Never Trust a Callboy (21 page)

Ron bends down, picks up his pants and rummages around in the pockets to pull out his phone. I have an idea who it could be at this hour. The jungle drums have taken a little more time than I thought they would to reach him.

In any case, it is not a pleasant call, because it doesn't take long before Ron begins to argue, gesturing violently and pacing up and down in the room. After a few minutes, he stops talking abruptly, he says something to Madeleine and begins getting dressed. The fun part of the night is probably over.

It’s high time to get out of here!

With baited breath I climb down as quietly as possible. I search with my foot in the dark for the chair. It’s shaking. The damn thing! But then I have solid ground under my feet again. I retreat hastily to the rear of the property and climb over the fence. I run through the neighbor's garden and out onto the road. I have almost reached it as my heart stops with fright.

"What are you doing here?" asks the woman blocking my way. A legitimate question and not one I'd like to answer truthfully.

"I... Uh... I'm looking for my cat?"

The woman takes a step closer to me, eyeing me skeptically. "Looking for your cat with a camera?" Does she have nothing better to do than harass other people, the nosy cow? This time I don't stop to reply, but shove her aside and push past her.

"Stop! I’ll call the police, stand still!" She screams so loud that you can probably hear her in Frankfurt.

I run as quickly as I can and arrive at the car panting, open the door and start the engine as soon as I've squeezed myself behind the wheel. Slowly now, I don’t want to be conspicuous. Finally, Bad Soden lies behind me. I breathe easier as I pull into the left lane and speed along the road to Frankfurt.

"W
here you have been?" Christian asks angrily.

"I could ask you the same question. Where were you when I came back from Emilie? If you had to work, you could at least have left me a message."

"And if you listened to your messages regularly, you would know where I was.”

"Oh." Guiltily, I dig into my handbag. Christian’s right, the icon which displays new messages is flashing.

"This damn phone only tells that I’ve received a voicemail hours later," I defend myself. "But I thought you were working just for me. That’s what I pay you for after all," I attack him, to avoid admitting I made a mistake.

"I thought I was allowed to go out at night, or have you booked me day and night?" He looks at me with a sarcastic smile.

"Yes, no, I thought..." Great, now I have transformed into a stuttering idiot.

"Just for your information, I was with my father in a casino last night."

"Until five o'clock in the morning?" The words slip out indiscriminately. Why can’t I just think and then talk?

"Yes, my father is a passionate player, is that enough for you for now, or do I have to provide a detailed statement?"

"Forget it." Angrily I turn around. My stupid behavior is bad enough, but Christian's sarcasm makes me crazy. "It’s time to get out of here anyway. I’ll pack my stuff and go to a hotel."

"Wait." Christian gets up and grabs me by the arm. "Don't be angry. I'm sorry."

I hesitate, my heart torn. On the one hand I want to stay, but I have the impression that our life together is only going to get more complicated.

"You're not safe in a hotel. Ron is looking for you. I followed him this afternoon. He was watching a house in Bad Homburg."

"A house in Bad Homburg? It doesn’t happen to be on Tannenwaldallee?"

"Exactly. Do you know who lives there?"

"My mother." I need to sit down. I don't like that Ron has been watching my mother's house, "What did he want there?"

"I think he’s restless. He can’t find you. He probably hoped to find out something from your mother. He stood in front of her house for about two hours, then he drove back to Bad Soden." I nod. I know exactly what Ron did in Bad Soden.

"He parked in front of Madeleine's house, and I came back to Frankfurt. I was worried because I couldn’t reach you." Christian looks at me prompting. It is apparently now my turn to tell him what I did with the rest of the day. Somehow I get the impression that he is not going to take this news particularly well.

And I’m right...

"Have you taken leave of your senses? What if he discovered you? We do everything we can so that Ron does not know where you are, and then you've got nothing better to do, than to hang around in his girlfriend’s back yard."

"You weren't there," I'm trying to justify myself, but I don’t get far.

