Dreamboat (7 page)

“Oh, come in,” Crissy said, backing into the apartment. “It's so wonderful to see you, to hear your voice at the door. You don't know.”

“You've heard my voice for days on your machine at home and on your cell phone voice mail,” Jenny replied huffily, “but you didn't bother to return my calls, did you?”

“Jenny, you have every reason to be mad at me,” Crissy said, sitting down on the couch beside her, “but . . . but I've been in a real funk. I mean the worst, and I didn't want to . . . Well, I just didn't feel like talking about it.” Unbidden, tears suddenly sprang into her eyes.

Jenny put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Tell me about it,” she said in a concerned voice. “What's happened?”

Crissy told her about Tom Gentry, and her feelings of acute shame and embarrassment after not hearing from him, how humiliated the experience had left her.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Jenny said.

Crissy shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. “Tom. Whew . . . He swept me off my feet.” She looked at Jenny with a puzzled expression. “I don't think I've ever fallen so hard. It was worse than a teenage crush. I feel like such a fool.”

“He's a real smooth operator.”

“I've never met anyone quite like him before,” Crissy said. “He was so convincing. He worked me like a . . . well, like a master puppeteer. And I was his stupid puppet.”

“My Lambchop,” Jenny said, grinning.

Crissy punched her playfully. “You make me feel so much better.”

Crissy fell silent, wanting to wipe every thought of Tom out of her mind. A cruise would do that. She'd forget all about him if she left town for a good long while.

“What are you thinking about?” Jenny asked.

“I've been thinking about taking a trip.”

“That's a great idea. I need to take one myself.”

“I've been saving all of my tips, and I'm going to a travel agent tomorrow at lunchtime to see what I can find out.”

“That's so great,” Jenny said.

“This customer of mine, Beatrice Bloom, has been encouraging me, just like you have. Anyway, Beatrice says I ought to take a big European trip. Maybe a long cruise.” She paused and looked at Jenny. “She says that a lot of the people are older, of course, but that there are always some interesting younger people, too. I'm not sure about it, but—”

“Listen,” Jenny said, grabbing her shoulders in her hands and looking her in the eye, “I'm going with you tomorrow to the travel agent. Okay? Because I want to make sure that you choose something that'll really be fun. What do you say?”

“I'd love that, Jenny,” Crissy said. “I don't know much about what there is out there, you know?”

Jenny's dark eyes sparkled. “Oh, I do,” she said. “I have a question for you, though. Are you going to go by yourself?”

“I don't know,” Crissy replied. “I haven't even thought about it. Besides, who do I know that could go?”

“You know who could go,” Jenny said, “and might be a lot of fun to have along?”

“Who?”

“The answer is staring you right in the face.”

She shook her head. “Who? You?”

“Yes, me. I'm bored, and I'm tired of having nothing but time on my hands.”

“That would be perfect,” Crissy exclaimed. “Oh, I'm so excited. I'm just so thrilled that you showed up at my doorstep tonight. I feel like . . . like a new person.”

“You're the same wonderful person you always were, Crissy,” Jenny said solemnly. “Hopefully, you'll start living out some of those dreams of yours real soon.” She winked. “I have a few dreams of my own.”

The next day at lunchtime, Jenny picked Crissy up. When she got in Jenny's Jaguar convertible, she was carrying her shoulder bag, in which she'd placed her check book and an envelope of cash.

“They do have banks nowadays, Cris, or didn't you know that?” she said.

“You know I do,” Crissy said. “But this is all tip money that I'd rather not show up as income. You know what I mean?”

“Smart girl,” Jenny allowed. “Hiding it from the government, aren't you? Hard to do that with alimony.”

“Everybody does,” Crissy said. “Waiters, hairdressers, people like us, but I do declare some of it or else it would look odd. A hairdresser who never gets tips?”

“I don't think they'll come looking for a small fry like you,” Jenny said.

“You never know,” Crissy said.

