by Riona Kelly
They sat, and the waiter spoke to Roberto in Spanish, then switched to English when he realized she didn’t follow what he was saying. “Pardon, miss. Our special tonight is steamed prawns with saffron-infused rice and fresh asparagus. We also have paella with clams, lobster, and chicken, also in a saffron sauce.”
Even though it remained an expensive spice, it appeared saffron was the seasoning of Spain, but to be fair, paella was the national dish, and it was delicious. Nonetheless, she decided to go with the prawns. Roberto ordered a white wine to go with it. She was underage, but they didn’t card her, so she accepted the poured glass.
“Just one,” she told Roberto with an impish look.
“Of course,” he agreed.
“So, did you work on the commissioned painting today?” she asked. He hadn’t said anything, and so far, it seemed Arturo had not called him again.
He winced as if it was a sore subject. “A little bit, but there is something that bothers me about the eyes, and I want to fix it. Arturo wants it by tomorrow evening, so when I go home tonight, I’ll try to get it done. If I am satisfied, then maybe he can take it. I hate being rushed. You cannot do your best work with someone setting deadlines on it.”
“Then, you need to stand by your convictions.”
The waiter delivered a plate of tapas and Michelle selected a ham and olive roll. “It’s your name and reputation that you’re building.”
“You are right.” He saluted her with the wine and took a sip before eating a piece of fried squid.
As Michelle looked around the dark café with candles on the tables and a guitarist playing in the background, she thought this all seemed surreal. Was she really here in a little local restaurant in Spain with a handsome, charming native artist talking about his work? Was he really so interested in her that he took her photos, many times, and wanted to paint her? Did he find her beautiful or just interesting-looking? Most of all, was she falling for him? It was not a good idea, and she knew it.
Chapter 8
As Lindy rushed to pack a few things in her smaller bag, she questioned her sanity again. She shouldn’t be leaving Michelle here alone and running off with Colin for an overnight trip. If she’d been here on her own, it would be an entirely different matter, but what kind of example was this to set for an impressionable young girl?
Colin wasn’t like any of the flings she’d had over the years, and she really felt there was a connection with him. Their day exploring Malaga and surrounds had been fantastic. They’d looked at the settings and seen them through different yet similar eyes—she, from the view of an artist and he, from the lens of a film camera. They’d compared notes, each pointing out something the other might not have noticed and finding different perspectives in the observations. She’d felt more stimulated creatively than she had in quite some time, and she found herself anxious to sketch an image or two to pursue when she had time. She snapped dozens of photos she could revisit for inspiration while he did the same to analyze later to determine which locations he would ultimately use for the movie.
Michelle might have found the day dull and even tedious had she been along, but Lindy reveled in the beauty and possibilities. She suspected the Tangier trip would be equally as wonderful and quite probably, even more tedious for her niece if she forced Michelle to come with them. The girl had gotten along fine while they were off in Malaga. She’d even dined with Roberto, who, it seemed, was a fine young man as well as a kindred spirit.
She turned to her niece, who sat at the kitchen counter, sipping an orange tea while she got everything ready to go. “I’m almost set. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes, I’ll be just hunky-dory, Auntie. I’ve been home alone many times, and this place is secure with limited access and security guards. I promise I won’t go wandering around the town alone after dark, and I’ll text you every six or eight hours, or you can do the same. Go and have a great time with Colin.” She flashed a conspiratorial smile at Lindy.
“All right, then. I’m off. You have the hotel name and number in Tangier in case the cell phone doesn’t work.” She pulled Michelle into a tight embrace. “Be safe, darling, and call me if there are any problems.”
Michelle kissed her cheek. “I will. Not stop worrying and go!”
Colin waited by his rental car, a gray Ford Escort, which he told Lindy was better to take to Gibraltar than the BMW. Even then, he’d told her he was leaving it at the ferry dock in Algeciras rather than taking it to Morocco. Once they were there, he’d hire a taxi to drive them around. She agreed it sounded like a good plan.
She’d been to Morocco many years earlier with a tour group, and it wasn’t entirely safe. No matter how exotic or romantic it might seem, it was still a third world country and part of a different culture that wasn’t entirely friendly toward the western world. Not as risky as going to Iraq or Iran, Colin assured her, but they did need to be cautious and alert. While Tangier was a tourist location, and they encouraged filming as much as any city looking for the revenue, it also was a city of thieves, smugglers, drug runners, and kidnappers.
“So, why are we going there?” Lindy asked, a touch of humor in her voice, as he explained all this on the drive to the ferry.
“It’s a unique filming spot. The Kasbah would be perfect for about four scenes, and at least one shot at the seawall.”
They took the mid-morning ferry from Algeciras, or more specifically, the east side of Tarifa on the Rio de la Miel where the port was located, crossing the Straits of Gibraltar to land in Tangier just after noon. The new Tangier-Med port had opened in recent years, and it deposited them about forty kilometers away from the city.
