Champagne Deception (3 page)

“Yup, you’ve finally lost it.  What’s that crazy story you told me
once about that sculptor and his lover?  The woman who ended up in an asylum?  I think that’s where you’re headed, Coretta.”

“Why don’t you
read a book once in a while, Jonathan?  Then you would know the whole story of Pierre Auguste Rodin and Camille Claudel, and I wouldn’t have to teach it to you like you’re a foolish little school boy!” Coretta shouted, completely outraged.  “I don’t know if I’m angrier with you right now, or angrier with myself for staying with you this long!  All you do is bring me down!  You think you did such an amazing thing by bringing me a bag of bagels this morning?  Give me a break!  I need support from you, and I’m not talking about financial support!  I’m talking about
emotional
support.”

Jonathan scowled childishly at the word “emotional.”  Looking at her through eyes that spewed furious blue fire, he yelled, “And I’m sick of being with a woman who lives in a fairy land!  Get in touch with reality, Coretta.  Put down the paintbrush and get into the real world.  Your paintings are as ridiculous as you are.”

Coretta stepped back, stunned.  He had been needling her on a daily basis for as long as she could remember, but he had never been so blunt in his put-downs as he had been just now.  Or had she just finally reached her limit and taken notice now?  She wasn’t sure but, as she opened the door and gestured for him to leave, it felt like an out of body experience.

“Please go,” she
instructed in an unwavering voice that sounded foreign to her own ears.  “You’ve made it abundantly clear how little you think of me.  I can’t stay in this relationship anymore.  We should have said goodbye years ago, and we both know it.  The only thing holding us together is the history we share and the fact that we’re just used to each other.  But those aren’t good reasons to stay together.”

Jonathan gaped at her in disbelief.  She had rarely spoken up for herself during the long course of their relationship, and she had never broken up with him before.  “What the hell was in that sushi last night?  You’re not acting like yourself!”

“No, and that’s a good thing,” she replied quietly.

“You really want to end this?  And to think, I was getting ready to propose to you…”
He trailed off suggestively.

“Oh, don’t do that!” She shouted indignantly.  “I’m not a dog, so don’t try to throw me a bone!  You know that you had no intention of proposing.  You’re just saying that to make me doubt myself.  I’ve had it with you, Jonathan.  Get out!  I have a trip to plan.”

Angrily, Jonathan fumbled for the doorknob, spearing her with a glare as he stormed out of her apartment.  Numbly, Coretta listened to the familiar footsteps that had walked through her life for a full decade.  The heavy footsteps were rapidly fading, leaving her in a curiously peaceful solitude.  No tears stung her sparkling brown eyes.  She had already wasted far too much time crying during their relationship.  The well spring of emotion had dried up, and she felt strangely invigorated as she gazed out from the tenth floor window.  Jonathan’s chubby body blended with the throngs of people surrounding him on the Manhattan sidewalk until he was a meaningless silhouette on the concrete.

Leaving the window and returning to her now cool mug of cider, Coretta composed an email to Lorenzo, telling him that she would be flying into Milan on Saturday.  Today was Thursday, which gave her scantly 48 hours to gather her belongings and prepare for the first
overseas trip she had taken since that long ago semester abroad.

*****

Hours later, Coretta was wrapping and sealing two dozen of her paintings to be shipped ahead to a storage center in Milan where she had already rented a compartment.  The bitter memory of Jonathan’s exit from her apartment---and her life---was far from her thoughts as she stuffed a suitcase full of spring attire. 
Italy was warm and sunny in April.  She wouldn’t need the scarves and jackets that New York still required in early spring.

Taking a break from her packing, she checked her email, unreasonably excited to see that Lorenzo had sent a brief but welcoming reply. 
Perfetto! Send me your flight itinerary, and I’ll pick you up at the airport.  I’m looking forward to catching up and talking about opportunities for our art.  See you Saturday!

