Abroad (25 page)

“Well, I don’t know, Devil. Tell me why I should come.”

“Why?”

“I’m very busy, you see.”

“Oh. Well. I don’t know. I…”

He was still smiling at me in that way. I looked at the floor.

“If you have time, I’d like you to please come upstairs to visit me.”

“What?”

“I’d like you to come up please. If you want to.”

“So I can fuck you?”

I backed away, putting my hand on the doorknob.

“I’m sorry. I think I should probably—”

“You want me to fuck you now? Is that it?”

Breath, suddenly, escaped me.

“Tabitha?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Swiftly, the Italian rushed forward and pushed me into the door with all his weight. My shoulders and head slammed against the wood. I cried out, pressed flat between the door and his body, chest airless, pelvis crushed.

“Now?”

“Marcello, my head—”

“Say it.”

“Yes. Yes. Please. Now.”

18

The B4 came back with something in between a bang and a whimper. A whine, perhaps. The girls were tired, and grumpy, and cross with one another. None of them seemed especially curious about why I’d gone. They were too busy complaining about the others.

Luka came by first, around noon on Monday. All three had texted individually, saying we should get together. I replied vaguely, as I always did, waiting for the others to make plans. It wasn’t that I didn’t have ideas, but the other voices were so loud, I’d long ago stopped bothering to make any suggestions. Now Luka was at my door, knocking insistently.

“Don’t you have class?” I asked. Since I’d received a full credit for the mythology seminar debacle, I had no class on Mondays, but I knew that Luka and Jenny did.

“Fuck class,” she said, sweeping in. “Christ. I forgot how small your little house is.”

“Yes, when the terrace door is closed, it is quite cozy.”

“Let’s go to lunch. I feel like that Argentinean place, the one with the good steak.”

“All right. Can you wait a minute?”

“Sure.”

I opened the door to my room, where Marcello was still sleeping. We’d woken earlier, but after a long morning in my room, he’d fallen asleep again. Seeing him gave me a sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t the giddy happiness I’d experienced with Sean, but instead as if I’d acquired something coveted. I kissed his shoulder, then went out and pulled the door closed again.

“Tabitha Deacon, do you have someone
in
there?”

“No. Well, yes. My neighbor—the one you met.”

“Oh, good for you.”

“Thanks, Luka,” I said.

Just then Anna stepped in, wrapped in a real fox fur.

“God,” Luka said. “Even I am offended by that thing.”

“I see Luka’s gotten here first.”

“We’re about to have lunch,” Luka said.

“Lovely—I’ll come along, then. Dress warmly, though, little Tabitha,” Anna said, squeezing my arm. “It’s absolutely freezing.”

“I’m all right.”

“Doesn’t want to go back into her room,” Luka said, grabbing a scarf of Gia’s off a hook and throwing it to me. “She’s got a bloke.”

“Really?”

“The neighbor,” Luka crooned.

“Asses, stop doing that. I’m standing
right here
. Come on.” I ushered them out the door, before Marcello woke and got forced into conversation. “He came and got me Friday night.”

“So that’s why you left?” Luka asked, leading us up the hill. “Whisked off your feet by the hot something?”

I looked down at the slick cobblestones, as if trying to keep my footing. “Yes.”

“How romantic!” Anna said with unconvincing enthusiasm.

She stopped in a doorway to light herself a cigarette.

“We’re almost there,” Luka said, impatience coloring her voice.

“Oh, I forgot. It’s noon! Go have your drink, Luka. I’ll just finish my smoke.”

“You invited
yourself
to lunch,” Luka said. “So don’t be a royal bitch about it.”

“Just … look—don’t worry. You lot go on. I’m not in the mood anymore. I’m actually not even hungry.”

“Come on, Anna,” I urged. “In fact, I’ll call Jenny and we’ll make it a B4 thing.”

“Do that, Taz, and I’ll
never
speak to you again,” Anna cried, her voice close to tears.

“We’ll meet you at the restaurant,” Luka said, steering me away. “Come,” she called over her shoulder to Anna. “I’ll buy you a steak. You need it.”

We left her in the doorway, a tiny girl in a fox coat.

“What
happened
?”

“Drink first.” Luka glanced at me. “The fact is, we’re in a bit of trouble.”

