“Can we sit up top?” I ask excitedly. I feel like a small child preparing to ride a Disney World attraction.
“Absolutely.” Liam smiles.
We ride the bus from stop to stop, never getting off. After a while we have the entire upper level to ourselves, which makes the experience much more intimate than I ever thought it could be. I watch wide-eyed out the window as London passes me by. The sun has begun to set, making everything look like a magical other-world as we travel over stone cobbled roads.
Buildings are wrapped in the colors of twilight, with ribbons of reds and golds and violet caressing everything the dim light touches. Other buildings are already in shadow, their lights competing against the few brave stars that have already come to shine in the sky. As previously promised, we pass over the London Bridge and I can see the Tower Bridge in the distance playing forefront to a beautifully nighttime lit city. Liam was right; the bridge is absolutely breathtaking at night. Bright spotlights shine upon the overpass, casting white bands up into the dark night sky causing the old stone viaduct to glow in an old-fashioned kind of way. There are two walkways at the upper level of the bridge and I can’t imagine anyone actually summoning the guts to walk up there. Jeez, it’s really high. The waters underneath glisten in deep reds and purples while the reflections of lights overhead ripple from passing boats, breaking the smooth glassy surface giving the river a look of a contorted painting.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
I glance over to Liam when he doesn’t respond and see that he’s watching me again. His angel’s face is smooth of any worry or anger and his aqua eyes search mine, showing so much love that I feel it radiating from him. He swoops in for a quick kiss and then leans back into his seat.
“You’re beautiful. And watching London through your eyes is like seeing it for the first time. You make me so happy,” he murmurs in my ear.
In this moment, his hot breath against my skin shoots electricity through my veins and causes my heart to flutter. I sigh in contentment and lay my head against his shoulder. There’s a knotting in my stomach and now that I’ve rest my body against his, I can feel that he’s shaking very slightly. But I don’t think it’s from fear or nerves – it’s something else.
“We should get some dinner. We may have a wait being it’s still the holiday and I didn’t put our name in anywhere for a reservation.”
“That’s okay. Do we need to go anywhere that requires a reservation?”
“Well, no…” he trails off. “I was just thinking maybe you’d like to experience one of London’s nicer restaurants as opposed to another little pub on a side street somewhere. England isn’t exactly known for its food,” he explains while making a face.
“It really makes no never mind to me. Take me someplace you like,” I suggest.
“Okay, but we’ll have to ride the tube.”
“The what?”
“The subway,” he laughs, correcting himself.
“Oh. Is it far?”
“No, but stay close.”
I shoot Liam a look of concern, but he doesn’t look worried so I guess I’ll trust him not to lead me to my doom and get all worked up over it. It’s a big city after all, and I’m not used to so much hustle and bustle. I wonder if this is what New York City is like, with so much organized chaos swirling around. I've always wanted to visit New York.
We hop on the tube and travel for a few stops. The subway isn’t at all what I was expecting. It’s large of course, with trains zipping by and fast speeds and lots of people waiting for their turn to board. It’s cleaner than I had anticipated. There are no traces of garbage on the ground and it’s very well lit giving the light tunnel a very bright presence. No traces of graffiti pollute the walls and only framed advertisements hang precariously about. I have no clue which way we’re headed or what our destination is. After we had boarded our train and rode for a short time, the train stops to wherever Liam wants us to go, dinging as it comes to a stop. A pleasant female voice comes overhead announcing that we’re at London Bridge.
“Weren’t we just here?” I ask, bemused.
“We didn’t exit the bus at London Bridge. We crossed over the London Bridge.”
Liam wraps his arm tightly around my shoulder and guides us out into the frigid night air. We walk briskly as it’s absurdly freezing outside and every time either of us exhales, we can see a big puffy cloud of air in front of us signifying just how wintry it has become since the sun set. Luckily it isn’t far.
“Are we going back to the bridge like the tower one?” I wonder aloud.
“No. I'm taking you to a restaurant.”
“On a bridge?”
Liam laughs to my ignorance. “No, love. This area is well known for Borough Market, although it's not the weekend and vendors don't come any other time. But the restaurants are divine. I'm in the mood for a juicy burger. How about you?”
“Sure,” I agree. “I like burgers.”
“I'll bring you back here in the summer. You'd like this market better than the one earlier today. There are rows upon rows of food vendors. The smells alone are enough to make your mouth water. This is where you'll see some true English tradition.”
I glance around as we quickly move passed the area he was talking about. Vacant vending booths stand empty in the night, giving them a lonely and eerie look. And above us the over ground trains rumble as they pass, echoing in my ears and shaking my bones.
Dinner is good. I don’t know what Liam was referring to when he’d said England wasn’t known for its food. Everything I’d eaten today tasted just fine to me. Of course I didn’t exactly venture far from the types of food I’m used to. Liam orders a good old-fashioned cheeseburger to eat and orders for me as well being I’m totally perplexed again looking at the foreign menu. The plates come to us with heaping burgers loaded with every fixing I can think of as well as chips; what French fries are referred to back in the States. When the waitress asks if we’d like dessert, Liam is fast to shake his head. She quickly lays the check down on the table and Liam is already prepared with some cash. She whisks it away without so much as looking at either of us, clearly bored with her job or in a hurry to finish her shift, I’m not sure which.
