Once again, she immediately knew that she’d said the wrong thing. Anger flashed in his eyes, and she knew she was in for it as he said, “My America. Okay, princess. You got it.”
Now what? Raluca thought glumly, realizing that whatever plans he’d had in mind had just been switched with the intention of annoying her.
What had she said to upset him? She replayed her words, but could find nothing offensive in them. The guidebooks said that Americans, like natives of any country, enjoyed advising foreigners on the best that their land had to offer, and were particularly fond of being asked about places off the beaten path.
Why was Nick so touchy? She didn’t even feel comfortable asking him what she’d said to offend him, in case that offended him. She wished she hadn’t agreed to go anywhere with him. But it would be undignified to suddenly change her mind.
Raluca followed him out of the hotel and to his Viper. Her heels clattered pleasingly against the floor, and the jeans and tank top were unexpectedly comfortable. She reminded herself to thank Destiny the next time she saw her.
This time Raluca remembered not to sweep away non-existent skirts as she got in. “Where are we going?”
“On a road trip.” Now Nick sounded more teasing than angry, to Raluca’s relief. “It doesn’t get any more American than that.”
He rolled down the windows and peeled out of the parking garage and into the streets, threading his way through Santa Martina. Raluca looked curiously around the city. It was different from the European cities she was used to. Less elegant, but it did have a certain quality she liked.
As Nick passed a group of skateboarders practicing jumps in front of a graffiti mural of a beautiful black woman with an explosion of rainbow-colored hair, she thought, Lively. Vibrant. Unexpected.
She wouldn’t have minded seeing more sights like that. But Nick soon left the city and began speeding down a highway that led into the countryside. Raluca watched the scenery, but soon became bored: it was nothing but field after field, with the occasional herd of cows. She could have seen as much in the countryside of Viorel, though the fields would have been smaller, the sky less vast.
They drove and drove, until Nick suddenly pointed at a billboard. He was going so fast, Raluca barely had time to read, WORLD’S BIGGEST CHAIR: NEXT EXIT before they were skidding off the highway, down the exit, and pulling up in front of another sign announcing, WORLD’S BIGGEST CHAIR.
Nick bounced out of the car and opened her door.
“What is this?” Raluca asked, before remembering the folly of asking Nick rhetorical questions.
Sure enough, he replied, “It’s the world’s biggest chair.”
He paid the admission fee as Raluca wondered if this was some bizarre prank. Then again, Big Bacon was real...
A moment later, they stood in an open lot, looking up at a gigantic armchair the size of a house.
“Well?” inquired Nick. His green eyes gleamed teasingly. “What do you think?”
Raluca was determined not to rise to the bait. If he had decided to pay her back for an infraction that she didn’t even understand, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her annoyance. “It’s certainly quite large.”
She waited, but there appeared to be no more to the attraction than its size.
“Okay,” Nick said. To her satisfaction, he seemed disappointed in her lack of visible reaction. “Onward!”
They returned to the highway and passed more and more fields. Raluca drew upon her training at enduring boring diplomatic meetings until Nick pointed again. This billboard read, WORLD’S BIGGEST LOBSTER: NEXT EXIT.
That actually intrigued Raluca... until they paid their admission and found, not an aquarium housing an immense live lobster, but a gigantic fake lobster, painted bright red and long as a city block.
“World’s biggest lobster!” Nick announ
ced.
“I see,” said Raluca.
They looked at it for a few minutes, then returned to the highway. As Nick began driving again, Raluca waited till he was distracted by passing a car, then stole a look at him. To her satisfaction, he seemed frustrated, no doubt by her lack of reaction; to her secret alarm, he also seemed determined. She wondered how many WORLD’S BIGGEST things were within driving distance of Santa Martina.
She sat silently, calmly watching the monotonous fields and sneaking glances at Nick whenever he wasn’t looking at her. He became more and more visibly impatient as time went on, shifting in his seat and tapping his fingers against the wheel, but was apparently unwilling to start a conversation. Raluca was also unwilling, given that everything she said only seemed to annoy him.
Then she caught his lips twitching in a way that she’d come to recognize as Let’s irritate Raluca.
He turned on the radio. Reception was bad in the country; the first few stations were nothing but sizzles and hisses. He stayed briefly on a preacher bellowing about fire and brimstone in between long bursts of static, skipped through several music stations that sounded at least potentially enjoyable, one Spanish and one classical, and then found one playing a type of music that Raluca had not heard before.
With a distinctly evil grin, he dropped his hand. Clearly this was something she was meant to hate. At first Raluca couldn’t tell why. The instrumentation had a heavy emphasis on twanging guitars, but was otherwise unobjectionable. Then she began to listen to the lyrics.