Up In Smoke
Page 81
My lips tightened. I refused to tell her that she was perfectly welcome to live in her misanthropic world, but I preferred a much happier place.
‘‘Oh! Those two! Those two across the square, coming out of that building. Oh, my God, they’re gorgeous. That’s what I’m talking about—perfect eye-candy specimens. Both tall, both dark haired, although I don’t like long hair on a man, and both absolutely and completely out of our reach.’’
‘‘Women don’t always go for a handsome, incredibly sexy man,’’ I pointed out. ‘‘And some men like more than a body. It’s perfectly within the bounds of reality to have one of those eye-candy men.’’
A hard look settled on her face. ‘‘You just refuse to face reality, don’t you? Well, let’s put our money where our mouth is, OK? You go talk to those two hunks and see what happens.’’
‘‘I didn’t mean those two specifically,’’ I said quickly, my palms suddenly sweating at the thought of the humiliation that would follow should I even think of approaching the two men in question. ‘‘I just meant eye candy in general.’’
She flicked the wadded up paper straw wrapper at me. ‘‘That’s a cop-out, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. How about this—you walk past the two guys, just walk past them, and see if one of them is interested enough to watch you.’’
I opened my mouth to protest that catching a man’s eye wasn’t going to prove anything, but the triumphant gleam in her eyes was too much for the tenuous grasp I had on my temper. If nothing else, I would be able to escape her presence. ‘‘All right, you’re on. I’ll walk past them.’’
‘‘I’ll be here, waiting, when you come back. Alone,’’ she said with a smile that made my palm itch with the need to smack her.
The square was still partially empty as people took the opportunity offered by the band switch to refresh themselves at the cafés and food stands that lined the area. I paused a moment at the edge of the square, having no trouble in finding my quarry.
The two men continued to stand in the shadows cast by a tall, sculpted stone building, evidently having some sort of a conversation since one of them periodically nodded, while the other spoke, his hands gesturing quickly. They were both clad completely in black, one carrying a leather jacket, the other wearing one despite the heat of the day. The jacket wearer was farthest from me, his face too shadowed to see in detail, but I did notice he had short curly chestnut brown hair. The one turned slightly away from me, holding on to his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
I glanced back at Denise, hoping against hope that she might have given up on me and gone to see the fireworks, but doubting she’d miss the opportunity to do a little old-fashioned gloating when I failed at my goal.
‘‘I hate being right,’’ I said under my breath. Denise stood at the table, the café nearly empty now as more and more people headed to the park. She made shooing gestures toward me.
I edged my way past a tiny clothing shop and pretended interest in racks of dusty books that sat outside an even dustier bookseller. This must be the spider-filled shop Denise had mentioned. I glanced toward her. She had her back to me as one of the men on the tour stopped to talk, gesturing in the direction of the park. Excellent! She was distracted! Now was my chance.
I ducked into the spider-filled bookshop, scurrying to the back, grabbing a couple of books to pretend interest. ‘‘She’s not likely to come looking in here for me if the spiders are as bad as she said. I’ll just hide out for a little bit. There’s no shame in hiding. She’ll figure I skipped out, and go look elsewhere for me, right? Right.’’
My relief lasted about two minutes, after which shame got the better of me. Being a coward wasn’t my style. A careful and covert survey of the square from inside the bookshop confirmed my thoughts. Denise was disappearing down a street opposite, clearly on the hunt for me. ‘‘Yay for insight into human nature.’’
I paid for the books and strolled out of the bookshop, adopting a casual, not in the least bit stalkerlike air as I meandered toward the two men. ‘‘Maybe I could bribe them. Maybe I could offer them a few bucks if one of them would walk back to the hotel with me . . . ugh. Is this what it’s coming to? Bribing men to pretend an interest in you? For shame, Pia. For sha—oof!’’
A woman whumped into me with enough force that it sent us both reeling, my books and her large bag falling to the ground.
‘‘I am so sorry; I am very late for an appointment and wasn’t watching where I was going,’’ the woman said in a delightful French accent. ‘‘Did I step on you? No? Excellent. I am very distressed, you see. I’ve lost the address where I’m supposed to go, and none of the bookshops seem to be the right one. Ah, there is another one. I will try there.’’
‘‘Beware of spiders,’’ I warned as she tucked the books away in her bag. The smile she flashed me faded.
‘‘Spiders?’’
‘‘Yeah, evidently some big hairy ones.’’
She shuddered. ‘‘I detest spiders! Perhaps that shop is not the one . . .’’ She eyed it with obvious distaste.
‘‘If you’re looking for a current book, they probably aren’t going to have it. There seemed to be mostly antique books.’’
‘‘Antique,’’ she said thoughtfully. ‘‘That does not sound correct. The Zenith was most specific it was an English book with the man and woman on the cover dancing . . . oh, la-la! The time!’’ She had glanced at her watch, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. ‘‘I will try another one; that does not look like a shop to have the dancing books, does it?’’
‘‘Naw, the only thing I found there was an old Agatha Christie and some Regency romance,’’ I said, gesturing toward my books.
‘‘Bien. It is good I run into you, I think!’’
‘‘No problem,’’ I called after her as she started off. ‘‘Always happy to save a fellow tourist from death by dusty spiders.’’
