Vienna (20 page)

“Our fifteen minutes is about up,” Justine said.

“An overly modest or overly naive assessment,” Emily answered.

Justine ordered four courses of fish and soup, without a strand of spaghetti in sight. So it wasn't even real Italian food, despite what the menu said. Vienna wanted to eat in silence, but Justine would probably die if she stopped talking. Conversation centered around trivial aspects of fashion until Emily spoke.

“I spent the afternoon trying to connect the death of a paparazzi stooge to pictures of a Christian Bell manikin.” She sipped her wine. “And let's not forget my knowledge of German.”

“I need paper and a pen for the German part,” Vienna said.

Justine supplied both from her black handbag.

“There are lots of words,” Vienna said, “but most are small. I think they are like ‘the' yeah?” She printed out
“Mit ihrer Spannweite von 76 cm ist sie die größe. gemmoglyptische Schale der Welt”
and handed the paper to Emily.

The woman frowned. “It's about a special bowl, the largest one in the world. Not certain what kind. I've never seen the word ‘
gemmoglyptische
' before. I could Google it if you want.”

Vienna sighed. “I don't know it either.”

“I didn't realize you spoke German.”

“I don't.”

Emily and Justine smiled, and once again Vienna had made a fool of herself.

“We can check later. Is there more?” Justine asked.

“I want to go home.”

“I know you do, Vienna. Is there more German?”

Vienna grabbed the paper, slapping the table loud enough for more people to stare at them. In block letters: “
Wegen dieser Bedeutung, der einzigartigen Größe des Steines und seiner meisterhaften Formgebung wurde die Achatschale (zusammen mit dem ‘Ainkhürn,' dem Stoßzahn eines Narwales, welchen Kaiser Ferdinand I. von König Sigismund II. von Polen als Geschenk erhalten hatte) im Erbvertrag der Söhne Kaiser Ferdinands I. 1564 als unveräußerliches Erbstück des Hauses Habsburg bezeichnet.
”

“
Ainkhürn
is a unicorn horn, just like
einhorn,
” Vienna said. “And I don't know how I know that, so I must have heard it somewhere.” She was speaking too loudly, but she didn't care because it would embarrass Justine.

Emily spoke in her normal voice. “You did this from memory in a language you don't speak?”

Vienna felt heat in her face. There was no reason to be mean to Emily. “It might be wrong.”

“The spelling and grammar are flawless.” Emily shook her head. “Most of the tabloid biographies have you leaving Austria while still a child. How young were you?”

“Six.”

Emily was silent for a few seconds, distracted by some thought process Vienna couldn't follow. A slight narrowing of the eyes that doubtless conveyed paragraphs to Justine.

I hate this.

Emily turned her attention back to the writing. “It's about the bowl. I'm certain ‘
achat
'”—she pointed to the word—“is agate. So we have an agate bowl. A masterpiece and, as we already know, the largest one in the world. It says this bowl, along with the tusk of a narwhal—once thought to be the horn of a unicorn—are in possession of the Habsburgs. The horn was a gift of King Sigismund II of Poland. The bowl and the horn are considered inalienable heirlooms of the family and as such can never be sold. They're on display in a museum in Vienna.”

Vienna began to speak, but paused when she felt Justine's hand on her leg. Uncertain, she went on. “Those are the same words that—” Justine's hand closed tighter around her leg. “Ouch!”

Emily laughed. “Not exactly subtle.”

Justine sighed. “What do you know about narwhals?”

That hadn't been what Vienna was going to say.
Why did Justine change the topic?
She felt Justine's fingers move across her leg. Two distinct motions. A “T” shape. Was it some form of shorthand?

Emily shrugged. “Not much. A whale or dolphin with a horn.”

“What about you, Vienna? Did you have time to read anything about narwhals before mastering World War Two?”

Vienna printed the word.

“‘H' after the ‘W,'” Justine corrected.

