"You sound upset."
"No. I'm not upset." Olga reached for his hands. "Come on. Show me some moves."
"Olga, I've got a supersensitive sense of hearing. I can hear in your voice that something is wrong. Please tell me."
"Nothing. Nothing. Now, come on."
Gabe shrugged again. He finally let it drop and moved over to the MP3 player. He cued up some music and a song started. He turned back to Olga.
"Do you know how to do a cha cha?"
"No. I'm not familiar with what that is."
"Let's start. Let me show you the basic step." He stood beside her and showed her the basic movement. "The cha cha is a dance where the right leg stays mostly straight. The left leg moves and bends more." He demonstrated with a quick movement.
"Wait. That was too fast for me."
"It's a dance where there are two long steps on counts two and three and then two short steps on count four. Like this." He moved again.
"Okay. Stop. This is not going to work, Gabe. This is too hard for me. Give me something easier."
He got behind her and placed a hand on each hip. "Let's try a basic move first then."
"Sounds good to me."
"Step forward with your right foot and dip your hip."
She moved like he told her.
"Good. Now do the same thing with the other leg and then shift again. Let's try it in a series of steps."
Olga continued to shift from one foot to the other. Gabe's hands stayed on her hips as he encouraged her to keep it up.
"You're doing well. Now, loosen up a little. Your hips are stiff. Let them roll a bit."
Olga tried rolling her hips more. Sure she was looking foolish, she stopped mid-step.
"What's wrong? You were getting the hang of it. Your hips were starting to move better."
"You weren't complaining about my hips and how they moved a little while ago."
"You think I'm complaining?"
"You're being a strict taskmaster, for sure."
"You haven't seen strict, baby, until you see a ballet madam. They're ogres and they carry yard sticks to whack students with." He picked Olga up and spun her around. "I'm a sweetheart compared to those hags."
"Put me down." She pummeled his chest.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing." Olga tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair. "I think I want to stop. I'm ready to go home."
"What happened? Will you at least tell me where I messed up?" Gabe rubbed his hand through his hair.
"Nothing. I'm just tired." She reached out and handed him the ponytail holder. "Here. You may need this again for the next girl you bring home." She turned on her heel to go retrieve her overnight bag.
"So that's it." Gabe reached out and took hold of her wrist. "I'm not a monk, Olga. I'm sure you had other men in your life before me. I didn't expect you to be a virgin, why did you expect me to not have a woman before you? Seems like a double standard to me." He smacked himself in the forehead. "Oh. I get it. You thought no one else had pity on the poor blind guy and that he must not have had any for a few years and you were doing the noble thing in taking on the blind guy. Let me tell you, lady, I don't need pity sex. No ma'am. Not at all."
"That's not what I meant. The other night you acted as if all women had been turned off by your blindness and now I see this ponytail holder and you're carrying on like you have a different woman here for sex every week. You're really sending mixed signals."
"Go home, Olga. Go home." Gabe turned away from her and stalked out of the studio. She heard him go downstairs to the bathroom. He slammed the door and audibly locked it.
Olga got her bag from his bedroom and left the flat. Her hands shook when she let herself out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
"It is easier to hurt than to heal."
German Proverb
As soon as he heard the door to his flat close, Gabe moved from where he leaned on the bathroom door and over to the toilet. He sat down on the lid, placed his elbows on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Ever since he met Olga, he was on a roller coaster ride of emotion and he didn't like it. Not one bit.
Startled out of his thoughts by the ringing of the phone, he thought briefly about ignoring it but the incessant ringing didn't stop. Sighing heavily, he left the bathroom and went into the living room to grab it. Before he could berate the person for calling so early, the caller spoke.
"Damn, boy. Have you seen the headlines?"
"No, Pops. I haven't. I'm barely awake. I'm not like you. I don't get up at dawn to see if I made the papers."
"Maybe you should."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Gabe ran his hands through his hair. This was not want he needed right now.
"It means you're front and center on several of the rag sheets this morning,"
"Above or below the fold?"
"Don't be a wise guy. It's not good and it's not funny. I want you to get the papers and read the articles on your device. Then call me back so we can discuss damage control."
"No. I’m not going to do that. It's way past time for me to be a man and tell you no. Maybe if I'd told you no sooner in my life, I wouldn't be blind now. Did you ever think of that?"
"How dare you accuse me of causing your blindness," his father sputtered. "I wasn't there. I had nothing to do with it."
"Did it ever dawn on you that I wouldn't have been there either if you hadn't forbidden me to pursue a career in the ballet?"
"You still hate me for that threat of disinheritance if you followed that sissy career, don't you?"
"No, Father, I don't hate you for that. The money meant nothing. It was your threat of not allowing my sisters to contact me that did it."
"So you admit you hate me?"
"If the shoe fits." Gabe's gut clenched at the daring words he was speaking to his father. Consequences be damned. The things needed to be said, had needed to be said long ago.
"Maybe you are up too early and you need to call me back when you've had your morning cup of tea and can be civilized."
