by McKay, KC
Her brows knitted together.
I smacked my hand on the table. "I mean subs as in substitutes, not the other kind as in nuclear."
She relaxed her brows. "Not necessarily. I'm sure you wouldn't expect the substitute to break her code of conduct, now would you?" She remained straight-faced, with just the slightest upturn to the corner of her lip. It made it very difficult to read her.
"Oh, no, ma'am." I looked down and shook my head briefly, then looked back up. "I mean, Darcy. But I would call a teacher 'ma'am,' you know, out of respect like. But no, I certainly wouldn't expect the teacher to do anything unethical, but you wouldn't be too strict, would you?" I offered her a quizzical look.
She looked at me from under her long eyelashes. "Why do I get the feeling you wouldn't mind being put in detention?"
Oh wow. I didn't know whether she was playing with me or not. Maybe she wanted to act out a teacher fantasy. "Well, if you want—"
"Tickets, please." The conductor stood at the end of our table with his punch gun in hand. Darcy handed him her ticket and I did the same. He punched the tickets and returned them to us before walking off.
The moment was broken, which probably wasn't a bad thing. She stared out the window and I thought it best to let the matter drop. It felt like I was about to dig myself into a deep hole if I was misreading the signals, which I probably was. I mean, she was a college graduate, an officer, and my boss, who just happened to look like Miss America. Ah… now there was a safe topic.
"So, where are you from, Darcy?"
She smiled broadly. "You're going to love this. Kentucky."
"What?" My mouth dropped open and I stared at her. She didn't have a hick stick in her body. "No, you're joshing me, right? No way."
Her smile intensified. "I thought you'd like that. Born and bred, and before you say it, no, I don't mean inbred." Her smile flattened. "McClure and I often share a shot of moonshine. I like liquor from Daddy's still and see family reunions as a dating agency." She leaned forward. "I'm so pleased I don't have to destroy your perception of us hillbillies."
I thought perhaps she was being sarcastic, but she said it with such grace and elegance it was hard to tell.
With my elbow on the table, I rested my forehead in my hand, hiding my shame. I shuddered thinking about her mentioning the 'sister' relationship. She was sophisticated — surely she wasn't backwards or anything. I glanced at her and she continued to stare at me, straight-faced. This required diplomacy.
"Okay, okay," I said, looking her square in the eyes. "This guy goes to the doctor, and the doctor tells him he only has six months to live. The guy's distraught. He says 'Doc, what am I going to do?' The doctor says, 'Marry a rich American Jewish princess, and move to Kentucky.' The guy says, 'Why on earth would I do that?' The doctor says, 'Son, those six months will seem like an eternity.'" I watched her for a reaction.
She stared at me, expressionless. Then burst out laughing. "That's brilliant. Very funny." She continued laughing, which offered me some assurance that I hadn't offended her. She finally calmed down. "You don't really put a lot of forward planning into what you might say next, do you?"
What the hell was that supposed to mean? "I'm not calculating, if that's what you mean." I congratulated myself for not falling into her trap and spewing more poorly thought out topics of conversation. I was just trying to be natural. At least she liked my joke.
She rested her face against her hand. "I mean, you don't know anything about me, but you take cheap shots at my home state, and maybe my mom was a prostitute, but you just blurt out comments without regard to whether they may be offensive or not." She looked deep into my eyes as if the answer may have been hidden behind my blue irises. "I kind of like that. You're not afraid to be yourself. You don't try to shape your words to impress me, it's just a 'take it or leave it' attitude. You're quite natural."
Wow. I impressed her by not trying to impress her. Now that was impressive. I thought I best quit while I was ahead and just squeezed my shoulders together as part of my shy look.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she seemed happy for me not to respond. So I didn't.
***
The train rolled into Edinburgh and my task of figuring out what I was going to do was about to begin. I was with a woman I couldn't have sex with, going to a Tattoo I didn't want to see, in a town I didn't want to be in — all so I could spend a few hours drooling over Delicious Darcy. How sad was that?
