Matala (7 page)

“—do I think I am?” said Darcy. “I'm somebody at least—which is to say I'm not nobody, unlike some of the people at this table.”

“Holy shit,” Justine said. “Don't you have a train to catch, little girl? Back to your nanny and your little chums?”

“I'm not the one with little friends,” she said.

“Are you referring to Maurice? Little? Hardly, dear. Not someone you want to mess about with.”

“Really? Is he in the same league as you two big-timers? Or does he at least make enough to get by? I'll tell you, I'm impressed. Con artist central, here we are.”

It was then, of course, that I began to see how badly we'd misjudged. I didn't know the full extent of it yet, but I felt it. It made me cold at first, chilly. My stomach knotted and unknotted. Not that there was anything really dangerous about it; it was just that we'd misread things so badly. It hadn't happened before.

Justine, on the other hand, couldn't stop the act. She put on a shocked expression and said, “What?”

Darcy sat back in her chair and laughed, and I had to suppress a smile lest Justine see it.

“What do you call it? Grifting? Scamming? How much of an idiot—Is anyone really as stupid as you've taken me to be?”

Now Justine just sat, saying nothing. Waiting for it. I didn't know if what I was feeling was excitement or illness.

“You think I went out to that toilet you call a hostel because I wanted a glass of bad wine? Because I was swept off my feet? I have to admit I didn't see the spike coming. That was good. That was surprising. Weirdly vicious, I have to say. Way over the top. Sick, even, but effective. I'll give you that. What was it?”

Justine flicked off an ash and said, “GHB.”

“Nobody ever taught you how to pick a stupid pocketbook? You've got to knock someone out to steal their money? Jesus. What else did you do to me?”

Justine shook her head and said, “Nothing, dear. We made sure you were safe.”

“Well, thank you. So was there a plan? Milk the rich bitch as long as she lets you? Let her buy your tickets and your meals and your hotel room until she gets tired of it and goes back where she belongs?”

I nodded without realizing I was doing it. Justine didn't move.

“You're kidding, really, right?
I
was kidding. That's even more pathetic than I thought. I mean I was waiting for something. Some idea. You know, you call Daddy Warbucks and tell him you're holding Annie, and if he doesn't cough up a hundred grand, you'll snuff her. Something. I mean, God, all this for a train ticket and a room? Who are you people?”

“All right,” Justine said. “Shut up, okay?”

Darcy looked out the window again.

“Who are you?” Justine asked her then.

“I'm only who I said I was: a girl from Ohio who's on a tour of the great art and architecture of Europe. And bored of it and wanting some distraction.”

“Well, I guess you got some.”

“I guess I did. Can I ask you something? Why didn't you take that money he put down here?”

“Because I'd owe him even more than I do now. And I hate owing him anything.”

“Then why don't you do something about it? For starters, get your hands on as much of his cash as you can.”

“Who—What do you know about
any
of this?”

“More than you'd guess,
Madre
. I know he's as much of a chump as you are. He's just got you scared for some reason.”

“Oh, stop, will you?”

“I could get money out of him tonight before we leave here—lots of it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Darcy pulled her hands from beneath the table and laid the leather file on it.

“Oh,” Justine said, “fucking hell. Are you insane?”

“I might be,” Darcy said. “But there's a lot of cash here, and now it's mine. See how it works? I don't owe him anything because he doesn't know I took it.”

“Christ. You are mad.”

“Are you scared?”

“
You
should be.” But I knew who was the frightened one. Justine had on a face I'd never seen. Darcy pulled the wallet back off the table. “Do you have any idea what he'll do to you?”

“Nothing if I give it back to him and tell him you stole it—minus, of course, what you took from me. But he'll understand that. It's your rear he'll take it out on, not mine.”

Justine stuck a finger into the empty cigarette pack, fished around, and said, “Fuck, I need a smoke.”

“On the other hand, we can clean the cash out and leave the wallet someplace where he won't suspect it was us.”

“We?” Justine said.

