Dreamboat (8 page)

Chapter Five

T
he 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.”

“I see what you mean,” Jenny said. “It reminds me of Tribeca or SoHo.”

“But it has a long way to go,” Adonis said.

Up the block, he led them into a restaurant. Inside a derelict-looking building was the epitome of ultramodern minimalist decor, with a long, shallow pool running down its center. Greeted by a very chic young woman, they were immediately seated and placed drinks orders while they perused the menus.

“It's still early for dinner,” he said. “It's only nine o'clock. Around eleven or twelve o'clock, it will be packed.”

“How in the world do people get to work?” Crissy asked.

“We don't sleep much.” He grinned. “Actually, a lot of us still have siestas like the Spanish after lunch, then reopen our offices or businesses in the late afternoon and stay open late. It depends on the business, of course, but a lot of Athenians live that way.”