“Full?” I ask him.
“Not overly stuffed, why?”
“You were pretty fast to deny dessert. What if I had wanted some?”
“Oh, well that is because I’m taking you somewhere else for dessert.”
“Wow, you’re really packing in the sites for me today, aren’t you?”
Liam looks up to meet my eyes and grins crookedly. “I try,” is all he says.
“More walking?” I whimper.
It isn’t that I don’t enjoy walking. Actually I could walk and walk and walk all day if I had to. It’s the cold. The wind is exceptionally bitey tonight and it nips at your skin causing it to sting and burn wherever it touches.
“It’s just around the corner,” he answers, reading my pained expression.
“All right. Let’s go.”
The little French crepe shop is just around the corner… and three blocks down. I believe this little place to be a sort of hotspot as it has many customers lined up outside its tiny doors, all waiting impatiently to get their sugar fix.
“Don’t worry, most of these people get them on the go. We’ll have a place to sit inside.” Liam assures me.
I nod my head, keeping time with my chattering teeth. Liam unzips his coat and opens it wide to tuck me inside it, trying to encase me in as much of the warm fabric as he can. It feels so good to be wrapped up in his body heat. I push my nose against his chest and breathe him in. I never look up, too happy, warm and sheltered in the most heavenly cocoon in all creation. The only time I know that the line has moved is when Liam shuffles our bodies to shift closer and closer to the tiny restaurant.
“These must be some craps!” I muffle sarcastically. I’m not sure he’ll hear me because my face is buried into his chest, but he does.<
br />
“Craps?” Liam chortles.
“Yeah. I’ll call ‘em crepes when we get in there. Right now it’s so cold, I can’t believe they’re making people wait outside. And I think it’s crap!”
I feel Liam’s body shaking underneath me with more laughter. Shortly after that I feel warmth on one side of my body so I sneak a glimpse from the shelter of Liam’s coat. Aaaaaah yes! Finally we’re next to be seated inside.
It’s very crowded with people sitting practically shoulder to shoulder at their tiny round tables and small wrought iron chairs. The restaurant doesn’t appear to be any bigger than a walk-in closet, but it’s warm and inviting. The air smells of fresh pancake batter and cooked sugar.
Luckily once it’s our turn, we needn't wait to be seated; it’s a seat yourself kind of restaurant.
“So, French food in England,” I comment as I skim through the menu.
“This is a place Nan used to bring me when I’d spend the day with her as a child. They’re really good.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” I admit as I look at all the different types to choose from. Every fruit I can think of are offered as toppings and/or fillings. Others come with choices I would think more fitting for ice-cream sundaes rather than for a thin sugary pancake. Chocolate, caramel, marshmallow, hot fudge, whipped cream, and even nuts are given as options. There are even lunch and dinner options for those who want to choose the typical sandwich fillings inside instead. Who would have ever thought to put roast beef and Swiss cheese into a crepe?
“No? Never?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Isn’t Nicolai French?”
“It is. And I can eat french fries like nobody’s business.”
Liam laughs. “You’re in for a treat. The ones here are wonderful and well worth the wait. Pretty sure crap isn’t served here.” He lifts a single eyebrow sarcastically.
“Ha, ha. We’ll see.”
“You’ll like the fruit filled kind.”
“With maybe some cream cheese,” I add, seeing that as an option, too.
“Definitely cream cheese.”
The waiter takes our order – myself ordering strawberry and Liam ordering blueberry – and our sweet treats are delivered to our table promptly after. The pastries are piping hot and lightly sugary, but most of all indulgent. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like it. I’ve had pancakes, sure, but these are so much better. The warm treat melts against my tongue like butter on a hot skillet as soon as it hits my mouth. I’m thankful Liam had also thought to order two tall glasses of milk to go along with them.
“Do you like it?” Liam asks as I scoop in a massive and very unladylike bite.
“Mm-hmm. Tastheee,” I mumble, reaching for my glass of milk.
“I figured you would. I know you like your sweets.
“Sure beetths towffer waffles,” I slur around another bite.
“That, they do,” he agrees.
Unfortunately though, they don’t last long enough and we have to give up our spot in the crowded café so that the next frozen Popsicle can come in to thaw out and have their share of decadence. As we ready to leave, a thought occurs to Liam and he makes his way over to the bakery counter, weaving in and out through the tightknit tables and crowds of people. I stay waiting by the door as I watch him talking to the man behind the counter. He glances toward me and then back to the man while pointing to the menu behind him. A few minutes later, the man hands Liam two large paper cups with lids.
“For the walk back,” he says, offering me one of the cups.
“What is it?”
“Hot chocolate with a dash of peppermint complete with candy cane sprinkles.”
“I didn’t know you liked hot chocolate.”
“I don’t,” he smiles. “Mine’s tea. But you do, right?”
