Desperate Measures (7 page)

“Yeahhhhh.”

Fifteen minutes later Pete was in the back of Annie's classroom. He tiptoed down the aisle to her seat and hissed, “Come with me right now.
Now
, Annie.”

Annie didn't question the order. She gathered up her books and followed Pete from the room. “What's wrong?” she asked fearfully.

“Look, don't ask any questions, just follow me. Nothing is wrong. That's all you need to know.”

An hour later Annie squealed, “What do you mean we're going to Paris? Paris, France?” she said when they were in his car, heading to the airport. “I don't believe this! You're out of your mind!”

“Haven't you ever done anything wild and adventurous, Annie?”

“Well, yeah, when I was a little girl I always wanted to go to Paris....”

“Well, you're in luck. We're going to Paris!”

“Oh God, I don't have any clothes. Not even a toothbrush.” Pete flashed his Visa card. Annie howled with glee.

“I bet there's champagne onboard, a gourmet meal and a movie,” Pete said. “We're both on overload. We need this. We deserve it.”

“It must be nice to be rich. How much is this costing?”

“I have no idea, but Leo never springs for anything unless he can afford it. I expect in the end this will be my graduation present. Neat, huh?”

“I could get real used to this,” Annie said when they were in the plane, looking around at the plush seats, at the two stewards who would serve them. They were the only passengers. “God,” was all she could say. “Wait a minute, I can't go, I don't have my passport with me,” Annie said, tears forming in her eyes.

“Voilà!”
Pete held it up. “I stopped by your pad and your roommate found it for me,” Pete said, handing it over. “A passport that's never been used,” he fretted.

“You know, I got it thinking, ‘Someday . . .' This is someday,” she said happily. “Oh, Pete, this is so wonderful. I can't believe it. How long will we be there?”

“Three days, four, longer if you think we can get away with it. Let's take it one day at a time.”

“Is there a payback for this? You know what I mean?” Annie asked carefully.

“If you mean are we going to sleep together, the answer is no. I know Dennis is the man of the hour. I have no woman of the hour, so this is just a trip that we're going to enjoy together. Annie, I can't think of a single soul I would rather see Paris with than you. We're gonna have a great time.”

“We damn well better, because I know I'm never going to get back there again. I just know it's costing a fortune,” she grumbled.

“Do we care? I mean we care, but Leo ... Leo is very generous. Sometimes people need to give, and sometimes other people need to accept. You know, I never touched that money Leo gave me every semester. A few hundred, but that was it. I liked earning my own money.

“Now look, we are not going to think about classes, Dennis, or anything but this trip. We can handle this. We are going to have the time of our lives and rack up some wonderful memories. Is it a deal, Annie?”

“Oh, yes, Pete. How can I thank you for this?”

“Just smile, Annie, that's all I want.”

“I can handle that.”

“This is some spread, huh?” Pete said, pointing to the elaborate array of food the steward had brought. “I wonder how Leo managed this all on such short notice.”

“Magic,” Annie said. “Plus some big bucks. I love it, just love it,” she said, pointing to the lobster tail on her plate. “Is caviar any good? Oh, who cares, I'm going to eat it anyway.”

Pete smiled. He was happier than a pig in a mud slide.

On arrival they were met by a friend of Leo's from the American embassy. They whizzed through customs and were in a limo headed for the Paris Ritz.

“I read about this hotel, Annie,” Pete whispered. “Some Egyptian owns it. He owns that expensive store in England, Harrods. It's supposed to be elegant and comfortable. Is that possible? The rooms are named after famous guests like Coco Chanel, Marcel Proust, and Edward the Seventh. Great restaurants too. We have an itinerary. Leo thought of everything. He got one of those fax machines. He thinks it's a toy. He faxes all day long. I guess that's how he did all this.”

“So what does our itinerary say?” Annie asked a while later when she looked around the suite of rooms assigned to her. Everywhere she turned there were fresh flowers and baskets of scrumptious fruit. Champagne was chilling in a bucket. “I can't believe hotels have satin bedspreads,” she said in awe.

