Chapter Eight
Bright sunlight streamed into the peaches-and-crème coloured room from the
enormous bay window hitting Jill Valentine right in the eyes. She groaned and pulled her
covers over her light brown mop. She gave a deep yawn and tucked her knees into her
chest. She was just about to drift off into a deep slumber once more before her bedroom
door flew open.
"HEY!!!" Jill exclaimed as the covers flew from around her. She leapt up and
covered her bare legs with a pillow as Chris started tromping across the room.
"Where is she? Is she in here? Did she sleep in here with you? Have you seen Leon?"
Chris demanded—it didn't seem like the man was ever capable of ASKING anything.
He didn't even look her in the eye as he fired questions—demands? —At her point blank.
Instead, he threw open her closet and bathroom door peeking in suspiciously as if he were
expecting to find two-hundred-and-fifteen pounds of marijuana lying on the floor instead
of designer outfits and a package of tampons.
"Ugh, Chris, it's way too early to do this—can't you bother me again in at least an
hour? Or two?" she grabbed her covers and attempted to get back to sleep but Chris
wouldn't let her.
"It's Claire. She didn't come back last night. Neither did Leon. They aren't here. They
aren't here, Jill—and they've been gone ever since yesterday—something isn't right
here!"
Jill muttered a grievance under her breath but Chris either didn't hear her or pretended
not to. He looked out the bay window into the wooded area about half a mile out on the
property past the pool quarters and lining up right behind the cabanas.
"Valentine, did you hear me? They've been gone since yesterday—they left Chanel
together and haven't been seen since—something isn't right!" He repeated himself, his
voice reaching a hysterical tone Jill only heard him use when he was worried about his
younger sibling. "I never trusted Kennedy."
At that Jill had to laugh. "Oh, PLEASE, Christopher Jay!" she tossed off her covers
and reached for a pair of pants right beside her bed. "The man is your best friend—just
last week I heard you both planning on getting matching tattoos."
"Guys do that stuff all the time." Chris retorted.
"Yeah, but you were planning on fitting the lyrics for 'Down With the Sickness' on your
asses—if that isn't friendship and trust, what is, I ask you?" she snorted mockingly.
"Once again, woman, you are missing the point." Chris said. He stopped short, as if
he had just said something he shouldn't have.
Jill stopped also. She turned slowly and looked at him dauntingly.
"Excuse me?" she said in a deathly quiet voice.
Chris scratched his head nervously looking somewhat like the idea Jill had of
Neanderthal men. You could practically see the subtitles lighting up under him as he
looked from her to the door: Insult Jill. Must save ass.
"Did you…did you just call me… 'Woman'?" she asked incredulously. "Did you just
PATRONIZE me, Christopher Redfield?"
"Now…now Jill, you've been in such a good mood this whole trip—quiet, you know?
Why break that habit now?"
Jill started after him and Chris bolted into the hallway. He slid halfway across the ten-
foot span of the corridor and darted pell-mell to the door that led out of the wing. Jill
followed close behind him, feeling much more at ease than she had when she had first
arrived. For some reason, with all these breakables around, putting Chris in his place
seemed a dangerous idea. But the house had become hers in the past few weeks and now
dashing down the hall with jeans and a thin nightshirt hardly seemed like anything.
There was just more space for Chris to run from her here.
"Come on, Jill!" Chris hollered over his shoulder. "You haven't caused any trouble
for me since we've been here—why be selfish now?"
"Oh, I'M the one being selfish, am I?" she asked as she followed him down a flight of
stairs.
"You know what I mean, you're the boring one! Leave the fun stuff to me."
Okay, that was an insult that he'd have to pay for. She sped up until she reached him
just before he entered the fresco-dominated loggia*, where she pounced on him.
"Just because I have some sense of dignity and responsibility does NOT mean I am
boring." She grabbed Chris's arms and twisted them behind him. "Give?"
"Never!" Chris declared with a grin.
Jill applied pressure and slammed her knee into his back. A howl of pain came from
her comrade but she just twisted his arm harder.
"Cheater." Chris spat. "You're just taking advantage of me because you're a girl—
DAMN IT!!!"