They reached the travel agency and gave the young man the deposit for the trans-Atlantic cruise that Crissy and Jenny had decided on. “I've been studying up on this ship,” the agent said, “and did you know it's the fastest passenger ship on the seas? Other ships can reach its speed, like the
Queen Elizabeth II
and the new
Queen Mary II
, but they can't maintain it. They'd vibrate all to pieces. But this little wonder is like a Jet Ski. Wish I was going myself.”

Jenny gave Crissy a look, and Crissy knew what she was thinking.
I would jump ship if somebody as nerdy as you are was onboard.
She nudged Jenny with her elbow.

“Maybe you ought to try to book the same cruise then,” Crissy told him. She noticed that his name tag said
MELVIN
, and thought that the name suited him somehow.

“Naw,” the young man replied, “no way I could ever get a month off work at this point. Only been working here a year.”

“Oh, well, maybe later on,” Crissy said optimistically. “I hope you get to someday, Melvin.”

He nodded. “So do I, but I don't think it's in the cards for me.”

“Get yourself a new deck,” Crissy said in a kindly voice.

Jenny laughed.

“It should be so easy,” the young man said. He paused and looked at them. “Well, you're all set, ladies. Make sure your passports are in order and that you've got the visas required for Brazil. All the pertinent information you need is in the folders I gave you. Oh, and don't forget the yellow fever vaccinations.”

“Yellow fever vaccinations?” Crissy said.

“You'll need those for Brazil,” he said. “Anyway, you can get them from the county health department. The telephone number and that info is also enclosed in your packet.”

“Thanks a lot, Melvin.” Crissy rose to her feet. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he said, getting up.

“Yeah, a real pleasure,” Jenny said, her voice sardonic. She pushed herself up out of her chair. “Let's vamoose, Cris,” she said. “This place is airless, and I'm about to suffocate.”

“Bye.” Crissy waved to Melvin as they went out the door. From behind his desk, Melvin returned her wave with a big smile.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jenny said once they were outside the store. “I don't know how you could keep from laughing out loud at that jerk. He's so . . . pathetic.”

“Oh, he's all right, Jen,” she replied. “He's just different, you know. And probably sad and lonely.”

“Yeah,” Jenny said, “and probably some kind of fucking serial killer to boot.”

“You're crazy,” Crissy said with a helpless laugh.

Jenny grinned. “He does look like the type, you know? Weird outcast
boy from next door. Probably watches the neighborhood girls with binoculars from behind his bedroom blinds. With one hand in his pants.”

“Oh, hush!” Crissy cried. “I'm sure he's not like that at all.” She laughed despite herself, then added: “You're so mean.”

“I'm just honest,” Jenny said. “I call a loser a loser, and that guy is a first-class loser.” She paused and giggled. “And probably a psycho, too, because people like me have made fun of him all his life.” Her laughter reverberated throughout the end of the mall where they were walking, and shoppers turned to stare.

Crissy rolled her eyes. “You're going to get us chased out of here,” she said mirthfully.

“We're on our way out anyway,” Jenny retorted. “Why don't I take you to lunch? What do you say?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Crissy said. She didn't like taking advantage of Jenny's generosity too often, even though her friend could well afford it. Crissy liked to pull her share, and she didn't want Jenny to come to think of her as a mooch.

“Oh, come on,” Jenny said. “I want to go to Provence for lunch. That place over in Stuyvesant Plaza. And I don't want to go by myself.” She grabbed Crissy's arm. “Come on,” she cajoled. “I hardly ever get to see you with your work schedule.”

“Okay,” Crissy finally agreed, “as long as we don't talk about Tom Gentry.”

“I promise not to bring him up,” Jenny swore.

“Good,” Crissy said. “But then I really do have to get back to work and then home. I've got a lot to do.”

“Like what?” Jenny asked as she pushed open the door to the parking lot.

“After work things like laundry and cleaning the apartment. Glamorous things like that,” Crissy said.

“Good. I'll spare you of all that for awhile,” Jenny said.

“Sometimes I don't mind it,” Crissy said. “It's almost like therapy or something. Peaceful and soothing, you know?”

“That's because you're not getting laid enough,” Jenny quipped.

