Draw Me In (20 page)

I
didn
’
t
think Leo was drunk at all, but he appeared to be having a great time with this
and I could even see the collection of tears developing at the corner of his
eyes as his body shook with laughter. Oh my word, I was literally making him
weep with joy! That was so special.

He
cleared his throat, saying,
“
To
life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!
”

“
Hey there,
Italian
,
”
I demanded as I crashed my glass to the counter, thankful for the durable
plastic this time.
“
You
can
’
t
steal that from us. Get your own Declaration of Independence, foreigner.
”

“
Oooh, someone
’
s getting feisty!
”
Ian shouted, draining his glass with
a swift flick of his head angled skyward. He shook off the burn like he
’
d just downed a shot of bitter tequila.
“
Here
’
s to the Italians and their fantastic
forms of alcohol!
”

Oh
yes. That was a good one. I nodded with vigor, and said,
“
Here
’
s to toasting!
”
My eyes nearly popped from my head
when I realized how I could get even more creative with this.
“
And to actual
toast
!
”

“
The French kind slathered with maple
syrup,
”
Ian tacked on, licking his lips in appreciation. We didn
’
t even bother setting down our
glasses and my arm was actually starting to ache a little from keeping it held
in the air for such a long duration of time.

“
To all things French!
”
This was getting good. I was pretty
much on a roll right now and couldn
’
t
be stopped even if I tried.
“
Especially
kissing!
”

I
’
m sure I wasn
’
t the only one who felt it, but I
think Leo slammed his glass even harder into mine in agreement with that one,
much more than all of the previous toasts combined.

Ian
’
s spine straightened to full length
as he poured another glass into his own cup and drained the remaining portion
into Leo
’
s
as well. He lifted it back up and continued,
“
Here
’
s to being single, seeing double, and
sleeping triple.
”

“
Umm...
”
I shook my head at him and it took a
second for my eyes to catch up. They
’
d
grown incredibly sluggish, as did my speech. Did I always have a lisp?
“
Correction. Here
’
s to
not
being single.
”

“
Fine,
”
Ian shrugged, surrendering to that
truth.
“
Then
here
’
s
to my favorite toast of all. Since we
’
ve
covered the Italians and French, let
’
s
move on to the Americans. Or maybe this isn
’
t an American saying, but whatever.
It
’
s
universally a good one.
”
Thrusting his cup into the air with so much force the contents sloshed up and
over the sides, trickling down his arm in a red rivulet of liquid, Ian crooned,
“
To the roses and the lilies in bloom,
you in my arms and I in your room. A door that is locked, a key that is lost. A
bird, and a bottle, and a bed badly tossed. And a night that is fifty years
long.
”

Leo
raised his arm up higher, his eyes locked with mine. With the hand that didn
’
t hold his glass, his reached into
the space between us, his fingers grazing my cheek, curling around my ear and
tucking a lock of fallen hair back into place. He didn
’
t pull his hand back, but kept it
right there against my jaw and his index finger slowly dragged down the slope
of it. And with a connected gaze burrowing deep into me, he repeated in a
whispered voice that almost had the quality of a song,
“
To a night that is fifty years long.
”

I
stared directly at him, searching out the meaning and intent behind his words.
But my heart and brain filled with more emotion than I would even be able to
handle had I been sober. The fuzz of alcohol just smeared all of that together,
my thoughts and feelings blurring into this watercolor where everything in me
bled into everything else. I was mush.

Leo
had admitted so much with his disguised declaration, and I didn
’
t know what to do other than lift my
glass as high as it could go.

Because
whatever it was he was trying to tell me, it was something I could
whole-heartedly drink to.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Well,
after all of that toasting, I was definitely toasted. Which, one would think,
might actually help with the whole jet lag issue because I should feel that
drowsiness which typically accompanied being drunk. Just the opposite.

I
was buzzed. Like everything from my brain to my heart to my fingertips twitched
with energy pumping through me. In fact, I was pretty sure I could conduct my
own electricity right now based on that charged sensation alone.

Back
in my room, I decided to test out that drunken theory, so I scraped my socks
along the dense reeds of carpet, shuffling toward Renaldo just to see if he and
I had that same literal spark I shared with his grandson. Stretching out a
crooked E.T.-like finger, I was just about make contact with the statue
’
s carved shoulder when my last little
static shuffle ended in me completely bailing and slamming my cheek into the
side of his solid, cold face.

