Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) (11 page)

He smiled as he muttered a complaint about the rich.

***

When she returned to her seat, dressed in her chic and very sexy suit, she could read the approval in his eyes.

“Wow,” he said, then frowned. “You’re going to attract thousands of guys looking like that. Don’t be misled by their French accents. They’ll all be jerks. And carry condoms, because they won’t. And carry pepper spray in case they refuse to wear a condom. And don’t go to their place. Bring them to your house so Andrew can break them in two if they get rough or try to force you to do something you don’t want. And please don’t have oral sex with them!” He paused. “I have no right to ask that...”

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He responded, but he never took control of the kiss. When she ended it, his eyes sparkled with joy.

“If I hadn’t already been set against picking up strange Frenchmen, your lecture would certainly have ended all desire to do so. Jules asked me to abstain, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

While her admission diminished his happiness a bit, he didn’t argue. “Just don’t let your needs get out of control. If you need a helping hand, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

True to Mark’s prediction, there were several photographers waiting at the terminal, and he posed for shots before continuing to the music conservatory. When they arrived, they first went to the headmaster of the school to explain why they hadn’t arrived with the other students.

When Mark explained in fluent French that they had traveled by private jet, Monsieur Bastion appeared impressed. “Jules has outdone himself,” Bastion said. “I am satisfied. You may leave.”

Mark gave her a tour of the school with clues about how to keep from getting lost. “Don’t bother trying to learn all the passages at first. Just memorize the first-floor layout and always return to it to travel from one wing to another. While it seems inefficient, you’ll get some exercise and you won’t find yourself in a maze with no rescue. I don’t know anyone who can find their way across the fourth floor. The professors seem to know a way, but they keep it a secret.”

Amanda appreciated his effort to keep her safe. However, she was positive Adam could get her out of any maze this school had to offer.

Mark showed her the dining room. “The cooks hate Americans, so they always spit in our food. And don’t allow anyone to distract you from your plate, or you’ll discover it filled with salt or worse.”

“They sound like five-year-old children!”

“You’d be a lot safer if they were.” He bit his bottom lip. “Seriously, you’d be better off eating whatever Sondra cooks.”

He showed her the library and warned her what wasn’t written in French was either in German or Italian. “And be warned. None of the professors think ignorance of languages is a proper excuse for not referencing the books.”

“I’ll translate whatever you wish,” Adam assured her.

Finally, they arrived at the dorms. His body tensed at the sight of the American students. “Maybe you should hang back until I determine what’s up.” 

She ignored his advice and approached close enough to hear what they were saying but not close enough to be attacked. Evidently they didn’t recognize her in her new couture, because no venom was spat in her direction.

Instead they gathered around Mark. “Why did you miss the plane?”

“I overslept and flew with Amanda at four.”

“There wasn’t a flight at four,” Beth said.

“Amanda had a private jet. She was nice enough to offer me a ride. She saved my life, because I didn’t have the money to buy a ticket.”

Beth snorted. “I would have stayed home before I flew with her.”

“Well, I would walk on glass to come here. However, I was hardly tortured by flying triple first-class, dining on filet mignon, and enjoying pleasant company.”

“Was someone on the plane other than Amanda?” Amy asked.

“She’s really a nice person if you’ll give her a chance.”

“She’s a fucking freshman,” Joey grumbled.

“Who thinks she’s better than us,” Carol added.

“Well, I like her,” Mark said.

“You should rethink that because as long as you hang with her you aren’t with us,” Beth warned, and the others nodded in agreement.

Mark focused on Joey. “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Joey said as he scuffed his feet.

“I know why Beth hates her, but honestly, I don’t know what has the rest of you so upset that you’d dump me just because I like her.”

“You aren’t just fucking her, you’re helping her,” Amy said. “You let her sing during your encore!”

“...with a good mic,” Mike added.

“Except for Amy, none of you are even vocalists. What do you care if she sings well?”

“She’s a freshman,” Mike replied.

