Dark Angel (9 page)

‘And still he makes his move.’

‘What move? He invites me for coffee!’

‘And what else?’

‘Nothing else. What are you saying – that I can’t have guy friends?’

‘Switch it around. How would you feel if I suddenly wanted to meet up with a drop-dead-gorgeous girl?’ Jude turned his attention to me. ‘This guy is attractive, huh? How did it look to you, Tania? Am I right or am I wrong?’

‘I see it from both angles,’ I said awkwardly. Grace has been my friend since we were eight years old, so I did want to support her through this. At the same time, I really, really like Jude and I hated to see him hurting. ‘I can see the way it might look,’ I told him, ‘but maybe this is as much connected with your insecurity as with Grace’s plan to meet up with this guy. If that is what you’re going to do?’ I turned to her.

She blushed and avoided eye contact. ‘I don’t know – I haven’t even sent a reply yet. Jude is just blowing this way out of proportion. And he can’t lock me up in a closet and expect me not to have a life!’

Jude winced and got up from the bench. ‘That’s not what I want. I never stopped you having guy friends before now. There’s just something about this that I don’t like – the way you were after the party for a start. I was just home from the hospital and you didn’t even phone me.’

‘Yeah, I was hung over – major crime,’ Grace muttered.

‘Plus, the bruising on your leg – how did that happen? And the fact that somehow this guy gets a hold of your phone number.’

‘Yeah, that is weird,’ I agreed quickly. ‘I told you, Grace – Daniel did the exact same thing to me. I don’t remember giving him my number, but I still get a text.’

‘You did?’ Jude said. My news made him step outside his own bubble for a second. ‘And?’

‘I deleted the message,’ I said with a shrug. ‘Sorry, Grace, but I want to keep the channels clear between me and Orlando.’

‘Keep talking’ was my advice as I left Grace’s house. I wasn’t inside their situation so I couldn’t judge how serious it was. I only knew that Jude wasn’t normally the jealous type and that as a rule he was pretty mature. It seemed to me that Grace was doing her over-literal, slightly naive thing again with the text from Ezra, but that she would soon begin to see Jude’s point of view. By tomorrow it would probably all be OK.

I hope, I thought as I drove to the airport. I passed the exit for Turner Lake, caught sight of Black Rock in my rear-view mirror and for a split second saw the whole mountain alight, flames tearing through the trees, roaring down canyons, gobbling up houses.

I gripped the steering wheel, blinked and cut out the vision.

‘Grace will say yes to Ezra,’ I said out loud as if a thunderbolt had struck. ‘She’ll meet him for coffee; the situation will spiral out of control.’

I was in the airport ten minutes early, standing by the arrival gate, still uneasy about Jude and Grace. OK, so Holly’s hospital test had extinguished my worst suspicion, but something was going on here that didn’t feel right and certain random images from Friday night were still vivid – the primitive masks on the wall inside the house, for instance, Daniel’s eagle headdress that seemed to morph into the real thing and Zoran’s manic energy as the band played and he swept over the stage in his glittering wings, swooping, whirling, mesmerizing us all.

‘This is the final call for passengers on flight number AA652 for Philadelphia.’ The announcement, only half heard over the buzz of conversation, pulled me back into real time. I checked the monitor – Orlando’s flight was on schedule. I was expecting him through the gate any moment now.

The time came and the first passengers from his flight were through. Why wasn’t he there at the front as I’d envisaged? Did he have check-in bags to collect? Had I missed something – a switch of gate, an unexpected delay?

‘Hey, Tania.’ It was Orlando’s mom, spying me as she came through the sliding doors with his father. They looked relaxed, pleased to see me. ‘Orlando had to check in his design folder. They wouldn’t accept it as hand luggage.’

‘Cool,’ I said, the knot in my stomach unwinding.

Carly Nolan gave me a hug. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

I shook my head, smiled at Orlando’s dad. ‘Did you have a good trip?’

‘The college visit was awesome,’ Carly informed me. ‘Orlando loved the place – the course and the professors.’

‘It looks like he made his choice,’ Scott Nolan said. ‘Dallas over Chicago. Then we spent a couple of days journeying down memory lane.’

‘With my cousin.’ Orlando’s mom cut the conversation short. ‘Come along, Scott. Tania will drive Orlando home. Let’s find our car and leave the young lovers to their reunion.’