"Maybe you need to back off and leave me alone and maybe then I can be civilized. You know, that makes perfect sense to me. If we don't speak then you can't tell if I'm not being polite enough for your taste. In fact, I like that idea so much that I'm going to hang up now. How about that, sir?" Gabe slammed the phone down before his father could respond.
For about two seconds, Gabe felt good about what he'd just done. Then reality set in and he knew this was not going to be the end of it for his father. He sighed. Might as well take a shower and read the papers like a dutiful child. A thirty-year old child, that is.
Gabe turned on his computer and while he waited for it to boot up, made himself some Earl Grey tea. He loved the smell of bergamot in the mornings. While the tea was steeping, he entered his password and logged on to his favorite daytime paper, The Daily.
His computer read him the article that featured him.
Deciding to dig deeper to see what else had been said in the other papers, Gabe clicked around to another website. Once he heard that article, he knew what had the old man's knickers in a twist. Damn. The stupid media. Nothing like adding more peat to the fire. They'd made a big deal over the missing women and the wolfman moniker and, from that, made a leap that the woman seen dancing with him needed to be careful not to be killed herself.
Gabe leapt up from his computer chair. He paced the floor trying not to scream. He tore at his hair and twisted the hem of his shirt into a knot. The damn vultures had practically called him a murderer. No. They had called him a murderer. He would have to take legal action for libel. No wonder the old man was so mad. Gabe himself could barely hold his temper and he knew his father first and foremost was concerned about the family's image. Gabe punched the wall. He winced at the pain and could tell his knuckles were bleeding. He grabbed a towel from the kitchen and wrapped his hand in it.
He sat down and picked up the phone receiver. He wasn't going to call
his father back. No way. With his unhurt hand, he keyed in his uncle's number. He'd tell him which lawyer he needed to call.
*****
When Olga left Gabe's flat, she walked around the riverfront and finally sat on a bench facing the Thames. The morning breeze was cool on her face and she relaxed a little bit. The air smelled fresh and clean. She idly wondered about all the history books she read where the authors wrote about the smell of the dirty river. I guess they cleaned all that up over the centuries.
She sat and pondered her reaction to the ponytail holder Gabe gave her. Why she got so upset was a mystery even to her. She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that maybe Gabe was right. Maybe she did kind of see herself as some kind of savior for him. She snorted. I'm so arrogant, aren't I?
Olga played with the zipper on her overnight bag. She debated whether to go back and try to talk to Gabe. After much debate with herself, she decided to have a cup of coffee first to work up her nerve to go back.
She walked to the closest Café Nero and stopped short of the entrance when she saw the paper boxes. She peered down into the closest one. The headline said Gabriel Swicord Finds New Love? The picture was of Gabe and Gina dancing in the club.
Olga laughed and couldn't resist putting a coin in the slot to buy a paper and read the article. Gina barely knew Gabe and whoever took the photo was clueless. I wonder what Gina thinks of this. Olga glanced down at her watch. Still too early to call and tell her about the article.
She went into the coffee shop and ordered a tall cup with no cream, no sugar. She found a table and sat to read the paper. The story was a bunch of supposition and innuendo. I'm sure glad it's not my picture on this thing. I bet Gina will be so excited that she'll frame it. I wonder how the boss will feel about the program being mentioned. Gearing up for the launch of the passenger shuttle is big publicity all by itself without the added complication of a celebrity added to the mix.
She scanned the rest of the paper while she drank her coffee. Finally deciding that the time was right to call Gina since she'd demanded the call be made before nine a.m. when they parted company the night before, Olga pulled out her phone. She found her friend in the contacts list and hit the dial button.
The phone went to voice mail. Olga left a message. "Hey, girl. I have a copy of the paper here with me. The funny thing is, you're on the front page with Gabe. The reporters thought you were Gabe's new girlfriend." She giggled, "And to think I'm the one who kissed him, not you. Call me back."
She unzipped her bag and slid the paper inside to save it for Gina. She decided to go back to her side of the river. Gabe was probably a hopeless cause and to go back to his flat would be fruitless. She sighed.
"I sure wanted it to work with him. I'm sorry it isn't to be." She stood and put the straps of her bag on her shoulder.
"Did you say something to me?" a male voice asked.
"No. I was talking to myself. Sorry." Olga looked up and was surprised to see Simon standing there with his own cup of coffee.
"Hello, there. Nice to see you again." He indicated the chair she'd vacated. "Keep a bloke company?"
"Sure, why not?" She shrugged.
"Do you want a refill?" He nodded at her cup.
"No. I think I've had enough. I'll sit for a few minutes since I have no real plans for the day anymore."
"Ahh. Your plans fell through?"
"You might say that." She grimaced.
"What happened?" Simon took a sip of his coffee. "Get into a lover's spat?"
"No," She swallowed hard. Her hands shook. Could he tell she was lying?
"I can tell by the look on your face that I'm right." He crossed his legs and nodded. "Yeah. I'm right."
"It doesn't matter. It was nothing."
"That looks like an overnight bag to me. What happened? Did the chap kick you out of bed? I'd never do that." He leaned over the table and put his hand on top of hers. "You can come stay with me for the weekend. I'd show you a good time."
