A Borrowed Life (Carly and Liam #1) (4 page)

“And it’s what I'll do all evening. Oh, and Liv?”

“Yes?”

“If you throw another ice cube at me, you can be sure I’ll throw you into the pool.”

She laughs and rises, and I sit up and frown. She's already going? What time is it? I look at my cell to find it's already 5:30 p.m. I should go back to my room and get ready for dinner. They have a policy that everyone must be well-dressed, otherwise they won’t be allowed into the restaurant. What if I ate in my room? I stretch before getting up to return to my room. I'm getting used to this lifestyle: no cleaning, no meals to prepare, no customers to serve… The more days that pass, the more I fear the painful return to reality.

I push the door and feel the breeze of the air conditioning blowing on my skin. The scent of fresh roses invades my nostrils and I greedily inhale it. It's not artificial, and definitely not the smell of roses grown in greenhouses. No, these are real, wild roses, and probably much more expensive than the simple flowers that we ordinary people buy from time to time.

I realize that it's not the bouquet of roses in the bathroom that radiates this pleasant scent. A wonderful assortment of red roses is placed on my night table, and right next to it is a rectangular package laying on my bed.

I approach it, a million of different scenarios running through my head. I open the box and finger through the wrapping to reveal a soft and smooth, champagne colored dress. It's sublime! I find a small card at the bottom of the package:

Stardust 19:30. Would you join me
?

I put the garment on the bedspread to observe it. It has a long, fitted skirt and neckline that reveals nothing inappropriate, but is still sexy enough to emphasize all of my assets. A line of gems accentuates the waist and gracefully skirts the breast, forming the single shoulder sleeve. I pull myself together quickly. Undoubtedly this is for Liv, and it must have been put on my bed by mistake. Her new boyfriend probably had the package delivered to impress her.

I put it back into the box and place it on Liv's bed before jumping in the shower and putting on a robe. They're so comfortable! I pick up the menu in the drawer and lay on my bed to look through it. I don't know if I want fish or pasta, both sound great. Moments later, Liv walks in the door.

“Hey!”

“Hey! Tell me you're not going to spend the evening in here because of me?”

“You have a package,” I tell her, pointing to the box and trying to avoid the debate.

“Really!” She giggles, approaching her bed.

“Oh no,” she retorts. “This is for you, not for me.”

“What?”

I sit up and she shows me the other side of the small card, revealing my full name, Carly Bray Scott

I didn’t see it earlier.

“You have a date!” she exults.

“What? No! I don't have the slightest idea who could have sent it.”

“He knows your name, it's definitely a guy you talked to?”

“I haven’t talked to any guys.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“Oh, then it sounds fishy.”

Okay, well, there is one man I talked to, but it was so brief… No… I didn't say a word to him… And how would he know my name, or my room number, or my size? Damn, the dress is the right size!

“A secret admirer?” giggles my friend.

“Or a freak.”

“You have to go!”

“No way!”

“Of course! Take a risk for once in your life. There is nothing that can happen to you here. You may not have noticed them because they're discreet, but there is security everywhere.”

“You think? Where will you be?”

“The Grill. Will you give me all the details?”

She hands me the box and I hesitate a few seconds before giving in. I go to the bathroom to put it on.

“It's Calvin Klein!” Liv exclaims when I come out. “Damn, you look beautiful! Wait!”

She walks to her cosmetic kit and comes back to do my makeup.

“Liv, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Don't worry, I'll keep it as natural as possible.”

“I'm not going, I was just trying it on.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I roll my eyes. Well, okay. I know curiosity will prevail and that I'll end up going. Liv runs her hands through my hair.

“We must do something about this.”

“You don't have time, you have a date, too!”

“He can wait. Come on!”

We go back to the bathroom and I sit on the retractable bench in front of the mirror. Liv stands behind me to dry my hair, and then rolls the flat iron around my locks to sculpt the magnificent loops of my perm. She adds a few products I was unaware existed and I'm ready.

I take the black shoes my brother convinced me to buy out of my closet.

“Not for this dress,” Liv stops me.

She takes out a pair of beige colored, open-toed stilettos.

“These will be better!”

“Are you serious? Thank you!”

I jump with joy and put them on. My hair and makeup is finished, and the dress and shoes fit perfectly. I hope this is all worth it. I don't even have a slightest idea of who this guy might be. If it is a guy… What if he's three times my age? Oh, I grimace at the thought that he could be a dirty old man with gray hair who thinks he can buy a woman too young for him.

