Revenge of the Black Virgin (7 page)

So I’ve made a mistake. Everyone does. It’s
not the end of the fucking world. I’ll live.

It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation, but
just enough to make him start to think about moving on. Joanna was
behind him, now. And he’d get over her.

He pulled his shirt back on and got up to put
his trash in a bin, passing a playground full of young mothers and
toddlers. Seeing them, he felt a sadness wash over him. He had no
wife. No girlfriend, anymore. And he missed his son.

Daniel was just about past the playground
stage, but he remembered what it felt like to push him on a swing,
balance him on a teeter-totter. Most of the mothers were staring at
him, one smiling and stroking her hair. He smiled back benignly.
Letting out a deep sigh, he climbed onto his bike, resolving to try
harder to enjoy his trip. It would be a long while before he’d get
this much unstructured time again.

But as he drove off the ferry at Tangier Med
and sped along the new freeway into the city, he began to doubt
that Morocco was going to give him the novelty he needed. He’d
already spent time there when he was young. It was too familiar to
him—the language, the culture, the
patisseries.

If it wasn’t for meeting Hilda, he’d probably
have turned around and headed home the next day.

* * * *

After their tour of Ronda’s bullring, Jo and
Brenda returned to their two-bedroom suite to finish unpacking and
take a late-afternoon siesta. Hoping for a breeze, Jo opened the
double doors of their small balcony. The sky was a brilliant blue,
emphasizing the surrounding mountains with their sharp peaks. There
was almost no vegetation at the higher levels. She looked down into
the fabulous gorge spanned by the massive stone bridge. It reminded
her of Rocamadour, and for a moment she flushed at her memories of
her first secret meeting with Luc in her hotel room there. But then
she thought of Danny, whose room was just down the hall, and her
heart began to thrum in excitement.

She was happy to think she’d be seeing him
again at dinner time. It had been agreed that he’d work for the two
women during the day, then accompany them each evening to a
restaurant for dinner, after which he would be free for the rest of
the night.

After showering in the beautiful marble and
oak bathroom, Jo chose her outfit carefully. She wanted to look
appealing to Daniel, but not obviously so. It was still very warm,
so she finally decided on a plain linen sheath in cream, with flat
sandals and a light silk throw patterned with Moorish motifs.
Appropriate, she thought, as she fastened gold hoops to her ears.
After all, the Moors had controlled this area for centuries,
leaving impressive stone fortifications as their legacy. Even
though they used hundreds of slaves to do their grunt work, Jo
appreciated their skill. Ronda was a beautiful city.

When Brenda saw Jo walk out of her bedroom,
she smiled broadly and said, “Wow. You really do like him don’t
you? You look more than great.”

“Thanks, Bren,” Jo said, blushing furiously.
“But it was your idea, remember?”

Giggling like a couple of conspirators, the
two of them made their way downstairs to the dining room. Danny was
waiting for them at a table set for three, elegant in dark pants
and a simple white shirt, open at the neck. Jo thought he looked
even better than she remembered.

At first he seemed shy of her, like he’d been
earlier that morning. But after he translated the menu for them and
helped them ordered their food and wine, she watched his confidence
grow. While she ate, Jo gave him her full attention, and prodded by
Brenda, she began to flirt a little, enjoying herself more than
she’d expected. When he responded with his sparkling eyes and
seductive smiles made bold by the wine, Jo could feel arousal
building within her body. It felt good.

After Brenda paid the bill, she told Danny he
was free to go.

“I’m very sorry to leave two such beautiful
women alone,” he said with a trace of amusement in his voice. “But
I understand my services are no longer required this evening?”
Brenda nodded briefly at him in response.

“Then I will wish you a
buenos noches,
my dear ladies.” He stood and gave them a little bow of respect,
flashing Jo a suggestive look as he turned away.

She wondered what he thought of the two of
them going off alone tonight. Did he know Brenda was gay? Brenda’s
outward behavior to Jo wouldn’t indicate they were lovers, even
though she did look a little butch. No makeup or jewelry. Elegant
yet simple pants and shirt.

