Dreamboat

by Judith Gould

  Fiona scoffed. “What’s new? You badger him to death. If I were Mark, I wouldn’t answer my voice mail, either.” She paused. “Why don’t you try leaving him alone, Georgios? Have you ever considered that? Maybe then he would come to you.”

  Georgios Vilos wanted to slam his telephone shut, but he thought better of it. Fiona had her own malicious ways of retaliating for his every little slight, and she didn’t hesitate to use them. “Maybe you’re right,” he said at last. “When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m thinking of going to Barbados with Dolly for some sun. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Talk to you later.”

  He flipped the cell phone shut, and sat staring glumly at the wall. “Bitch,” he spat. His office door abruptly opened, and Georgios looked up with surprise. Rosemary always knocked before entering, but it wasn’t his secretary.

  “Hello, Dad,” Mark said, stepping casually into the office, one hand in a trouser pocket, his strong, athletic body filling the door frame.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” Georgios said angrily, glaring at his tall, lean son, helplessly impressed as he always was by his son’s darkly handsome appearance after not seeing him for awhile. “So your mother was wrong. You’re here in Greece after all. I’ve left messages everywhere, and you didn’t bother answering them.”

  Mark looked at him arrogantly. “I’ve been busy,” he said.

  “Doing what?” Georgios snapped. “I haven’t been able to get you at your office here or in London.”

  Mark sat down in one of the leather chairs that faced his father’s desk, crossing one long leg over the other, an expensive loafer-shod foot dangling just over a knee. He didn’t respond immediately, taking pleasure in his father’s anger and curiosity. Let the old tyrant simmer, he thought. He inspected his fingernails in a gesture that he knew would fuel his father’s anger even further. Finally, he cleared his throat and gazed at Georgios with his dark brown eyes.

  “Well?” his father said, leaning forward in his chair.

  “If you must know, I’ve been busy with Marina,” Mark said, stretching his long, muscular arms, then placing them on the chair’s armrests. He flashed a brief smile that exposed perfect white teeth.

  Georgios slowly sat back in his chair and sighed. “Women,” he said. “At your age, you ought to be thinking about settling down.”

  “That’s why I was seeing Marina,” Mark retorted with an edge of sarcasm. “You wanted me to pursue her. You thought she was such a great match. You’re the one who said she had everything going for her. Looks. Money. Family. You’re the one—”

  “All right,” Georgios conceded. “Enough. Enough.” It was true, he thought. He had urged Mark to see Marina Kavala. She was Constantine Kavala’s only heir, and he was one of the richest men in Greece. “So what happened?” he asked.

  “I just broke up with her,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “It took some doing because she didn’t want to end it.”

  “She’s upset?”

  “She’ll get over it,” Mark replied in an equally neutral voice.

  “I hope you haven’t done anything to upset her family,” Georgios said. “We don’t need—”

  “Look,” Mark said heatedly. “Marina Kavala’s been putting out since she was thirteen. Half the men I know have had her. So if her family’s upset, then they’re crazy. This isn’t anything that hasn’t happened before.”

  “Okay, okay. Forget it,” Georgios said, backing down. The conversation was not going in the direction he wanted it to, and he didn’t want to antagonize his son now. He needed him too much. “I want you to do me a favor,” he said, looking at Mark.

  “I’m leaving for the States,” Mark said truculently. “You know that. The Sea Nymph is getting ready to leave, and I’m going to be on it.”

  Georgios nodded. “I know that. In fact, it has to do with the Sea Nymph. You know that the German banks won’t extend my loans.”

  “You can get the money somewhere else,” Mark said. “You always do.”

  Georgios slowly shook his head. “I’ve been everywhere,” he replied. “I’m even going to the Lampaki brothers.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mark snapped. “I don’t believe you.”

  Georgios Vilos bent his head down, then looked back up and stared silently at his son with mournful eyes. Pain was etched into his features, and he looked close to tears. Mark didn’t believe he’d ever seen his father appear this sad before. An air of defeat had replaced Georgios Vilos’s normal warrior spirit, he thought.

