The Ayatollah's Money
Page 9
Chapter 10 – Getting into the Groove
Laleh had been in London for eight days, and had spent seven of them with the Junes. She had eaten langoustines five times, drunk Champagne eight times, Bordeaux four, and Burgundy six. She had looked at the form of Chartres Cathedral twice, been in the British Museum twice, and the Victoria and Albert four times. She and the Junes had logged about fifty miles on foot, walking the streets, which was the only thing that allowed her and Gwen to keep their stunning asses in shape, and Roger was all for them doing that to keep those attributes at the same aesthetic standard as Chartres. Laleh sat at the large window of her suite and watched the boats go by on the Thames. Eight days since leaving home, and now what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t just eat, drink, and walk her way through the rest of her life, staring at art objects. Could she?
She was amazed at how calm she was, not knowing the answers to these questions. Eight days away from home; eight days in a strange city with strange people; eight days of drinking fine wine and being worth $100 million dollars. It was funny, this last point. She had all that money, and she hardly thought about it. She had her Savoy account debit card, and she picked up her share of the restaurant tabs, and that was pretty much the extent of her concern with it.
There was a concern about her wardrobe. On the second day with Roger and Gwen she had clocked the fact she couldn’t go around with them in her jeans and trainers (sneakers), so she and Gwen had spent three hours without Roger at Harvey Nichols, and that had taken care of the problem, as now she was smoking hot in the fashionista department. One day at lunch Roger started to comment on her new look, and Gwen had cut him off, not wanting to make herself conscious. Most of the time when the trio walked the streets, Roger lagged a few paces behind the two women, starring at the sights. He’d been married to Gwen for twenty years, and he never tired of looking at her ass. And now he had two to look at: Gwen, left, right, up, down. Laleh, swing, up, right, left. Paradise.
Laleh forced herself to think of the future. Was she going to take up permanent residence at The Savoy? Apply for British citizenship? What would happen when Gwen and Roger left? She knew they missed their dog, the one who had saved them from the Russian woman with the Walther PPK in her hand, creeping up the steps of their house in the middle of the night, and would go back to Charleston soon. Charleston ! That was a nice name. Laleh wondered what it was like, set there on the shore of the United States, implacable enemy of her native country, led by The Big Guy, the Ayatollah. What about going to the island in the Caribbean where her money was? She realized she didn’t even know the name of the island. It was ‘St.’ something. St. Tropez, was that it? Didn’t seem exactly right. She’d have to look it up. What about a desert somewhere, similar to Iran? Maybe she’d feel comfortable there. They had deserts in Africa, didn’t they?
She liked the way she felt, looking out the window of the hotel at the river. The boats moved slowly, at the same pace as her mind, slow and easy, no roaring currents, no waterfalls, no tempestuous rapids. Why was her mind like this? Shouldn’t she be scared, or worried, or anxious about the future? She let this thought pass through her mind and evaporate, and what remained was a calm self-confidence. What remained was a desire for a glass of Champagne and a covert look from Roger at her legs. She liked Roger. She liked listening to him dissect the dress of a woman across the restaurant dining room, because he always was right about that stuff. Laleh was surprised when Gwen wouldn’t allow him to go with them to Harvey Nichols, and she saw he had been disappointed. She didn’t want to disappoint him in the fashion and ass showing department. That was fun.
Her thoughts turned to men in general. It had been over a year since she’d slept with one, and that is a long time. The only two men she knew in her new life now were Roger and The Savoy’s doorman, whose name was Jools. Jools pretty much had decided he was going to make a pass at Laleh, because not only did her smile torch his heart, but it also fanned his loins. In the hotel industry, the number one capital crime to commit was for a staff member is to make a pass at a guest. This perspective applied also to his wife, who he knew would take equal, if not greater, exception. He rapidly was approaching the point of ‘don’t care, damn the torpedoes, job and marriage to the winds, I gotta get close to this babe’. Laleh was not at the same pressure point with him, however. She smiled at him several times a day, and he smiled back, but she thought it unlikely she was going to slip him her room card. Which led back to the other guy, Roger. She wondered what he was like in bed? Did he talk a lot? Was he aggressive or reserved? Did he place Gwen’s needs first, and his second?
As she stared at the river she wondered where in England it started? How long was the Thames, and where did it end? At the sea, or did it empty into another river? English art was staggering in its beauty, judging by what she had seen so far. Maybe she should make this her new home, and learn about English history and food and art. Everyone at The Savoy was friendly, but that had something to do with her paying 820 pounds per day, plus the tips she would leave them when she checked out, a tradition she didn’t yet know about. After her thought about the source of the Thames, the thought about Charleston returned. What kind of place was it? Were Americans as depraved as The Big Guy made them out to be? Were Roger and Gwen the rule or the exception? Again she marveled at the reticence they had displayed regarding her personal life. Not one, ‘where are you from’, or ‘are you married’, or ‘what do you do for a living’? All they talked about was wine, food, art, and each other. Maybe she could find a guy she liked as much as Gwen liked Roger. That would be nice. But, where would that happen?”