Love Far Away: 2

by Cooper, Leslie

  “Passports, please. It will be ten euro for each of you.”

  “What! We need passports to get in?” asked Becca.

  “I guess you should have read the guidebook more closely,” mumbled Ashley. “Um, sorry, sir.” She stepped out of line and dragged us with her. “Come on, let’s hurry back to the hotel and grab our passports.”

  So back we scurried in our high heels and tight dresses to grab our passports from the hotel safe, and then back again to the casino where we showed our passports and paid the charge to get in. We ordered drinks and wandered around amongst the slot machines and roulette tables for a while.

  “I mean,” said Ashley, “this is nice. The building is really cool. But where are the European princes and James Bond? I just see tourists.”

  “Maybe they don’t come here until later,” said Megan. “Come on, let’s play the slots for a little bit.”

  We had a good time playing the slots for a while, and checked out the roulette tables too, but by eleven o’clock we were done and slightly disappointed with our experience at the famous Monte Carlo casino. “So are we heading back to the hotel?”

  “Are we eighty? No, the night’s just starting,” said Ashley.

  “Uh-oh. Last time we had a wild night out some weird stuff happened,” Megan joked.

  “I don’t know if I can stand being out until five AM again,” I said. “I might not be eighty, but I’m thirty, and that’s close.”

  “We’ll just go to a bar or nightclub,” said Ashley. “For a few hours. We’ll be home by two.”

  We all agreed, and followed Ashley as she made her way to the most exclusive hotel in Monte Carlo and followed the well-dressed young people until we found a swanky bar. One quick look affirmed that this was the kind of place where one could find European princes and Saudi billionaires. Since we were well dressed young (well, young-ish) women, nobody gave us a second glance as we walked in. We found a table and ordered cocktails, then sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere.

  Ashley came back from a trip to the bar to refresh her drink. “Okay, girls, finish your drinks and we’re moving on.”

  “But I like this place,” Becca protested. “I’m wearing Megan’s shoes and no offence, but they’re kind of pinching my feet. I like being able to sit down.”

  “Becca, no offence, but you’re kind of boring sometimes,” said Ashley. “I never meant for us to spend the rest of the night here, but it was early enough- early for Europe, I mean- that I knew if we hung out in a place like this we’d hear about the right spot to show up in later tonight. I did some eavesdropping around the bar and I know where to take us next.”

  “I have to give it to you, Ash, that’s pretty resourceful,” I told her. “I mean, I wouldn’t have thought to do that.”

  Becca sighed. “I guess I can go to another place. My feet might be too tired to walk tomorrow, though.”

  “Oh, we won’t be able to walk around another giant museum? Shame,” Ashley teased her. She grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her seat. “Come on!”

  The nightclub that Ashley had sniffed out definitely looked like the kind of place that obscure European princes would frequent. The ceiling soared three stories high, with balconies along the sides. One portion of the dance floor was glass, with that looked like a Japanese koi pond underneath. A DJ stood on a balcony high above; spinning the same kind of techno pop we’d heard in Paris.

  “Are those fish?” Becca pointed to the dance floor. “That’s so weird.”

  “That’s so cool,” said Megan simultaneously.

  The dance floor wasn’t very crowded yet, but we danced for a few songs anyway if only for the novelty of dancing on top of fish. Then we hit the bar for drinks, and found a place to sit.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that guy over there on People magazine,” said Megan, pointing to a tall, buff blond guy sitting in a nearby booth. “He was in those car chase movies, wasn’t he?”

  “Oh yeah, maybe,” said Ashley. “I bet that guy over there-“ she pointed to a tall, thin man with slicked back hair wearing sunglasses, skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and a fedora- “I bet he’s a prince. Not from Monaco, but like, some Italian or German prince or duke or something. Why else would they let him in here wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

  Becca nodded her head towards a curvaceous younger woman with long blond hair in a tight dress standing next to an old guy. His arm was around her and she looked bored as he talked to another man. “I think that dude must be a Russian oil billionaire and that’s his mail order bride.”