"Yes, and...? It's not as if the pictures couldn’t wait a few more hours. It doesn't matter whether you got them today or tomorrow. The only thing that matters, is that he will kill you too."

He may be right. But still...

"I'm sorry, but I can’t sit around here and wait for my life to fix itself. The last few days have been hell for me, you say it doesn’t matter if I have to wait one more day, but I get a panic attack at every shadow on the wall, my ex may be a murderer, I am hunted and I live with a callboy. Do you think I'm having fun?"

Instead of an answer, Christian sighs and runs his hands through his hair. I regret my last sentence, I didn’t meant it. Actually, yes I did, but I didn’t mean to throw it at him like that. Not least of all because I'm happy to be here.

"If you don't mind, I’ll watch some TV," I say finally because the tense atmosphere is gnawing at my nerves, and also because I don't know what else to say. Actually, I should apologize, but I don't know how. I can’t say I didn’t mean it, because that would be lying.

"Make yourself at home," retorts Christian and watches me with a weird facial expression. I feel uncomfortable. If I didn't know better, I would think he was interested in me. In me as a woman, but that’s nonsense. He helps me because I pay him to. No other reason. So I get up and go into the living room, then flick through the programs until I discover a movie I want to see; Gladiator, with Russell Crowe.

A short time later Christian joins me, puts his feet up on the coffee table and stares at the screen. Although he’s paying no attention to me, after a while I have the impression that the air is electrically charged. The fact that half-naked men fill the screen most of the time is not helpful. More than once my gaze has drifted over to him. I still remember how good he looks without his t-shirt. He can easily measure up to Russell Crowe.

After a while, I can tell Christian has had enough of the movie, because he takes a magazine from the coffee table and starts to read.

"Does the TV not bother you when you’re reading?" I ask him after a few minutes. It hasn’t escaped my notice how he repeatedly stops reading, stares at the screen, then continues reading. I can't blame him: I would rather look at the screen too if I were reading The Global Economy Journal. I’m just surprised it doesn’t put him to sleep.

"What?" Christian looks at me irritated. Apparently he’s been concentrating hard. "No, the TV doesn't bother me. I always do this."

"You read while watching TV?"

"Yes, that way I don't miss anything. As long as the TV is running, I can look up any time something good comes on. That way I see all the good stuff."

"Why not just buy a TV guide and choose the movies you want to see?"

Christian shrugs. “Then there’s no surprise.”

"If you say so. And what is so exciting in the global economy? Especially when you could be watching Gladiator?"

"I like staying up to date," he replies and once again hides behind his magazine. He doesn’t get away from me that easily. Since I was in his office the question of why a callboy would be interested in these subjects has been burning away at me.

"Do you need it for your work? I mean, are there tips in there on how you can better treat women? Something under the title
The latest erogenous zones or how to get to the first orgasm with financial manipulation?
" That was somewhat sarcastic, but I have the impression that I must draw Christian out if I want to learn more. Also, I'm curious; very curious.

"No, there’s nothing like that. Why? Do you think I should improve my skills? You did look completely satisfied with me."

It’s so stupid that I can’t remember anything. "It was quite okay," I say, as if I know what I'm talking about. I can only hope that the night with him was not a disaster. "That still doesn't explain why you are interested in that magazine,” I note to move the conversation back in a safe direction.

"I used to study it, that's all," he mumbles and probably hopes that will satisfy me; actually, he should know me better.

"You did business studies? But you didn’t finish, right? Or did I sleep with a callboy who knows something other than how to make women happy?" The last question was not meant seriously, but the sarcasm passes without a trace.

"Why not? It’s more interesting than the latest changes in tax law, don’t you think?"

"Next you'll be telling me you have a PhD, but you're too young for that." I stare at him critically. Something about his expression irritates me. You could almost think he was amusing himself at my expense. "Please tell me that I wasn’t in bed with a doctor of business studies."

"Would it bother you?"

"Would it bother me? Paying a boring business studies doctor to have sex with me?"