“You don't think it's a little strange, the way he invited me?”

“How is it strange?”

“He hasn’t revealed himself and he hasn’t talked to me in person. He had someone deliver a box on my bed with flowers and practically demands me to be in a place at a specific time.”

“So? He's trying to be original and romantic, at least give him that.”

“Or maybe he’s a coward, or lazy, or too proud to handle a possible rejection. Also, he insists on telling me how to dress!”

“Oh stop it! You're looking for excuses and you have none. You'll go to that date and you'll have fun. Remember, what happens on this cruise, stays on this cruise. So enjoy! It wouldn't be a dream vacation if we didn’t have some fun with strangers we'll never see again, right?”

I can't hold back the smile that emerges on my face.

“True. So… I think I need advice.”

“What? No, why do you say that?”

“I don't know what to do.”

“Come on, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“No. But, yes.”

“What?”

“Well, no, this is technically not the first time. There was Joey and Donnie, and then John. But, you know what I mean…”

“Yeah, nothing really serious,” she agrees.

“I wasn’t on the same level as those guys. I mean, the women on this cruise are all masters at seducing men. Like you.”

“Okay, so it's quite simple. I believe that the most important thing you need to remember is stay true to yourself. Don't try to be someone else, it's you he invited, it's you he's interested in. Don't belittle yourself. Also, you have to compliment him, too.”

“I don't think I can do that. I'm too shy, you know me.”

“It's important!”

“Are you sure? I thought I had to come off as independent?”

“Not during the date. Otherwise, he'll get the impression you’re wasting his time and he'll go. Don't talk about your ex or past experiences whatsoever.”

“What if he asks me?”

“He won't.”

“They all ask.”

“Not those who know the game,” she insists with a smile. “If he's a gentleman, he won't ask questions on topics that should be avoided during the first date. And if he does, you simply explain that you'd rather not talk about that right now. You say something like, you know what, I'm having a really good time and I want to devote myself only to you.”

Wow, I have to take notes! She is very talented and experienced. She’s able to slip a compliment while dodging a delicate question.

“Besides exes, what other subjects should I avoid?”

“Anything that can be subject to debate: politics, religion, stuff like that. Also, depressing subjects. This means do not talk too much about your past. You don't want him to take pity on you.”

“Okay.”

I listen carefully to Liv's advice when I realize it's 7:15 p.m. Liv is almost done getting ready and her date knocks on the door. I greet the man with blond hair, blue eyes and an imposing stature who shows up in a tuxedo. In the end, this requirement for formal attire at dinner is not so silly. At least as far he's concerned, he looks great.

I'm heading to the Stardust restaurant and my heart is pounding, not knowing what awaits me there. I feel small as I walk through the huge glass doors, and find myself in a room ready for dinner. All the tables are covered with red tablecloths, porcelain plates, crystal cups and silverware. Cloth napkins, with the company’s initials embroidered in black, form swans before each cushioned chair. In the middle of the tables, there are bowls of water with fully bloomed rose heads gently floating on the surface, and floating carved candles burn between the flowers, adding a soft and warm romance to the atmosphere. Several guests are already eating, while others, like me, arrive just in time for tonight's show.

“Follow me, miss,” politely requests a man in black suit.

“Sorry?”

“Your table is ready.”

“No, I… I think I'm meeting someone.”

“Yes, Mr. Walker is expecting you,” he explains nicely.

Mr. Walker? This name doesn't reveal anything, but for some reason it gives me the impression it’s a rather old man. I think it's the way the host spoke of him that leaves me to assume that. He seems to be someone influential, or at least well-known, which reinforces my idea that he's an old pervert. He may be looking for a naive, young heiress to proudly wear on his arm like a trophy. What has gotten into me to accept this date?

I probably thought that it would possibly be the man that I have been running into. Yes, the same one that is always surrounded by models and rich, extravagant women. The one I clumsily bumped in at the coffee bar the other morning. I only had him on my mind during the cruise while he undoubtedly had many interests. I follow the hostess, observing all the men that are sitting alone, wondering if any of them are him. My heart races in my chest.

I look up at the table in front of me, where a man in a grey suit wait for me. He rises to his feet when he sees me and smiles. I smile in return, happy to see him. He greets me by gently taking my hand.

