The Deception Dance (9 page)

"Nicholas chased after her," I say.

"And by the time he caught up to her, she'd already gotten it.
He ran back to the club, but couldn’t find you." She
glares at the ceiling, “Stupid, stupid Chauncey, I hope she
catches hepatitis!”

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.”

Even though it's obvious that he's exhausted, he laughs that same
hard-to-not laugh, so, I let out a little chuckle. “Good.”

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.