“You betch’ya!” I take a sip and it’s wonderful. I feel the hot liquid flowing all the way down my throat to my stomach and it manages to warm me up just a little. This is perfect for our cold walk back to the train station.
As we reach the door still full of people standing in line to get their turn of sugary goodness, Liam stiffens.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking around into the crowd outside. I get my answer when three boys stride over toward us as if they have a purpose meant for trouble.
“Well, well, well. Look here, fellas. Rich boy came back home after all,” a tall, burly boy says. He’s dressed in black jeans with scuffed work boots and a dark leather jacket. The other two behind him wear similar clothes, only both have worn out sneakers for shoes, but they all look like they’ve just rolled out of bed.
“You owe me a hundred bucks,” says one. His accent is different than Liam’s somehow. His words slur together, but not as if he’s drunk. Just as if he runs all the words together into one long one. “Told ya he wouldn’t hack it over there.”
“And you owe me two-hundred,” retorts the boy who and spoken first. “So I’ll just deduct it from your debt. What’s'a matter pretty boy? Had to come running home to your mummy?” he says after turning back to Liam. I can see this one shaves his head bald even though he dons a black stocking to cover his scalp and his nose is bright red from the cold night air. Though he is coming across as a menace, his lips are quivering as he speaks – probably from the chill.
“Gentlemen, there’s no need for trouble.” Liam purrs in a tone that makes me think he might actually want some trouble. He’s wrapped his arm around me and tucks me behind his body so that I don’t have a clear view of the three boys standing in our way.
“That’s not how we operate, Francis.” I’m able to see the one speaking, the leader I suspect, around Liam’s arm. His brown eyes meet mine then and he laughs – a menacing, bile rising laugh. “Who’s this? Flavor of the week? Or did she make it a whole month? What’s wrong sweetheart, cat got your tongue? Come on out, we won’t bite.”
This is the second time I’ve heard a phrase like this used toward Liam’s past love life. Well, not exactly his past love life, but his short time here after Evie had died. His father had chortled him with flavor of the month in one of their heated conversations back home, and now this boy who is clearly itching to pick a fight is using it, too. I drop my eyes from his glaring stare and cower behind Liam.
“Leave her alone, Garrett. It’s me you have business with, not her.” Liam growls. “But I’m afraid all that is going to have to wait for now. Excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
Garrett steps forward slightly and leans sideways to look at me. He’s bent at the waist and has put his hands on the tops of his knees as he says, “Come on. Come on out. Wanna play?” He speaks as if he were trying to coax a small animal out from a cage. I shy back, feeling uneasy and very nauseous with the delicious treat I’d just indulged in threatening its way back up. There’s something about his tone aside from what he’s saying that makes me automatically want to run. That’s when I hear a loud smack, as if a loud thunder cloud has just rolled in and cracked high above us.
I snap my head up to look and see Garrett staggering back away from Liam, holding his cheek as if he’s been slapped.
“What the hell!” he shouts.
“You need to learn some manners,” Liam snarls. Had he just slapped him? He grabs my hand from behind him and starts us walking down the walkway.
The two that had stayed to the back of Garrett now come to stand beside him making a block in our way to leave. “Not so fast,” the second one says. “You owe me a car, dammit.” They both totally ignore the fact that Liam has just hit their ring leader.
“I owe you nothing,” Liam says firmly. “Learn how to drive and you would still have your damned car.”
My eyes grow large and I glance up to better look at them all. The one who is apparently without a car thanks to Liam, looks less menacing and more as if he were a little boy pouting to his mother in a toy store. His green eyes are held in a way that makes it look as though he could cry and his mout
h slack showing that he’s upset. The other one, the one who has yet to speak looks bored. He’s examining his nails with disinterest and appears not to be paying much attention to anyone.
“Gimme some of your daddy’s money at we’ll call it square,” he offers.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well just give me my car back!”
“Can’t,” Liam says, shrugging his shoulders. “Sold it. Sorry.” Liam’s tone makes it clear that he isn’t sorry at all. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s enjoying this boy’s whimpering.
“What?”
“Stop whining like a little girl!” Garrett scolds, clearly embarrassed by his friend’s behavior. “You sound ridiculous, idiot.” He looks over to the one who had been examining his manicure and says, “What’d‘ya think Bret? What do you wanna do?”
Bret slowly glances up from his cell phone that he had turned to playing with and steps forward toward Liam. For the first time in the conversation he speaks. “You left quite a mess behind you, Francis. Lots for others to clean up and no one to hold accountable. What would you think should be done about that?”
“Another time, Bret.” Liam snaps. He’s gone rigid all over and has now let go of my hand so that both of his are free. Liam lifts his chin in assuredness and keeps his eyes steadily on Bret. Maybe I was wrong, maybe their so-called leader is this Bret person rather than the stockier one named Garrett – still rubbing his cheek I note.
“Don’t think I’ll forget, pretty boy.” Bret retorts, in a voice animated with both excitement and boredom at the same time.
Liam nods one hard nod to signify he understands. Bret steps aside, letting us pass and I hear one of them let out a low whistle.
Hollow Sight Page 60
