Vain (30 page)

I laughed again. “Not if your name was Sophie Price.”

“I see,” he said as the bartender set down our drinks.

We
both picked ours up, took a slight sip, then downed the entire contents, slamming down our empty glasses, an unconventional approach to finely aged whisky. We stood there, silently daring one another to cough. My eyes began to water. Eventually, I had to clear my throat,
had to,
it burned so badly. Ian only coolly stared at me, seemingly unaffected. I shook my head at him.

“You’re a
Hoss,” I finally relented.

“Thank you,” he
said, his voice faintly gruff from the whisky.

My hand reached for my glass and I turned it upside down, spinning the concave bottom around with my fingers. He edged in closer to me,
The Fear
began to spill from the speakers and we stood in silence, examining the other, until the bass line hit, subtle and resonating through our chests. His hand found mine, stopping the glass mid-spin. The heat of his fingers sent tingles up my arm.

“Another?” he whispered in my ear.

“No, thank you,” I answered softly.

Ian watched me, running a hand down my cheek, continued down my neck to my shoulder and my side until it rested on the bone of my hip. “Come with me then,” he said, tucking me into his side and leading me to the dance floor.

The song changed to Common’s
Drivin’ Me Wild
.
              At the edge of the floor, he pressed me so close I could count each individual hard plane of his body. My breathing labored, nearly hyperventilating at the proximity. He grabbed my neck with one hand and tucked his face near my ear, swaying my body against his. I took advantage of the nearness and took a deep breath, inhaling his incredible scent of woods and water and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I pressed my lids closed, desperately trying to stay upright.
              As if he knew I was struggling, the hand wrapped around my waist pulled me closer.
              “Soph,” he breathed in my ear, sending me toward an edge.
              I sucked in a deep breath as his mouth found mine. He tasted sweet and earthy like the whisky. I moaned into his teeth and he kissed me even harder. His hands slid to the back of my dress and fisted the fabric there. This sent the butterflies flitting around my stomach into overdrive.
              My arms tightened around his neck and my right leg wrapped around his calf. He bent me slightly as if he could bring us any closer and I pushed myself further against him. The kiss was frantic, borderline shocking even. I had never been kissed with such want before. We wanted so badly. We needed.
              “God, Soph,” he breathed into my smile. “You taste incredible.”
              I corded my fingers with his hair and brought his head up. I needed to look in his eyes. “When we leave tomorrow night,” I told him, suddenly afraid, “nothing changes?”
              He smiled at me genuinely. “Nothing.”
              The song changed again to something with a faster beat and as we sang the lyrics to one another and practically lost our breath dancing, I realized that Ian Aberdeen was the most fun I’d ever had or ever would have.
              We didn’t leave until close to three in the morning. I’d removed my shoes by that time and Ian carried them for me, the ankle ribbons draped over one of his broad shoulders and me on his back. We sang the music being pumped into the streets and belly-laughed all the way to his car despite the fact that the only thing we’d had to drink all night was the single shot of whisky, burned off hours before.

“Oh, shit!” I said, remembering myself. “I need your phone,” I told him, when he set me down near his car.

He removed it from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to me.

“Can I call out of country?” I
asked, when he opened the door for me.

“Yeah, I have an International plan for obvious reasons.”

“Cool,” I said, sitting as I slid the unlock button. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“There’s fifteen missed calls from my sat phone.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not kidding.
Must be Karina. Should we call them back?”

“Yeah, it’s probably no big deal though. Go ahead and ring
Pembrook first. Get that out of the way so Simon doesn’t bombard me incessantly tomorrow.”

“You really love your brother, don’t you?”

He nodded seriously. “Like-like a brother.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I do. To both.”

“That’s sweet,” I said as I dialed
Pemmy. I did the math quickly in my head and nearly wiped the sweat from my brow when I realized it was a decent hour in L.A.

“Hello?”
Pembrook answered.

“
Pemmy!” I squealed.

“Sophie?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, my skin flushing at my unusual outburst. “Sorry, uh, I have a favor to ask  you.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?” he interrupted.

“I’m fine. In fact, I’m in Cape Town,” I answered.

“
What
! Sophie, you were under court orders not to leave Uganda!”

“It’s not a big deal,
Pemmy. Karina and Charles approved it. It’s only for two days. I’m going back to Masego tomorrow evening.”

He was breathing deeply on the other end, obviously trying to keep himself under control. “If the courts get a whiff of this, you’re done, girl.”