It was different enough to follow. “There is an entry in the
Encyclopedia Britannica,
Eleventh Edition, 1911, Cambridge, England…” She stopped and put her head on the table; cradled in the crook of her right arm. “Bog off.” Her voice was muffled in her ears.

“Does the encyclopedia have anything of interest?” Justine asked, as if nothing were wrong.

Vienna looked it over in the darkness of her arm-tent, resisting the habitual urge to read aloud. She tried parsing the entry into partial sentences, adding only a few words. “The scientific name is
Monodon monoceros
.… They have a single horn, which is actually the left incisor.… They are arctic whales.… In medieval times, when the horns washed to shore after a narwhal died, they were thought to be the horns of unicorns.” She paused. Another squeeze on her leg. “And you can stop pinching my leg. I don't like it.” She went ahead with the article. “These often found their way into ‘cabinets of curiosities,' which were collections of artifacts outside contemporary scientific expertise.” Vienna read on, her lips moving silently, rejecting most of what was there. “The word ‘nar' comes from Old Norse, meaning corpse. It might refer to the creature's pallid skin, or to the fact that narwhals often swim upside down. That's all I know and I don't care what you think.”

“That's more than I knew,” Emily said.

Corpse.
Vienna sat up.

It wasn't a “T.” It was a boneyard cross. Sinoro had been killed—maybe because he knew something he shouldn't. If they told Emily, maybe she would know something she shouldn't. That was Justine's signal to change the subject. She had been trying to help.
And I acted like a spoiled baby.

Vienna didn't like that because it was true.
I'm tired of myself
. She didn't like that for the same reason. “Are you going to leave me again?” Because she was sure she would if their places were reversed, though maybe she shouldn't have asked while Emily was listening.

Justine leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “In a few days, when you feel better, I'm going to shove you into bed and bang you till you can't see straight.”

Vienna felt the color drain from her face. They were in a public place! And she was going to have her period. “…
according to the days of the separation for her infirmity shall she be unclean…”
And only creepy people spoke in that vulgar way to begin with.

Justine leaned back. Her out-loud voice hadn't changed. “So, we have a narwhal horn and an agate bowl. Does it mean anything to either of you?”

“No,” Emily answered.

She turned to Vienna. “Do you have anything more?”

Vienna tried to mimic Justine's calm. “It would be in German, and I wouldn't know what it meant.” And shoving someone into bed had to be rude, even for an American.

“Where does all this come from?” Emily asked.

“Something my ex-boyfriend said before he was killed.” Vienna wondered at how Justine managed to say something that sounded meaningful, yet contained no information at all.
How many times has she done that to me?
Vienna decided worrying about that was like worrying that the world was round.

Soup was delivered, and Vienna made a game of eating all of one kind of vegetable from the broth. Celery, then beans, then carrots … For once Justine let her be. Conversation drifted to other topics as a new set of plates appeared. The food was delicious, served without the layers of sauce and cream that Vienna assumed expensive cuisine had to have.

So maybe this was how it was supposed to be. She was in a beautiful place with beautiful people. But it still wasn't right. There had to be transformation; that was the most important part. She imagined herself conducting conversation, witty and bright. Crescendos of laughter at exactly the right moments.

Painful to see the truth. That it wasn't her. That it never would be.
I left no room in my dreams for myself.

But maybe it didn't matter anymore. She looked at Justine. Even now, when they couldn't be together, she had whispered a possible future. Pushing Vienna into bed. Clothes piled on the floor. That was real. It could happen without Vienna morphing into implausible perfection
. I could move with her again.
Tangled in the sheets.
I could be laughing.

And even that wasn't the important part, because Justine had said that other people in Holler would have made love to Vienna, too. Something more.
She was going home and she came back for me.

“Why didn't you go back to the United States?”

“The weather in Georgia is terrible this time of year.”

The air in Vienna's lungs turned to lead.