Mr Nolan did as he was told. ‘He’ll be through in a couple of minutes, still on a high and waiting to share every last detail,’ he assured me as they walked away.

More passengers came through. They wheeled large bags, dragged along small kids, looked out for their rides home.

Then at last I saw Orlando. He was walking towards me carrying his portfolio, smiling as he spotted me, bending to rest the folder against his leg, holding out his arms.

I
n that moment, with Orlando’s arms around me, everything was perfect. My heart soared, I was smiling and kissing him, his lips were on mine and I felt total love for this amazing, beautiful, gifted guy.

Sure, I’m prejudiced. I love Orlando and love distorts. But get the facts: he’s six-two with a six-pack; dark-haired with grey eyes (killer combination in my opinion); he has a laid-back-to-the-point-of-falling-over style; wears dark T-shirts and jeans; has just enough stubble; and gorgeous, soft, kissable lips. OK, so that last bit isn’t a fact exactly, but I just can’t get close to those lips without wanting to lock mine on to them. Enough!

We went for coffee in the airport café – bad coffee, excellent conversation. At least in the beginning.

‘Tania, it was so cool!’ Orlando told me, holding my hand across the table. He was breathless, shining with excitement. ‘The college has a studio with all the latest design technology – incredible stuff. They offer specialist options you wouldn’t believe. And you should see the list of visiting lecturers, all A-listers in the international fashion world!’

I smiled and nodded, felt totally happy for him. ‘Did they like your work?’ I asked.

‘Actually they didn’t ask to see it. We were a large group – maybe fifty potential students. If we’re serious about the course, now is the time to send in an application.’

‘Then they invite you for formal interview?’

‘Yeah. That’s when they need to see your portfolio.’

‘They’ll love it,’ I insisted, thinking of his flair with colour and texture. He knows at a glance how fabric sits on the human figure, how to cut it, where to insert darts for a perfect fit. ‘Then when they get to meet you one on one they’ll love you too!’

Orlando laughed and squeezed my hand. ‘You’re my number-one fan, you know that?’

‘No contest.’ He knows I adore him – his sudden movements, the way his smile flits across his normally serious face and his grey eyes light up, his Irish eyes, his wide Irish smile.

‘Will you help me with my résumé? You’re good with stuff like that.’

‘We’ll work on it tonight.’

‘Tomorrow’s better. Tonight I need some sleep.’

‘Too much partying with your mom’s family,’ teased, not meaning any criticism but just for something to fill a gap.

Orlando sucked his teeth, said nothing.

From which I knew I was right about the partying but probably wrong about the family. So whose party? Who with? I body-swerved away from the dangerous topic. ‘Tell me about the college campus.’

‘Really grand old buildings, classical architecture with columns and wide stone steps, but with modern blocks mixed in, so it’s not a museum. There are lawns and a lake, sports facilities, a big library.’

‘It sounds fabulous.’

‘It is.’ Letting go of my hand to check his watch, Orlando stood up. ‘Do we need to take a bus to pick up the car?’

I nodded. ‘We’re in Zone C.’

‘I’m hungry. Mom’s cooking pasta. Let’s go.’

I stayed at the Nolans’ place for pasta. Orlando didn’t ask me about my weekend and he seemed to have totally forgotten about me driving out to the fancy dress party at Zoran’s place.

‘How are your college applications shaping up, Tania?’ Scott Nolan asked me over dessert. He’s a dad who always takes an interest in his son’s friends. His manners are old school and it’s hard to break down the formal barriers.

‘They’re not,’ I told him. ‘I plan to take a year out, maybe travel to Europe.’

‘Oh, Italy, France, England – you’ll visit the big galleries, see the Old Masters.’ Carly sounded jealous. ‘You don’t know how many years I’ve been begging Scott to take me to Europe. So far, no luck.’

‘Somebody tell me where I find the money,’ Orlando’s dad grumbled. ‘And now we have college fees to pay in addition to normal everyday expenses.’

‘You’re lucky, Tania.’ Carly began to clear dishes and pull down the blinds. ‘You belong to a family who gets to travel a lot – your mom, at least.’

‘Yeah. Right now she’s in Russia,’ I told her. It was ten whole minutes since Orlando had spoken to me. Since before dessert arrived, he’d been constantly checking his text messages, running a hand through his thick dark hair, yawning and tapping his fingers on the edge of the table.

When I got up to leave, he came to the door and kissed me on the cheek. On the cheek!