I grabbed Darcy's luggage off the overhead rack and insisted on carrying it off the train for her. We stepped onto the platform and looked around.
"So, where are you staying?" she asked. "I assume you've booked a hotel because the city is packed for the festival. You'll never get a room on spec, but I'm sure you already knew that." She eagerly awaited my answer.
"Of course I booked." I had a feeling I was about to find out what it felt like to be a homeless person.
She tucked some hair behind her ear. "You're not staying at the Cavendish by any chance are you? That would be too funny."
My mind rapidly trolled possible replies. "Now, that is too funny. I am staying at the Cavendish. You just couldn't make it up, could you?"
Her face lit up. "Great! Shall we share a taxi?"
My butt twitched. "My thoughts exactly."
I had a hold of both our bags which didn't leave room for Darcy to hang onto my arm. Just as well. I didn't need any distractions while I figured out my next move. Then I remembered the movie Beverly Hills Cop with Eddie Murphy. He pretended that the hotel lost his reservation when he tried to check in unannounced. It worked for him, and I didn't see why it couldn't work for me.
Chapter 14
As we headed for the taxi rank, I mentally rehearsed the antics I'd perform, what I would say, and how I would say it once we arrived at the hotel. I decided to act like an outraged businessman, not a spoiled little kid. Even if it didn't get me a room, I needed to put on a convincing show for Darcy so she'd at least think that I had booked a room and wasn't a complete idiot.
Knowing I was about to escort a beautiful woman to a hotel, and anticipating my intention to deceive hotel staff in front of said beautiful woman, I developed a nervous bladder and had to pee — even though I probably didn't really have to.
A blue and white sign pointed to the 'Toilets.'
"Excuse me, Darcy," I announced, "I'm just going to nip to the loo." I intentionally used the British lingo hoping she'd see that as me evolving into a world traveler.
"Don't forget to wash your hands," she called after me.
She did have a smart-ass streak in her. It was kind of cute though, but I think she meant it, whether I actually pissed on them or not.
At the urinal I couldn't actually go despite the effort, so I zipped up, washed my hands as instructed, and headed out to return to Darcy.
When I came out into the virtually empty station, Darcy stood on the far side of the station, backed up against a post with some guy standing in front of her, quite close. I should have known a good-looking woman like her wouldn't last five minutes in the open population before some pervert started hitting on her. I approached from the side, taking long strides, but hoped the perv would leave before I got there. He had to be 6'2" or better and muscular. He had a full beard and moustache and looked unkempt, which I knew Darcy wouldn't find attractive. I took a deep breath as I made my final approach.
Scumbag man held his finger under her nose, pointing up, and spoke through gritted teeth. "I said, give me yur handbag, bitch."
Darcy's eyes were huge and her face gripped with panic. "Just take it." She reached up to lift the strap off her shoulder.
I stood next to the Scottish giant, facing him. "You got a problem, pal?" My fists were clenched and my butt twitched, but the look of fear on Darcy's face pumped me full of courage I may not have otherwise had.
Without notice, he turned and punched me on the chest, knocking me to the floor. He looked down at me and smiled, revealing missing front te
eth. He motioned me toward him. "C'mon, ye bloody Yank."
Oh shit. I quickly wondered if Darcy had any first aid training, then pushed myself off the floor and assumed a boxing pose, dancing on my toes like Muhammad Ali.
The giant swung, but I jerked back and he missed. I had a clear shot at his face and hit him as hard as I could on the jaw. Pain shot through my hand and I waited for him to fall — but he didn't. I couldn't have hit him any harder. I tried to shake the pain out of my hand.
He stood upright and gave me a toothless smile.
WHAM!
His fist connected with my jaw and I went down. Hard. My world fell into darkness except for bright stars flashing in my head like a neon sign announcing I had suffered brain damage. I lay there, face on the floor with my body paralyzed.
My butt did funny things and I hoped I hadn't shit myself in front of Darcy. Then I realized the mugger had rummaged through my back pocket and stole my wallet before running off.