Justine's voice went soft. “Vienna, you're in London, not Georgia. I wanted to be with you.” Justine smiled. “Peach sorbet for dessert?” she asked. As if nothing had changed. As if the future was right there, tangled sheets and walking side-by-side on the Thames even if people were watching. Cool air and the lights so bright off the river.

“I would like that,” Vienna answered
. I would like that.

After the order was placed, Justine started talking about the statues again. “What do you know of Franklin Court?”

“Never heard of him.”

“The owner of the London manikin. From what James told me, Court is into Yoruba religion—precursor to voodoo.”

“That's more than I know. We never met.”

“How did you pick up the manikin?”

“Czasky's people handled it.”

“Is that usually the way things are done?”

“Depends.” For the first time, Vienna saw Emily hesitate. “The thing is, Justine, you and I live on the same planet but different worlds.”

“Meaning?”

“Damage to the manikin could reach seventy or eighty thousand dollars for a total loss. It wouldn't come close to breaking us, but it would affect future business. We aren't living on an elite model's income. We're happy to let Czasky take liability for as long as he's willing.”

“Makes sense.” Justine paused while the waiter served dessert. He winked at Vienna when only she could see. Why did he do that? Justine thanked him and turned to Emily. “I suppose all photographers handle it the same way?”

“I would assume so.” She leaned back in her chair. “You going to tell me what this is all about?”

“No.”

“I didn't think so. So I started looking into it myself.” Emily pointed at Justine with her dessert spoon. “In merry ol' England, if you go to the police, they assume you're trying to help. I suggested that I knew Sinoro and asked if there was any way I might be of assistance.”

“What did they tell you?” Vienna asked.

Emily smiled. “You must learn to hide interest in things your girlfriend wants hidden.”

“She's never happy with what I say anyway,” Vienna said.

Emily paused. “Perhaps what I have to offer is valuable. What do you have to trade for it?”

“Sinoro asked her the same thing.”

“And got himself dead for it,” Emily said.

“We don't know that,” Justine said.

“You suspect it,” Emily answered. “Which means you cut a deal. What did you offer?”

“Vienna promised a photo shoot.”

Emily looked at Vienna. “He would have had you bare ass to the sun.”

“I'm not pretty enough to be of interest that way.”

Emily looked at Justine. “Is she serious?”

“Apparently so.”

Emily turned back to Vienna, her voice low and harsh. “Sinoro would have asked you to pose nude. And when he was done, he would have expected to screw you. You're exactly his type.”

“Type?”

“Innocent as a wet kitten. It's a trick a lot of women try to pull, but the harder they try the less it works. You don't try, so you succeed brilliantly.”

Vienna felt the edge again, tottering over some new realization, something logic would tell her was true, but she couldn't make sense of inside. She looked at Justine. “I feel that way to you?”

“Our love life is a private matter.”

“It wasn't a private matter when you were talking to Lord Davy about rain.”

“The situation—” She stopped and took a breath. “It affects me differently.”

“I feel it,” Emily said. “Not enough to putt from the other side of the green, but I do.”

“Differently?”

Emily's hands took up part of her conversation, moving sharply with her words. “If men are aroused by the thought of taking innocence from a girl, women are often wired the other way. To protect. And protect can easily transform into possess.”

“I don't understand.”

Emily inhaled to speak but Justine cut her off. “Give it time.” She turned to Vienna. “And before you say anything, just know that you are doing better in my world than I am in yours. Sometimes I glimpse what you see and it scares me to death.”

“I don't believe you.” Vienna looked at Emily. “I would be a model, if I was like that.”

Emily patted the air with her hands. “Slow down, scout. You aren't a model because you would be dreadful.” She leaned forward. “Justine Am's looks are far above average, but what sets her apart is the ability to project the essence of female form. Not just tits and ass, but psyche as well. It's a profoundly strong archetype that provokes an equally strong reaction. Even if you were her twin, you lack her ability to step outside herself.” Emily scooped out a small crescent of sorbet. “A camera points our way and we take a self-conscious heartbeat to decide what image to present. That forever excludes us from the realm of Justine Am.”