“These are stupid reasons,” Mark snapped. “And incredibly unprofessional. You know what? I’m glad you’ve decided you aren’t my friends, because it saves me the embarrassment of having assholes for friends.”

“You might want to see your room first,” Beth taunted.

Mark stormed past them and entered the door they indicated.

Amanda concluded whatever they had done must be bad, because the cretins scurried like cockroaches to their rooms and closed the doors. She walked down the hall and peeked into the quarters Mark had entered.

The space reeked of the rotted fish piled a foot high on both beds. The heater had been turned on and the windows closed so the fish would spoil faster.

Amanda was astounded, not just at the prank, but at the poor maintenance of the room in general. There was black-green mold growing in the corners of the room, which she suspected would be a thousand times harder to get rid of than the smell of fish.

She could tell Mark was furious by his clenched jaw, but when he turned and saw her, his face softened. “Good thing your clothes had better sense than to live here. Any chance I can sleep in your closet?”

She turned off the furnace and pulled him from the room. “We should tell Monsieur Bastion we’ll be residing across the street and let him know he has a possible health and fire hazard brewing.”

“I’m not sure he’ll care about either, but we need to let him know we didn’t do this.”

Monsieur Bastion was stunned both by the declaration that they would be moving across the street and additionally by the description of their quarters. He turned on his computer and ran his mouse about for several minutes, finally bursting into rapid French that Amanda couldn’t follow.

“He says he will send the monsters home,” Adam translated.

Amanda suspected he had said a bit more than that.

“Perhaps, sir, a better punishment would be to make them clean it up,” Mark suggested. “One of the students is Beth Hamilton. Her father’s company provides the funding for the grants. If you send her home, he’ll probably stop funding the grant in the future, which would be a great shame.”

That resulted in another rapid fire of what sounded like curses but ended with him looking at Amanda.

“He wants to know why you planned to live in the dorm if you have a room elsewhere.”

“I thought it would be better if I blended in, but now I’ve decided I’d rather just focus on my music and avoid the others as much as possible.”

“Normally we discourage students living off campus, due to the uncertainty of the buses and trains, but since you are within walking distance—where exactly are you staying?”

Adam told her the address, which she gave to Bastion.

“Impossible. That house is a private residence, not a boarding house. I will see if I can find you something close by.”

“You are correct the house is a private residence. My friend bought it and said I could use it while I’m here.”

“Then you would have been foolish to stay in the dorm. It is a very fine house.” His long face darkened into a frown. “I expect you to treat it respectfully.”

“I will,” she assured him.

“It belonged to a dear friend of his who recently died,” Adam explained.

“And do not allow any of the other students in there!”

“Only my roommate,” she promised. “And Martin Johnson.”

“Who?”

“He’s here on a separate scholarship. He’s a shy thirteen-year-old cello player.”

“Yes, what of him?”

“Well, he’s staying there as well, with his parents.”

“I see. Tell him to be careful. The place is full of priceless antiques.”

Evidently needing reassurance that the antiques remained unharmed, Monsieur Bastion escorted them to their new home. “Do you have a key?” he asked.

“I don’t. Hopefully Andrew is inside.”

Bastion pulled out a key and tried it. The key didn’t work. “They must have changed the lock,” he said with dismay just as the door opened.

“Come in!” Andrew cheerfully welcomed them.

Before she could introduce Bastion to her driver he headed to a room on the right.

“It’s the music library,” Adam explained. “He’s making sure no harm has been done to the piano or the sheet music.”

Satisfied, Amanda focused on her and Mark’s needs. “Did our clothes arrive?” she asked.

“Your clothes were unpacked and are now in your closet. I was not certain what you wish done with the gentleman’s items,” Andrew explained as he led them up to her room on the second floor.

Amanda gasped when she entered the master suite. The room was the full length of the house and the only reason why the bed stood out was because it was massive, stretching over twelve feet in length and width.

“How did they get a mattress to fit the bed?” she asked.

“Handmade—stuffed with the finest down,” Adam replied.