“Jen.” Crissy turned to look at her. “You think the whole world revolves around sex.”

“It does, sweetheart,” Jenny replied. “Believe me, it does.”

After lunch Jenny pulled over in front of the beauty salon and braked
the Jaguar with a lurch. “Ta-ta,” Jenny said, throwing her hand up in a wave. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Crissy waved as Jenny roared off, then turned and walked into the shop. Despite not discussing it during lunch, she still couldn't stop thinking of the night Tom had seduced her. She had thought he was so special.

I'm sick of being taken advantage of,
she told herself.
I'm sick of being unhappy, of allowing other people to make me feel that way. And it's going to stop now.

But no more tears, she thought.
It's time for action.

Chapter Four

G
eorgios Vilos folded the
International Herald Tribune
and placed it to one side of the big mahogany desk. He received the paper with the English edition of
Kathimerini,
the Athenian newspaper, tucked inside. He was pleased to see that the
Sea Nymph
's imminent departure from the port of Piraeus was duly noted and that not only was his name and the company's cited but that the ship's superb design, subtle luxury, and exceptional speed were mentioned. What an irony, he thought, that the crowning glory of his empire was one of the principal causes of its near collapse.

He swiveled around in his chair and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the harbor in Piraeus. He and Fiona, along with Rosemary, his assistant, had flown down on the Gulfstream V. Now, in the near distance he could see the
Sea Nymph
docked at the recently cleaned-up piers that surrounded the harbor. She was a truly beautiful ship, he thought, sleek and modern, yet built along classical lines. He loathed the huge new ships that resembled floating buses, nor did he have a taste for the ugly, egg-shaped aerodynamic designs that so many shipbuilders had a penchant for lately.

Turning back to his desk, he eyed a small pile of paperwork with a malevolent glance. He was in no mood to attend to details at the moment. He felt a sense of unease that made him irritable. The meeting with the Lampaki brothers was coming up, and he'd still not been able to get hold of his son. He'd been trying to reach Mark all day, trying his office number and his cell phone, but to no avail. When he'd tried Fiona in Zákinthos, where she was overseeing the closing up of their Greek island
house for the winter, she'd professed to know nothing of Mark's whereabouts.

“I doubt that he's anywhere in Greece,” she'd said, “or I would have heard about it from one of my friends here. Besides, if Mark is anywhere in Greece, whether it's Kolonaki or on one of the islands, it would be reported in the press.”

Her reference to the exclusive neighborhood in central Athens, Kolonaki, brought a snort of derision from Georgios. Mark was sure to find rich layabouts like himself there.

“Why would he be here in November anyway?” Fiona had asked. “Nobody in his right mind will be here until after Easter, when it starts warming up.”

“I thought it was a possibility,” Georgios told her. “I haven't been able to reach him anywhere, and he's not responding to voice mail I leave on his cell phone.”

Fiona scoffed. “What's new? You badger him to death. If I were Mark, I wouldn't answer my voice mail, either.” She paused. “Why don't you try leaving him alone, Georgios? Have you ever considered that? Maybe then he would come to you.”

Georgios Vilos wanted to slam his telephone shut, but he thought better of it. Fiona had her own malicious ways of retaliating for his every little slight, and she didn't hesitate to use them. “Maybe you're right,” he said at last. “When will you be back?”

“I'm not sure,” she said. “I'm thinking of going to Barbados with Dolly for some sun. I'll let you know.”

“Okay,” he said. “Talk to you later.”

He flipped the cell phone shut, and sat staring glumly at the wall. “Bitch,” he spat. His office door abruptly opened, and Georgios looked up with surprise. Rosemary always knocked before entering, but it wasn't his secretary.

“Hello, Dad,” Mark said, stepping casually into the office, one hand in a trouser pocket, his strong, athletic body filling the door frame.

“I've been trying to reach you,” Georgios said angrily, glaring at his tall, lean son, helplessly impressed as he always was by his son's darkly handsome appearance after not seeing him for awhile. “So your mother was wrong. You're here in Greece after all. I've left messages everywhere, and you didn't bother answering them.”