“There's more in there than he was going to give you—maybe a couple of thousand dollars' worth.”

“What game are you playing?”

“Game?” said Darcy. “You mean what do I do besides travel around looking at ancient
merde
.” Darcy pulled her big purse onto her lap, dug into it, and removed another pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds.

“Where do you get all these?” said Justine.

“Around,” she said. Then she took out something else and laid it on the table. It was a wristwatch, a Clerc just like the one I'd stolen from the German and then lost.

I said, “Shit.”

“Is it the same one?” asked Justine.

I picked it up, inspected it, slipped it on my wrist, and said, “Yeah.” Then I took it off and set it down.

Darcy reached into her bag again and placed a small Bible covered in red leather beside the watch. It was Justine's. I'd seen her reading from it now and then but had never asked her about it.

“You complete and utter cunt,” Justine said. “What could you possibly want with that?”

“Nothing,” Darcy said. “I don't want any of this
caca
.” She then produced, in succession, a gold and silver monogrammed money clip, an ivory hair comb, a silver class ring set with a huge faceted blue stone, two more packs of cigarettes, three Zippo lighters, a journal embossed in gold with the word
Private,
a Mont Blanc fountain pen, a silver egg cup, half a dozen sterling dinner utensils, a magnifying glass, a plane ticket, a transistor radio, and, most improbably, an onyx-handled stainless steel folding knife, the blade of which must have been at least four inches long.

She said, “I have a problem. This…disease.”

“Disease?” I said.

“I can't help it. I've been doing it since I was like ten. Shoplifting, picking pockets, even the occasional burglary, believe it or not. Usually those were just neighbors' houses. For a while all I stole was lingerie. I've been to
merde
loads of the best shrinks in Cleveland, Columbus, Pittsburgh, and even New York, therapists, twelve-step groups. No one could ever get me to stop. I even went to jail once. Then they put me in a mental ward for a while, but I was no crazier than anyone who worked there, and they knew it. When their stethoscopes kept disappearing, they kicked me out.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Justine said and rubbed her eyes. Then she pointed at the smokes and said, “May I?”

“They're yours,” Darcy said. “The lighters, too.” Then, to Will, “Sorry about the watch.”

“It's fine,” I told her. “Can I have it back?”

“Well, it's yours, isn't it?”

“Not really.”

“It is now. My gift to you.”

“Thank you.”

We then sat, the three of us, each stunned by this sudden sharing, this revelation, this laying of cards on the table.

“Well,” Justine said at last, “I suppose if we're hanging it all out, we might as well finish. What are your plans?”

Darcy shrugged.

“You really want to go back to your tour?”

“No.”

“You knew what was going on all along, didn't you?”

“Well, no. I mean not really.”

“I mean when we offered you an escort.”

“I had my hopes, you know? That we could hang out still. Delay things. I knew we were getting on the wrong train, if that's what you mean.”

“And that pleased you.”

“Yes.”

“Then why don't you come with us?”

I felt another shock as her words settled.

They were silent until Darcy said, “Seriously?”

“Yes, of course,” said Justine. “Just promise you'll stop nicking our shit. Of course you can keep nicking other people's.”

“Oh, sure.”

“And, again, there's the money issue.”

“I'll pay,” she said. “I've just come into a whole bunch of cash, see.”

“That's not what I meant. That's not your effing money.”

Darcy started to laugh then. It was a strange high-pitched squeal, incongruous with the rest of her but infectious nevertheless. I laughed, too.

“Oh, stuff it,” Justine said, “both of you. It's not yours. You can't take it from Maurice.”

“I already did. Here.” She put the empty leather file back on the table and said to me, “Take it to the men's room and leave it on the floor by the toilet. Someone'll find it. It's all there but the cash.”

“You've still got your cards.”

“Yes. I can get the train tickets and whatever else we need.”

“How much cash can you withdraw on the gold?”

“I don't know. Maybe a thousand.”

“That should do. Then once you've withdrawn, you have to get rid of them. Throw them away.”