After they cleared customs, Colin flagged down a taxicab and struck a deal with the driver to be exclusive to them for the next thirty or so hours until they caught the late afternoon ferry back the following day. He gave him the hotel address in Tangier, a medium-sized European-owned place in mid-town. Constructed in the Moroccan-style with beautiful arches and intricate design work, the building surrounded a huge square garden with a fountain and beds filled with blooming flowers.
As they checked into their room, Lindy delighted in the light and airy space and the squatting queen-sized bed with a canopy and silk curtains. Arched windows showed etched designs around the frames. Light blue and gold silk-brocade curtains hung from the ceiling and just brushed the floor. She crossed to push them back from a window.
“It’s wonderful,” Lindy said as she peered toward the gardens and the café beyond. “It’s like a little oasis in the town.”
“It is quite nice, isn’t it?” Colin answered. He came to gaze over her shoulder and slid his arms around her waist to give her a squeeze. Leaning forward a little, he nibbled at her neck, and she giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Are you getting hungry?” Lindy asked.
“Yes, but it could wait a little while.”
He kissed just below her left ear, then down a little, following her jawline.
“No, it can’t.” Her voice sounded wistful, yet firm. “Don’t you have an appointment in an hour and a half?”
He sighed. “Yes. Let’s grab a quick lunch at the café, then head over to the director’s office.”
As soon as they finished dining, they left the hotel and found their cab waited for them as agreed. Colin cracked a little smile as he told her he hadn’t been entirely sure their driver had understood, so he was relieved.
An office building near the kasbah housed the director’s office. The older-looking building surprised them with a modern interior. Taking the elevator to the third floor, they located the office. Jarrah Samaha, the official in charge of filming in Tangier and the first person a scout should visit, greeted them warmly. A modern businessman, he dressed in white slacks and a white kurta, or long-sleeved shirt, that came almost to his knees, and he wore a white cotton talib rounded hat on his head.
Although Lindy had dressed in loose-fitting white slacks and a long-sleeved shir
t and had put her hair into a tight bun, wrapping a blue scarf around it, she worried her clothing wasn’t conservative enough. Samaha gave her an approving smile and a little nod, but it was clear he was interested in only what Colin had to say. She stepped back out of the way and stood against the wall, gazing out the window toward the city, appearing not to listen to the conversation.
Colin explained what he needed for the film, asked about Kasbah and medina film spots, and a location near the seawall he had used before on another project. Samaha assured him he had several shops in the medina that would fit the bill and offered to show them to him.
As if she weren’t there at all, he led the way to the door. Colin fell into step with him, signaling to Lindy to come with them. She hurried to catch up but kept a step or two behind. The entrance to the kasbah was a couple of blocks away, and they walked briskly toward it. Lindy’s ankle turned a little on the cobblestones, and she stumbled. She shouldn’t have worn the chunky heels, she decided. The ends were just the right thickness to catch the cracks, so she’d have to be careful.
An outdoor market, the medina or central town, featured stalls, food markets, and buildings selling all kinds of wares such as pots, skillets, clothing, silks, shoes, and even meat shops where hundreds of people browsed, purchased clothes and other goods, then shopped for dinner.
Lindy was jostled as she tried to follow Colin; however, between the crowd and her attempts to avoid any missteps, she was losing contact with him. She stumbled again and almost fell, but a man caught her arm, steadying her. He wore one of the long robes and a turban on his head, and sunglasses covered his eyes. Nodding politely, she thanked him and stepped away to continue, but he held onto her arm.
“Are you lost?” he asked, his English marked by a strong accent, more Spanish than Middle Eastern.
“No. My friend is ahead and probably looking for me now. Please excuse me.”
“I will help you find him.” He kept hold of her arm and began walking with her in the direction she’d been going.
Lindy’s mind raced with worry since she knew that in the past, sometimes women were abducted in the area surrounding the medina. Was this man just trying to help her, or was he going to lead her away from the crowd where someone might respond if she screamed?
She balked, stepping back as he tried to pull her. “No. I will call him, and he’ll come back for me.”
“Is not necessary.” He pulled again at her arm.
“Let me go. Now. Or I will scream.” She jerked her head away, and he grabbed for her, his hand sliding around her neck, pinching it as he tried to grip her.
As he turned her face toward him, he looked at her, eyes hidden behind the glasses, but a hard line on lips. “I try to help you, so you come with me.” He started to reach inside his robe.
Her first thought was he had a gun or a knife. She jerked hard and kicked at him, pulling her arm away from him and started to run. The path through the crowd proved difficult with so many people and so little open room, but she went as fast as she could. She was afraid it wouldn’t be fast enough, and she screamed Colin’s name as loud as she could.
She cut through a vegetable market where there was a little more space than on the main walk, then ran back out into it, still yelling for Colin. Behind her, she could hear the man pursuing her, yelling for her to wait.
Her heel caught again, then snapped off, and she tumbled to the ground, landing on her right knee and twisting her ankle. Struggling to get to her feet, she was startled when hands grabbed her again. She tried to turn to fight off the man only to find a woman attempting to help her up and then, just behind the lady, Colin coming toward her.
“Thank you,” she sobbed to the woman, her emotions suddenly overwhelmed by escaping what she was sure was an abduction. Then Colin stood beside her, reaching to pull her into his arms.