Though
Renaldo was securely fastened to a three-foot marble column, the impact was
enough that even the base wobbled from the force. I was desperate not to break
the Carducci family heirloom to smithereens, so I wrapped my arms tightly
around the column, hugging the statue to my chest, our cheeks still squished
together.

That
was a close one. And now that we were actually this close, I realized that
Renaldo was not creepy at all. In fact, he was quite lovely. My face was still
pressed to his, and I closed my eyes and loosened my death grip on him just a
touch. Relaxed my shoulders. Slowed my breath.

Aw,
this was nice.

You
’
re
not a scary, sparkly man, Renaldo. You
’
re
very solid. In fact, your shoulders feel a lot like Leo
’
s, all broad and squared. And your
jaw is remarkably chiseled like his. Wow. It even feels like his, minus the
five-o
’
clock
stubble. Would you look at that?

It
’
s
a shame you only have shoulders and a head. That
’
s
gotta be sad, to think that only your upper half deserved to be immortalized. I
’
m sure you had a nice lower half,
too, Renaldo. Leo has a nice lower half. Leo has a nice ass. I bet you had a
nice ass.

Why
didn
’
t
they ever make statues just of people
’
s
backsides? I mean, some people had hideous faces, but the junk in their trunk
made up for it. That deserved to be documented. There should be more asses in
art. Leo
’
s
ass should be in art. Like life size, so you could truly appreciate its
perfection.

Sorry, yours should be made into art
too, Renaldo.

I
flipped to face him, squatting down slightly to his level. Still pressing my
cheek to his, I reached around and grabbed onto the base of the statue where,
had he owned an ass, it would have resided.

Right there. See, would it have been
so hard to give you a booty? Why was it that David got not just an entire body,
but a seventeen-foot one at that? And poor Renaldo, you can
’
t be taller than what? Two feet,
tops? And now I was going to shrink you down to a one-inch sketch on wine
label. I
’
m
sorry, Renaldo, but that
’
s
just not fair.

“
Oh my God! Are you feeling up my
grandpa?
”

“
What! NO!
”
I threw my hands into the air like
someone just pulled a gun on me. How did Leo get in here? And how long had he
been standing there? And why was I still groping the statue?
“
No!
”

“
What are you
doing
, Julie?
”
Leo was horrified. Rightfully so, I supposed.
“
How drunk
are
you?
”

“
Drunk enough to feel the need to
conduct science experiments at 4:30 in the morning.
”
My mouth felt really gross, like
cotton coated the walls within it. I didn
’
t
like cotton balls. The texture of them always gave me the shivers. Leo gave me
the shivers. Renaldo kinda did too. I liked those shivers.

“
What sort of experiment involves you
fondling a Carduccian statue?
”

Ha!
Carduccian
. That was a fun word. It
made me want to -
ian
my own last
name.
Thorntonian
. No, that was just
lame. Julian. Oh, so much better. Like the fries, right? Weren
’
t there fries called Julian fries?
Damn. No, that was Juli
enne
.

Wait!
What about that little furry creature from Madagascar? You know, the ferret
thingy that always danced around, singing,
“
I like to move it, move it!
”
King Julien. Hmm, that was still a
different spelling. Oh! He wasn
’
t
a ferret, he was a
meerkat
!

Meerkats
were funny. Were they merely cats? Or were they something else altogether? And
why did they jump off cliffs?

“
What
’
s with all of the suicidal merely
cats?
”
I yelled, my hands still in the air, but not as high as they used to be. In
fact, every appendage on my body felt as though weights had been tied around
them. How many calories did that wine have?

Did
calories actually
weigh
anything? If
I drank like a thousand calories, did that equate to a thousand pounds? Goodness
no! That couldn
’
t
be right. I
’
d
be a hippo. I didn
’
t
want to be a hippo. But maybe then I could actually hang out with the merely
cats in person (or in animal, since I wouldn
’
t be a human anymore) and we could
all jump off those cliffs together.

Hmm
... Were hippos and
meerkats even on the same continent? When the meerkats jumped to their deaths,
did they go one at a time or was it a group, let
’
s-drink-the-Kool-Aid kind of thing.
WAIT! Those weren
’
t
cliff-jumping
meerkats
, those were
lemmings
!
“
Lemming!
”

“
What the hell are you talking about?
”

I
started to dance. Because it felt like maybe that
’
s what my body had already started
doing, just without me knowing it. The way it swayed side to side rhythmically
was kind of like being pushed out onto the dance floor at a wedding. You know,
when everyone spreads out and then one brave soul steps into the ring to shake
what their mamma gave them. My body was giving me that encouraging nudge.
You got this, Julie. You
’
ve got the moves like Jagger. Leo
really needs to see this. Ready, steady... groove!

