Vienna (39 page)
Authors: William S. Kirby
“Yes?”
Where was this going?
“She would make a fine addition to the right dance card of her beloved Cart House. Waltzes are easily tamed.”
Justine bristled. “I doubt the sight of women dancing together would be appreciated in such a place.”
This brought forth another laugh. “My dear lady, if you wish to reside in the company of a princess, you must learn to exist above the base attitudes of the masses. Who Vienna chooses to dance with may matter out here, but it will not in the Cart House.”
Justine smiled. “She told me she wanted to learn to dance.”
“Then I will forward a schedule of events.”
“Thank you, but I only require the most important one.”
“Oh?”
“If I am to dance with Vienna, it will be in the central spotlight of the biggest affair of the year. She is an outstanding catch. I have every intention of showing her off.”
He nodded. “I am relieved that you already possess the instincts needed to flourish within Cart House society. You have two choices. The house celebration of Fasching is the largest event, held the weekend after the Vienna Opera Ball. I believe it is late February this coming year. Strictly white tie. But the MÅdraniht Masquerade might be the better choice. Very exclusive, just before Christmas. I will have Anson forward the particulars for both.”
“Thank you.”
He leaned close. “Lord Davy sends a message from Shakespeare: âIf thou remember'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thou run into, thou has not loved.'”
“I'm not familiar with the passage. He will be delighted to have foiled me.”
“I suspect Lady Vienna could find it quickly enough.”
“I'm sure she could.”
“And I suspect Shakespeare has the right of it.”
“I bow to your wisdom.”
“Then Godspeed, Heather Ingles. It may be we will never meet again, though who can say? I should like to witness Lady Vienna's waltz. In either event, may you find joy.”
“You as well.” She gave a deep curtsey, not knowing what was right. The camera flashed again.
And he was gone, stepping into a black SUV. Dark windows and too much mass to be anything other than armored. Justine stood alone in the rain for a minute before moving on.
Time to go home.
Up to the warm suite atop Hotel Sacher. Vienna bunched up in a chair, lost in a book.
The Crystallography of Gems
. Justine logged onto her BlackBerry and opened the e-mail from Hot Dragon. She put her hand over the lizard tattoo, as if coaxing arcane prophecy from its sleek lines.
You always said you wanted adventure.
I am interested in your offer to the point I would like to discuss it further. As I am temporarily acting as my own agent, please send details to this address.
Justine Am
She checked the phone's clock. Subtract six hours for Georgia. So many things to talk about. She pulled up her parent's number and stretched out on the suite's couch.
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One in the morning and the red-light, green-light breathing of traffic. Rain cut by snow. Laughter from somewhere outside. Vienna lay on her side of the bed, crowded by Justine. Impossible to sleep. Somehow it was the night before Christmas only this time she got it right.
Emily had taken her to her room, two floors down, and put her in a school dress from one of those manga books everyone used to read back in London. A red and black skirt that was full of squares inside squares. Vienna felt her mind slipping into the pattern, but the skirt was short enough to render geometry trivial. White socks and those white shoes with black laces and a black band of leather over the top. “Saw this yesterday and had to get it for you,” Emily said. “It fits well enough, though you can have Justine get it tailored. If she's like her peers, she'll be a wardrobe Nazi.” She put two tails in Vienna's hair, holding them with pink bows.
“Why does everyone want to dress me up?”
“Because you let us,” Emily said. “Didn't you ever play with dolls?” She fussed over the white blouse and short tie. “The glasses are already perfect. Now go to Justine and see what happens. If she asks, tell her hello from me.” Emily stretched. “I'm off to London tomorrow morning for my own rendezvous. Remind your girl she owes my brother a photo session.”
Your girl.
Justine laughed when Vienna walked into the room. But it was a quiet sound and her cheeks were red.
“Tell me no one saw you in that.”
“No. Emily says hello and that we owe her brother some pictures. I hope not with these clothes.”
“Not with those clothes.”
“What does this mean?” She brushed her hands over the too-short skirt. “It makes my legs look skinny.”