  It was my turn to play. I scanned the room for someone who looked interesting and my eye settled on a petite girl with big hair and a tiny dress. She was inexplicably wearing a crown of flowers on her head and a pair of gladiator-style sandals that laced all the way up to her knees and were at least six inches high. “That girl is a European pop star and the flower crown is her trademark.”

  We were all cracking up. Ashley pointed to a group of men in their thirties who were dressed in suits, standing at the bar watching the crowd. They were all tall and relatively slender. “That’s Monaco’s national wrestling team over by the bar.”

  Becca pointed to a man sitting back comfortably while two women preened and competed for his attention on either side. “Those two women are his sister-wives.”

  We were laughing so hard at that point that we didn’t even notice “Monaco’s national wrestling team” leave the bar where they had been standing. Megan had picked out her next target and was starting to come up with a backstory when she was interrupted.

  “Pardonnez-moi,” said the captain of Monaco’s wrestling team, “why are you pointing at us, ladies?”

  We fell silent. Megan and I exchanged mildly horrified looks. Becca looked like she was going to throw up. Luckily, Ashley recovered from the shock quickly. “We were just talking about who in this place looks like they’d be the most fun to get to know,” she said. “And be able to show us around a bit, to find somewhere to have a good time.”

  The men were exchanging their own amused glances. One of them spoke quickly to another in a language I didn’t understand. I didn’t think it was French- Italian maybe? The first man smiled at us. “And what makes you think we know where to go to have a good time?”

  Ashley smiled flirtatiously and ran her hand through her hair. “Just a feeling I have,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “And then what would you ladies describe as a good time?”

  “Cristal champagne. Music. Dancing. Fine food. Maybe a yacht.”

  The man smiled. “It is funny to me that you mention a yacht. Mine happens to be leaving tomorrow.”

  “Leaving, that’s too bad,” said Ashley.

  “Oh, not leaving like that. We are having some people come on board for a small party. Drinks, food. Cruise around and have a view of the coast. Does this sound like what you think of as a good time?”

  Ashley turned and quickly made eye contact with the three of us. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, well? Do we think this is a good time?

  Megan nodded.

  Becca nodded.

  I hesitated for only a second. It was just a party on a yacht in the south of France, no big deal. I could have as much or as little fun there as I wanted. I made up my mind, and I nodded too.

  “That sounds like a fabulous time,” said Ashley.

  “Wonderful. My boat is called Dolce Far Niente. We will be leaving at three tomorrow afternoon and would like you to join us. We will be looking forward to seeing you there.” He reached in his suit jacket, pulled out a small, cream colored card embossed with the details of when and where the boat was leaving, then nodded goodbye to us and left.

  We waited until he and his friends had gone back to their position at the bar before grabbing hands and squealing in a most undignified manner. This trip kept getting better and better.

  Chapter Four

  To make Becca happy, the next morning we visited an old church before doing a b
it of shopping to make sure we all had something to wear to the yacht party.

  “What do you wear to a yacht party, anyway?” Becca wondered. “Your bathing suit?”

  “And a cover-up,” said Ashley. “Like a maxi dress or something. And a huge hat and sunglasses.”

  “But do you carry a purse or what?” asked Becca. “And what kind of shoes? I’m not wearing my pool flip flops.”

  “Heels?” suggested Megan. “Fancy sandals?”

  “If we’re on a boat heels might not be a good idea,” I said. “What if the water’s rough?”

  “Oh, Jules, these boats are so big you wouldn’t even feel it,” said Ashley.

  “We haven’t even seen this guy’s yacht to know how big it is,” pointed out Becca. “A big sailboat could be a yacht, you know. It’s not a cruise ship.”