"What's that?"
"You'd better watch it, Valentine or I'm going to call for bac—my uncle! Uncle! —
Watch out or I'll call for my UNCLE! Damn it, Jill, UNCLE!"
Jill was about to release her viper grasp when a soft voice interrupted from the end of
the gallery. "Oh, my…what in the…Christopher? Jill? What…?"
Jill and Chris turned to see Carlotta and Sherry standing beneath the arch about twenty
feet away from them.
"Oh, Carlie…" Chris said, slipping out of Jill's loosened grip to greet his fiancée with a
hug. "Good morning."
"Good morning." She returned with a kiss. "Where's your sister, darling? She's not
still upset, is she?"
Chris groaned and let his head fall backwards so that he was looking up at the barrel-
vaulted ceiling in an exasperated way. "She and Leon still haven't come back since her
'episode' yesterday." He replied. "I'm starting to get a little worried."
"There's no need to worry, sweet. Claire's a big girl; she can take care of herself. And
I'm sure that with Leon there he won't let anything happen to her."
Jill nodded and stepped forward. "She's right, Chris. Claire is in good hands."
"How do you know?" Chris demanded, whirling around.
"Christopher, what I think Jill means by that is…" Carlotta tried to massage Chris's
shoulders to soothe his riled senses. She trailed off in mid-sentence before realizing there
was no way of getting through to him in this state. "She'll be fine."
"How do you know?" he stipulated.
Carlotta smiled shook her head. "Why don't you go and eat something? You'll feel
ever so much better if you got some of Cook's pancakes in your stomach." The two
shared an intimate laugh that ended with a tiny yelp from Chris and an expression on his
face that suggested that Carlotta had given him a pinch on his ass.
"Well…okay…" he said.
Chris turned on his heel and gestured around the room. "Jill? Sherry? You gonna
come?"
Sherry nodded right away and skipped off to join him. Jill nodded but declared that she
would have to go change first.
"Carlie? You gonna—ur—are you going to join us also?" Chris asked making sure to
use proper grammar with his betrothed.
"I'll be right there, love." She told him then turned around to face Jill.
"Jill? Sweetheart? Would you mind some company back to your quarters?"
Jill smiled. "Sure."
They walked back down the hall and Jill glanced at her reflection in the mirror that ran
the full length of one of the walls in the corridor. She didn't look like she belonged in
this house all of a sudden. Her hair was tangled and some of the straight light brown
strands flew around her head in flyaway tufts. Her clothes were rumpled from the
running and tackling, the skimpy material of her top clinging in the most improper of
places—to top it all off, her zipper was open.
"Jill?" Carlotta said as Jill hurried to zip up her jeans.
"Yes, Carlotta?" she asked politely, trying to straighten herself up.
"…I sincerely hope you don't take offense, dear…but…if you don't mind my saying
so…" Carlotta trailed off listless before smiling in a forced sweet way. "In my house, I'd
very much appreciate it if you would…consider a more proper choice of dress before you
roam around?"
"Oh, that…well, yes, I WAS going to get dressed in better…uh, whatever…but…"
she let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry."
Carlotta nodded and was quiet for a moment. "Jill, darling? Whatever happened to all
those wonderful night gowns that we purchased for you?"
"Oh! I love them! I really do. It's just that…well, I was so tired yesterday that I didn't
have the energy to change into any. They're so beautiful as it is that I'm scared to touch
them." She smiled at Carlotta but received none in return.
"Ms. Valentine, may I remind you that you are not in the U.S. where such nudity is
permitted. You are in my home and in the presence of my fiancé—I don't need—"
"Wait a minute." Jill interrupted, not sure whether to say how insulted she felt that
Carlotta had made an attack on her homeland's fashion sense or laugh at her un-needed
insecurity of Chris's affection. And where was this 'Ms. Valentine' coming from all of a
sudden? "Not everyone walks around half-naked where we come from, Carlotta." She
said lamely.
"That is beside the point, Ms. Valentine." Carlotta fired back. "The point is that I've got
a good thing going with Christopher, I do not need anyone gumming up the works."