“My room is just like this,” Pete said. “We can take the fruit and champagne and have a picnic. You love picnics. Let's see, it says we're taking a boat trip on the Seine, we're going to see a circus. This might surprise you, Annie, but I've never seen a circus.”

“You are now.” Annie giggled. “What else?”

“There's an aquarium on the list, biking, ice cream. It says here ice cream is not just ice cream. The place to go is Berthillon's. They have thirty flavors. Leo likes ice cream, so this has to mean he's sampled those thirty flavors. Butter-Chaumont is a park, picturesque, it says, in the downbeat Nineteenth Arrondissement of north-east Paris. It has a lake, waterfall, and clifftop folly or belvedere, whatever that is. God, this list is endless. I don't see how we can do all these things. Listen, Annie, we're both adventuresome, let's rent some bikes and go off on our own. We'll do the ice cream things because I know Leo is going to quiz me on the flavors. We'll eat when we feel like it. I don't like tours, and I don't think you do either. You game?”

“You bet. I need to get some knockabout clothes, though, so maybe we better hit some shops.”

Pete burst out laughing. “Take a look in the closet. The hotel must have sent them up earlier. I've pretty much got one of everything, even a tux. Leo is big on tuxes. Shoes too. Boggled my mind.”

Annie was already opening her closet, oohing and aahing. “I don't understand any of this. How does your uncle know my size? Lord, these clothes must have cost a fortune.”

“I bet he radioed ahead or something. Even I know you're a size seven. I'm just across the hall from you. I'm going to take a shower and put on some of these fancy duds, and then I think we should go somewhere and get a drink and make some plans.”

“Hmmm,” was all Annie said as she fingered the material on a Donna Karan jacket. She had to think of something nice to do for Pete's uncle. The only problem was, what did you give a man who had everything, and the money to buy more of everything? Maybe she could donate some money to the SPCA in his name. She had to do something. She couldn't simply accept such a grand vacation and not make some kind of attempt to show her appreciation. Later, she'd talk to Pete about it.

It was four of the most wonderful days of Pete's life. Annie proved to be the enjoyable companion he knew she would be. In a way, he looked at everything through her eyes. He knew that with Leo's help, he'd given Annie a memory she would treasure for the rest of her life. It didn't bother him a bit that he was going to owe Leo. Big-time.

Because he was a romantic at heart, Pete capped off every evening with an ice cream cone from Berthillon's and a huge bouquet of flowers from a flower stall along the Champs-Elysées. Annie said she was going to keep one flower from every bunch and press it into her Memory Sampler. Pete felt his chest puff out.

And then it was time to say good-bye to Paris. Annie found herself crying as they pedaled along the bike route they'd pedaled every day. She was still crying as she licked a banana ice cream cone, and she cried harder when Pete bought all the flowers from the flower-stall owner, who smiled indulgently and said something in French that sounded like “young lovers.”

When they boarded the plane, Annie was still crying, weeping, actually. Pete himself felt misty-eyed.

“I want to say something ... meaningful,” Annie said, “but don't have the words. Thanks, Pete. It hardly seems adequate.”

“It'll do,” Pete said gruffly.

Annie did something then that was so impulsive, so unlike her, Pete could only stand like a cigar-store Indian and stare at her. She kissed him. With her mouth open, her tongue caressing his closed lips. Then he said something incredibly stupid. “Stop that or you'll be sorry.”

“Oh yeah?” Annie drawled.

“Yeah,” Pete said hoarsely.

“If that's the way you feel about it, okay,” Annie said tartly.

“It's not the way I feel about it, it's just that you can't tease ... flirt ... do things like that unless you mean to carry them through.” Jesus, he sounded like some stuffy schoolteacher lecturing his son on his first date.

“Smartass. How do you know I wouldn't follow through? Too late now, Sorenson, you had your chance and you muffed it. It would have been a great fireworks display to end a wonderful trip. Sex on an airplane. Wow! Eat your heart out.” She smiled, but there was no smile in her eyes.