  We ended up sheepishly asking a shop assistant for advice, and ended up leaving the store with flat sandals, preppy yet casual sundresses, and casual beachy straw totes to carry instead of purses. We could throw a bikini in there, along with a sweater and anything else we’d need to spend the afternoon and evening on the boat.

  I felt like somebody else as I showered and got ready for the party alongside my friends. Julia Sutton, suburban housewife, did not do things like this. Julia Sutton drove a minivan and baked cupcakes for the PTA bake sale. She organized birthday parties and drove kids to soccer and ballet and karate. Julia Sutton did not hang out on a yacht in the south of France, drinking and rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. I was sure at any moment someone was going to come up to me and say “Hey, you don’t belong here!” and kick me out.

  “Do you feel like this is too good to be true?” I asked Megan, as we left our hotel and made our way to the marina where the yachts all docked. “I mean, do you feel like someone is going to come up to you and start laughing and tell you to go home and put on your yoga pants?”

  “Who cares?” asked Megan. “I know it won’t last forever. I mean, at some point Bradley’s credit card is going to get declined, isn’t it? Have you been keeping track of how much you’ve put on it?”

  I had to admit that sometime after buying myself an expensive Louis Vuitton purse in Paris, I’d lost track of the charges on the card.

  “So at some point it’ll all have to stop. But in the meantime, it’s pretty awesome seeing how the one percent lives. And even better knowing that someone else is going to be paying for it all.”

  “I like your philosophy,” I decided. “At least we know that if it gets declined, I already bought our flights back home.”

  “Fabulous,” said Megan. “So if, when, it gets declined, we can go back to Paris and find an amazing bridge to sleep under.”

  The marina wasn’t far from our hotel, so we reached it quickly. It took us a few minutes to find the yacht called Dolce Far Niente, because the marina was filled with beautiful people boarding boats to spend an afternoon at sea. We finally found the right one, showed the invitation we’d been given yesterday to the guards standing in front of the gangplank, and then boarded the ship.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but at first it was like a very fancy pool party that lacked a pool, but made up for it with impossibly beautiful, tanned, toned people who thought nothing of wearing a diamond necklace while lounging around. Everyone was sitting on lounge chairs on the yacht’s deck, or casually eating from the buffet laid out in the main cabin. There was a bar inside the cabin and a bar outside on the deck, and both were busy.

  “My kind of party. Let’s get drinks and find somewhere to sit,” proposed Ashley. We circulated around for a while until we spotted some empty lounge chairs and grabbed them. Not long afterwards, the yacht cast off from the dock and we set sail.

  “Should we look for the guy who invited us?” I asked, looking around at the crowd. There were definitely more women than men present. Had the men from yesterday just been hanging out at nightclubs trying to recruit women to come to their parties?

  “I’m sure he’ll find us if he wants to,” said Megan.

  “I feel incredibly pale next to all of these tans,” Becca sighed. “I mean. Look at that girl over there. She must be a model, right?”

  Ashley finished her glass of wine. “Okay, girls. So- are we going to sit here in the corner all day, or are we going to go mingle? There must be a Saudi Arabian billionaire on this boat who’s looking to discover what a good time is.” She stood up and grabbed Becca by the wrist. “Come on. Men don’t like to approach big groups of women. We’re better off alone or in twos.”

  “I thought we came to this party to have fun together, Ash,” I said, disappointed. “Not to try and hook up with rich guys! You’re just going to run off and leave us?”

  “Well...yeah? I mean, I love having fun with you girls, but I thought we came here to meet some hot European princes. Or Saudi Arabian billionaires, or whatever.”

  “It’s okay, Ashley,” said Megan. She waved her away. “You go. I see a man standing by the railing by himself. You better go ask him how he likes the view.”

  Ashley flashed us a big smile. “Thanks for the line,” she said, and strolled away.

  Megan stood up too. “She’s kind of right, you know,” she said. “I mean, I don’t plan to throw myself at anybody, but let’s try to go and talk to some people instead of just sitting by ourselves.”