Indignation flared in Jill's face. What was going on here? Did they just cross into
another dimension or something? Where was all this hostility coming from? And where
was it hiding since all of it seemed to pour out so easily?
"I…I…you're worried about CHRIS?!" Jill exclaimed, close to laughing. "Carlotta, you
don't have to worry about anything. There is nothing going on between Chris and I. I
mean, he loves YOU. We're only friends."
Carlotta smiled condescendingly. She was a few inches taller than Jill, a fact that she
just noticed now. "It makes no difference the status of the two of you. Friends or not,
you're a woman—the same as I am. We know how men can be. They see what they see
and they do what they can." She gestured to Jill's clothing. "And…I'm afraid that
whether he wants to or not…he notices you when you're…" Carlotta cleared her throat
and shook her head.
"I'm glad we had this talk, sweetheart." Carlotta said in the most fake voice Jill had
ever heard in her life. "It takes a load off of my mind."
By this time, they had reached Jill's room and Carlotta headed back to the entrance.
Jill just stared after her, not sure whether to laugh, cry, scream or break into song. Just
before Carlotta headed out of sight, she turned back to Jill and smiled, "You understand
all of this, don't you, Jill?"
Jill nodded numbly; still unable to comprehend anything that had just happened. She
didn't understand it at all. She opened up her door and stepped into her room. How
strange that less than fifteen minutes ago, she had thought of this as her room, in her
house. Now she just felt like a disgusting interloper.
Jill hurried into the bathroom and drew a hot bath for herself, feeling tainted at
Carlotta's words. As the steam rose and fogged up the mirrors, she started to feel angry.
Who did Carlotta think she was? It was obvious that Jill was no competition for her. She
wasn't rich, she wasn't of royal blood, and she wasn't a lot of things. Where were all the
insecurities coming from? Jill couldn't think of anything that she had done to deserve
any of the accusations.
Settling herself into the tub, Jill became annoyed once more. This time, at herself.
She had grown up in the big city, with a big thief for a father. Being from the city gave
her a wall around her by necessity—the latter only made the wall bigger and stronger.
She was NOT a sensitive person…or at least she hadn't been. So why hadn't she been
able to shake off Carlotta's charges? Jill was starting to feel unbelievably sick and the
fact that Chris's voice came on the intercom just as she was climbing out of the tub ten
minutes later didn't help any either.
Claire opened her eyes to strange, unfamiliar surroundings. The room she was in was
dark and cool, most of the sunlight from outside blocked by the heavy curtains that ran
the length of two walls. Looking up, she reached for the string for the bedside lamp and
pulled on it. Artificial light from a 75-watt bulb cut through the darkness and now made
the room dim. She saw what looked like a hotel room…and not a bad looking one either.
There was a mini-bar beside an entertainment centre on the far left wall and right across
from it was a bunch of sofas and armchairs arranged for conversation and the color of
French vanilla ice cream. Just to her right was a set of double doors that probably led to a
bathroom or changing room or both.
The room was pretty enough to have been in Carlotta's villa but Claire deeply
suspected that they weren't there. The decorating scheme was off. Claire sat up quickly,
racking her brain in a panic. She couldn't remember how she got there. It wasn't alcohol
induced, but she still just couldn't remember what had happened after her and Leon's
stroll passed the river Seine. And where was Leon, anyway?
As if to answer her question, the door opened and Leon came strolling in with two
brown paper bags with elaborate font across both of them. He was also carrying two
cups of coffee that gave off a delicious aroma.
"Oh, good, you're up." Leon said in a bright, cheerful voice that immediately made
Claire feel silly for worrying about anything. "About time. It's nearly 10:00. I thought
you might be hungry so I got something at the delicatessen across the street." He sat
down at the edge of the bed and handed her a bag and one of the coffees he bought.
"You like hazelnut mixed with Irish crème, right?"
"You remembered." Claire said with a smile.
"Yup." He said proudly. "Practically the only boy scout badge I ever got was for
tracking and memory."
Claire smiled again and took a sip of her coffee while Leon pulled out an enormous
croissant and headed to the heavily draped windows.
