The Deception Dance
Page 7
I shake my head, “You don’t mean that.”
“You’re right. I hope she gets a nasty fever.”
I say, resigned, “so, I guess you called dad.”
“No,” she says, gritting her teeth in apology.
When my eyes widen in surprise she holds out her hands, “I'm sorry. I was about to, but I knew the moment I did, our trip would be over and I wanted to give you half an hour more to return, in case you just left with some cute guy. Not that I ever thought you would do something like that.”
I look away; shift my weight and say, “How was your date?”
Tears flow again and Linnie hides her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!” She sobs, “I don’t know if I’m crying because I thought I might never see you again, or because I made-out with a married man.” She dissolves into wet, breathy sobs.
I pet her hair. “Wow, both are pretty awful. So he’s married, what a jerk.”
She turns her face to me, tears still glistening on her cheeks. “Can we leave Italy?”
Green eyes glitter in my thoughts… the way his soft lips trailed down my neck. I rush to say, “Yes, we’ll leave today. We’ll take the train to Paris and...”
Someone knocks on the door. Before we can stand up to answer it, Chauncey saunters in with Nicholas on her heels. Unlike everyone else in the room, Chauncey does not look disheveled; I’ve never seen her look more stunning. Looking at her, having her near me, makes me nauseated.
“I am so sorry...” she starts. I glance over and she breaks off her apology. She drops a shopping bag. Yeah, right, she was so distressed about me that she had to buy more shoes. “I had no idea you couldn’t handle your alcohol. You don’t know how bad I feel.”
Yeah, I think I do.
"Nice, Chaunce. You know this is entirely your fault, right?" Linnie says.
Chauncey rolls her eyes, then narrows them at me.
Nicholas kneels on the floor. “No, this is my fault. I should have never left you.” His expression makes my breath catch.
I shake my head, “Last night just happened, it wasn't your fault...”
“Yes, it was,” he says.
“No. You’re not responsible for me.” I shrug. “We just met." I realize I sound pretty ungrateful and rude. "Thank you for searching for me; it was really nice of you. Don’t worry, I’m fine now, you should get some sleep.”
He stands up and then slumps into a black and white striped wingchair. He shakes his head, “I just had another espresso. I have to leave today for Sweden. But I'd like to invite you ladies to stay with my family for a couple weeks.”
“Sweden?” Linnie sits up.
“You’re too kind,” I say. “But we're heading to...”
“We were just saying we wanted to leave Italy.” Linnie says, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I’ll go,” Chauncey announces as if her approval decides things. “I’ve always wanted to stay in a castle.”
Linnie’s splotchy face breaks into a grin. “A what?”
“Blondie, here, lives in a castle,” Chauncey says, sounding almost bored.
“Are you serious? Oh, that's so awesome. I can’t wait!” And as if she weren’t bawling a minute earlier, Linnie rolls off the bed and starts jumping around.
Nicholas catches my gaze and I realize I’ve been shaking my head.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “We have a separate house for guests.”
“We were planning to go to Paris. I have a Eurail pass.” I say.
“We can fly out in my family's jet; we wouldn’t have to take the train.”
He has a plane?
Linnie sits down. “I feel a little dizzy.”
“Dizzy or ditzy?” I ask.
She glares at me.
“Your offer is too kind,” I repeat. “But, we have plans...”
“I’m taking Linnie to breakfast.” Chauncey gives me a tight grin. She addresses Nicholas, “I’ll give you a chance to convince her.”
“Good idea,” Linnie calls, as she heads for the door. Linnie's anger at Chauncey lasted all of three minutes.
I grin when the perfect solution pops into my mind. Nicholas leans into his chair looking as if all energy had drained from him, long ago.
“Nicholas, I’ll go if my father says I can; but I have to call and ask him.” I don’t actually, I am eighteen; but I doubt my father would ever approve of my staying with a guy.
Nicholas nods, “Oh, of course.”
I retrieve my phone from the bathroom and dial my father.
