Green Tea Won't Help You Now! (10 page)

His eyes flashed. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't. What about you? Ever dated an actress?"

He put his chopsticks away and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "No."

"Why not? You're rich... you're an athlete... what do you think
I
came here for? There must have been applicants, I'm sure"

"Maybe..." He seemed to wonder if he could say what he wanted to say. "I was with someone for rather a long time."

Ouch.

I had read about Lucy on Google, as you will remember, now, I would find out how serious the thing had actually been.

"How long?"

He glanced sideways. "Fifteen years."

I tried not to let it show but I felt as if somebody had hit me in the stomach. "That's a long time."

"Yes. We broke up two and a half years ago."

"What happened?"
 

"Mostly Hard Pack happened. We met when we were teenagers. She used to be a ski racer like me. When I started Hard Pack she was all in for it, but then it got bigger and she said I was taking it too seriously, I should just be the face of it and let others do the business, but I couldn't do it. She wanted to start a family and we tried, sort of, but when the thing happened three years ago and we did not go to Wall Street after all, I had a bad time. She felt the company was the only thing I cared about so she watched it for another six months and finally left me. She got married two weeks ago to a Casino owner in Reno and she's pregnant now."

This time the fist hit me right in the face. I was reeling. Not only had I fucked up his business, I had also fucked up his relationship.

Somebody give me a sword, I need to perform the Seppuku!

"Were—were you married?"
 

"No, we wanted to get married for sure, I had asked her a long time ago, but somehow we never made it there. Maybe it was better that way."
 

"Yes, maybe..."

"Don't look so stricken. I'm over it." He lowered his voice, "You should know that by now."

I nearly jumped up and ran out of the restaurant but instead I just stared at him.

"Forget it," he said brusquely, swashing the bad atmosphere away as if it were a fly. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I have a surprise for you."

"Really? What is it?" I clung to the new subject like a drowning man clings to a life belt.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. I just wanted to make sure you could come."

"Sure, I quit at noon on Sundays. I have to be at home at night, though. My father wants to talk to me about something important."

"Is he here?"

"No, no, he's in Argentina. I didn't get the chance to ask him what he wants, yet. Tamzin's birth has drowned everything else out."

"How's she doing?"

"Great, she reads Sartre already."

"I would not have expected anything less. — Hey, I was meaning to ask you this, where do you usually go for Christmas? Your mom's or your dad's?"

"Funny you should ask, we only just decided we would all go to my brother's place for Christmas and New Year's."

"Is it a rotation system?"

"Ha. I never thought about it, but yes, I think one might call it a rotation. Why do you ask?"

"It came to my mind mostly because a friend of mine asked me if I would like to go to the Bahamas or the Antilles over New Years with a group of people. I'm always in Tahoe over the holidays but I don't have any plans for later. I'll have more time on my hands once the IPO is through. Maybe he and I will charter a yacht. I've never done anything like that before, but from what he tells me, it must be great. Do you like ships?"

"They're nothing special to me..."
 

In my imagination, I was pinned up on a spinning wheel while a knife thrower catapulted blades at me using his left arm. Sooner or later he would strike a major blood vessel.
 

I was beyond relieved when Alex picked up the bill and we drove back to Venice. There would be far less conversation once we got to my house. I did not want to talk to him anymore, but I also did not want to let him go.

He stopped the Jaguar and we both got out.
 

"You should really get rid of that sign... it gives me a bad feeling whenever I see it."

"It doesn't need to, really."

"I can't believe you don't mind. I still feel so guilty about the whole thing. Maybe you're only preparing to hit me with a frying pan when I least expect it."

If only you knew how guilty I feel, my beautiful prince!

He went on. "Do you think it was telepathic? We both invented the same logo, after all."

"Ha ha ha! Most likely. Ha ha, what else could it have been? Who knows, right? — We don't have to stay out here, you know."

His eyes grew a bit wider. "We don't?"