  “We’re about to lose everything, son,” Georgios finally muttered in a small voice. “Everything we’ve got. Vilos Shipping, Ltd. is on the brink of bankruptcy. If the Lampaki brothers don’t come through, then”—he shrugged—“I don’t know what will happen.”

  Mark returned his gaze, then looked away, embarrassed for his father. He knew that his father would never ask the notorious Lampaki brothers for anything unless he was truly in dire straits. He also knew that his father’s admission of the extent of the dire straits the company was in took a monumental effort on his part.

  “I need your help,” Georgio said, his voice still barely above a whisper. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Mark looked back at his father. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “I don’t see what I can possibly do,” he replied.

  “You can help save the company,” Georgios said, “if you do me a small favor.”

  Mark drew his chair nearer the desk to better hear his father’s soft murmurs.

  “What?” he asked.

  Georgios motioned him closer with a hand, and Mark got out of the chair and leaned over the desk toward his father, looking at the old man with a curious expression. “We must keep this between ourselves,” Georgios whispered. “No one, not another living soul, can know about this.”

  Mark nodded slightly.

  His father motioned him still closer, then began whispering in his ear.

  As Mark listened, he stiffened and started to protest, but he heard his father out and vowed to do his bidding.

  Chapter Five

  The flight to Athens, where they would board the ship, was long—nearly ten hours—but she and Jenny laughed that they had managed to sleep and eat their way to Greece, for after dinner was served by the flight attendants, they both fell into deep, refreshing sleep. After breakfast, they immediately slept again. When the jet set down at Eleftherios Venizelos Airport, they were still in a fog, half-awake but excited. Retrieving their luggage, they quickly got a taxi and set off for the small hotel in the Plaka where they had reservations. After mere minutes of washing faces, brushing teeth, applying fresh makeup, and changing clothes, they set off for the Acropolis to see the Parthenon, guided by the hotel manager’s instructions.

  The Plaka, with its multitude of restaurants and gift shops built on marble lanes, delighted them. They were surprised to find the district busy in the cool Athens weather, and they heard a dozen different languages. After climbing the steep steps to the Parthenon and seeing the remarkable testament to the architectural genius of the ancient Greeks, they toured the small but exquisite museum. Outside, they walked the perimeter of the Acropolis in awe of the cream-colored city spread out at their feet, climbed the surrounding mountains, and ventured all the way to the sea in Piraeus, where they would board the ship tomorrow. After being told that Athens was dirty, congested, and generally unpleasant, Crissy was surprised that she liked the cosmopolitan city. Perhaps today was rare, but the air was clear and the sea sparkled in the distance.

  After descending the mountain through the olive trees, they made their way back to the Plaka, where they ate in an outdoor café, enjoying the cool but sunny weather and the handsome, flirtatious waiter. Gales of laughter erupted, attracting the stares of nearby diners, when Jenny discovered “fresh cock” on the menu.

  “I hope this is a sign of things to come,” she said.

 
Helplessly amused, Crissy only shook her head.

  Back at the small hotel, they discovered they were exhausted and napped, awakening more than two hours later. Crissy was disoriented at first in the dim light, but quickly remembered where she was. She tiptoed to the bathroom, where she showered and got ready to go out again. Jenny soon awakened and followed suit, while Crissy waited downstairs in the lounge, fascinated by the news on Greek TV. She could hardly follow any of it, but there was no mistaking the content of certain stories, since they were accompanied by video clips. She was shocked by the gruesome carnage of a car accident, something that would never be shown on American television. The hotel manager, Constantine, joined her, explaining some of the stories, most of them concerning the strikes, rallies, protests, or other gatherings that erupted on an almost daily basis in Athens.

  Jenny appeared and sat down with them. Constantine glanced appreciatively at her expensive and revealing outfit, with its plunging neckline and miniskirt.