After sending him the
flight information, she switched off her computer, feeling as jittery as though she were about to take a rocket flight to the moon.  She couldn’t afford this trip, as Jonathan would have smugly reminded her if he were there.  She had impetuously charged the plane ticket between two credit cards when she was already deeply in debt.  And she had absolutely no back-up plan.  If a working arrangement with Lorenzo did not come to fruition, she would return to New York as a failure.  Covering her ears with her hands to drown out the self-defeating voices within, Coretta returned to her packing.  As risky an enterprise as going to Italy on the spur of the moment was, it would be even riskier to stay in New York.  Indeed, she could afford to lose her money, but she could never afford to lose her spirit.

*****

“Have you come to your senses yet?” Jonathan’s obnoxious voice inquired.

Popping a stick of gum into her mouth and wheeling her suitcase over to a newsstand, Coretta replied distractedly, “What are you talking about, Jonathan?”

“You know what I’m talking about.  Us. I haven’t heard from you in two days, so I thought I would be the bigger person and get in touch.”

Coretta rolled her eyes, grateful for the reaffirmation that leaving Jonathan had been a wise decision.  “Well, thank you for calling,” she said diplomatically, “but I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about regarding us.”

“Are you kidding me?  You’re ready to just throw away the past ten years?” He spat out furiously as a jetliner swooped in for landing on a nearby runway.  “What the hell is all that noise?  Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Airport?!” He boomed.  “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to Italy!  You’re even dumber than I thought!”

Coretta bit her lip to keep from issuing a nasty retort that would haunt her later
on.  Instead, she spoke levelly. “I have a plane to catch.  I can’t stay on the phone anymore.”

“You’ve finally lost your damn mind.  I knew it would happen sooner or later.  The
only difference between you and the other crazy artists is that their work is actually worth something! Your work isn’t worth a penny in the unicorn universe you inhabit!  You are really unbelievable.  Go, try to make something of yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you---“

Coretta pressed “end” on her cell phone and disconnected Jonathan before he could escalate his verbal assault.  As she approached a bookshelf stacked with fiction paperbacks, she switched off her phone and stuffed it in the bottom of her purse.
  Snatching up a few magazines and a candy bar, Coretta shuffled over to the cash register as the sound system conveyed a final boarding call for her flight.  She threw a few bills down on the counter and ran out of the store, furious with herself for letting Jonathan’s ill-timed phone call distract her.  There was no way she could miss this flight and stay behind in New York.  Not boarding this plane to Milan would be as dire as not inhaling oxygen.

Arriving at the boarding gate with seconds to spare, Coretta whipped out her ticket and handed it to the flight attendant.  “Enjoy you
r flight to Milan,” the young man offered amiably.

“I think I will, thank you,” she replied o
n a breathless note.

Stuffed inside her small seat in Coach
Class, Coretta didn’t feel the least bit confined.  When the plane took off a few minutes later, she gripped her seat with exhilaration, watching as the imposing New York skyline became cartoonishly small and no longer looked real.

Throughout the flight, Coretta tried to c
ontain her excitement but was unable to focus on any of the magazines she had bought or on the movie streaming on the tiny screen in front of her.  All she could think of was Lorenzo Fiatti and how they would both react when they saw each other for the first time in ten years.  They had been 22 year old kids when they last laid eyes on one another, or at least Lorenzo had been.  Coretta had already gotten a bird’s eye view of how handsome and enticing Lorenzo had become in his thirties.  But he hadn’t seen her photo.  How would he react to the six inches she had cut off her hair since college?  Her hair had once cascaded to her waist in Rapunzel-esque waves, but now it tumbled to her shoulders in fringed layers.  And how about the new curves she had acquired?  Ten years ago had also been ten pounds ago, and her once trim hips were now decidedly round.