"A little depressing in here, ain't it?" he asked before sliding the drapes away. Piercing,
mid-morning sunshine flooded the room and Claire let out a small yelp at the sudden
shock her eyes received.
"Hello? I just woke up?"
"Sorry." Leon replied. "But we'd better be getting back to the villa. Chris will probably
chew my head off for not bringing you home last night."
Claire watched in amazement as Leon practically inhaled the croissant in one bite.
Looking down at her coffee she took a deep breath. "Um…Leon?"
"Hmm?" was his reply.
"What…exactly…happened? I mean…I can't remember anything—did you slip me
something?" she demanded.
"Moebuhisotied…" Leon mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
"Attractive. Very. Swallow, would you?" she asked and waited while he finished.
"I said, 'no—but I sure tried'." Leon replied with a huge grin. "You're not exactly
easy, are you?"
Claire frowned. "No, I'm not."
"Well, I didn't get the chance to slip you anything—but once you do get in the sack,
you're pretty wild…"
Claire stared dumb-founded at him for a few frozen seconds. "I…sincerely
hope…you are joking."
Leon sighed. "Now, Claire, why would I be joking? You think that I—come on, any guy
would—I mean, you're—yeah, I am."
He started to laugh hard and Claire hurled a pillow at him. "Well, something
happened here last night. Why are we here instead of at Carlotta's villa?"
Leon shrugged. "You didn't wanna go home. We were about to, but we kept getting
sidetracked. Finally it got so late and you just blatantly refused to return to that…what
was the term you used? Lemme see… 'Cradle of sin' I think you called it?"
Claire laughed and shook her head. "God, what was I on?"
"You know, believe it or not, you were sober?" Leon replied. "Honestly, not one drop of
liquor of puff of smoke went into your system. You're actually pretty dramatic when left
to your own devices."
Claire laughed once more and threw herself against her pillows before rolling onto her
side. Leon was acting unusually comic this morning. Well, he was always a clown, but
now he seemed to be really over-doing it. Absently, she wondered if it had anything to
do with yesterday.
Suddenly, Leon had mirrored her move and now had her in a front-to-back hug. "So,
what are we going to tell Chris to make this whole thing worthwhile?" He asked,
somehow making the whole process of nuzzling her neck with his forehead seem neutral
and friendly.
Claire bit her bottom lip and pretended to be in deep thought. "We'll tell him the
truth, of course. That we both got horribly drunk, you checked us into this hotel under
the names of Dick Hardson and Bambi Banger—"
"Ooh, sounds promising." He interrupted with a laugh.
Claire giggled. "And after raiding the mini-bar only to find that there weren't any
Goobers, you practically threw me on the floor and ravished me until I screamed—"
"Ooh-ooh-ooh! Lemme guess: WHO'S YOUR DADDY?!" Leon finished with a
loud shout that was meant to sound like an orgasmic ejaculation. It only made Claire
laugh.
Once the two calmed down, Claire said, "Nah, it has to be believable."
"It's good enough for me." Leon replied, puckering his lips in disappointment. "But,
yeah, it'd probably be more believable if I just told him you gave me the best blow job of
my life."
"Heh, in your dreams." Claire said, kicking her foot back to hit his shin.
"Or maybe if you told him that I'm the best sixty-niner you've ever met."
"Okay, now you're just reaching for the moon."
"Hey, making love to me wouldn't be that terrible." He nuzzled up against her and said
in a nonchalant voice, "In fact, I think you'd find it quiet enjoyable."
Claire was about to fire a sarcastic remark when she realized she didn't have one. She
reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "Yeah, I think I would."
Leon was quiet and still for about half a second before he leapt up and grabbed
Claire's coat. "All right. I think I've got it." He said, an animated glow coming to his
face as he tossed Claire his coat to wear and gulped down his coffee. "You raped me."
Claire just managed a laugh as she stood up. "Don't make me pour this coffee down
your pants, Kennedy."
A pained, wounded expression appeared on Leon's visage. "You've done worse." He
gesticulated with a violated sigh.
* A loggia, in this chapter, is an open but roofed gallery at the front or side of a building,
usually on an upper floor.