Does he think we’re a couple? If he does,
I don’t think it’s going to bother him,
she decided with a
little grin.
Or maybe he’s looking for a little
ménage
.

After releasing Danny, the two friends
decided to take a walk through the old town. It was a clear, warm
night, lit by thousands of stars. Romantic, isolated, quiet now,
Ronda was perfect for strolling. As they walked, Jo and Brenda
talked about the magazine, and the visions they shared for their
baby.

They turned a corner and heard music coming
from a narrow street. Following it, they came upon a crowded
outdoor dance floor, part of a busy restaurant. A four-piece band
was playing Latin music, and couples dipped and swirled through the
warm night air. But in the middle of this mass of bodies, one stood
out. He was as graceful as anything Jo had ever seen. Straight,
strong, lithe and excruciatingly precise in his movement, it was
Danny. With a girl.

Jo grabbed Brenda’s arm in excitement. “Look
at him! He’s amazing.”

“That little devil,” Brenda smirked. “He’s
been holding out on us. He didn’t tell us he can dance like that.
Oh baby, you’re going to have some fun!”

Jo nodded silently, watching Danny drag the
awkward young woman around the floor. She didn’t know what she was
doing, and seemed embarrassed at her partner’s attempts to get her
to swing her hips.

He needs a woman out there with him
.
Not a girl.

Just as she formed the thought, Danny spotted
her and his face lit up. Jo felt a little tremor of excitement,
despite herself. He was so handsome. Those dimples. That straight
back, those square shoulders. The little curls that fell over his
forehead as he moved his head back and forth in time to the
music.

The song over, he walked his partner back to
her friends and quickly made his way to Jo and Brenda. Another song
began and all of a sudden Jo found herself pulled onto the floor,
into his competent arms, then flung away again, as they moved
together to a jive tune. She was glad she’d worn flat shoes.

Jo could jive. Even in Spain. It was the one
of the dances her father had taught her. Everything else she messed
up, but she could jive, and she loved it. Danny was by far the best
partner she’d danced with, his strength and grace making her feel
she was feather-light. Within seconds she was laughing in pure joy.
When she looked at him, she saw his sparkling dark eyes on hers,
and her head grew as light as her feet.

When the music stopped he took her arm in his
and gallantly walked her back to Brenda, who was applauding
enthusiastically. “Fabulous! You two are made to dance together,”
she exclaimed as she hugged each of them in turn.

“Come on. Another one!” Brenda demanded.

“Yes, please! Another one,” Danny said to Jo,
eyes alight.

She looked at his smooth brown face,
handsome, shiny with his exertion, and thought she should stop
right there. This was too tempting. “No, no. That’s enough. Thank
you, Danny. I have to get some sleep.”

“There’s always tomorrow night,” he said
playfully.

“Yes,” said Brenda. “Maybe you can take us
both dancing tomorrow night.”

She meant it too, Jo knew, as she steered her
friend in the direction of their hotel, grinning like a fool.

* * * *

Luc had found Hilda just as she needed
saving, mostly from herself, he soon found out. And for awhile it
seemed her antics were amusing enough to jolly him out of his
funk.

At first she reminded him a little of Marta.
That threatened to put him off. But as soon as she spoke all
resemblance to the disturbed young intern vanished, and Luc could
see her for the independent spirit that she was.

A few years earlier, Luc had been assigned a
post-doctoral student specializing in his field—Roman
fortifications. Marta was intelligent enough, but emotionally
unstable. At first, she developed a crush on her mentor. But that
soon blossomed into a full-fledged obsession.

He had to remove her from his office, but
that did little to discourage her. Between her stalking, messaging,
telephone calls and hysterical threats, Luc had no option but to
sue her for harassment. It was an unfortunate and messy business,
resulting in Luc having to change his email addresses and contact
numbers. Then he had his name placed on a list that prevented
public access to his personal information. On paper, and in
cyberspace, he was invisible to anyone searching for him without
his permission.