Mendoza was a long, narrow restaurant with a cathedral ceiling and a large, well-tended hearth. The room opened out to a wide terrace with a modern outdoor sitting area below that was popular on warm nights. The smell of meat was so strong I stepped backward as we entered, a little dizzy. We took a table by the fireplace, and Luka ordered a bottle of Montefalco, her favorite Umbrian red. The waiter, a pleasant, older Italian, opened the bottle with a flourish—it was that kind of a place—and the wine poured thick and meaty into our glasses. It occurred to me that I hadn’t even had coffee yet, but after a morning of sex, good red wine seemed just the thing.

Luka took a long drink, stopping just short of finishing it.

“Jenny fucked up,” she said, putting her glass down carefully.

“How?”

“She slept with that Samuel person.”

Fear, cold and persistent, curled its fingers around my chest.

“I thought she was with Roberto.”

“She
was
, and that would have been okay. Not great, but okay. But he left Saturday, and it seems she got bored. So she threw herself on the host.”

“And he was interested?”

“Of course. She’s twenty-one and he’s—I don’t know. A hundred?”

“What did Professor Korloff do?”

“That’s the problem. He got furious. Quite a flip from the kind professor I’d seen. Burst into our room in the morning, yelling at Anna. Said something about how first you tried—”

“I didn’t, though!” My voice rose, shriller than I’d have liked. “He thought so but I really didn’t.”

Luka finished her wine and signaled the waiter to fill her glass again, then ordered loudly in English. “Two steaks, rare, potatoes, salad, Worcestershire sauce if you’ve got it.” He raised his eyebrows, obviously a little impressed by her irreverence toward his country and language.

“What about Anna?”

“Absolutely devastated. Her dad died when she was a little girl, you know. So she’s got quite the daddy complex. Completely idolizes Arthur.”

“He’s very sweet to her,” I said.

“Oh?” Luka said. “I think he’s a fucking sponge.”

“Why?”

“A bloke like him needs money, Taz. Like we all do.”

“Sure. For his research. It’s hard for him to get grants.”

“I’d say it’s for his flats in London and New York and for his extravagant trips, living like the aristocrat that he’s not. I think Professor Korloff likes the finer things.”

“You mean the way Jenny does?”

“The way all of us do. You included. I didn’t see you turning down our dresses or the dinners.”

“You all never let me pay. I try every—”

“Nevermind. I’m happy to treat,” she said, cutting me off. “Anyway. Teaching gigs pay him some, but
Samuel
pays him hundreds of thousands of pounds to hunt down pieces for him. Or his wife does. He was telling us all about it the second night before everything went south. But you see, Samuel’s wife’s the one with the money. And Samuel is just itching to leave her.”

“This is … too complicated.”

“It might not have been, if Jenny hadn’t fucked up like she did. Of course, she was just thinking, here’s a bloke to add to the bank.”

“She does go over on that empowerment thing. Staying in front of it, she says.”

“Empowerment? Oh, Taz. Please. You know perfectly well Jenny Cole is about
money
.”

I tasted my meat, the texture of which just then felt revolting.

“So she and Samuel got together.”

“Yes. I think the professor tried to intervene, but he didn’t have any power over her.”

“Poor Anna.”

Luka inspected a piece of steak meticulously, then popped it in her mouth. “Jenny doesn’t give a fuck about Anna. Not really. She’s just a prop for her ego. We all are.”

“Luka, don’t say that. She has her faults—we all do. But she’s—” The word so often used in our cottage,
nice
, wasn’t quite correct. “… a strong, loyal person.”

“Not to Anna.”

“It’s complicated. She must have felt it wasn’t Anna’s place—”

“Anna
begged
her, Taz. Begged. Jenny sleeps with a new bloke every two days. Did she really need Samuel? And the fact is, Arthur practically threw us out yesterday. He told Anna he was disgusted. Bloke’s the closest thing she has to a father. I think she’s going to have a nervous breakdown.”

“Did Jenny come home with you?”

“That’s the worst part.” Luka pushed her plate away. “No.”

“Where
is
she?”

“Dunno. She stayed there with Samuel. Arthur left the same time we did, barely even waved. God, what a mess.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And let me guess: she’s already tried to get to you to tell you her side first?”