Bright sunlight streamed into the peaches-and-crème coloured room from the
enormous bay window hitting Jill Valentine right in the eyes. She groaned and pulled her
covers over her light brown mop. She gave a deep yawn and tucked her knees into her
chest. She was just about to drift off into a deep slumber once more before her bedroom
door flew open.
"HEY!!!" Jill exclaimed as the covers flew from around her. She leapt up and
covered her bare legs with a pillow as Chris started tromping across the room.
"Where is she? Is she in here? Did she sleep in here with you? Have you seen Leon?"
Chris demanded—it didn't seem like the man was ever capable of ASKING anything.
He didn't even look her in the eye as he fired questions—demands? —At her point blank.
Instead, he threw open her closet and bathroom door peeking in suspiciously as if he were
expecting to find two-hundred-and-fifteen pounds of marijuana lying on the floor instead
of designer outfits and a package of tampons.
"Ugh, Chris, it's way too early to do this—can't you bother me again in at least an
hour? Or two?" she grabbed her covers and attempted to get back to sleep but Chris
wouldn't let her.
"It's Claire. She didn't come back last night. Neither did Leon. They aren't here. They
aren't here, Jill—and they've been gone ever since yesterday—something isn't right
here!"
Jill muttered a grievance under her breath but Chris either didn't hear her or pretended
not to. He looked out the bay window into the wooded area about half a mile out on the
property past the pool quarters and lining up right behind the cabanas.
"Valentine, did you hear me? They've been gone since yesterday—they left Chanel
together and haven't been seen since—something isn't right!" He repeated himself, his
voice reaching a hysterical tone Jill only heard him use when he was worried about his
younger sibling. "I never trusted Kennedy."
At that Jill had to laugh. "Oh, PLEASE, Christopher Jay!" she tossed off her covers
and reached for a pair of pants right beside her bed. "The man is your best friend—just
last week I heard you both planning on getting matching tattoos."
"Guys do that stuff all the time." Chris retorted.
"Yeah, but you were planning on fitting the lyrics for 'Down With the Sickness' on your
asses—if that isn't friendship and trust, what is, I ask you?" she snorted mockingly.
"Once again, woman, you are missing the point." Chris said. He stopped short, as if
he had just said something he shouldn't have.
Jill stopped also. She turned slowly and looked at him dauntingly.
"Excuse me?" she said in a deathly quiet voice.
Chris scratched his head nervously looking somewhat like the idea Jill had of
Neanderthal men. You could practically see the subtitles lighting up under him as he
looked from her to the door: Insult Jill. Must save ass.
"Did you…did you just call me… 'Woman'?" she asked incredulously. "Did you just
PATRONIZE me, Christopher Redfield?"
"Now…now Jill, you've been in such a good mood this whole trip—quiet, you know?
Why break that habit now?"
Jill started after him and Chris bolted into the hallway. He slid halfway across the ten-
foot span of the corridor and darted pell-mell to the door that led out of the wing. Jill
followed close behind him, feeling much more at ease than she had when she had first
arrived. For some reason, with all these breakables around, putting Chris in his place
seemed a dangerous idea. But the house had become hers in the past few weeks and now
dashing down the hall with jeans and a thin nightshirt hardly seemed like anything.
There was just more space for Chris to run from her here.
"Come on, Jill!" Chris hollered over his shoulder. "You haven't caused any trouble
for me since we've been here—why be selfish now?"
"Oh, I'M the one being selfish, am I?" she asked as she followed him down a flight of
stairs.
"You know what I mean, you're the boring one! Leave the fun stuff to me."
Okay, that was an insult that he'd have to pay for. She sped up until she reached him
just before he entered the fresco-dominated loggia*, where she pounced on him.
"Just because I have some sense of dignity and responsibility does NOT mean I am
boring." She grabbed Chris's arms and twisted them behind him. "Give?"
"Never!" Chris declared with a grin.
Jill applied pressure and slammed her knee into his back. A howl of pain came from
her comrade but she just twisted his arm harder.
"Cheater." Chris spat. "You're just taking advantage of me because you're a girl—
DAMN IT!!!"