“Miss Scott.”

“Mr. Walker,” I answer.

I can finally put a name on his face, and a face to the mysterious invitation I received. He lays his palm in the small of my back and guides me to sit down.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.

“Thank you.” I respond. “This is a beautiful dress.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He's such a gentlemen and it's difficult for me not to feel special in his eyes. I was convinced this kind of romance was dead. He pushes my chair under the table before sitting in his chair next to mine. We face the stage in the front of the room.

“What do you think of Hamlet?”

I turn to the man and see the card on our table indicating that tonight's play is Hamlet. They re-enact Shakespeare on board? I think back to when I was a teenager, when I had to walk to the library in the town over to read Shakespeare because it was so rare to find. If my friends would have caught me, it would have cost me my whole reputation. I assume he probably has the originals in his library at home.

“I think it will depend on the adaptation,” I answer. “You're well-versed in literature?” I ask.

“Indeed,” he replies with a discreet smirk. “You?”

“Shakespeare's work has always fascinated me. Romeo and Juliet, in particular.”

“Oh,” he says shaking his head, as if it was a predictable answer. “And what do you like about that play?”

“Apart from the fact that it's one of the most romantic love stories to ever exist?”

“They had only one night together, and died before reaching the age of eighteen. You find that romantic?”

“It’s a story of eternal love which goes beyond death, a story that transcends time and remains through the ages. It’s a tale of two people whose sacrifice was the only thing that could reunite their two families. It's tragic, but it’s a love that goes beyond all that we know.”

“You think so?”

“Don't you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's about love at first sight, and neither really
know
each other. They never had time to live together, and therefore never had the time to argue or go through any difficulties in their relationship. In reality, no one knows whether they would have lasted even a year once the passion from the beginning faded. They were only two inexperienced teenagers who knew nothing of life, or love.”

I’m speechless at his assertions. While I can't deny that he's right, I’m not sure I appreciate his arguments. I like to think that the love they felt for each other was eternal, and that this was the great love we all wanted, not just a teenage love affair. But clearly, Mr. Walker is not a romantic.

“I take it you don't believe in love at first sight?”

He purses his lips, not daring to answer the question. No doubt he understands that his answer will disappoint me.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I should have started by introducing myself properly. Liam Walker.”

He deftly changes the subject. I remember one of the rules Liv told me; don’t debate during a first date. Now I see why.

“Carly Bray Scott, but you already knew that.”

He chuckles. “The staff on board can be very cooperative when you know what to say.”

“I see.”

I remember him snapping at a poor waiter who simply offered him snacks. I swallow a sip of white wine, visibly troubled. I'm not sure I appreciate a man who only has to wave a card to buy whatever he wants. Does he think he can get the same thing out of me? He’ll soon realize money doesn't impress me. It’s true I’m having an absolutely wonderful week, living an unexpected dream, but I could never live like this every day; life would become too boring. I would miss the simplicity of my daily routine. I still feel like an impostor, and I can't see myself being part of their high-class world consisting of diamonds and designer brands.

“Are you having a nice trip, Carly?”

“It’s been exceptional. And you?”

“Likewise.”

The curtain opens and the director introduces the play. I’m impressed with the synchronization among the servers as they put the first course on the tables. I can't ignore them as easily as the other guests of the restaurant. I know what they are thinking, and I know what their work is like. I know that behind closed doors it's chaotic, and each time they walk through the doors, they stop and take a deep breath to calm down and show nothing to the guests. Each of their steps are calculated and their paths are already outlined in their mind. I almost feel guilty sitting here and not helping them.

I start eating, realizing I should perhaps ask Liam a question since the conversation is not very fluid between us. What were the topics to avoid?

“So, do you live in the New York area?” he then asks.

“Minutes away.”

I prefer not to tell him where I live. It would be useless since I won't see him again after this cruise, and I would rather he didn't know that I live on a budget.

“And you?”

He turns to me, studying me with a look both of confusion and surprise. Is there something I should know?

“Sometimes.”

I just smile at his response. So, he has several residences. I wonder what he does for a living, but I remember Liv suggested I avoid the subject, and I definitely don't want him to return the question. I always hated lying. I'm curious to know how old he is, but it’s not really a question I can ask. What the hell is there to talk about during a first date? All these rules are annoying!

“And what are you interested in, Miss Scott?”

