“Why does everyone want to dress me up?”
“Because you let us,” Emily said. “Didn’t you ever play with dolls?” She fussed over the white blouse and short tie. “The glasses are already perfect. Now go to Justine and see what happens. If she asks, tell her hello from me.” Emily stretched. “I’m off to London tomorrow morning for my own rendezvous. Remind your girl she owes my brother a photo session.”
Your girl.
Justine laughed when Vienna walked into the room. But it was a quiet sound and her cheeks were red.
“Tell me no one saw you in that.”
“No. Emily says hello and that we owe her brother some pictures. I hope not with these clothes.”
“Not with those clothes.”
“What does this mean?” She brushed her hands over the too-short skirt. “It makes my legs look skinny.”
“It means our friend Emily has been to Akihabara Electric Town—a very strange and strangely alive place. I’ll take you there someday.”
“And people dress like this?”
“A few, but most only dream of being with someone who looks like you.”
“It’s pretty?”
“It’s you telling me it’s okay to share love any way we please.”
“I told you that in Iceland.”
“I don’t have your memory.”
How can I love someone so annoying?
“Emily said she even got the panties right.” She lifted the skirt, revealing sky blue horizontal stripes on white cotton. They covered far more than the silk underclothes Justine bought for her. That made them useless for what Vienna wanted and that was just stupid because—
“Come here, Little Storm Cloud.” And it was there again: the pressure that Justine projected. Except now Vienna knew what it was. It was standing above Sellfoss, hypnotized by that exact point where turbulence flattened to rushing clarity. And do you dare take the next step?
Girl moving.
Miracle of miracles, Justine shut up except for when she wanted Vienna to do something a certain way. And maybe she was just trying to be clear, but Vienna thought maybe some caged part of Justine was free, and the more Vienna appeared slightly confused or even shocked, the more fierce this thing became. Vienna liked that, even if lovers weren’t supposed to be confused or shocked. She made a mental note to ask Emily about this, appended with a reminder to appear eager but mystified during sex. It was simple enough, and Justine had said Vienna was perfect and it would be “wonderful to continue the lesson in New York.”
Vienna thought it must be something about how Americans made love. Hunter S. Thompson or Mark Twain would have understood.
Except now she couldn’t sleep. They were flying to New York to have dinner with someone named Simone in—she looked at the clock—eleven hours. Justine said she needed advice. Then off to Thailand. Then Spain, and then London at Vienna’s request. Justine should meet Grayfield because that was proper. Then Georgia in the United States because “Mom and Dad will love you.” And then back here, which surprised Vienna.
“The forest fits you,” Justine had said. “All beautiful and wet.”
Vienna couldn’t decide if that was a reference to her crying or to a comment Justine had made during their lovemaking. Was that something to be embarrassed about?
“I owe you a dance at the Cart House,” Justine added. “We’ll have to get gowns and find a stylist in Vienna.”
That would be perfect because the people at Cart House would never let two women dance together, so they could go into the ballroom when it was empty and the lights were down and no one ever had to know that Vienna couldn’t dance and maybe they could make love right there in the ballroom.
Her mind stuttered and stumbled in a thousand different directions.
You know this is dangerous. Concentrate on one thing.
She saw an article from the London Telegraph—a column that had come out the day after Justine and Lord Davy had their public exchange.
“In a world of coy semi-disclosures, how refreshing to see American supermodel Justine Am publicly proclaim her love for a wisp of an orphan named Vienna. It’s too much to hope it will last, but even that small hope is new.”
Everyone saw it but me.
The night twisted on its silent axis. The machinery of God pushing rain to snow. Another hour passed. She heard Justine’s breathing; timed it by the clock on the nightstand. How many breaths would she take in one year?
Stop it!
She uncurled slightly from her tuck. The bottom of her foot brushed against Justine’s shin. Her skin was smooth and warm. What does this mean? It means she is here, my foot touching her. That was enough.
The laughter outside faded.
It’s a thing lovers share.
She ran to a familiar place. The phenol group is defined by the presence of a hydroxyl as well as an aromatic hydrocarbon.…
Shelter in a storm. But she could see beyond it.
The world was moving, she was right there with it.
At last.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WILLIAM S. KIRBY is the author of Iapetus. He has written nonfiction for television, newspapers, and magazines, on a wide range of subjects from the serious to the amusing. He researched and wrote a Heartland Emmy Award–winning TV series, Legends and Oddities, which investigated Colorado history.
William and his wife, Kathryn have traveled widely; their sojourns in Europe became part of the inspiration for Vienna. When not seeing the world, they make their home in Louisville, Colorado. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
VIENNA
Copyright © 2015 by William S. Kirby
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Getty Images and Shutterstock
Cover desgin by Jeff Miller, Faceout Studio
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Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-
7583-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-4795-8 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466847958
First Edition: September 2015
Vienna Page 30