"What's that?"
"You'd better watch it, Valentine or I'm going to call for bac—my uncle! Uncle! —
Watch out or I'll call for my UNCLE! Damn it, Jill, UNCLE!"
Jill was about to release her viper grasp when a soft voice interrupted from the end of
the gallery. "Oh, my…what in the…Christopher? Jill? What…?"
Jill and Chris turned to see Carlotta and Sherry standing beneath the arch about twenty
feet away from them.
"Oh, Carlie…" Chris said, slipping out of Jill's loosened grip to greet his fiancée with a
hug. "Good morning."
"Good morning." She returned with a kiss. "Where's your sister, darling? She's not
still upset, is she?"
Chris groaned and let his head fall backwards so that he was looking up at the barrel-
vaulted ceiling in an exasperated way. "She and Leon still haven't come back since her
'episode' yesterday." He replied. "I'm starting to get a little worried."
"There's no need to worry, sweet. Claire's a big girl; she can take care of herself. And
I'm sure that with Leon there he won't let anything happen to her."
Jill nodded and stepped forward. "She's right, Chris. Claire is in good hands."
"How do you know?" Chris demanded, whirling around.
"Christopher, what I think Jill means by that is…" Carlotta tried to massage Chris's
shoulders to soothe his riled senses. She trailed off in mid-sentence before realizing there
was no way of getting through to him in this state. "She'll be fine."
"How do you know?" he stipulated.
Carlotta smiled shook her head. "Why don't you go and eat something? You'll feel
ever so much better if you got some of Cook's pancakes in your stomach." The two
shared an intimate laugh that ended with a tiny yelp from Chris and an expression on his
face that suggested that Carlotta had given him a pinch on his ass.
"Well…okay…" he said.
Chris turned on his heel and gestured around the room. "Jill? Sherry? You gonna
come?"
Sherry nodded right away and skipped off to join him. Jill nodded but declared that she
would have to go change first.
"Carlie? You gonna—ur—are you going to join us also?" Chris asked making sure to
use proper grammar with his betrothed.
"I'll be right there, love." She told him then turned around to face Jill.
"Jill? Sweetheart? Would you mind some company back to your quarters?"
Jill smiled. "Sure."
They walked back down the hall and Jill glanced at her reflection in the mirror that ran
the full length of one of the walls in the corridor. She didn't look like she belonged in
this house all of a sudden. Her hair was tangled and some of the straight light brown
strands flew around her head in flyaway tufts. Her clothes were rumpled from the
running and tackling, the skimpy material of her top clinging in the most improper of
places—to top it all off, her zipper was open.
"Jill?" Carlotta said as Jill hurried to zip up her jeans.
"Yes, Carlotta?" she asked politely, trying to straighten herself up.
"…I sincerely hope you don't take offense, dear…but…if you don't mind my saying
so…" Carlotta trailed off listless before smiling in a forced sweet way. "In my house, I'd
very much appreciate it if you would…consider a more proper choice of dress before you
roam around?"
"Oh, that…well, yes, I WAS going to get dressed in better…uh, whatever…but…"
she let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry."
Carlotta nodded and was quiet for a moment. "Jill, darling? Whatever happened to all
those wonderful night gowns that we purchased for you?"
"Oh! I love them! I really do. It's just that…well, I was so tired yesterday that I didn't
have the energy to change into any. They're so beautiful as it is that I'm scared to touch
them." She smiled at Carlotta but received none in return.
"Ms. Valentine, may I remind you that you are not in the U.S. where such nudity is
permitted. You are in my home and in the presence of my fiancé—I don't need—"
"Wait a minute." Jill interrupted, not sure whether to say how insulted she felt that
Carlotta had made an attack on her homeland's fashion sense or laugh at her un-needed
insecurity of Chris's affection. And where was this 'Ms. Valentine' coming from all of a
sudden? "Not everyone walks around half-naked where we come from, Carlotta." She
said lamely.
"That is beside the point, Ms. Valentine." Carlotta fired back. "The point is that I've got
a good thing going with Christopher, I do not need anyone gumming up the works."
