“Why?”
“I want to find an excuse for myself.”
“You’re not that old, Paul. Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?”
“Oh, no, another book I missed. Why?”
“There’s this famous quote from it you should know. ‘Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me. They possess and enjoy early, and it does something to them, makes them soft where we are hard,’?” I recited, recalling how Sheena and I had discussed the novel.
“Well, I’m not becoming poor just to keep up with you in the pool.”
“I don’t want you to be poor.”
“So you want me to be hard. No problem,” he joked.
I started to get out, and he reached for my hand and pulled me to him. He held me, dripping wet in his arms. We kissed again.
“I’m glad you agreed to go to dinner with me,” he said softly. “I don’t want this day to end.”
“Don’t you believe in tomorrow?”
“Not unless you’re in it,” he said.
I smiled, kissed him on the tip of his nose, and went to a chaise to get a towel.
“Some wine?” he asked.
“Sure?”
He poured me a glass. I sipped it and watched him pour his own. Then I sprawled on the chaise and closed my eyes.
Was this what it was always going to be like from now on, I wondered, escorting one wealthy man after another, enjoying the best food, going to the most luxurious places, never having to think or worry about anything but my makeup and my hair?
“Excuse me. I have to make a call,” Paul told me.
“It’s okay. I’m going to drift off on a cloud,” I said.
He leaned over to kiss me softly on the lips and then went to the rear of the patio to make his call. Before he returned, I was fast asleep. When I woke up, I heard voices and looked back into the villa to see Paul talking to a young man who was delivering some fresh clothing for him to wear to dinner. I checked the time, subtracted the difference between here and New York, and rose to call Mrs. Brittany. I had decided she wouldn’t be critical of my checking in with her. This was, after all, the first time I was on my own since I had been with her. Surely she would see it as intelligent and even loyal.
“It’s getting late,” I told Paul as I passed him. “I want to take a shower, wash my hair. Can you amuse yourself?”
“No problem. I’ll shower and dress, too, and spend the rest of the time waiting and thinking of you.”
“Such a romantic. Who are you, Maurice Chevalier?” I kidded, comparing him to the famous French actor who was so well known for his charm. Again, I knew about something thanks to my mother.
He laughed and watched me walk up the stairs. I hurried to my suite and closed the door. I went right to the phone and called. Mrs. Pratt answered.
“Everything all right?” she asked when I asked to speak with Mrs. Brittany.
“Yes. Everything all right with you?”
I heard her blow into the receiver and smiled to myself. Moments later, Mrs. Brittany was there.
“I have nothing new to report yet, Roxy. It’s far too soon. Besides, I would have called you if there was something.”
“I’m not calling to find out about that. I know it’s too soon.”
“Why are you calling?”