The Deception Dance (10 page)

Too intense, too fast. I should run, but my legs won't listen to my
silent command. Not only am I not running, my heels are again rising
from the floor. My mind is screaming, "Don't kiss him," but
my lips don't listen, either; I slam my lips against his. Folding my
mouth around his, letting his tongue into mine. I crash into him like
a wave into a cliff. I clutch onto his short-sleeve shirt and smash
myself against his chest. And when he draws away, my mouth quivers
and my eyes plead for more. Without taking his gaze from mine, he
extracts a pen from his pocket and scribbles something on my inner
arm.

“I’ll see you at seven,” he says with complete
confidence.

He walks away; at the entrance, he glances back before disappearing
out the door.

My head topples into my hands with the realization that I just did a
public display of affection with a potential stalker in the middle of
a crowded lobby. And worst of all, I liked it, I wanted more. I need
to sit down. I need to be medicated.

I drop onto one of the couches and rest my head. The cinnamon taste
of his kiss lingers on my lips. I close my eyes.

“Raven?”

Someone touches my shoulder. I open one eye to Nicholas, sitting
beside me on the couch. I must have fallen asleep. The noise I make
sounds like, “mm-hmmm?”

“Are you ready to go?”

I nod and close my eyes again.

He laughs, “We have to get going, unless we want to spend the
night in Zurich.”

I keep my eyes closed, “If we do, I’m sleeping in a youth
hostel, in a twelve-person dorm. No more riches for me until we get
to the castle.”

“If we do, I’ll stay in a dorm, too.” He taps my
knee, “so let’s not miss the train.”

I open my eyes to examine him. “Is that your dressing
casually?” He’s wearing a suit. “We’re going
coach, remember?”

He peers down, “This is the shabbiest I have.”

I sigh and manage to my feet. When he
stands, I hook my arm in his. “What an odd pair we make.”

Day Five (continued). Day Six.

We speed by, just out of the city limits of Rome. Nicholas is true to
his word and we’re sitting in the scruffiest seats on the
train. He leans into his seat, eyes half closed. “So are you
going to tell me why you are so eager to be away from Chauncey, that
you are willing to travel across Europe with a stranger?”

I turn, “She drugged me, when she gave me that shot.”

His head rocks back, as if he is shocked by the idea. “Are you
sure?”

“I have no proof,” I shrug. “But, I know it was
her, I can just feel it. I should have known, I can usually tell
about people, detect their ulterior motives. I was just trying so
hard to play nice. That's over.”

He peers through one glazed eye; “Do you detect my ulterior
motives?”

My words glide out at a snail’s pace, “If you’re an
evil mastermind, who’s hoodwinking me into thinking you’re
a good guy, then you’ve got me fooled.” I close my eyes,
my head settles on the chair, “But if you’re just a nice
person, trying to make some friends and have a good time, then, I see
right through you.”

“What if I’m neither?” His drowsy voice comes from
far away.

“I’m taking my chances.”

“I’ll stay awake to watch the luggage, so...” He
doesn’t finish his sentence. After a second, he snores softly.
I join him in oblivion.

Neither of us wakes until an attendant taps our shoulders and says,
“Zurich.”

I rub the sleep out of my eyes. Our luggage remains untouched.

Nicholas, beside me, rolls his shoulders and rubs his face.

We make our connection to Hamburg with time to spare. Nicholas
doesn’t complain when I turn down a sleeping car for
couchettes. We sleep some more and when I wake, my watch reads only
five in the morning.

I sit in my bunk and strain to remember what I had been dreaming
about before I woke, but it’s like clutching sand, the details
slip from my grasp. The dream was exciting, about a blond man with
green eyes; I know that, but nothing more.

I can’t just stay here with all these sleeping people. After
climbing off my bunk, I peek into the bunk below me to see if
Nicholas is sleeping.

He has a gentle face. Most faces look kind in sleep, but Nicholas's
looks especially harmless. I watch him breathe heavy sleep
inhalations for a second or two, realize I'm being creepy, and let
the curtain fall back.