Indignation flared in Jill's face. What was going on here? Did they just cross into
another dimension or something? Where was all this hostility coming from? And where
was it hiding since all of it seemed to pour out so easily?
"I…I…you're worried about CHRIS?!" Jill exclaimed, close to laughing. "Carlotta, you
don't have to worry about anything. There is nothing going on between Chris and I. I
mean, he loves YOU. We're only friends."
Carlotta smiled condescendingly. She was a few inches taller than Jill, a fact that she
just noticed now. "It makes no difference the status of the two of you. Friends or not,
you're a woman—the same as I am. We know how men can be. They see what they see
and they do what they can." She gestured to Jill's clothing. "And…I'm afraid that
whether he wants to or not…he notices you when you're…" Carlotta cleared her throat
and shook her head.
"I'm glad we had this talk, sweetheart." Carlotta said in the most fake voice Jill had
ever heard in her life. "It takes a load off of my mind."
By this time, they had reached Jill's room and Carlotta headed back to the entrance.
Jill just stared after her, not sure whether to laugh, cry, scream or break into song. Just
before Carlotta headed out of sight, she turned back to Jill and smiled, "You understand
all of this, don't you, Jill?"
Jill nodded numbly; still unable to comprehend anything that had just happened. She
didn't understand it at all. She opened up her door and stepped into her room. How
strange that less than fifteen minutes ago, she had thought of this as her room, in her
house. Now she just felt like a disgusting interloper.
Jill hurried into the bathroom and drew a hot bath for herself, feeling tainted at
Carlotta's words. As the steam rose and fogged up the mirrors, she started to feel angry.
Who did Carlotta think she was? It was obvious that Jill was no competition for her. She
wasn't rich, she wasn't of royal blood, and she wasn't a lot of things. Where were all the
insecurities coming from? Jill couldn't think of anything that she had done to deserve
any of the accusations.
Settling herself into the tub, Jill became annoyed once more. This time, at herself.
She had grown up in the big city, with a big thief for a father. Being from the city gave
her a wall around her by necessity—the latter only made the wall bigger and stronger.
She was NOT a sensitive person…or at least she hadn't been. So why hadn't she been
able to shake off Carlotta's charges? Jill was starting to feel unbelievably sick and the
fact that Chris's voice came on the intercom just as she was climbing out of the tub ten
minutes later didn't help any either.
Claire opened her eyes to strange, unfamiliar surroundings. The room she was in was
dark and cool, most of the sunlight from outside blocked by the heavy curtains that ran
the length of two walls. Looking up, she reached for the string for the bedside lamp and
pulled on it. Artificial light from a 75-watt bulb cut through the darkness and now made
the room dim. She saw what looked like a hotel room…and not a bad looking one either.
There was a mini-bar beside an entertainment centre on the far left wall and right across
from it was a bunch of sofas and armchairs arranged for conversation and the color of
French vanilla ice cream. Just to her right was a set of double doors that probably led to a
bathroom or changing room or both.
The room was pretty enough to have been in Carlotta's villa but Claire deeply
suspected that they weren't there. The decorating scheme was off. Claire sat up quickly,
racking her brain in a panic. She couldn't remember how she got there. It wasn't alcohol
induced, but she still just couldn't remember what had happened after her and Leon's
stroll passed the river Seine. And where was Leon, anyway?
As if to answer her question, the door opened and Leon came strolling in with two
brown paper bags with elaborate font across both of them. He was also carrying two
cups of coffee that gave off a delicious aroma.
"Oh, good, you're up." Leon said in a bright, cheerful voice that immediately made
Claire feel silly for worrying about anything. "About time. It's nearly 10:00. I thought
you might be hungry so I got something at the delicatessen across the street." He sat
down at the edge of the bed and handed her a bag and one of the coffees he bought.
"You like hazelnut mixed with Irish crème, right?"
"You remembered." Claire said with a smile.
"Yup." He said proudly. "Practically the only boy scout badge I ever got was for
tracking and memory."
Claire smiled again and took a sip of her coffee while Leon pulled out an enormous
croissant and headed to the heavily draped windows.