After being rolled over on my back, soft hands caressed my face. "Oh my gosh, Zac. Are you okay?" I couldn't open my eyes, but relaxed as Darcy's fragrant smell filled the air around me.
I opened my eyes. What a beautiful sight to wake up to; her gorgeous face looking down at me, her eyes filled with concern.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Me?" she squealed. "I'm fine. What about you?" She continued to stroke my cheek.
I tried to shake the cobwebs from my head and refocus. Her purse lay next to my head so at least my pain wasn't totally in vain. I slid my hand down and checked my back pocket, confirming my wallet was gone.
I groaned. "The bastard stole my billfold. It had my hotel reservation and ticket for the Tattoo in it. Shit—"
She lightly stroked my cheek. "As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Let's report this to the police then get to the hotel. They'll have your reservation on file. We'll get you into a nice hot bath, then you can lie down and you'll feel better." She traced her fingers across my cheek. "You poor thing." She stood and helped me to my feet. "Gosh, Zac. You were so brave." She looked at me sincerely. "Thank you."
Suddenly, my pain lifted. It was worth a punch in the face to win her admiration — not to mention now I had an explanation about a non-booked hotel room and a lost ticket to the Tattoo. On the downside, my train ticket was actually stolen and I was without any money. I couldn't even buy myself a beer, let alone get myself back to Sacred Loch.
***
We found a policeman in the train station and reported the crime, but didn't hold a lot of hope of getting my wallet or its contents back. Darcy paid for the taxi to the hotel. When we arrived, I realized I didn't have a game plan anymore. Reservation or not, I didn't have any money to pay for a room even if they did let me in.
A doorman in a dark top hat and tails pulled the heavy-looking brass handle to open the door as we approached the entrance, right next to a prominent sign displaying five stars. The mugging was turning out to be a godsend. I couldn't have afforded half those stars on my budget.
Another guy in a hotel uniform appeared from nowhere and took the bags from my hands. "Allow me, sir."
Great. Another guy I couldn't afford to tip.
Darcy placed her hand on the small of my back and guided me in. We walked up to the reception desk where we were greeted by a nice-looking young lady sporting a tight ponytail and looking immaculate in her hugging blue blazer.
"Hi, welcome to the Cavendish. How can I help you today?" She offered us a pleasant smile.
I'd just have to see how this played out. I glanced at her nametag. "Hi, Claire. I had a reservation in the name of Chambers. Zac Chambers." Sweat collected on my palms.
"Do you have your reservation number, Mr. Chambers?" she asked as a matter of formality. She glanced at my injuries, but didn't say anything. Perhaps the hotel training program instructed the staff not to ask guests if they've recently had the shit beaten out of them.
"No, I don't have a number. Just me. Chambers."
"It would be helpful to have your number, but let’s have a little looksee." She turned her attention to the computer and tapped the keyboard. "Hmm… I don't seem to have a Chambers listed."
"Try Zac," Darcy injected. "Maybe they confused his last name."
Claire did some more typing. "Sorry, but there's nothing here."
"He must be there somewhere," Darcy insisted.
"I could tell more if he had his reservation number, but the name is not showing up."
Darcy looked my way and I saw doubt creeping over her face. "Are you sure you booked—"
Time for my acting debut. I slammed my fist on the desk. "Look, I booked a room here and demand lodging. Now fix it or you'll be hearing from my lawyer."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Chambers, but we're fully booked for the Tattoo and I can't just pluck a room out of thin air. Here…" She reached over and pulled a hotel business card from the Perspex card holder on the edge of the counter. "You can have your lawyer call the number on the card Monday morning and they'll be happy to help. In the meantime, you'll be lucky to get a room anywhere in town to be honest."
Since she called my bluff I didn't see much point in arguing any further. I just hoped Darcy bought my sincerity.
"This sucks," Darcy mumbled.
"Look, ma'am— I mean, Darcy. Could you just loan me the money for the train fare to get back to the ship, and I’ll pay you back on payday?"
She thrust her hands on her hips. "And what about me? I finally get some company for the weekend to share the experience with and you're going to bail out on me?"