Hilda was a different story. She seemed the
epitome of self-assurance and control. From Delft, she was tall and
beautiful, as Dutch women often were. She had a slim, athletic
body, a pretty oval face, and bright yellow pigtails that hung
halfway down her back. With her khaki-colored clothes and backpack,
she looked like a sexy adventurer, Luc thought.

The problem was, the Moroccans thought so,
too.

When he arrived in Tangiers, he checked into
a
riad,
or guesthouse, inside the casbah walls. After
washing off the road grime, he indulged in a long nap on the sunny
rooftop garden overlooking the Atlantic. As he dozed he listened to
the
adhan,
or call to prayer, snake across the city. He’d
always loved the sound, each man’s voice slightly different, but
all evocative and moving.

Now the sound made him think of Joanna—that
first time they were together in her stifling room in Rocamadour.
How the church bells rang out the first few notes of
Ave
Maria
four times each hour
.
How he’d fucked her so hard
she could barely walk the next day.

His body missed her. It was a strange
feeling—this visceral longing for a woman he’d known only a
week.

He groaned in frustration and longing,
catching the attention of his hostess, Sophia, a young Moroccan
woman who ran the
riad
with her husband.

“Is there a problem
Monsieur
LaPlante
?
You are unwell?
”

“
Non. Non, merci.
There’s nothing
wrong with me. I’m just hungry. Can you tell me where I can get
some dinner?”

“
Oui.
It is very late but you can go
out the door to the left, and…”

It was just getting dark and he had some
trouble finding the restaurant. But the lamb
tagine
was very
good and he enjoyed his meal for the first time in weeks. He washed
it down with many cups of mint tea before deciding to walk the long
way back through the steep streets of the old town. When a ruckus
caught his attention, he approached and saw a young foreign woman
standing tall in the centre of a leering group of teenaged boys.
They were growing increasingly aggressive as they taunted her.

But she didn’t crumble. Holding her head
high, she let their cries bounce off her like hailstones, which
only incensed the boys further. Just as one or two of them began to
pull at her pigtails Luc saw something like fear creep into her
posture. He stormed through the circle and grabbed her by the hand,
shouting in French at the boys, who scattered like gulls. He pulled
her along the dark, narrow passageways of the souk, and she
followed without a word. He was a little unsure where he was headed
until he found himself at the door of his
riad
.

He brought her up to his room, closed the
door behind him and turned to look at her. She wasn’t crying but he
knew she’d been badly frightened.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said in
English. “Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to go wandering
around alone at this time of night?”

She stood in front of him, met his eyes
defiantly and shrugged. “I do it all the time.”

He recognized her accent. A Hollander. He was
immediately struck by the appealing combination of toughness and
vulnerability in her demeanor.

“All the time?” He couldn’t help smiling.

“Yes. I have been traveling for five weeks,
alone. I travel a lot.”

“And does someone always step in to save you
when you get in trouble?” he teased.

“I didn’t need saving,” she said, lifting her
chin. “They would have calmed down.”

“Oh, you think so?” He was amused. “So why
did you let me lead you all the way back to my room if you didn’t
need saving?”

She paused, bit her lip into a slight smile,
and ran her eyes up and down the length of his body, causing him to
feel something he hadn’t felt since Joanna. He was getting
hard.

“Because,” she said, lowering her voice
provocatively, “I thought it was time for another kind of
adventure.” She dropped her backpack to the floor, moved closer and
raised a hand to brush back the hair from his forehead. He felt his
knees go weak and put his arms around her for support.

Hilda was as brave in bed as she was out on
the road. And as untiring. Luc hadn’t planned on spending any time
in Tangier, but they didn’t leave his bed for two days. Sophia
brought them their meals, a faintly disapproving look on her face.
But Luc paid her well, and she reserved comment.

Then, because Hilda hadn’t seen much of the
city, they decided to stay a third night so they could squeeze in
some sightseeing.