“A bit of everything. Movies, the outdoors…”

“The outdoors? Really?” he asks in a puzzled tone.

“Yes, my friends and I often go camping. We have a lot of fun.”

He stares at me suspiciously, as if he doesn’t believe me. I look around and realize why. These women have probably never camped in their life. Not my kind of camping, anyway.

“And your friends are with you on this cruise?”

“Just Liv. She…” I stop when I'm about to reply that she works with me. “She's my best friend.”

I realize now it might be harder than I thought to keep my real life secret. I feel somewhat guilty for lying to him… No, I'm not lying to him, I’m remaining mysterious, that's all. It's simply that there are some parts of my life that I'm not revealing to him, but everything I’m saying is true.

“What about you? Are you here with friends? Family?”

“Friends. They thought I needed a vacation, so they forced me.”

I smile. “Everyone is entitled to a vacation every once in a while.”

The smile he returns is full of surprise and uncertainty. His eyes try to see through me and uncover my secrets, so I change the subject.

“And you, Mr. Walker…”

“You can call me Liam.”

I smile.

“What are your hobbies?”

“I don't really have time for hobbies.”

“But you must have some passion, a dream, or even a cause you care about?”

He brings his forefinger to his chin, thinking for a moment.

“Well, I've always had a fascination for architecture and in that sense, I think my dream has come true.”

So, he works in architecture… at least I think. Should I ask him? As I'm debating this, he lets out a laugh.

“Do you know anything about architecture?”

I shyly shake my head. “No, absolutely nothing.”

“There are companies that invest in buildings they need developed, entrepreneurs who build their own buildings and then sell them to companies, and then there are companies like mine that are self-sufficient. We create and build, and we're financially independent, so we fund our own projects and we depend on no one.”

“So you draw houses?”

He chuckles again. Was my question funny?

“There aren't many people who can afford our services. We specialize in hotel complexes, ultramodern office towers, etc. Recently, we’ve started a luxury condominium brand. Sometimes we stray from our specialty for a good cause, but rarely.”

I listen to him talk about his business and I can see he loves what he does. He has a spark of passion in his eyes, and I almost envy him loving his job like this.

“But I don't think we're supposed to talk about business tonight,” he suddenly pulls himself together.

I smile, looking down. “It's bad luck, it seems.”

He laughs. “So I've been told.”

Now it's me who laughs.

I still picture Liv warning me against conversation subjects to avoid as if the mere fact of mentioning them would invoke some kind of curse. Anyway, I find the atmosphere has lightened and his smile is so warm! He almost makes me forget how rude he was to the server the other day at the pool.

The play continues and we whisper between scenes. I suspect he’s deliberately talking with a low voice so that I have lean closer to hear him, and his breath gently touching my cheek makes me shiver every time. We talk and we laugh. He's very cultured and chivalrous. I didn’t follow half of Liv's rules for this date, and the times I felt the best are when I didn't.

The play ends and Liam gets up to pull my chair and extend his hand to help me up.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Can I walk you to your room?”

It’s late and Liv is probably already back. I wouldn't want her to begin a thorough investigation on him. She would ask questions that would make him uncomfortable and would try to see through him. So no, I'd rather him not, actually.

“I'm fine, thank you.”

“Okay.”

He looks down, seeming a little disappointed. I stand there, waiting for him to lean in and kiss me, but he doesn't.

“Good night,” he finally says after a moment of awkward silence.

“Good night.”

We go our separate ways. I slowly push the door of my room to find my best friend sitting on the bed, eating a chocolate and watching TV.

“Is everything okay?” I worry.

Mouth full, she just nods. She swallows her bite before explaining that the chocolates are a gift from her date, Ian.

“Ah! So all went well with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing more?”

“He's just like all the others, but more arrogant.”

“I see. So you aren’t going to see him again.”

“We'll see,” she says with a shrug.

She hands me the box of chocolates, offering some to me while I sit beside her and watch a broadcast show in Spanish.

“Are you understanding this?” I ask.

“He's a dance teacher and she's a rich client, married to a very powerful businessman. A real bastard.”

“Since when do you speak Spanish?”

“No need to speak the language to understand what's happening, it's rather obvious.”

I watch the soap opera and realize she's right. The tone of their voices, the way they speak, and the expressions on their faces convey their emotions better than anything else. The scenes speak for themselves.