My jaw dropped. "I don't really have a lot of choice, do I? No hotel room, no ticket to the show, and no cash."
"Fine." She turned to Claire. "Put an extra cot in my room. He's staying with me. Here's my number." She slammed a piece of paper on the desk and turned back to me. "You're my guest this weekend, Zac. You rescued me, and this is my way of paying you back." She closed the gap until just a few inches separated our faces. "And that's an order. Understood?"
Oh my God. A wave of panic gripped me. I was about to share a room with Delicious Darcy. "Yes, ma'am." I forced a smile.
Was that ma'am as in substitute teacher?
Chapter 15
We were taken to the room and the porter showed us the heating controls, the view over the street, and how the TV remote worked. After he assured us the cot was on the way, Darcy tipped him and he left.
A single bed was pushed up against one wall, and although the room wasn't large, it was adequate. Darcy said she wanted to jump in the shower. I wanted to jump in with her but thought it best not to divulge my lustful wishes. Not yet, anyway. Maybe if I got her drunk she'd drop her defenses. But when I thought about that prospect, it wasn't appealing. I didn't want her as a drunken roll in the hay or a trophy fuck; I wanted to connect with her on more levels than just the pubic region.
Who was I trying to kid? She was off limits.
The cot arrived while Darcy showered. A decent-looking Filipino maid set up the extra 'bed' and it never even crossed my mind to cork her. I must have had the Darcy bug bad.
I grabbed the only two miniature bottles of gin out of the mini-bar. I didn't really have a taste for gin, but it was better than vodka and I needed a drink. Since I didn't have any money, it needed to be a clear liquor so I could fill them back up with water and return them to the bar without anyone ever knowing. I made myself comfortable, stretching out and turning on the TV. Some nature show was on, but my mind was on Darcy in the shower and what she was doing. Not so much what she was doing, but how she was doing it. I let myself imagine the suds of lather cascading down her soft skin, gathering between her toes, then refocused on the soap around her breasts — her nipples in particular. I suspended my fantasy for a moment to have a shot of gin.
I drank the first bottle in one slug and tried to get a grip of myself. Not a grip where I really wanted to, but on my thoughts — to keep them in check. I stashed the empty bottle under the bed.
The first one was pretty good, so I sucked down the second one.
The bathroom door opened and she peeked out. "Hey, Zac. Why don't you go in the mini-bar and make us a gin and tonic? I could use a drink and I bet you could too. Make mine a strong one." Her head disappeared again as she shut the door.
I got off the bed and examined the contents of what was on offer. "Sorry, Darcy," I called out. "There's no gin in here. How 'bout a vodka?"
"What?" she screeched from behind the closed door. "No gin? That's disgraceful. Call housekeeping and tell them to get their butts up here and stock the fridge properly. I'm not having it. I've paid too much money for this room to have slip-shod service."
That's all I needed. A woman who knew what she wanted. I picked up the phone, then put it back down again, pacing the room, thinking. I tip-toed past the bathroom, opened the door and rigged it so it wouldn't lock behind me. I sprinted down the hallway on the way to the front desk to buy a couple of bottles of gin. Then it hit; I didn't have any money. I stopped to consider my next move. I couldn't charge it to the room because Darcy would see it when she went to pay the bill.
A middle-aged woman came out of her room putting on earrings. She looked at me standing in the middle of the hallway.
"Hi," I greeted her.
"Hi," she said back. "Can you believe it? My husband buys me earrings for my birthday, and I forgot to put them on. Now he's in the bar on his own, waiting for me. I better hurry before he gets sozzled." She scampered down the hallway and around the corner out of view.
Her door gently glided closed. I quickly stepped over and caught it before it latched. Darting into her room, I opened the mini-bar. Gin! Two bottles. I snagged them off the shelf and raced back out. A short sprint later, I was back in our room.
I snuck past the bathroom and made my way over to the mini-bar. I grabbed a glass, dumped both the bottles of gin in, and topped it up with a tonic water from the fridge. I chucked in a few ice cubes from the freezer compartment and pulled out a beer for myself.