“She did text. Yes.”

“Just be careful. The drama factor is high right now. She’s going to lean on you, now that Anna’s all pissed.”

“For what?”

“Running mate. You know Jenny. She’s got to look a certain way.”

“What about you? You don’t have allegiances, do you? I mean, Jenny messed up, but you’ll still go out with her, even if Anna won’t. Right?”

Luka shook her head. “I could never be her number one.”

I looked at my half-empty glass. Luka had consumed almost the whole bottle.

“Luka, why
do
you drink so much?”

She shrugged. “I like it.”

“But don’t you … you know. Worry?”

She picked up her glass, examining the color of the trace of wine at the bottom. “I don’t know why I do it. Maybe I like the taste. Or maybe I can’t commit to the thing about liking girls. Maybe there’s someone I’m trying to get over. Or maybe I just don’t like myself very much.”

“Luka!” I put my hand on hers. She waved it off.

“No, no. I’m not going to have a scene. I drink too much, it’s true. But I’ll worry about it later. Italy is not exactly a time for personal cleansing. Thank you, though, for your prudent mothering.” She lit a cigarette.

“Can I have one of those?”

“You don’t like smoking.”

“I do today.”

She tossed me the pack.

“Well,
I
like you,” I said.

Luka looked away. “Fine. I like you too. Not in the sexy way, no offense. You’d be a cold fish in bed, I think.”

“Am not.”

“Should I ask the neighbor?”

I blushed.

“That flatmate of yours, though. Hallelujah.”

“She’s taken too. Most interesting guy in town.”

“Naturally. All right, now. Where are you going to stand on this Anna thing?”

“I’m not going to choose sides if I can avoid it.”

“Grand idea,” Luka said, holding the lighter in front of me. “Impossible, but very smart.”

“Or perhaps I’ll just lay low for a couple days, until they stop clawing each other. Turn off my phone, hang out with my flatmate.”

“Just go back to bed with that big neighbor of yours.” Luka signaled for the check.

“Well, thanks for lunch.”

“It’s from the pot. Better use it up before everything gets fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean our arrangement doesn’t have a provision for bickering. Jenny’s sort of going rogue on us. And I’m sure you’ve picked up that Anna can be fragile. I wouldn’t be shocked if she pulled out.”

“I suppose. Anyway, thank you for letting me know about all of this. You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not, particularly. But I do hate watching the slaughter of innocents.”

The waiter came with the bill. Luka, as usual, paid without looking at it.

“Anna never came in.”

“No,” Luka said, standing. “She didn’t.”

*   *   *

When I went home, I did exactly as Luka told me. I turned off my phone and got back in bed with Marcello, who was still asleep, his face resting on his arm, his black curls so deceivingly cherubic against the pillow. I kissed him, but he waved me off, so after reading a bit I left to study at the library. I might not have any more work for Etruscan Mythology, but this was hardly the case for my other courses, and I was, by now, wildly behind.

The University of Grifonia’s library was a refreshingly sleek glass building, filled with quiet cubbies and modern wooden tables to work at. Still, I couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t just Marcello that drove me to distraction now, though my mind did trip into carnal memory of our bed at least every three minutes or so. But who were these girls? I was attracted to them; I wanted to be part of them. But something was off. I knew it, even as I also didn’t want to know.

I’d never in my life had such Byzantine relationships. The boys I’d loved either loved me back or plainly wanted sex—no subterfuge involved. And Babs and I just loved each other, period. I could be domineering, she could be consciously naive, but we knew that we would never do anything to hurt each other. If one of us tripped, the other would catch her elbow, and if we weren’t in time for that, we’d run off for Band-Aids and disinfectant lotion and cake. We fought, of course. I blamed Babs constantly for our isolation from the other girls. Yet our fondness for each other—or perhaps our need for each other’s company—drummed the tension away.

And now, Luka, Jenny, Anna, with their champagne and swirls of smoke and cars to Milan! Even there in my library cubby thinking of them, it was as if I were drowning in my desires. Distracted to the point of unproductivity, I picked up my books and my purse and walked to the café next door—a loud, cheerful little place—ordered an espresso and called Babs.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately upon hearing my tone.