When I find the dining car, it is empty and holds the first open
windows I’ve seen since I woke. I sit in a booth and scoot to
the window. The sun reddens the sky as it finishes rising over the
German countryside. I rest my head and let my forehead vibrate on the
pane.

In my solitude, I can hear the song of the train. The silverware
tinkles on the table, the window clatters in its tracks and the many
gears and clogs grind and clang beneath me.

Watching the country pass by reminds me of when I was little and I
would stand with my nose almost touching my father’s globe and
twirl it. The countries just beyond my eyelashes flashed by in a blur
of color, but those landmasses farther away warped less, until
Antarctica’s edges only danced. The view outside my window is
the same, anything close flashes by, but the horizon barely shifts.

A sandy-haired woman, with a tired smile on her face, bustles up and
hands me a menu. She asks me something in German, so I smile and
point to the first item, a croissant and coffee.

“Make that two,” Nicholas says from behind me. Then, he
tells her something in German and she strides away.

“Aren’t you worried about your luggage?” I ask.

He scoots into the seat across from me. “Italian suit, a bunch
of Euros; laptop computer, a bunch of Euros; coffee and croissant
with Raven, priceless.”

“You watch American commercials?”

“I studied American culture, remember? I might take a year
abroad in California, next year. I'm taking this one off.” He
reaches up and smoothes down his combed hair; he's already dressed in
a suit.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

His clothes make him seem older.

“So, what are you going to do with your year off?”

“Pretty much anything my grandfather tells me to.” He
chuckles. “I’m at his beck and call.”

“What will he order you to do?”

“Family business work,” he says. When I turn and raise my
eyebrows, he elaborates, “Security.”

"What kind of security?"

He accepts a cup of coffee from the attendant, pauses, then says,
“I'm not really allowed to talk about the details.”

Could he have said anything to pique my interest more? If you want
someone to lose interest, say something like, "we secure
investments," not, "it's top secret."

I prevent my full coffee from sloshing over on the vibrating table.
“Security? That makes sense, I feel safe around you.”

He stares into my eyes and says, “You
are
safe when
you’re with me.” Then, as if to soften the intensity of
the moment, he asks, “What’s that?” He leans over
and, with a finger, caresses my inner arm where my sweater slid up.

I glance down to see his finger tracing the word that Andras,
scrawled on my arm.

Grabbing for my sweater’s sleeve, I'm about to say, ‘it’s
nothing,’ when Nicholas tilts his head to the side and reads
the word. “I know this restaurant; it’s in Hogonas,
fifteen minutes drive from Leijonskjöld Slot.”

I yank down my sleeve, “A friend recommended it.” I
concentrate on my coffee, because I remember that Nicholas knows
Andras. More than knows him, they were hostile to each other. How
could I have forgotten that?

“I’ll take you there, for dinner, if you’d like.”

That is the all-time worst idea, ever. I hope the grin I point his
way offers no hint of the panic I’m feeling. I'm saved from
giving a response by the attendant, serving our croissants and asking
Nicholas something in German.

When she leaves, I ask, “Can we miss our connection in Hamburg?
I’d rather delay seeing Chauncey and just hang out with you.”

His gaze veers to the side as he considers.
“What if we make our connection, then call to tell them we
missed the train? I could show you around Copenhagen; it’s the
best city in the world.”

I give him an eyebrows-raised, conspiratorial look. “What if
we’re caught?”

“We could go disguised, you in my clothes and me in yours.”

An unladylike cackle escapes me as I imagine him, wearing one of my
skirts.

“Okay, forget the disguises. We could be stealthy; we’ll
sneak around the city.”

Wiping the grin off my face to get in character proves impossible, so
I just nod.

No sneaking is needed when we reach Copenhagen. I call Linnie, but
don't want to lie, so I tell her Nicholas and I want to spend the day
together and join them at night. We decide the best plan is to stay
in Nicholas’s apartment for tonight, and take the ferry to
Sweden in the morning.

He shows me the boats, mooring along the dock;
their sails whispering promises of adventure, if I just untie them
and hop on. We wander the streets, dance to the beats of a street
drummer and watch the beautiful people meander past.