  “Where are you young ladies going now?” he asked.

  “I don’t have a clue,” Crissy replied. “Can you recommend a place for dinner?”

  “It’s very early for dinner here,” Constantine said, glancing at his watch, “but you might enjoy the nightly parade in Kolonaki. A lot of wealthy Athenians live there or go there to see and be seen at the cafés, and you could have a coffee or drinks, then eat later. I think you would both enjoy it. It’s a nightly ritual here, and if you’re interested in meeting young men, the area will be thronged with them.”

  “Oh, sounds like just my kind of place, Cris,” Jenny said.

  Constantine and Crissy laughed. “The hormone level there is pretty high,” he said.

  After getting directions from Constantine, Crissy and Jenny walked to the exclusive neighborhood of Kolonaki. Unlike in the Plaka, there were no tourist shops, nor did there appear to be any foreigners like themselves. They passed shops with familiar merchandise that might have been sold on Manhattan’s Madison or Fifth avenues: Gucci, Prada, Burberry, DKNY. What made the elegant neighborhood distinctively different from Manhattan, however, were the dozens of sidewalk cafés that lined many of the blocks, one running into another and all of them crowded.

  They found an empty table at one of the cafés and took a seat. After they ordered coffee and mineral water from a beautiful, harried young woman, they took in the incredible sights around them. Under umbrellas or canopies, people of all ages flocked around the tables, but Crissy noticed that as animated as their conversations appeared to be, few of them failed to take note of new arrivals or passersby, everyone checking out everyone else—male and female alike. Even the elderly participated, she saw, but most of the energy—and the air practically crackled with electricity—came from the hordes of young men and women who were dressed and groomed with great care specifically to be noticed here. They table-hopped, constantly consulted with friends on cell phones, drank copious amounts of coffee, mineral water, beer, or liquor, and openly flirted.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” she said to Jenny.

  “It’s like one huge singles bar,” Jenny replied, “only they let in old people and children, too.”

  Crissy laughed. “I think that’s really nice.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” Jenny agreed. “I just can’t believe all the outrageous flirting right out in the open in front of the old folks and kids.”

  “Well, the old folks made the young ones, Jen,” Crissy said, “and I’m sure some of them are still probably doing it.”

  “In the age of Viagra,” Jenny replied, “you can bet your life on it. Probably half the old geezers sitting around with their coffees are nursing big hard-ons under the tables.”

  “I should’ve known you would turn this into something like that,” Crissy said.

  “Like what?” Jenny asked. “I’m just being realistic, honey. I tell it—” She abruptly quit talking, her eyes trailing an attractive man who’d passed close by their table and kept turning back to stare.

  Crissy smiled. “I think you’ve caught somebody’s attention.”

  Jenny drew her gaze in with a smirk. “Look again,” she said. “He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at you.”

  Crissy felt herself blush slightly. She wanted to see if what Jenny said was true, but she was too embarrassed to look.

  Jenny studied her for a moment, then reached over and put a hand on Crissy’s. “For God’s sake, Cris, give the guy the eye,” she practically growled. “He’s a real hottie. I mean drop-dead hunk.”

  Crissy reddened again, but she finally turned her head slightly to look, and her gaze was met by a very handsome man. Thirty to thirty-five, she thought. Meticulously groomed and dressed. Tall and well-built. Jet-black hair swept back away from his face. Olive-complected. Perfect white teeth on display because he was smiling at her. She felt a frisson of excitement when she realized that, indeed, his open and genial smile was directed toward her.

  “Smile back, stupid,” Jenny said in a whisper, kicking Crissy under the table.

  But Crissy paid no attention to her, for she had already returned his smile and was watching, mesmerized, as he approached their table. “Oh, God,” she said, turning to Jenny. “Now what?”

  “Relax,” Jenny said. “Remember, we may be in Greece, but he’s a man. A horny man. On the make.”