“You’re calling me early,” His cheery voice rocks me. I forgot he doesn’t know what happened last night. From when we were little kids to when she moved away, Linnie had the tendency to blurt out everything to my dad, whether I wanted her to or not. I got into the habit of assuming he knows when something bad happens. My dad’s being so happy and unaware feels almost like a betrayal. But I can’t tell him; Linnie’s right; he’d force me to go home. He says, “Hello?”
"Is this a bad time? I can call back later." Preferably when he's in a worse mood.
"This is a great time, Birdie, what's up?"
“I have a question to ask you.” I’m not easing into it, the more direct, the more chance he’ll say ‘no way’. “Can I go stay at this guy’s house in Sweden?” Using the words ‘this guy’ is always good bait when fishing for a ‘no.’
“A guy, eh? Does he like you or like-like you?”
I glare at my phone. “Lame, dad. I hate it when you try to talk like us, and I don’t know. So, I’m wondering if I can stay at his place?” His place another great lure that, again, does not catch an immediate ‘no’.
“What’s his name? Can I speak with him?”
I cringe. Why me? “Um, Nicholas. My dad wants to speak with you.”
Nicholas propels out of the chair and takes the phone. Strolling out of the hotel room into the hallway, I can hear Nicholas's voice but can’t make out their conversation.
My teeth gnaw my lip, like corn on the cob, as I wait on the bed. What was I thinking? I said I’d go if he approved. If my dad agrees, then I’m stuck.
No, my dad's probably telling off Nicholas right now. It'll be fine.
Nicholas laughs in the hallway.
I creep to the door and peek out into the hall. Nicholas smiles into the phone. He spots me, spying from the door, pivots and moseys away. I’ve created a monster. What have I done?
I walk back into the room and slump in the chair that Nicholas just vacated. When Nicholas ambles back into the room, mid-joke, I know I’ve lost.
I hold out my hand for the phone, with a somber expression.
The moment I place the phone on my ear my dad chuckles, “The plan sounds great, honey.”
“Does it?” My tone could freeze water.
“Staying in a Swedish castle? Wow, I wish I could go.”
“What about the Eurail pass you gave me?” I have to get a hold of myself; I sound as if I’m pleading.
“Oh, are you worried about that? Don’t sweat it, sweetheart; I won’t be hurt if you don’t use your pass.” He sounds giddy, “Maybe you two could fall in love and you could become a Swedish princess and...”
“I’m hanging up now, dad.” I snap shut the flip-phone. Who was that man and what did he do with my father? Fall in love and become a Swedish princess? Jeez.
“You look unhappy.” Since I took his chair, Nicholas perches at the end of my bed.
“I am,” I say, holding out a hand. “It’s not you or your castle. I do want to see Sweden, hop rocks, swim with jellyfish and all those wonderful things. It’s just... I was excited to travel by Eurail. And also, I need to get away from Chauncey, and I can do that on a train.”
“What if I could make both happen: traveling by train and getting rid of Chauncey, for a day or two?”
“I’d be happy.”
“Then, I’d be happy too.”
“Nicholas, are you a Swedish prince?”
He hoots with laughter, “Not even close.”
He stands. “You should pack, and sleep. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
Before he walks out the door, I call after him, “By the way, I want to travel coach.”
He whistles, and then he’s gone.
I pack, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know if it’s the after-effects of the coffee, the nerves or the excitement, but I’m again sitting in the wingchair, when Linnie and Chauncey dance into the room.
As if the stresses of last night never happened, they pack and giggle and sing together. All the while, I sit and try not to glare at them. It’s not that I feel betrayed by Linnie's instantaneous forgiving of Chauncey (she doesn't really know what Chauncey did), but seeing Chauncey laugh and smile feels creepy. After they’re packed, Linnie balances on the chair next to me and asks, “You sure you don’t want to fly with us on a private jet?”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“Yeah,” she nods slowly, “We’re flying on Nicholas’s plane to Copenhagen and staying in his flat, while you two take the train up. We’re going first, so we can shop. Since you’re dead-tired of shopping, you’re taking the long way up, so we’re all done at the same time and can ferry to Sweden together.” She whispers, “It was your idea.”