She climbed onto the velvet bedspread and sank into a cloud of feathers. She laughed and looked at Mark, who still appeared to be in shock.

“You were going to live in filth and squalor when you had this as an option?”

“I would have changed my mind the first time I came to visit my clothes.” She sat up and looked around. “Where are my clothes?” she asked Andrew.

Andrew opened two giant doors and presented a closet larger than the dorm room at the school. The amount of closet space made her quantity of clothes look quite modest.

Mark laughed. “You know...I actually could live with your clothes.”

“And leave me by myself in this giant room?”

Remembering they had a guest, she and Mark returned downstairs and discovered Bastion discussing music theory with Martin. Actually, Bastion was doing all the talking, so it wasn’t really a discussion, more of a lecture, but Martin was most attentive. In fact, he seemed to have lost his shyness until he looked up at Amanda. Then his awkwardness became all too obvious. Bastion frowned at the change in the boy, then noticed Amanda.

“Ah, the sight of a beautiful woman. It makes the blood stir and the brain go weak, no?”

He said this in French, but Adam translated to ensure she understood. She could tell Adam was immensely amused by the matter. Here she had been trying so hard to cure Martin of his shyness when all the while she was the cause.

“There is a very nice selection of wines in the cellar if you wish to ask Monsieur Bastion if he would join you in a toast to your lovely new home,” Adam suggested.

When she offered, Bastion’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “May I accompany you to the wine cellar to see what remains?

“Of course, but you will need to lead the way. I have no idea where it is,” Amanda admitted with a laugh. He held open a door at the back of the dining room. Circular wrought iron stairs led to the basement where they met a glass wall. Upon tapping a code into a box, the glass sliding doors opened and they entered the fanciest basement she’d ever seen.

“It’s rather chilly in here.”

“Exactly thirteen degrees Celsius.”

Adam quickly translated the temp as fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

“The room is climate controlled for optimal preservation of aging wines,” Bastion explained as he walked about gently caressing the bottles.

“Why are some bottles displayed differently than others?” She pointed to the wooden crates stored in deep shelves on the lower section.

“Those require further aging,” Bastion replied. “The ones eye level and above are suitable for drinking now.” After reuniting with a great deal of bottles, he selected one. “This will be perfect for the occasion.”

He led her from the climate controlled room and reinstated the security code to lock it. He opened a small dumbwaiter built into the hallway. Foam at the bottom of the container was indented to carry up to three bottles. “Never risk a bottle or your life on those stairs. Always use the monte-plats.”

As they climbed the stairs, she agreed carrying a bottle could be lethal. While one side of the steps was a safe ten-inches-wide, the other side was a not so safe two-inches-wide. If she were focused on keeping the bottle out of harm’s way instead of watching her feet, she would surely kill herself and the bottle of wine. She was about to suggest normal stairs would be safer, but the wine room took up all the room. It was circular steps or an elevator.

“Did your friend consider putting in an elevator?” she asked.

Bastion chuckled. “When you possess something of great value, it is best to ensure it cannot be taken with ease. I guarantee you the only reason this cellar was not stripped bare was due to the difficulty in retrieving the bottles. I imagine your friend paid a pretty penny to purchase this house intact.”

Adam chuckled as he spoke in her hear. “I did indeed, but well worth the money.”

When they returned to the first floor, Mark had already retrieved the bottle from the dumbwaiter. “This is a very fine wine. There’s only five bottles of this vintage known to still exist. How much is this worth?”

Bastion’s brow furrowed. “I selected it for its taste, not its monetary value.” He focused on Amanda. “If you wish, I can choose something else.”

Amanda grinned and hugged Bastion’s arm. “Not at all. Thank you for selecting the perfect wine to celebrate our beautiful home and arrival at your most distinguished school.”

***

Monsieur Bastion drank wine and told stories for hours, and with Adam’s help translating, Amanda enjoyed herself immensely, although by the time Sondra announced dinner she was a bit “loose in the gills”, as her father would say.