"I have a rowing boat in the back yard. It's cosy."

"Oh. Right. Backyard," he nodded. Was he disappointed or relieved? I could not tell in the darkness.
 

I took him by the hand and he followed me through the wicket into the garden. The tiny boat lay on the grass. I had removed the benches and turned it into an outdoor divan.

"Did you make it yourself?"

"I did."

"Wow, you got a talent there."

"I know."

I climbed over the side into the boat and sat down. I did not have to ask him to join me, he came at me fast, taking me by the shoulders and bore down on me. His mouth was on mine, hard and relentless. I was beneath him, but he made sure he did not crush me. He was impossibly hard and so strong! When I touched him I could feel every muscle of his body through his shirt. I wished he would not lean on his elbow anymore. I wanted him to cover me with all his weight and make me his. But he did not.
 

I was wearing the white cotton dress and it would have been easy to whisk it away, to leave me with nothing but my panties between him and, well,
me
. I knew he was holding himself in check and I was certain, if I made the wrong move, there would be no stopping him. I was sorely tempted to tell him what I wanted him to do, to rip the dress into shreds, to pin me down, to fill me out... but somehow I managed not to.
 

His mouth went into my hair and down my neck, to my shoulder. He did not try to push my skirt up or to pull the straps down. His hands moved gently over the fabric, across my back and waist, across my stomach, but never over my breasts.
 

After a while he ceased kissing me and let go. He hovered above me like a demon from a fairy tale. "Do you want me to go?"

I reached up and touched his cheek. He moved his head ever so slightly and placed his lips against the inside of my wrist.

I was so excited, I could hardly muster my voice. "No, but..."

"That's all right. I just don't want to go."

"Then stay."

He settled down next to me and I rested my head on his chest. "There's a blanket somewhere by your feet. Can you reach it?"

"Yes." He pulled it up.

We gazed silently at the stars for a while.

Still, I felt I should give him at least some explanation. If I were him, I would have wanted one. "You know, I haven't been with anyone for a long time. Over three years, actually."

"Yeah," he said roughly. "Neither have I."

Thirteen

"Every bone in my body's hurting," Alex complained when he climbed out of the boat shortly after dawn. "I'll never sleep in a boat again."

I did not suffer from the same affliction because I had slept mostly on top of him. "You should try yoga."

"Yoga schmoga. Do you have keys, I think I'll have to use your bathroom."

"I think I may have to do something similar. You can use the one downstairs behind the locker rooms. If you want to shower I can give you a towel."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I can do that at home."

I deactivated the alarm system and we entered through the studio.
 

Ten minutes later, we were on our way to the nearest Starbucks. With all the excitement of the past days, I had completely forgotten to go shopping. I got the usual "Oh my God, are you Natalie Portman?" from the girl behind the counter who asks me the same thing at least twice a month. She must live in the hope of meeting the actual Natalie Portman one day. I fear if she ever meets her, she will ask her if she is the yoga instructor from around the corner.
 

"I'll pick you up at three." Alex gave me a soft, but very exhilarating kiss before he departed from my house.

The minute he was gone I fell flat onto my yoga mat.
 

How on Earth was this supposed to go on?

At three, Alex was back, this time in a Jeep Grand Cherokee, in a different pair of jeans and in a dark green polo neck shirt. I had used the free time in between classes and our appointment to jog down to the promenade and buy a sand-coloured linen dress.

"A new car," I saluted.

"This one will do best today."

"Will we go hiking?"

"No, not really. But I'm sure you'll like it."

We started and drove north on Highway 1.
 

"Are you going to show me your house?"

"No. Wait, that's wrong. You can see my house from here."

"Yes, I can see the Hollywood Hills from here in the far distance."

"Yeah, but I can see Highway 1 from my house."

"Do you have good binoculars?"

"Yes, they reach all the way into your bedroom."

"Then you will know what I did until an hour ago..."

