I wasn’t having any of it. I still had a bit of pride left and I was clinging to it like a life jacket.
“Well, I must say, it’s reassuring to see that Bowers produces such fine gentlemen,” Nigel said, looking at Carol with sickening admiration.
“Oh Nigel,” Carol twanged.
Right then I knew Octavia wasn’t going to be gated. Nigel and Carol didn’t want their trip spoiled although they said they didn’t want to spoil our trip. Teachers are so two-faced like that.
Nigel, encouraged by her simpering, continued. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised that a teacher of your caliber has produced such fine, thoughtful, polite young men, Carol. Bowers and these young boys’ parents must count themselves as most fortunate to have their sons molded by your capable hands.”
It was truly vomitsome.
Nigel seemed to realize that things were getting a bit inappropriate in the teacher-flirting department and composed himself. “Well, erm, that is to say (awkward cough), I think it’s time for you young ones to get a bit of kip before tomorrow’s excursion. Six a.m. wake-up call, remember!”
“Yes, sir … I mean, Nigel,” Octavia agreed, saluting and then kneeling and bowing in a scraping, groveling sort of way, which made me laugh. This is what always happened with Octavia. She always made me laugh or did something really kind and I’d forgive her for being so outrageous.
“Off you go then,” Carol added, practically shoving us off the deck and back into the now-empty bar so she could be alone with our tragic little teacher.
Salah and Sam did one of those sad, alpha-male hand-slapping rituals that ended with fiddly fingers and guffaws all round. At times like this, I really wonder why we are so entranced with boys.
“So, do you want to come to our cabin for a nightcap?” Sam asked, trying to regain some coolness as he finally remembered our existence.
“No,” I replied firmly, glaring at Octavia. “We need some sleep. We’ve been up
since five this morning.”
Octavia laughed. “Oh don’t be such a bore, darling. We’re young! Sleep is for the elderly.”
I glared at her. She was really annoying me.
“I’d like to get some sleep myself, actually,” Salah added, looking pointedly at Sam. “See you guys in the morning,” he said. I could feel his eyes searching for mine, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. In fact, I planned never to look into his eyes again. I was immune to his charms. To prove this I began to hum as if I wasn’t even aware of his presence, let alone his smoldering good looks. He could take his looks and his charm and drown them in the Nile for all I cared, and I really, really intended to mean that in every fiber of my being.
Octavia went to kiss him but Salah strode off straight past her toward the stairs. “See you at six then.”
“Yeah, at six,” Sam agreed, looking confused as he followed his friend.
Back in our cabin we found tomorrow’s itinerary laid out on our turned-down beds. I was still humming away, having lost my humming inhibition halfway to our cabin. I’d worked myself into a lung-blasting noise by the time Octavia told me to shut up and hit me with her pillow.
I climbed into bed with a deep-seated case of the grumps.
Octavia didn’t go to sleep straight away. Nor did she seem even mildly aware of my grumps. No, Octavia was babbling away happily, even as she cleaned her teeth. Over the sound of the running tap I caught words like “Salah” and “darling” and “hilarious” and “pull.”
I put my pillow over my head to drown her out and howled “Shut up!” into my mattress.
“What a night, Rosie,” Octavia said with a sigh as she finally climbed into her own bed. And then she started singing, “Oh, what a night!” I don’t know where she digs up these horrible old songs, but I wished she’d bury them.
“Goodnight,” I said through gritted teeth.
“What a magical Egyptian knight in shining armor Salah turned out to be. Thank you, thank you, thank you, darling Rosie, for being the bestest friend in the world. I knew you’d sort it all out so we could be together. You always do. You’re such a brick.”
True Love, the Sphinx, and Other Unsolvable Riddles Page 6