Interrupting her self-critical thoughts, the pilot announced
jovially in Italian that the plane would be landing momentarily.  Coretta glanced up in shock, hardly able to believe that the seven hour flight was already over.  She wanted to freshen up, but the line to the restroom was already trailing down an entire aisle.  Digging into her purse, she grabbed a tube of rosy lip gloss and applied it liberally to a pretty, Kewpie doll mouth.  Sweeping some blush on her cheeks to make her complexion glow, she smiled into the compact mirror, rehearsing her facial expression for the moment she saw Lorenzo.  Impulsively, she spritzed her neck and décolletage with a whiff of coconut body spray as the passenger next to her choked and shook his head angrily.

“I’m sorry!” She muttered sheepishly, hoping that Lorenzo wouldn’t have a similar reaction to the bold scent.

Struggling to catch her breath as she clamored off the plane, Coretta chided herself for being so nervous.  Silently reminding herself of her
professional
reasons for coming to Milan, she pushed aside all ridiculous notions of a romance with Lorenzo.  Their emails over the past few days, much like their college friendship, had been strictly platonic, and Coretta still had no idea whether he was married or involved with someone.  And he had no idea that she had been fantasizing about his gorgeous smile and rigid muscles during the entire flight…

Sailing through Customs and hustling over to the Baggage Claim area where the
y had agreed to meet, Coretta gulped down swelling nervousness and licked her lips.  Fluffing up her dark hair with one hand, she painted a smile on her face in an effort to appear halfway normal rather than like the bumbling idiot she felt like inside.  As she walked down the stairs to the whirling luggage machines, Coretta spotted Lorenzo immediately.  From across the airport, their eyes locked magnetically. To her enormous horror, she felt her knees wobble and give way until she was on the verge of collapsing right there on the cold linoleum floor.

Chapter Three

Refusing to fall and make a fool of herself, Coretta mastered her nerves and sweetened her smile as Lorenzo walked over to her.  Wearing a motorcycle helmet and carrying another one in his hand, he looked dangerous yet inviting.  He was even taller than she remembered, and his green eyes shone like gems from across the room.  Decorated in that dazzling white smile with dimples to boot, Lorenzo could not have looked more charming had he
been dressed in a tuxedo and clasping a rose between his teeth.

“
Buon giorno, Coretta!  Benvenuto a Milano
!” He welcomed her warmly in Italian, encasing her in a quick but tight hug as she lost her breath again.

“
Grazie
,” she managed, gazing up into his luminous eyes.

He took a step back to look at her and clearly was pleased with what he saw.  “Look at you, Coretta. You are beautiful! And you still look 22!” He winked at her playfully as she favored him with a bashful smile.

“You look great too,” she mumbled as her eyes settled uncomfortably on the motorcycle helmet.

Following her gaze, he said, “Ah, yes, did I tell you I don’t have a car?  Getting around Milan on a
motor scooter is much easier.”

He hadn’t mentioned his lack of a car, but she shouldn’t be too surprised.  Many people in Italy commuted on
motor scooters, and he had been proudly standing beside a candy apple red Vespa in the picture she had found of him online.

“I’ve never ridden one before,” she admitted nervously.

“Don’t worry.  You will be safe with me.  Just put on this helmet.” He handed her the clumsy headgear as she reluctantly accepted it from him.

“Okay, if you say so,” Coretta said hesitantly.

“Come, let’s go.  I’ll take you to breakfast before we check out the studio.” Lorenzo led her to the parking garage as she slid the helmet over her head and followed him.

The Vespa was
shiny and didn’t look as imposing as she had expected.
It’s just a motor scooter
, she told herself as she hopped on. 
Just a harmless little motor scooter, not a daredevil Harley Davidson chopper
.  Lorenzo gripped the handlebars as Coretta pressed up against him.

“Wrap your arms around my waist. And hold on tight!” He instructed, tossing her a vivid smile before revving up the bike and cruising out of the garage.

Coretta blinked in the morning sunlight.  It had been raining buckets when she flew out of New York, and she felt like a vampire seeing the light of day for the first time.