‘See you tomorrow,’ I said, letting my anxiety peep through.

That’s the problem with the being-in-love thing – one minute you’re soaring among the clouds, next minute it’s like you’ve thrown yourself off a cliff and are plunging into the cold, grey ocean. I mean, didn’t Orlando care about where I fitted into his bright college future? Did he even see us lasting until the fall here in Bitterroot?

Monday we worked on Orlando’s résumé, Tuesday we met up in town with Jude and Grace, Holly and Aaron. Our plan was to catch a movie, but Grace was late so the guys went ahead while Holly and I hung out in the foyer to wait for her.

‘She missed school today,’ I reminded Holly. ‘Maybe she’s sick.’

‘Jude just spoke to her. She’s good.’ Flicking through a magazine, Holly came out with one of her shock statements. ‘Me and Aaron – we’re thinking of taking a break.’

‘No!’ I gasped. ‘Since when? I mean, why?’

‘Not a permanent break,’ she explained. ‘Just a cooling-off period for us to get our heads together. And we’re still buddies, which is why I’m here tonight.’

‘You still haven’t told me why.’ I was ready to jump into ‘Poor Aaron’ mode until she stopped me dead with her next statement.

‘We had a major fight and he said that was it – he didn’t love me any more. The very next day he met someone else.’ Holly’s hand shook over the page of the magazine but she held her voice steady. ‘Actually yesterday – at the country club. He didn’t tell me her name.’

Wednesday I stayed home. Thursday evening Orlando came up to my place. He stayed through till Friday. If you’d asked me during that twenty-four-hour period how happy I was, I’d have given you a perfect ten.

‘The house feels empty,’ he said when he arrived, backlit by the setting sun, hovering in the doorway and looking beautiful even in silhouette.

I had the studio door and window open to disperse the smell of oil paints and he found me there, hard at work on a landscape. The picture was turning out pretty well. It featured Black Rock overlaid with a shadowy outline of an eagle, the two images merging in a dreamlike way.

‘Mom’s still in Moscow,’ I reminded him. ‘Dad took off into the mountains for a couple of days.’

‘Cool.’ He broke me off from my painting with a shower of small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulders and five minutes later we were lying in bed.

‘Mom emailed to say Moscow is a great city,’ I told him, safe in his arms and happily breathing him in. ‘She thinks I should visit.’

He stared at the ceiling for a while. ‘How long will this Europe thing be? Will you be gone the whole year?’

‘A few months maybe. Who knows how long the money will last?’

‘You’ll travel to new places and forget about me.’

‘No way.’ I leaned up on my elbow and studied his face. ‘What’s this? Don’t you want me to go?’

‘I do,’ he argued. ‘And I don’t.’

‘Suddenly you’ll miss me?’ I teased, running my forefinger down his nose and across his lips.

He didn’t answer but he made love to me in a way that said, don’t ever forget how good this feels. Which meant that, yes, he would miss me and he was giving me every reason in the world to come back to Dallas to be with him.

So when Daniel sent me a second text at midday on Friday –
Hey, Tania. Daniel here. What happened to our coffee date?
– I wasn’t remotely tempted to reply.

‘Who’s this Daniel guy?’ Orlando asked, reading over my shoulder.

‘No snooping!’ I held the phone out of reach.

‘So who is he?’

I’d convinced myself I had nothing to hide so I told him. ‘He works for Zoran Brancusi out at Black Eagle Lodge. I met him at the party. No, I don’t know how he got my number, and no, I don’t want to go for coffee with him.’

There was a too-long pause before Orlando grunted. ‘Hey, don’t let me stand in your way.’

‘You’re not. I don’t want to go.’

‘I mean, I’m not your keeper. Feel free.’

‘Orlando, watch my lips – I do
not
want to go!’

This was it – flinging yourself off a cliff, lemming time again, but now it was Orlando’s turn. ‘Soon I’ll be in Dallas, you’ll be in Paris, oh-la-la! There’ll be a hundred people to have
coffee
with.’

I sighed and turned away. ‘I don’t need this,’ I said. Mom was due home any time. Dad was probably rolling up his tent to walk down Black Rock as we spoke.

‘We never said this was an exclusive relationship,’ Orlando reminded me, his voice harsh and precise. ‘Say I meet a girl at a campus open day, we spend some time together – what’s the problem?’

My stomach lurched, my heart thumped. I had all the usual physiological symptoms. ‘Whatever,’ I whispered.