“Oh yeah,” I wipe my hand down my face. “I’m just tired.”
“Nicholas will take us to the airport, right now. He says he’ll meet you in the lobby, as soon as he can.”
“That’s fine.”
She presses her forehead to mine. “You be safe, Birdie.”
“I love you.”
I’m left alone with my thoughts. I need to change from this dress, but my usual outfits don’t appeal to me either. I decide on a t-shirt that has ‘Arcata Oysterfest’ written across it in bold blue letters. I don’t like oysters, but, for some reason, I want to wear something that reminds me of home. I hold the white cotton dress Andras gave me above the wastebasket, contemplating dropping it in. I pull back my hand; it's my only reminder of the night I spent with him. Seriously, I should throw the dress away.
Before I can think anymore, I fold the garment and zip up my small carry-on duffel.
I don’t have anything else to do; all the shows on the television are daytime Italian soaps or American movies that have been dubbed.
A knock thumps the front door.
My heart crawls up into my throat, as I cross to the door. Is it...? No, it can't be Andras. It's probably just the girls; maybe they forgot something, after returning their keys.
I turn the knob and open the door to a short man in a hotel uniform. He hands me a garment wrapped in plastic. With thanks and a Euro, I take the hanger.
After the door closes, I run inside with my hanger and throw the plastic-wrapped dress on the bed. The plastic slides off easily and I look inside my red dress. I stretch out the plastic and search every inch. Plopping down on the floor, I lean against the bed with a groan.
What was I expecting? A wax-sealed love letter, stuffed into the dress or hanging off the hanger? Not likely. In his eyes, I’m Andras’s American fling who turned out to be a crazy person.
I don't want to sit here. I stuff my red dress back into its dry-cleaning plastic bag, fold it, and zip closed my suitcase. I stand, take a deep breath and roll my suitcase out of my room.
The lobby is lively with people, bustling about. My gaze zeros in on him; he stands in the middle of the crowd, as if we arranged to meet there. Andras.
Already spotted and not seeing any escape route, I make my slow approach.
When I'm a few feet away, Andras steps forward, wraps one hand around my waist, the other around my neck, and kisses me.
I'm so startled, I just stand there, not kissing back, not pushing him away, nothing. He breaks our kiss and says, “Why did you crawl out of my window and run from me this morning? Do you always act like a scared little rabbit?”
"Whoa!" I say. "No. What? I'm not rabbit-- I mean, I'm not scared." I drop my bag to the floor and stammer, “This is just, a little much, a little fast.”
He gazes into my eyes. “You said you were meant to be with me.”
“I was drugged...”
“Not then,” he says so close to me that his breath tickles my face.
I slam my feet to the ground, separating us by a few inches. "What happened to my shoulder?" I ask.
His eyebrows rise.
"It was cut up, and now there's not even a scratch."
Andras shrugs and shakes his head.
I step back, breaking his hold around me. "Something happened, something healed me.”
"My maid mixed the drink for you, to help the healing and take away the drugs.”
"How?"
He shakes his head.
"I'm really confused." I exhale and shake my head, too. When I speak again, my voice has more than a touch of triumph, “I’m leaving right now, to Sweden.”
His smile is as triumphant as my tone, “Hmmm, it just so happens that I’m traveling to Sweden, also.”
“What? Are you going because of...?” The question I was asking sounds too ridiculous, so I change it to “…business?”
Andras leans down and breathes in my ear, “No.” He stands straight and fixes me with his brilliant eyes. “I’ll be there a week from Friday. Meet me at seven at a restaurant in Hoganas; the restaurant's name is hard to remember. I'll write it down for you.”
“I can't meet you. I’m going to be staying with people.”
“Then, I’ll be there at seven on the day you can.” He shifts toward me even closer, clothes brushing against mine.