"A little depressing in here, ain't it?" he asked before sliding the drapes away. Piercing,
mid-morning sunshine flooded the room and Claire let out a small yelp at the sudden
shock her eyes received.
"Hello? I just woke up?"
"Sorry." Leon replied. "But we'd better be getting back to the villa. Chris will probably
chew my head off for not bringing you home last night."
Claire watched in amazement as Leon practically inhaled the croissant in one bite.
Looking down at her coffee she took a deep breath. "Um…Leon?"
"Hmm?" was his reply.
"What…exactly…happened? I mean…I can't remember anything—did you slip me
something?" she demanded.
"Moebuhisotied…" Leon mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
"Attractive. Very. Swallow, would you?" she asked and waited while he finished.
"I said, 'no—but I sure tried'." Leon replied with a huge grin. "You're not exactly
easy, are you?"
Claire frowned. "No, I'm not."
"Well, I didn't get the chance to slip you anything—but once you do get in the sack,
you're pretty wild…"
Claire stared dumb-founded at him for a few frozen seconds. "I…sincerely
hope…you are joking."
Leon sighed. "Now, Claire, why would I be joking? You think that I—come on, any guy
would—I mean, you're—yeah, I am."
He started to laugh hard and Claire hurled a pillow at him. "Well, something
happened here last night. Why are we here instead of at Carlotta's villa?"
Leon shrugged. "You didn't wanna go home. We were about to, but we kept getting
sidetracked. Finally it got so late and you just blatantly refused to return to that…what
was the term you used? Lemme see… 'Cradle of sin' I think you called it?"
Claire laughed and shook her head. "God, what was I on?"
"You know, believe it or not, you were sober?" Leon replied. "Honestly, not one drop of
liquor of puff of smoke went into your system. You're actually pretty dramatic when left
to your own devices."
Claire laughed once more and threw herself against her pillows before rolling onto her
side. Leon was acting unusually comic this morning. Well, he was always a clown, but
now he seemed to be really over-doing it. Absently, she wondered if it had anything to
do with yesterday.
Suddenly, Leon had mirrored her move and now had her in a front-to-back hug. "So,
what are we going to tell Chris to make this whole thing worthwhile?" He asked,
somehow making the whole process of nuzzling her neck with his forehead seem neutral
and friendly.
Claire bit her bottom lip and pretended to be in deep thought. "We'll tell him the
truth, of course. That we both got horribly drunk, you checked us into this hotel under
the names of Dick Hardson and Bambi Banger—"
"Ooh, sounds promising." He interrupted with a laugh.
Claire giggled. "And after raiding the mini-bar only to find that there weren't any
Goobers, you practically threw me on the floor and ravished me until I screamed—"
"Ooh-ooh-ooh! Lemme guess: WHO'S YOUR DADDY?!" Leon finished with a
loud shout that was meant to sound like an orgasmic ejaculation. It only made Claire
laugh.
Once the two calmed down, Claire said, "Nah, it has to be believable."
"It's good enough for me." Leon replied, puckering his lips in disappointment. "But,
yeah, it'd probably be more believable if I just told him you gave me the best blow job of
my life."
"Heh, in your dreams." Claire said, kicking her foot back to hit his shin.
"Or maybe if you told him that I'm the best sixty-niner you've ever met."
"Okay, now you're just reaching for the moon."
"Hey, making love to me wouldn't be that terrible." He nuzzled up against her and said
in a nonchalant voice, "In fact, I think you'd find it quiet enjoyable."
Claire was about to fire a sarcastic remark when she realized she didn't have one. She
reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "Yeah, I think I would."
Leon was quiet and still for about half a second before he leapt up and grabbed
Claire's coat. "All right. I think I've got it." He said, an animated glow coming to his
face as he tossed Claire his coat to wear and gulped down his coffee. "You raped me."
Claire just managed a laugh as she stood up. "Don't make me pour this coffee down
your pants, Kennedy."
A pained, wounded expression appeared on Leon's visage. "You've done worse." He
gesticulated with a violated sigh.
* A loggia, in this chapter, is an open but roofed gallery at the front or side of a building,
usually on an upper floor.