My stomach dropped a little at his declaration but I insisted to him that everything would be fine.
              “And what was your purpose in calling?”
              “Oh! Right! I need to let Ian’s family borrow dad’s island in Belize. Can you let me know what dates it’s available.”
              I  heard papers shuffling in the background. “I’m very busy, Soph. Are you planning on escaping through Cape Town.”
              I immediately felt offended but knew Pembrook was only looking out for me. “No, I assure you. It’s all very innocent. Is it doable or not?”
              “Yes, it’s fine. The island is completely open this entire month. Feel free to offer it. Just let me know the date and I’ll arrange the staff.”
              “Thank you, Pemmy. I appreciate it.” Silence descended over the line and I was afraid I’d lost him. “Pembrook? Are you there? I think I lost him,” I told Ian’s questioning face.
              “No-no, I’m  here. I’m here. You’ve just never said that to me before.”
              “What?” I asked, confused.
              “That you appreciate me.”
              “Well, that’s a shame,” I told him sincerely, “because I do. I always have. I’m sorry.”
              “It’s fine, Sophie. Thank you,” he said but I could tell his heart was the tinsiest bit lighter.
              “Okay, I’ll ring you when we figure out a date. Thanks again, Pemmy.”
And with that, we hung up.
              “Simon and Imogen have their pick of dates.”
              “Thank you for that,” he said, kissing my temple and starting his engine.
              Ian dropped me off at the guest suite door with a gentleman's kiss. Okay, maybe not a
gentleman's
kiss but I did eventually shut the door with him on the other side. It counts!
              I hung my dress up and hopped in the shower, desperate to get the smell of smoke and outside off my skin and out of my hair. Humming
Drivin’ Me Wild
under my breath, I rinsed the conditioner and turned off the water. My hand shot out for the towel rack to grab my towel but it wasn’t there. I felt around the metal for it but figured it must have fallen to the ground.

I rolled the door back a few inches and stuck my head out to find it but was met with a hand holding it instead.

“Agh! Oh my God!” I panted. “Abri, what are you
doing
in here?”

My hand whipped out for the towel, wrapping it around myself before stepping out of the shower.
              “I’m here for a chat,” she said, weirding me out.
              “This couldn’t wait?” I asked, gesturing toward the room.
              “No,” she said, exiting the door and settling herself casually across my bed.
I thanked God I had the sense to lay out my pajamas before I’d showered. I gathered them and went back into the bathroom to dress.
              When I came back out, Abri was still there, proving it wasn’t a bad dream. I awkwardly rested against the guest wardrobe and towel dried my hair.
              “I talked to Pembrook, my father’s lawyer, and he let me know your family could have any day this month on Ribbon Caye.” I thought this would help the clumsy silence that lay between us but it didn’t. “Dinner was nice,” I added, so desperate at that point I was reaching.
              “When do you leave back to America?” she asked, stunning me.
              “Excuse me?” I asked, confused.
              “When do you return?
To America
? When is your sentence over?”
              I was taken off guard. “Um, January thirtieth, a month after Christmas. I leave February first.”
              “Another six weeks then,” she said, studying her feet briefly before making eye contact again.
              “Yes,” I said, drawing out the word.
              Without another word, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
              “What was that?” I asked no one.
I stood there, waiting, for something but Abri never returned.
              I settled into my covers and laid my head down before getting up and locking the door.
              I woke to Ian yelling in Afrikaans.
              “Fine! Miskien sal ek kom nie terug ooit weer hier!”
Fine! Maybe I won’t be coming back here ever again!
              “Sê nie dat,” Henrik pleaded.
Don’t say that
.
              “Ek is jammer, pa, maar sy is buite onredelik!”
I’m sorry, dad, but she’s beyond unreasonable!
Loud footsteps resounded through the living.
              “Simon?” Ian said. There was no response.
His cell phone
. “Can you come pick up Sophie and I in half an hour? Yes. Thanks, bro.”
The footsteps inched nearer my door. I threw off my covers and ran to open it.
              On the other side, Ian was in mid-knock and out of breath from frustration.
              “You okay?” I asked.
              “Can you be ready to leave in half an hour?”
              “Of course,” I said.
He came into the room and sat at the edge of the bed, in the exact same spot his mother did earlier that morning. I decided that information would only anger him more and I would keep it to myself. I knew Abri had pissed him off, I just didn’t know why.
              I opened the wardrobe up and removed my bag, settling it on the bed. I set aside what I wanted to wear on the plane ride that evening and put the rest inside. I was packed in less than five minutes. Ian laid across the bed next to my case not saying a word and buried his head in my pillow.

I brushed my teeth, dressed and put on my makeup before plaiting my hair in a messy fishtail, laying it across my shoulder. I came out, put the traveling stragglers back in the case and zipped it shut.

“This pillow smells like you,” Ian said absentmindedly.

He flipped over, tucking a hand behind his head, straining his shirt against the muscles in his bicep.

“You all right?” I asked him again.

“I will be,” he said when I crawled next to him, my head
laying on his shoulder. He brought his arm around and held me close. “I called Charles back this morning,” he continued.

“Oh yeah?”
I asked. “What did he need?”

“They’ve confirmed the presence of Resistance soldiers at the swimming hole and this time it seems a bit more dangerous.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“They found several bullets left by accident near their footprints.”

“What do we do?”

“Get home.”

My hand followed a messy trail of bedspread and met his fingers. They inched their way up my palm until they met my forearm and held there, his thumb rubbing the skin there back and forth, back and forth.

             
“I’m torn between wanting to keep you here with Simon and taking you with me so I can protect you.”
I shook my head at him.
              “If you think for one second that I’m going to abandon you or Masego now, when they need as much help as possible, you are out of your mind,” I told him.

He eased to a sitting position, his grip still on my forearm and leaned into my face. He kissed me softly. “I must be the most selfish person on this planet because I’m not going to fight you on that. I want you near me.
Always.” He kissed me once more, this time much harder before pulling away.