“Yes.”

“What will happen? You'll inform the tour?”

“I suppose.”

“You must. Otherwise, they'll call in the authorities. We absolutely can't have that.”

“Okay.”

“And your parents? I imagine they'll be concerned.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“See that you do.”

“What's in the package?”

“I really don't know,” Justine said. “I don't.”

“You're taking a huge risk then. They have narc dogs that sniff—”

Justine replied, “I doubt Maurice would enlist our help to move a small parcel of powder from Italy to Crete. Not very cost effective, you know? And I suspect that that sort of thing generally comes in the other direction. Why would you take it there if you can sell it for at least as much here?”

Darcy thought for a moment, then nodded. “Today,” she said, “when we were sitting in the sun, I realized that you guys were the only people who had any idea where I was. God, I
loved
that feeling. Do you ever think about how right at a certain moment no one else who knows you in the entire world knows exactly where you are?”

“No,” Justine said.

But I did. I knew exactly what she meant. It struck me just that way when Justine and I first went off together, but I confess the wonder of it had worn off. In the years since, though, I have found it again now and then, at odd moments, but never that profoundly.

“You could just disappear if you wanted.”

“You can always do that.”

“Can you?”

“You can. You're about to, and so am I. I'm knackered. I'm going to bed.” She waited then, apparently for us to say we were going to join her. But when Darcy asked me instead if there was any place else I knew of that was open, and I said I supposed so, Justine regarded us briefly and then got up and left.

“Or we can just walk,” said Darcy. “Do you mind walking?”

“I like to walk.”

“Then let's.”

T
HEY FOUND A PAY PHONE
not far from the American Café. She got through to an American operator and made it collect. If things went perfectly, Mommy and Daddy would be out and Ellie, the housekeeper-cook, would answer and take a message. But it was her father who accepted the charges.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said.

There was a pause and then in his usual voice, low and modulated and so throaty it sounded almost vicious—it was the exact yang to Mommy's yin—he said, “Where in Jesus' name are you?”

“Gosh,” she said, “it's so good to hear your voice, too.”

“Darcy, goddammit. Those people called here. They said you just up and took the hell off or something. They didn't know what the hell happened.”

He was a concrete contractor, Daddy was. He'd made millions of dollars paving over the shit that was Cleveland, as he put it. He was one of the biggest cement layers in the State of Ohio, and, he was fond of saying, there was one goddamn shitload of cement in Ohio. My eloquent dad, she'd called him to her friends.

“Well, I guess that's right,” she said. “I did just up and take the hell off.”

“What're you doing?”

“Having fun, Dad. Believe it or not.”

“Darcy—”

“Look, I didn't mean to. It was a mistake. I went out with some friends and I got sick—”

“Drunk, you mean. Stinking, I bet. You're good at that, like your mom.”

“Great. But no, actually I didn't get stinking. I missed the train to Florence, so my friends were going to bring me up, and we got on the wrong train.”

“So where are you now?”

“Venice.”

“What?”

“It's another city in Italy.”

“Yeah, Darcy. I know that.”

“It's beautiful, actually. I love it here.”

“So how far is it to wherever you're supposed to be?”

“I don't know.”

“Hadn't you better look into it? Get a ticket and get your ass over there?”

“Well, it's almost midnight here, so I can't do anything now. But I don't know. I like it here so much.”

Another long pause. She could hear him smoking now. He only smoked when he was really pissed off.

“Darcy, goddammit—this was so expensive, this bullshit tour. If you were just gonna go off and wander around with some other drunks, then I coulda just got you a plane ticket.”

“And that's what I said I wanted, isn't it, Dad? Do you remember that conversation? I said just get me a ticket and maybe a Eurail pass. That's all I asked for. But Mommy had like three heart attacks, and you were all ‘You can't do that. A girl all alone over there.'”

“So you pull something like this.”

“Listen,” she said. She was crying now, but she covered the phone when she sniffed so he wouldn't pick up on it. “I was still thinking about going back to the tour. But I've decided now I'm not going to.”