“It means our friend Emily has been to Akihabara Electric Townâa very strange and strangely alive place. I'll take you there someday.”
“And people dress like this?”
“A few, but most only dream of being with someone who looks like you.”
“It's pretty?”
“It's you telling me it's okay to share love any way we please.”
“I told you that in Iceland.”
“I don't have your memory.”
How can I love someone so annoying?
“Emily said she even got the panties right.” She lifted the skirt, revealing sky blue horizontal stripes on white cotton. They covered far more than the silk underclothes Justine bought for her. That made them useless for what Vienna wanted and that was just stupid becauseâ
“Come here, Little Storm Cloud.” And it was there again: the
pressure
that Justine projected. Except now Vienna knew what it was. It was standing above Sellfoss, hypnotized by that exact point where turbulence flattened to rushing clarity. And do you dare take the next step?
Girl moving.
Miracle of miracles, Justine shut up except for when she wanted Vienna to do something a certain way. And maybe she was just trying to be clear, but Vienna thought maybe some caged part of Justine was free, and the more Vienna appeared slightly confused or even shocked, the more fierce this thing became. Vienna liked that, even if lovers weren't supposed to be confused or shocked. She made a mental note to ask Emily about this, appended with a reminder to appear eager but mystified during sex. It was simple enough, and Justine had said Vienna was perfect and it would be “wonderful to continue the lesson in New York.”
Vienna thought it must be something about how Americans made love. Hunter S. Thompson or Mark Twain would have understood.
Except now she couldn't sleep. They were flying to New York to have dinner with someone named Simone inâshe looked at the clockâeleven hours. Justine said she needed advice. Then off to Thailand. Then Spain, and then London at Vienna's request. Justine should meet Grayfield because that was proper. Then Georgia in the United States because “Mom and Dad will love you.” And then back here, which surprised Vienna.
“The forest fits you,” Justine had said. “All beautiful and wet.”
Vienna couldn't decide if that was a reference to her crying or to a comment Justine had made during their lovemaking. Was that something to be embarrassed about?
“I owe you a dance at the Cart House,” Justine added. “We'll have to get gowns and find a stylist in Vienna.”
That would be perfect because the people at Cart House would never let two women dance together, so they could go into the ballroom when it was empty and the lights were down and no one ever had to know that Vienna couldn't dance and maybe they could make love right there in the ballroom.
Her mind stuttered and stumbled in a thousand different directions.
You know this is dangerous.
Concentrate on one thing.
She saw an article from the
London Telegraph
âa column that had come out the day after Justine and Lord Davy had their public exchange.
“In a world of coy semi-disclosures, how refreshing to see American supermodel Justine Am publicly proclaim her love for a wisp of an orphan named Vienna. It's too much to hope it will last, but even that small hope is new.”
Everyone saw it but me.
The night twisted on its silent axis. The machinery of God pushing rain to snow. Another hour passed. She heard Justine's breathing; timed it by the clock on the nightstand. How many breaths would she take in one year?
Stop it!
She uncurled slightly from her tuck. The bottom of her foot brushed against Justine's shin. Her skin was smooth and warm.
What does this mean?
It means she is here, my foot touching her. That was enough.
The laughter outside faded.
It's a thing lovers share.
She ran to a familiar place.
The phenol group is defined by the presence of a hydroxyl as well as an aromatic hydrocarbon.â¦
Shelter in a storm. But she could see beyond it.
The world was moving, she was right there with it.
At last.
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WILLIAM S. KIRBY
is the author of
Iapetus
. He has written nonfiction for television, newspapers, and magazines, on a wide range of subjects from the serious to the amusing. He researched and wrote a Heartland Emmy Awardâwinning TV series,
Legends and Oddities,
which investigated Colorado history.
William and his wife, Kathryn have traveled widely; their sojourns in Europe became part of the inspiration for
Vienna.
When not seeing the world, they make their home in Louisville, Colorado. You can sign up for email updates
here
.
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