"I didn’t have the impression that you were bored." Christian looks at me with one of his looks that are designed to attract women. He smiles amused. I preferred it when he was looking at the screen. It’s time to get away from this topic.

"How can you have a doctorate? You're a callboy!"

"What can I say?" Christian spreads his arms. "A little education never harmed anybody."

"Haha. Very funny. You also look way too young to have a PhD."

"How old do you think I am?”

"Not a day older than twenty seven."

"Now you've hurt me. I'm only twenty six."

“Then what, you’re some kind of Brainiac?"

"No, I'm not much smarter than the average person."

“How smart?”

Christian shrugs. "I graduated top of my class, but only because I needed to if I wanted to find a good PhD post." The way he says it implies he would rather drop the subject. But it’s so interesting.

"So how did you become a callboy? A little prodigy like you could earn a lot of money!"

Christian sighs. Apparently, he’s noticed that he’s not getting away that easily, and this time he is absolutely right.

"Do you know how boring it is, doing nothing all your life but learning and working? I was tired of being perfect. I wanted to have fun, meet women, make friends, do only what I wanted to do. It became clear to me, what I really wanted. Do you understand that?"

"It doesn’t sound like you had a lot of fun."

"Precisely. And with women it was even worse. I couldn’t even start a relationship, because I had no time. First I focused on my high school diploma, then university, then work. When I did start a relationship, it never lasted long. The ladies all discovered that I would never have enough time for them."

"Maybe that wasn’t the only reason."

"Oh, really? What do you think it was?"

"Have you ever thought it could be your behavior?" I smile at him. I couldn’t resist the small side-swipe.

"How do you mean?"

"Christian. We’re sitting side by side on the couch. And what are you doing? You're reading a boring journal! If you find that more interesting than me, I can’t help you."

Crap. Damn it. I shouldn’t have said that. My hasty answer hasn’t escaped his notice. With a grin he puts the magazine away and leans over to me. For safety, I move away from him a little. He shouldn’t think that it was an invitation.

But he’s not so easy to shake off.

"Are you afraid of me?" His eyes twinkle as he watches me. Why do I always put myself in these situations?

"Pff... Dream on," I say coolly and concentrate on Russell Crowe, who is at least at a safe distance.

"Well then it won't bother you if I get somewhat closer."

Pretending I’m deeply engrossed in the action on the screen I don't answer his question, and try to ignore his body touching mine.

"Can you make a little space?" I say and try to move away. But I can’t, the armrest of the couch ensures that I have to stay where I am.

"I thought you were bored. Didn’t you just say, I could do something better than read magazines?"

"That was just an example. To make it clear to you, what could have disturbed your exes."

"Does it bother you too?" His eyes hold my gaze, looking for an answer to an unspoken question. Slowly, very slowly, as though making sure that I have time to deliberate on whether I want to, his lips brush my hair and make their way to my neck, where they brush gently over my skin.

"I can imagine quite a lot of things that I find much more interesting," he whispers and kisses me.

The world around me ceases to exist. I embrace him, and let him lead me. All of a sudden I'm lying under him. Christian leans on his elbows while my body is pushing upwards towards him. I want to feel more of him.

I will not release him, never again... Never again?

The thought brings me back to reality with a jerk. I break off the kiss, push Christian away from me and sit up. I must be crazy. I swore to myself I wouldn’t do anything with him, that I wouldn’t fall for the wrong man again.

"You're right, let's go upstairs, there’s not enough space here." Christian has not noticed that my mood has changed. He stands up and pulls me behind him, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He kisses me while questions swirl around in my head, only to resolve themselves in a matter of seconds. I know exactly what I want, it is only a little adventure after all.

Before I can think any more, I lie down on the bed. Christian above me. I yank his shirt out of his jeans, close my eyes and stroke his soft skin with my hands.

The phone rings.

"Ignore it," murmurs Christian.

It’s the tune to Mission Impossible; his phone.

"Damn it." Christian raises his head and looks with crinkled brow over to the device that lies on the bedside table.