"No, thanks. In fact, I was heading back home after my coffee anyway." Olga pulled her hand from underneath his.
"It's your loss." He whipped out a card case from his shirt pocket and tried to hand her his business card. "Here. Take it. In case you change your mind."
To be polite, Olga took it from him and shoved it into her small handbag. "I'll see you around, Simon." She turned and left. It was all she could do not to run out of the place.
Confused as to why she was antsy and unsettled by her conversation with Simon, she tried to slow her pace as she strode down the sidewalk. It was no good. She desperately wanted to be as far away from him and the café as she could get. She didn't breathe easy until she was down the stairs in the tube station and on the platform waiting for her train back to Chelsea.
Chapter Eighteen
"He that hunts others must run himself."
German Proverb
Since the day was a bust on the romance front, Olga decided she should go on into work and try to get some stuff done. She kept trying to call Gina, but got no answer. She'd left her three messages and finally decided that her friend was mad at her about the night before when she left early.
She left her overnight bag at her flat, ate lunch, and then traveled the short distance to the building where she worked. Michael, her favorite security guard was on duty. She obligingly held up her lanyard.
"Good afternoon, Michael. Is anyone around?"
"Nope. You're the only one who ever stays late or works weekends. You Americans are too tightly wound. You need to learn to relax."
"Don't I know it? Sadly, my weekend plans went wrong and I don't want to hang around my flat watching old movies so I decided to come on in."
"You know, I have a few single mates who you may like." Michael leaned his elbows on the counter. "They're nice and they all have jobs."
"Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it sometime."
"It's always open. All you have to do is let me know."
"I will." Olga lifted her arm and waved her hand over her head on her way to the elevator.
When she got to the lab, she tried to call Gina again. Still no answer. It was getting to be ridiculous. I had no idea she could be such a baby. She needs to stop pouting and call me back.
Olga set the phone down and picked up the set of schematics she'd left at her workspace on the day before in her haste to leave work and meet Gabe. Was that really less than twenty-four hours ago? How fast things can change. Then she wanted to cry. In the space of a few seconds, Gabe's life had changed when he rescued that family from the fire and now he couldn't see.
The figures and lines on the schematic blurred as she fought back the tears. How would she react if she couldn't see anymore? How would she do her job? Her respect and admiration for the man grew and she knew she needed to find him and apologize for her behavior. Who could blame him for being prickly and suspicious about everyone's motives? Hell, he was right to be suspicious of me. He pegged me exactly right. I didn't even know my motives in being with him until he pointed them out. But now that I know, I can change it. I can look at him as a whole person. Not as blind first, but as a man first.
She rolled the papers she'd planned to work on, looked down at her watch and decided it was as good a time as any to go back to his place and make a fresh start. If he'd let her.
Olga gathered her things and got up. Laughing a little as she imagined what Michael would say about her coming in and out so quickly, she moved to the hallway and walked toward the elevator. When Olga arrived, she hadn't turned on the lights to the hall because she knew the way to her lab, but as she made her way back to the elevator, she realized it was a bit dark in the area. No matter. No one was around anyway.
As soon as the thought came to her, she heard a footstep behind her. Since Michael had told her that they were alone, she called out to him, "Michael?"
No one answered and the hall went silent. Olga took a few more steps and then heard the ones behind her again. She stop
ped. Silence.
Another three steps in quick succession and a sudden stop. Whoever was walking behind her didn't stop in time. There were distinct sounds of what sounded like dress shoes to Olga.
She spun around and stared down the long corridor with many doors opening into many areas she had never been in. Olga called out. "Come on, Michael. I know it's you. Not funny."
Silence. She stood for a while with her hands on her hips and waited. No noise at all. Finally she shrugged and gave up.
Almost to the elevator, she heard footsteps again and whirled around. No one.
She punched the button to call the car. She heard the whirr of the cables indicating that it was on the way at the same time she heard noise behind her again. The man needed to stop with the joking around.
When the doors opened, she stepped onto the elevator and turned to poke the button for the bottom floor. She gasped. A man dressed all in black with a ski mask over his face had the edge of the door in his hand and one foot poised to enter.
"Get off, get off," Olga screamed and kicked the man in the shin. She swatted his hand with her purse. She poked the button again and again to try to get the doors to close. She kept kicking the man and, finally, the elevator slid shut with the man on the other side.
Once she was alone, Olga slumped down to the floor and shook in terror. She couldn't think straight. What just happened?
When the doors opened on the first floor, Olga, afraid to move, sat still. Fearful that whoever had been in the upstairs corridor had rushed down the emergency stairs, she had enough coherent thought to stay put. The doors closed again. She stayed down.
The doors opened again and Michael peered in at her. "Are you all right?"
She shook her head. "No. Were you just upstairs playing a trick on me?" She looked him up and down and there was no way he was the man upstairs. He was too short and too broad. The other man had been thinner and taller. Michael also had on the white button-front shirt and light blue pants of the uniform that the security guards wore. There wouldn't have been time for him to change. She started to shake.
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