"I hope you slept a little. We didn't get much rest last night."

My skin tingled delightfully. He made it sound as if we had made raunchy, sweaty love all night.
 

I did not sleep, I imagined making raunchy, sweaty love to him.

"
You
didn't rest well. I can't complain. You were a very comfy mattress."

"What?"

"Sorry, what I wanted to say was this: you were hard as a rock. Are. I mean, you
are
hard as a rock. All of you is hard as a rock. Your muscles."
 

I pressed my lips together.
 

He blushed. "Let's not pursue this any further."

"No."
 

We went through Santa Monica, then we took a right turn.

"Sunset Boulevard. We
are
going uphill. Where're you taking me?"

"I'm not going to tell you yet."

"To the chainsaw murder destination?"

"I would not use a chainsaw, too much risk of self-injury."

"Makes sense. Come on, tell me. I'm terrible with surprises. I always read the last page of a book first."

"Not a chance."

"I'm going to check what's in the vicinity." I took my phone from my bag. "Oh no, my father called again. I thought he wanted to call me tonight. Sorry, I have to listen to this."

I dialled my mailbox. "
Querida!
I'm sorry, I am surprised you did not call anymore, but you said you had listened. Your brother says you are alive and well, I hope you will not forget tonight. I have made a reservation at Restaurant Lotus in the Beverly Palace. That is where I stay, as always. You love the chicken Pu Yi so much they make, I told them already they have to make it. Please be a good
hija
and call your loving old Papa!"

My jaw dropped. "Fuck!"

"I beg your pardon?" Alex exclaimed with feigned reproach.

"Nothing, I just have to be back home at 7 pm."
 

I inwardly cursed myself. How could I not have thought about it? Well, clearly I had not thought about anything but the currently vehicle operating Viking warrior who insisted on kissing me whenever I encountered him. Add the birth of Ryan's child and I had no capacity whatsoever left for effective ratiocination. I have enough difficulty keeping my act together on a normal day, even without these exigencies!

It was the last week in September, the time I always remember, yes I would... because these were the days, when my daddy shows.
 

(Grmpf, sorry for this miscarried pop culture quote. My papa was certainly
not
a Rolling Stone.)

During the last weekend of September, the Beverly Hills Polo and Hunting Club holds its annual international polo tournament, the Masters Gold Series Final. The weird thing about the Beverly Hills Polo and Hunting Club is that it is not in Beverly Hills, but moved from there for lack of space to Pacific Palisades in the 1940s.

I looked up. I looked out of the window. I looked at Alex, who calmly drove up the winding road. Through Pacific Palisades.

I could not even stop him from taking me to the Polo Club, because Trixie Beaumont the yoga teacher would not know where the Polo Club was.
 

Damn!
I was fine everywhere in Los Angeles. In fact, everywhere in the contiguous United States, West of the George Washington Bridge in New York, it was highly unlikely I would ever encounter anybody who knew me as Laetitia Corvera-Fabergé. Only on this tiny green field, surrounded by white fences, during the last weekend of September, everybody would know me. Oh, I wanted to tear my hair out!

"Ah... Mhhh. Will you take me to the Getty museum?"

"That's the other way."

"Oh. Yes. Too bad. I would so love to go there. Can't we?"

He smiled. "Next time."

A large wooden sign welcomed us to the Beverly Hills Polo and Hunting Club and next to it a cardboard poster advertised the ongoing event.
 

"
Madre de Dios, ayúdame!
" I mumbled into my beard. I hoped at least my sunglasses and my short hair would protect me from instant detection. I planned to get out of the car for not more than ten minutes, then I would simulate a palsy.
 

What was it with this man, anyway? Why did he want to invade the world I had fought so hard to leave behind?

"You were so eager when we talked about the horses. I thought you might like it here."

"Yes, oh it's lovely, I've never been to a Polo competition before." I can claim without a doubt that it was the most blatant lie I have ever told in my entire life.