  He reached their table and looked down at Crissy, his dark eyes full of mischief, then glanced at Jenny. “My name is Adonis,” he said, putting out a hand for Crissy to shake. She took the proffered hand, thrilled at the warmth it transmitted.

  “Get out of here,” Jenny said. “That can’t really be your name.”

  He looked at her with a serious expression. “Yes,” he replied. “It is. In fact, you will find that in Greece it is not an uncommon name.”

  “It’s a wonderful name,” Crissy said.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “May I ask yours?”

  “Crissy Fitzgerald,” she said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Is this your first time in Athens?”

  “Yes,” Crissy said. “We’re going on a cruise that leaves from here.”

  “And I’m Jen,” Jenny interrupted, holding her hand out for a shake.

  Adonis took her hand in his and shook it gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he said. He turned his attention back to Crissy. “I hope you will be spending some time with us in Athens.”

  “I wish we could,” Crissy said, “but we are leaving tomorrow from Piraeus.”

  He nodded. “A pity. I would have loved to show you our city.” He paused, then added, “But perhaps I can take you both to dinner. What do you say?”

  “Why not?” Jenny said before Crissy had a chance to respond.

  “Wonderful,” he said. “Don’t you agree, Crissy?” he asked, studying her face closely.

  “I . . . I guess so,” she said, unsure that it was a wise idea.

  “You don’t seem certain,” he said with a smile.

  “Well, we did just meet,” she said.

  “I have lots of friends here tonight, and if you like, I can get them to vouch for me.” He smiled again. “They will all tell you the same thing: That I am very dependable, a man of honor, in fact, and that you will come to no harm with me.”

  Jenny laughed. “Plants, I bet,” she offered. “All of them, working in cahoots with you. You’re really a serial killer.”

  Crissy looked at her with astonishment. “Jen—” she began.

  Jenny flapped a hand. “Just kidding,” she said. “Jeez, don’t you recognize a joke?”

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Adonis asked. “That way we can get to know each other better, and perhaps that will put your mind at ease.”

  “Sure,” Crissy said, without looking at Jenny for confirmation.

  He pulled out one of the white canvas director’s chairs and sat down. “I see you have coffees and mineral water. Would you like something to eat? Or would you like to go
elsewhere for a drink?”

  “You said the magic word,” Jenny said. “I could sure use a drink.”

  They chatted for awhile at the table, the conversation centering around Greece in general and Athens in particular, their jobs—he was a lawyer—and the States.

  “I’ve been to New York several times,” he said, “and to Miami a couple of times. I love them both. The energy.”

  Finally, Adonis signaled the waitress and paid their bill, and they rose from the table. “We can eat here in the neighborhood if you like,” he said, “or we can take my car to someplace more adventurous. Do you like Italian food? French? Greek?”

  “I’ll try anything,” Crissy said. “Whatever you think.”

  “Ditto,” Jenny said, “as long as it’s not too spooky.”

  “Spooky?” he said, looking at her without comprehension.

  “You know. Weird. Like octopus or bugs or something.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” he said. “Shall we go?”

  He held his arms out, one for each of them to take. “My car is nearby, and we’ll go to the restaurant in it. It’s not far.”

  A few blocks away, they reached the car, a black Mercedes sports model with a convertible top, and set off for the restaurant. His driving, like that of most Athenians, was fast and reckless, with little regard for lights or pedestrians. Crissy held her breath, and in the backseat, Jenny laughed. Soon he slowed down and began looking for a parking place. When one didn’t materialize after a few minutes, he adroitly maneuvered the car up onto the sidewalk at a corner.

  “You surely can’t park here?” Crissy said.

  He smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”

  “But won’t you be towed or something?”

  He shrugged. “Noooo. This is Athens.”

  They got out of the car, and Adonis led them up the sidewalk. “This is called Psirri,” he said. “It is a very old Athens neighborhood that has become something like New York City’s Tribeca. There are lots of old houses and what used to be old warehouses and offices, but everything is being converted to cafés and galleries and shops. Also, living lofts, like you have in New York.”