Mark looked at him arrogantly. “I've been busy,” he said.

“Doing what?” Georgios snapped. “I haven't been able to get you at your office here or in London.”

Mark sat down in one of the leather chairs that faced his father's desk, crossing one long leg over the other, an expensive loafer-shod foot dangling just over a knee. He didn't respond immediately, taking pleasure in his father's anger and curiosity.
Let the old tyrant simmer,
he thought. He inspected his fingernails in a gesture that he knew would fuel his father's anger even further. Finally, he cleared his throat and gazed at Georgios with his dark brown eyes.

“Well?” his father said, leaning forward in his chair.

“If you must know, I've been busy with Marina,” Mark said, stretching his long, muscular arms, then placing them on the chair's armrests. He flashed a brief smile that exposed perfect white teeth.

Georgios slowly sat back in his chair and sighed. “Women,” he said. “At your age, you ought to be thinking about settling down.”

“That's why I was seeing Marina,” Mark retorted with an edge of sarcasm. “You wanted me to pursue her. You thought she was such a great match. You're the one who said she had everything going for her. Looks. Money. Family. You're the one—”

“All right,” Georgios conceded. “Enough. Enough.” It was true, he thought. He had urged Mark to see Marina Kavala. She was Constantine Kavala's only heir, and he was one of the richest men in Greece. “So what happened?” he asked.

“I just broke up with her,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “It took some doing because she didn't want to end it.”

“She's upset?”

“She'll get over it,” Mark replied in an equally neutral voice.

“I hope you haven't done anything to upset her family,” Georgios said. “We don't need—”

“Look,” Mark said heatedly. “Marina Kavala's been putting out since she was thirteen. Half the men I know have had her. So if her family's upset, then they're crazy. This isn't anything that hasn't happened before.”

“Okay, okay. Forget it,” Georgios said, backing down. The conversation was not going in the direction he wanted it to, and he didn't want to antagonize his son now. He needed him too much. “I want you to do me a favor,” he said, looking at Mark.

“I'm leaving for the States,” Mark said truculently. “You know that. The
Sea Nymph
is getting ready to leave, and I'm going to be on it.”

Georgios nodded. “I know that. In fact, it has to do with the
Sea Nymph
. You know that the German banks won't extend my loans.”

“You can get the money somewhere else,” Mark said. “You always do.”

Georgios slowly shook his head. “I've been everywhere,” he replied. “I'm even going to the Lampaki brothers.”

“That's ridiculous,” Mark snapped. “I don't believe you.”

Georgios Vilos bent his head down, then looked back up and stared silently at his son with mournful eyes. Pain was etched into his features, and he looked close to tears. Mark didn't believe he'd ever seen his father appear this sad before. An air of defeat had replaced Georgios Vilos's normal warrior spirit, he thought.

“We're about to lose everything, son,” Georgios finally muttered in a small voice. “Everything we've got. Vilos Shipping, Ltd. is on the brink of bankruptcy. If the Lampaki brothers don't come through, then”—he shrugged—“I don't know what will happen.”

Mark returned his gaze, then looked away, embarrassed for his father. He knew that his father would never ask the notorious Lampaki brothers for anything unless he was truly in dire straits. He also knew that his father's admission of the extent of the dire straits the company was in took a monumental effort on his part.

“I need your help,” Georgio said, his voice still barely above a whisper. “I need you to do something for me.”

Mark looked back at his father. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “I don't see what I can possibly do,” he replied.

“You can help save the company,” Georgios said, “if you do me a small favor.”

Mark drew his chair nearer the desk to better hear his father's soft murmurs.

“What?” he asked.

Georgios motioned him closer with a hand, and Mark got out of the chair and leaned over the desk toward his father, looking at the old man with a curious expression. “We must keep this between ourselves,” Georgios whispered. “No one, not another living soul, can know about this.”

Mark nodded slightly.

His father motioned him still closer, then began whispering in his ear.

As Mark listened, he stiffened and started to protest, but he heard his father out and vowed to do his bidding.