  I was happy sitting in a chair with my friends nearby, enjoying a glass of wine and watching all the beautiful people and the feeling of being part of something like this. But I didn’t want to disappoint my best friend, so I stood up as well and went along with her and Becca.

  First, we tried to strike up a conversation with two other women who seemed to be there by themselves, but were disappointed to discover they were Italian and didn’t speak much English. Becca suggested we get something to eat, so we headed in to the buffet set up inside and helped ourselves to some of the different types of cheese and fruit that were set out. Then we wandered back outside on the desk. I spotted Ashley sitting down in a chair next to a tall, blond, tanned man- I was fairly sure not the same guy she’d been talking to by the railing earlier- holding a glass of wine in her hand and flirting as hard as she could.

  “Look!” Megan nudged me discreetly. “Those men are coming over here.” I followed her gaze and saw two mean headed our way, dressed in linen slacks and white sport coats like so many of the other male guests.

  “Bonjour, ladies,” said one of them, giving us a slight bow. I could almost see Megan swooning. “You speak English, yes?”

  “Yes,” Megan nodded. “American.”

  “Ah! I was wondering if we may have some help from you in settling a small disagreement between my friend and I,” he said, with a slight French accent.

  “Of course,” said Becca. “What is it?”

  “When you are on a boat cruise and hope to meet new people, do you prefer to approach them, or do you prefer that they approach you?”

  Megan smiled and flipped her hair. So did Becca, to my surprise. I didn’t think she would have gone for a line like that.

  There were two of them, and three of us. I inched away. “I’m just going to go back and grab some more cheese,” I whispered to Megan, and slipped back in to the buffet room.

  I ate two more slices of bread with Brie, and had my wine glass refilled by a white-jacketed waiter. I stood by the deck railing for a minute, admiring the view of the coastline as we cruised along. The yacht looked huge from what I could see. I craned my neck and looked up. There were people on the next deck up, too. I could hear shrieks of laughter- maybe there was a pool there? Ashley was busy flirting with the guy from earlier. Megan and Becca were now deep in conversation with the two men who had approached us. They wouldn’t even notice.

  I grabbed my straw bag and set off to explore a bit. After all, this was probably going to be the only time in my life I’d find myself on a yacht in the south of France, so i might as well enjoy it. I found the stairs, and went up to the deck above
me. There was another room filled with tables and chairs, and a jazz trio in the corner playing music. Out on the deck, there was a pool and a hot tub that seemed to have been filled with attractive models. They had to be models, I told myself. There was no way that anybody that attractive could just be a normal person. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb- or rather, like a thirty-year-old American woman on a yacht with European models in their early twenties. I went back to the staircase and went up another deck, and another. How big was this boat anyway?

  At the top of the next flight of stairs, I realized that I was on the top deck with the bridge from where the captain steered the boat. I didn’t want to bother anybody and I didn’t feel like I should really be up there, so I turned and headed back down the stairs. This time I went down as far as I could- one level down from the bridge was a deck filled with bedrooms, then a deck with more rooms, then the deck with the pool and the kitchen, then the deck I’d been on with my friends. I went down one more flight of stairs and found myself in a different environment. The upper levels had been immaculate- gleaming wood, pristine white furnishings, crystal chandeliers, and glass accents. This floor was a bit darker and there were no windows and no deck. In fact, the only windows were small portholes. I glanced out once of them and realized that this deck was level with the water.

  Most of the doors down here were shut. I tried one handle out of curiosity, but it was locked. There didn’t seem to be much down here anyway. I turned to head back upstairs and maybe work up the courage to try the hot tub, when I bumped right in to a man.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “Um, je m’excuse...”

  He looked down at me and smiled. Even in the dimmer light of the lower deck, his teeth looked very white. “Not a problem,” he said. His English was perfect and precise, but I could hear the hint of an accent underneath. French or Italian, I wondered. “You are here with the party? What brings you down here?”