“What're you gonna do?”

“I don't know, Daddy. I'll send you a postcard. How's that?”

She hung up.

L
ATER
, W
ILL HELD HER
. T
HEY'D
found a lonely bridge somewhere in the fog and the night, as alone as they could be, and she wept, and he kept her close to him until she had it all out, and he never asked a question. He just understood. She knew he understood. Everything. When she had calmed down and dried up, she looked up at him, and they kissed for the first time since that night in Rome. But this time it went on and grew more heated until he was pressing her back against the abutment and moving against her, and neither of them wanted to stop, but they finally did.

“Do you think AmEx is open?”

“I don't know.”

“We should get money while we still can. He may shut off the card.”

“Would he do that?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Maybe we can get the tickets, too.”

“Good,” she said. “Let's hurry. Then we can have another drink. Someplace that's very,
very
not American.”

W
HEN THEY WENT IN, THE
room was so dark that Darcy had to orient herself, even to find the bed. They were drunk, and buzzed as well from walking in the Venetian night and from the making out they'd done on another dark bridge somewhere in it. They'd held on to each other for a long time and pressed themselves together again, and she told him she wished it was an empty room they were going back to.

She listened now to Will undressing and tried to see where Justine was lying. Then she noticed, in the corner of the room, a floating orange bead, an ember. Justine was in the chair by the window, smoking. The glow brightened when she drew on it and threw an orange cast over the bedspread and Will's boxer-clad body as he got beneath it.

“C'mon,” he whispered. He hadn't noticed Justine. Where, Darcy wondered, did he think she was? But he was just drunk. He wasn't thinking about anything. Well, maybe one thing.

She thought to say something but didn't know what exactly. And she thought Justine might speak to them, but she did not. The room remained silent. Will snuggled in and pulled the covers up to his neck. The orange light rose again, then fell.

It made her suddenly angry, Justine sitting there like that, silently chastising them, watching them, judging them. Darcy knew she was judging them.

She undressed—all the way. She hoped Justine could see every inch of it. She took off her shoes, socks, jeans, and the long-sleeved T-shirt she'd been wearing, and then she undid her bra, dropped it, and slipped out of her panties. She stood in the chill dark air so that when the cigarette glowed, it would illuminate all of her. Look at this, old woman.

Then she went around and got in the bed. The cold new sheets felt wonderful against her bare skin. Will lay in the middle, where he had slept the night before, between the women, though now it was only the two of them. Darcy turned her back to him and moved into him as she had that morning, shifting and moving it against him. He had an immediate erection or, rather, a continuation of the one he'd been pressing against her and that he'd probably had in some state since that morning. Poor man.

She reached behind her, took his hand, and pulled it over so that it lay against her belly. She continued to move against him and felt him move against her. As silently as they could, they writhed. She shifted her legs so that they were slightly parted and reached back again, found his cock, and guided it into her. And they moved that way, quietly, subtly, but enough so that before too long she felt him begin to climax. And she felt herself going with him. She wanted terribly to feel him come inside her, his warmth, knowing that she had caused it and that Justine was sitting there, hearing if not seeing it all. Will moved his hand to her breast and gripped it. He pressed his mouth into her back, into her hair, and he came so hard, she could hear his teeth grinding, could feel his entire body spasm. She took his hand in both of hers and held it tightly until they had finished.

He lay back, touching her still, but relaxed.

It was then that Darcy heard, in the quiet of the darkness, a sound she had not thought it possible to hear. It came from the chair by the window in the corner of the room where the orange glow had now been extinguished. At first she thought she must be imagining it or that Justine had had too many cigarettes or that all the speed was making her nose run. But as Darcy listened, she knew that Justine was weeping. And the thought of it made her dizzy with the power she held, and a sense of excitement, of raw possibility, that she did not remember having felt for a long, long time, and she wanted to think about it some more, to contemplate it, to roll around in it. But then she slipped almost immediately into the deepest sleep she'd had in ages.