I
was totally right! Look at me all hot up in here in my sweats and non-running shirt
and my purple wine-stained teeth. I
rocked
this makeshift dance floor. I didn
’
t just rock it, I
owned
it.

“
Julie.
”
Leo sounded concerned. Maybe that
was jealously. Maybe he was jealous over the fact that I was currently owning
his old room.

“
Leo, you have to share.
”
He had another room down the hall.
This was
my
territory for the time
being. I rolled my hips to the music playing only in my head and started
dropping it like it was hot, because it actually was hot. A thousand frickin
’
degrees. Like wearing a parka in a
sauna in Hades. That type of hot. The one that also makes you want to sing:
It
’
s
getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes.
“
I am... getting so hot... I
’
m gonna take my
clothes
off!
”

“
No, Julie! Keep your clothes on.
”
Leo charged forward and shook me
almost violently. His strong hands gripped me hard, like he was doing a reading
with one of those blood pressure cuffs, fingers curled and squeezing out a
pulse.

“
I wasn
’
t
actually
going to take my clothes off, silly,
”
I giggled. A lot. So much so that I think I peed a little.
“
I was singing, and dancing. Maybe
peeing.
”

“
And groping a statue.
”

“
He has a nice ass,
”
I retaliated quickly, waving a hand
toward Renaldo.

“
You
’
re seeing things, Julie. He has no
ass.
”

If
I was seeing things, I was feeling things too, because my stomach started to
roll and I was certain I couldn
’
t
be hungry. With over three glasses of wine in it, there couldn
’
t possibly be any more room for food.

“
Here.
”
He finally let go and walked back
toward a dresser where a glass of water and two aspirin sat on the wooden top,
a gesture of concern. He must have placed them there earlier when I was too
busy manhandling Gramps.

“
And?
”

“
And what?
”
Turning back toward me, he held out
his hands for me to take the pills. I popped them into my mouth, and then
grabbed the water to swish them down, not sure any of it would even fit.

“
And? What
’
s my reading?
”
My blood pressure had to be through
the roof.

“
Your reading?
”
Oh dear. I think he forgot the
English language. Maybe that
’
s
what happened when you were in the land of your native tongue
—
you reverted back
to your native language. I liked Leo
’
s
old tongue.
“
You
know what? Reading is a good idea, actually. Let
’
s get you settled back into bed and
see if we can find you something to read until you get tired. At this point,
you really need to just sleep this off.
”

  
Pushing against the low slope of
my back, Leo nudged me toward the bed, rotating me around once I got to its
edge. My knees buckled against it, and I plopped down onto the mattress that
could
’
ve
honestly fooled me into believing it was a cloud and I was a Care Bear at this
point. But I didn
’
t
figure there was a Belligerent Bear, so maybe it wouldn
’
t fool me completely. I was smarter
than that mattress.

“
Don
’
t let me drown.
”
I slurred against the fluffy covers.
Drool pooled onto the fabric and moistened my skin. Slick, clammy.

“
I
’
m not going to let anything happen to
you, Julie.
”

He
sure said my name a lot. Like
way
more than I said his name. I should probably catch up.

“
Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo.
”

I
sensed his body pushing into the mattress as he lowered down next to me, but I
didn
’
t
open my eyes to see him. My eyelids were unbelievably heavy with sleep and
drunkenness and jet lag, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn
’
t be able to force them open, let
alone keep them held that way.

“
Yes, Julie?
”

“
Leo, Leo, Leo.
”
There, that should do it. Twisting
onto my stomach, I all but buried my face in the overstuffed pillow.
“
Do you happen to be a Leo, Leo?
”

“
No, Julie.
”
There it was again! He must really
like my name.
“
My
birthday is on Sunday, which makes me an Aries.
”

“
Man! There
’
s so much to get to know about you!
Exciting!
”
I
’
d made out with him twice and didn
’
t even know his astrological sign.
That was probably a first for me. Even the random drink buyers that I
’
d hooked up with in those
questionable clubs usually told me their sign before we got physical. But that
was more in a sleazy,
‘
Hey
baby, what
’
s
your sign?
’
kind of way, so maybe it was good that Leo hadn
’
t tested out that overused pickup
line on me. Those words would never croon out of his mouth
—
their insincerity
had no place upon his lips.