 

Annie felt like the walking wounded when she entered her small apartment. Childishly, she crossed her fingers, hoping her roommate was out. She needed to stretch out in a warm bubble bath and think. She'd never been this tired in her life. In the last five days, if she had eight full hours of sleep, it was a lot. Couple that with jet lag both ways and she was about down for the count. How she'd hung on this long was beyond her.

Ah, good, Marie wasn't home. There was a note on the kitchen table saying she wouldn't be back till Monday afternoon. Hmmm, Annie thought groggily as she made her way to the bathroom the size of a closet. The tub was old, with claw feet, and painted bright blue on the outside. The toilet was green, the miniature sink a brown egg color. The landlord had tried to work a miracle and failed miserably. The nicest thing in the room was the gaily braided rug, which matched a shower curtain so wild in color it made one snap to attention.

The water gushed into the tub, the old-fashioned stopper on the chain secure in the drain. Bath salts were added, almost half a jar. Bubbles and steam wafted upward as Annie stripped down to the buff. She marveled again at the costly clothing she'd been wearing the past few days. She'd wanted to leave them behind, thinking somehow they were only on loan, but Pete squelched that kind of thinking. He himself had jammed the designer clothes into two string bags they'd picked up on a shopping trip.

“Ah, to be rich,” she sighed as she slipped down into the steaming wetness. Ohh, it smelled so good. She did love the scent of gardenia. It was her one weakness, buying sweet-smelling bath salts and body talcum to match. She wadded up a thick terry towel and leaned back so it would cushion her neck.

Now she could think about Pete and the trip. Pete alone. Pete, period. She'd all but thrown herself at him, and he'd pushed her away. Which just went to prove, she supposed, that her thinking in regard to him was right.

Pete had baggage he needed to sort through before he could enter into any kind of a relationship. She knew she was the type to want commitment, unconditional love, and in her heart she knew Pete wasn't capable, at this point in time, of giving her what she wanted and needed. Pete knew it too; that was the part that bothered her. Would he ever realize she loved him with all her heart? She decided the answer was no. The only way he would realize it was if she took him by the shoulders, looked into his eyes and said, “Pete, I love you and want to marry you.” Pete needed words, and they both needed freedom, for now, to see what life was all about. If they kept the friendship alive that they'd started so warily, the day might come when Pete would say the words to her. Until then, she was going to have to live with the decision not to muck up their friendship or even clutter it up with careless words and a quick roll in the sack.

She wondered now if she'd been giving off some mixed signals that Pete didn't know how to deal with. Like that business with Dennis, and then again on the plane, where she'd literally thrown herself at him. Damn, she worked so hard at keeping their friendship on an even path. Now she'd gone and screwed it up. Because it was the right time to, she told herself. She'd been tired, happy, and it just seemed right to her. But not to Pete. Was it ever going to be the right time with Pete? Was she destined to go through life being his best buddy?

Enter Dennis. Dennis was someone to date. Someone to sleep with when the need arose. She had to admit she rather liked the look on Pete's face when he saw her with Dennis. She couldn't help but wonder what her own face looked like when she saw him with Carolyn Withers. She didn't like waking up with Dennis next to her. Didn't like eating breakfast with Dennis. She always felt disloyal, like she was cheating on Pete. Dennis was
someone.
She'd been up front with Dennis because that was the kind of person she was. She'd told him she had no intention of getting married until she was at least forty and established in her career. Dennis said he felt the same way. Once a week sex was what they had. A truly sorry state of affairs.

Annie Gabriel did something then that she swore she would never do where Pete Sorenson was concerned—she cried, she sobbed, she blubbered until she couldn't keep her eyes open. She staggered from the tub and wrapped herself in a warm, tattered and frayed robe her parents had given her when she was fourteen. It was a comfortable old friend. She nuzzled the sleeve as she curled up in bed.

She thought about Pete and Barney. Why, she didn't know. Maybe because she'd never had a close friend like Barney. Right now she wished she had a friend, the kind you can call at any time of the day or night for consolation.