I turned back to face my horrible task. The two men were still standing in close conversation.
‘‘Oh! Those two! Those two across the square, coming out of that building. Oh, my God, they’re gorgeous. That’s what I’m talking about—perfect eye-candy specimens. Both tall, both dark haired, although I don’t like long hair on a man, and both absolutely and completely out of our reach.’’
‘‘Women don’t always go for a handsome, incredibly sexy man,’’ I pointed out. ‘‘And some men like more than a body. It’s perfectly within the bounds of reality to have one of those eye-candy men.’’
A hard look settled on her face. ‘‘You just refuse to face reality, don’t you? Well, let’s put our money where our mouth is, OK? You go talk to those two hunks and see what happens.’’
‘‘I didn’t mean those two specifically,’’ I said quickly, my palms suddenly sweating at the thought of the humiliation that would follow should I even think of approaching the two men in question. ‘‘I just meant eye candy in general.’’
She flicked the wadded up paper straw wrapper at me. ‘‘That’s a cop-out, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. How about this—you walk past the two guys, just walk past them, and see if one of them is interested enough to watch you.’’
I opened my mouth to protest that catching a man’s eye wasn’t going to prove anything, but the triumphant gleam in her eyes was too much for the tenuous grasp I had on my temper. If nothing else, I would be able to escape her presence. ‘‘All right, you’re on. I’ll walk past them.’’
‘‘I’ll be here, waiting, when you come back. Alone,’’ she said with a smile that made my palm itch with the need to smack her.
The square was still partially empty as people took the opportunity offered by the band switch to refresh themselves at the cafés and food stands that lined the area. I paused a moment at the edge of the square, having no trouble in finding my quarry.
The two men continued to stand in the shadows cast by a tall, sculpted stone building, evidently having some sort of a conversation since one of them periodically nodded, while the other spoke, his hands gesturing quickly. They were both clad completely in black, one carrying a leather jacket, the other wearing one despite the heat of the day. The jacket wearer was farthest from me, his face too shadowed to see in detail, but I did notice he had short curly chestnut brown hair. The one turned slightly away from me, holding on to his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
I glanced back at Denise, hoping against hope that she might have given up on me and gone to see the fireworks, but doubting she’d miss the opportunity to do a little old-fashioned gloating when I failed at my goal.
‘‘I hate being right,’’ I said under my breath. Denise stood at the table, the café nearly empty now as more and more people headed to the park. She made shooing gestures toward me.
I edged my way past a tiny clothing shop and pretended interest in racks of dusty books that sat outside an even dustier bookseller. This must be the spider-filled shop Denise had mentioned. I glanced toward her. She had her back to me as one of the men on the tour stopped to talk, gesturing in the direction of the park. Excellent! She was distracted! Now was my chance.
I ducked into the spider-filled bookshop, scurrying to the back, grabbing a couple of books to pretend interest. ‘‘She’s not likely to come looking in here for me if the spiders are as bad as she said. I’ll just hide out for a little bit. There’s no shame in hiding. She’ll figure I skipped out, and go look elsewhere for me, right? Right.’’
My relief lasted about two minutes, after which shame got the better of me. Being a coward wasn’t my style. A careful and covert survey of the square from inside the bookshop confirmed my thoughts. Denise was disappearing down a street opposite, clearly on the hunt for me. ‘‘Yay for insight into human nature.’’
I paid for the books and strolled out of the bookshop, adopting a casual, not in the least bit stalkerlike air as I meandered toward the two men. ‘‘Maybe I could bribe them. Maybe I could offer them a few bucks if one of them would walk back to the hotel with me . . . ugh. Is this what it’s coming to? Bribing men to pretend an interest in you? For shame, Pia. For sha—oof!’’
A woman whumped into me with enough force that it sent us both reeling, my books and her large bag falling to the ground.
‘‘I am so sorry; I am very late for an appointment and wasn’t watching where I was going,’’ the woman said in a delightful French accent. ‘‘Did I step on you? No? Excellent. I am very distressed, you see. I’ve lost the address where I’m supposed to go, and none of the bookshops seem to be the right one. Ah, there is another one. I will try there.’’
‘‘Beware of spiders,’’ I warned as she tucked the books away in her bag. The smile she flashed me faded.
‘‘Spiders?’’
‘‘Yeah, evidently some big hairy ones.’’
She shuddered. ‘‘I detest spiders! Perhaps that shop is not the one . . .’’ She eyed it with obvious distaste.
‘‘If you’re looking for a current book, they probably aren’t going to have it. There seemed to be mostly antique books.’’
‘‘Antique,’’ she said thoughtfully. ‘‘That does not sound correct. The Zenith was most specific it was an English book with the man and woman on the cover dancing . . . oh, la-la! The time!’’ She had glanced at her watch, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. ‘‘I will try another one; that does not look like a shop to have the dancing books, does it?’’
‘‘Naw, the only thing I found there was an old Agatha Christie and some Regency romance,’’ I said, gesturing toward my books.
‘‘Bien. It is good I run into you, I think!’’
‘‘No problem,’’ I called after her as she started off. ‘‘Always happy to save a fellow tourist from death by dusty spiders.’’
I turned back to face my horrible task. The two men were still standing in close conversation.