Too intense, too fast. I should run, but my legs won't listen to my silent command. Not only am I not running, my heels are again rising from the floor. My mind is screaming, "Don't kiss him," but my lips don't listen, either; I slam my lips against his. Folding my mouth around his, letting his tongue into mine. I crash into him like a wave into a cliff. I clutch onto his short-sleeve shirt and smash myself against his chest. And when he draws away, my mouth quivers and my eyes plead for more. Without taking his gaze from mine, he extracts a pen from his pocket and scribbles something on my inner arm.
“I’ll see you at seven,” he says with complete confidence.
He walks away; at the entrance, he glances back before disappearing out the door.
My head topples into my hands with the realization that I just did a public display of affection with a potential stalker in the middle of a crowded lobby. And worst of all, I liked it, I wanted more. I need to sit down. I need to be medicated.
I drop onto one of the couches and rest my head. The cinnamon taste of his kiss lingers on my lips. I close my eyes.
“Raven?”
Someone touches my shoulder. I open one eye to Nicholas, sitting beside me on the couch. I must have fallen asleep. The noise I make sounds like, “mm-hmmm?”
“Are you ready to go?”
I nod and close my eyes again.
He laughs, “We have to get going, unless we want to spend the night in Zurich.”
I keep my eyes closed, “If we do, I’m sleeping in a youth hostel, in a twelve-person dorm. No more riches for me until we get to the castle.”
“If we do, I’ll stay in a dorm, too.” He taps my knee, “so let’s not miss the train.”
I open my eyes to examine him. “Is that your dressing casually?” He’s wearing a suit. “We’re going coach, remember?”
He peers down, “This is the shabbiest I have.”
I sigh and manage to my feet. When he stands, I hook my arm in his. “What an odd pair we make.”
Chapter Seven
Day Five (continued). Day Six.
We speed by, just out of the city limits of Rome. Nicholas is true to his word and we’re sitting in the scruffiest seats on the train. He leans into his seat, eyes half closed. “So are you going to tell me why you are so eager to be a
way from Chauncey, that you are willing to travel across Europe with a stranger?”
I turn, “She drugged me, when she gave me that shot.”
His head rocks back, as if he is shocked by the idea. “Are you sure?”
“I have no proof,” I shrug. “But, I know it was her, I can just feel it. I should have known, I can usually tell about people, detect their ulterior motives. I was just trying so hard to play nice. That's over.”
He peers through one glazed eye; “Do you detect my ulterior motives?”
My words glide out at a snail’s pace, “If you’re an evil mastermind, who’s hoodwinking me into thinking you’re a good guy, then you’ve got me fooled.” I close my eyes, my head settles on the chair, “But if you’re just a nice person, trying to make some friends and have a good time, then, I see right through you.”
“What if I’m neither?” His drowsy voice comes from far away.
“I’m taking my chances.”
“I’ll stay awake to watch the luggage, so...” He doesn’t finish his sentence. After a second, he snores softly. I join him in oblivion.
Neither of us wakes until an attendant taps our shoulders and says, “Zurich.”
I rub the sleep out of my eyes. Our luggage remains untouched.
Nicholas, beside me, rolls his shoulders and rubs his face.
We make our connection to Hamburg with time to spare. Nicholas doesn’t complain when I turn down a sleeping car for couchettes. We sleep some more and when I wake, my watch reads only five in the morning.
I sit in my bunk and strain to remember what I had been dreaming about before I woke, but it’s like clutching sand, the details slip from my grasp. The dream was exciting, about a blond man with green eyes; I know that, but nothing more.
I can’t just stay here with all these sleeping people. After climbing off my bunk, I peek into the bunk below me to see if Nicholas is sleeping.
He has a gentle face. Most faces look kind in sleep, but Nicholas's looks especially harmless. I watch him breathe heavy sleep inhalations for a second or two, realize I'm being creepy, and let the curtain fall back.
When I find the dining car, it is empty and holds the first open windows I’ve seen since I woke. I sit in a booth and scoot to the window. The sun reddens the sky as it finishes rising over the German countryside. I rest my head and let my forehead vibrate on the pane.