“Lindy? What happened? I turned around, and you weren’t there.”
“My ankle. I think I twisted it. Shoe broke. A man was chasing me.” She spat it all out at once and turned into his embrace.
Alarm showing on his face, she saw Colin look around the crowd, then shake his head. She followed his eyes and couldn’t spot the man who’d grabbed her. So many men wore robes and head coverings. It could have been any of them, but more likely he faded into the crowd when he saw help coming.
Colin put his arm around her waist to help her walk, and she limped along, the pressure on her knee, causing it to hurt, and her ankle twinged with each step. They tried this for about fifteen feet before Colin picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to a café located another fifty feet or so down the alleyway. He set her at the table and sent the waiter to get a towel and ice for her ankle, then ordered a cooling tea for both of them.
Colin excused himself for a few minutes, pulling out his phone as he went to a quieter area. While he was gone, she sent a text message to Michelle, checking to see if everything was all right in Marbella. She didn’t tell her about her twisted ankle, not eager to reveal she’d been in trouble. As she waited for a response, the waiter returned with a bucket filled with cold water and a little ice, along with a towel for her ankle. Dipping the cloth, she wrapped it around her injury rather than sticking her foot in the bucket.
The tea had arrived by the time Colin came back and sat down across from her. He glanced at the bucket of water and the wrapped ankle and gave her a reassuring smile.
“That’s better then, isn’t it? Not quite what I expected.”
“Me, either,” she replied, then her phone beeped with the text message from Michelle. All fine there, and she sighed in relief. “I’m sorry to interrupt your scouting. Are you going back to join Mr. Samaha again?”
“In a little bit. He’s gone ahead to talk to the owner of a shop I might use. But our taxi is on his way here, so I’m going to send you back to the hotel to ice and rest your ankle and knee.” He caught her hand and squeezed it.
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. Maybe I could just wait here for you. I should be safe if I’m near the waiters, don’t you think?” She wanted to put on a brave show for him, but she was nervous about being left alone.
“Probably, but I’d feel better if you were safe in our room. I’ll be a couple of hours yet, so you might as well be comfortable.”
She put on a disappointed look, but said, “Yes, you’re probably right. Thank you for being so understanding.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.
As he’d said, the taxi came to the nearest side street to the kasbah, and Colin carried her to it rather than having her hopping through the street. He helped her into the back seat and told the driver to take her back to the hotel, then he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
“The hotel manager will help you get to our room. I’ll see you as soon as I’m done here, darling.”
Lindy caught his hand, squeezing it with affection as she gave him another apologetic look. He’d called her darling for the first time, and she was moved by it. It had been a very long time since she’d had such tender feelings for anyone. She felt a few tears slipping to the edges of her eyes and looked away as the taxi moved into traffic.
Back in the room, the shock of the afternoon began to wear off, and Lindy felt tired. She didn’t know if the stranger in the medina was really trying to assist her or abduct her, but she couldn’t help feeling it was the latter, or he would have let go of her arm when she asked. But she would never know. She was just grateful for the help she’d gotten, and Colin coming back for her. No doubt, it didn’t help his meeting with the director any as she was inconsequential in Samaha’s eyes. She would have to make it up to her man with something special.
Her ankle was swollen and turning a little black and blue, but she didn’t think it was too bad. She’d been soaking it since she got back in the room, and it was feeling better already. Her knee had a bruise and a scrape, but nothing too serious. She’d cleaned it and put ice on it also. She had to laugh at herself
. She’d been worried about Michelle, and here she was the one who'd gotten into trouble and hurt.
* * *
Colin arrived about three hours after she’d returned to the hotel and appeared to be in a buoyant mood, so she guessed the rest of his inspection went well.
“You’re pretty chipper,” she said.
“I am. The hardest part of my work here is done, which was haggling with the three shop owners and Samaha on agreed pricing within the film’s budget. But we’ve got it sorted, and I am still a little lower than projected, so it’s good.” He set his camera on the end table and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.
“Great! Does that complete all you came to do?”
Lindy had wrapped her ankle in a stretch bandage now and was able to hobble around on it, but still set it on a footstool while she sat.
“I still need to go out to the edge of the town where the seawall is and look for an open location there. If the property is owned by the town, I just need to arrange for permits and pay a little kickback to the clerk. It’s the way it tends to work in places like this. How’s the ankle?”
“Better. It’s only a little twist, and it should be okay to walk on tomorrow so long as I keep it wrapped. I am really sorry. I should have worn flats to go to the kasbah. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He came over and stood behind the cushioned chair, where she sat and started rubbing her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse.”
“Me, too. That man frightened me, Colin. All the stories of kidnapping and white slavery went through my mind.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t see him, and the street was so crowded. But it would be unusual for a kidnapper to try to grab someone in the middle of a crowd when they’re obviously unwilling.”
His hands worked magic on her shoulder and neck muscles as she closed her eyes and relaxed a little more. “He said he was trying to help me, but he grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. I don’t know what he thought he was doing.”