As the sun sets, I lean against a wall between two windows on an
avenue bustling with shoppers, legs exhausted and face muscles in
real pain. “I feel like I’ve been dropped in ‘the
world of the super models’.”

“To the Danes and the Swedes, you are the one who’s
exotic.”

I exercise my over-worn smiling muscles, “Me? I’ve never
thought of myself as
exotic
.”

“I think that is one of the things so
appealing about you; you're...” He breaks off his sentence and
squints at something down the street. He concentrates and his
shoulders stiffen, but he lets the tension drop and shakes his head.

I follow his gaze but don't see anything or
anyone who stands out. “Always on alert?” I ask.

One corner of his lips hikes up in a half-smile, “Occupational
hazard, but Copenhagen is a safe city. Lately, things have just
been...” He blinks and gives a minuscule shake of his head.
“What time did you say you’d meet your sister?”

He can’t be serious.
That was the worst subject change,
ever.

After examining my expression, he mutters, “I’m too
comfortable around you.” Is this an apology? Did he just let
something slip? Okay, it’s none of my business, I decide to
drop it.

I glance at my watch, “Thirty-six minutes ago. I’m
surprised she hasn’t called. She probably thinks we’re on
a date.” I say the last part as a joke, but Nicholas doesn’t
laugh. I bite my lip and push off the wall, “Um, let’s go
meet them.”

We elect to stroll, even though walking takes a while longer.
Nicholas seems lost in thought and I want to soak in every detail of
the city, so I appreciate his silence.

Copenhagen plays to its own rhythm. Every person, tall building and
narrow street resonates with it. The breeze, fresh and salty, gusts
to the beat, rippling the sails on the moored boats to the tempo. The
outside diners clink their glasses and silverware in a chaotic
harmony. The lights from the cars, boats and restaurants dance and
shift in a disorderly, yet rhythmical, dance.

I can see why Nicholas loves this city.

Nicholas stops at a door, central in a building, bustling with
restaurants. He places his finger over his lips and then points to
the nearest restaurant, a small Thai take-out place. I lean to have a
better look; he shakes his head.

I mouth, “
Okay
?”

When he turns to the door, he smiles. He turns
the key and steps inside, gesturing with one fast moving hand. I rush
to follow. He slides the door shut and sighs.

“I thought we abandoned stealth?” I gesture to the door.

“Well,” he grimaces, “That Thai food place is owned
by the nicest man alive, but if I eat any more curry, I’ll get
an ulcer. I just can’t say no to him.”

“I think I’ve found your weakness.”

“Curry?” He heads up a small, carpeted staircase.

“No,” I grin, “Killing you with kindness.”

He stops at a landing and walks to the only door at the end of a
short hall. “Uh-oh,” he says, while extracting his keys,
“What are you plotting?”

I rub my hands together and throw back my head with a mischievous
chuckle.

The door is yanked open and Linnie stands in the doorway. “I
know that evil cackle. That’s my prodigal, dorky younger
sister!” She rushes past Nicholas and ushers me back down the
stairs, “I have been waiting for you to eat, and I’m
starving!” She turns back to Nicholas, “You keep Chauncey
company, we’re going for Thai food takeout.”

I give him an apologetic shrug and follow her down the stairs. At the
door I call up, “Curry?”

He yells back, “Red.”

Linnie herds me into the take-out restaurant. Being in a Thai
restaurant in Denmark is a bit disconcerting; as if entering the door
has transported us far away.

After ordering in the international language of menu pointing, we
take a seat and Linnie spins to face me. “Chauncey is sorry.”

I’m so stunned, my jaw slackens. That Linnie had something to
say was obvious, but I would have never guessed. Does she actually
know?

“I know her abandoning you in the club was inexcusable, but she
feels terrible.”

She
doesn't
know.

I furrow my brow and shake my head. I should tell my sister the whole
story; I open my mouth, but she cuts me off.

“Okay, I’ll tell you exactly what she said. Yesterday, I
noticed she was acting weird, not like herself. She was depressed and
moping and self-deprecating. So I asked her what the matter was.
Chauncey said, ‘last night, when I was out with Raven, I did
something I really regret.’”

“How do you know it wasn’t...?”