Page 15 of Entwined

“I bet,” I mutter into the Kleenex as I blow my runny nose.

“What’s that, sweetie?”

“I said, how nice of him. But now that I’m found, I think we should return his money.”

“We can’t.” She flushes. “I joined the Bel Aire Country Club.”

“Of course you did, Mother.”

She jerks back as if I struck her in the face. I fling the covers back, crossing to the hotel windows. We’re on the twentieth floor, with views of the famous Acropolis. I don’t want to leave Europe when everything is screaming inside me that I need to stay. But I can’t voice any of this or risk being thrown in jail for lying to two governments working hard to clear me to leave Greece for America.

Coming back from the dead isn’t easy to do. There’s lots of red-tape to go through. ID’s and Social Security numbers to reenter into computer systems, death certificates to be reversed.

A soft tap at the door has me turning from the window. My father crosses the carpet to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Good Afternoon. I’ve been informed that your papers are ready. And Miss Jessie received a note.” My father moves to take it.

“I’m sorry, Sir. The gentleman was quite clear that it was to be delivered directly to her.”

My hands stop fiddling with the neckline of my sleepshirt. I cross to the door, gingerly taking the letter from the concierge’s hands. I cross back to the window, reading it against the glass.

With a smile I fold the note, clutching it close to my chest.

“What is that?”

“A note from a friend. He sent his private plane to take us home.”

“Exactly what kind of friend is this, Jessie?”

“The kind who saw me as more than a deckhand, Dad.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Dimitri Santos.”

My mother almost swoons. “I’ve seen him. He was all over the magazines at the airport and the hotel lobby. How did you meet him?”

“He was a friend of Mr. Devillo’s who often came onto the yacht. I served him drinks, when one of the stewardesses was sick. Nothing much,” I shrug, lying through my teeth all the while remembering his kiss, the way his pre-cum tasted and how he urged me to fight back as he stroked my clit.

There was definitely something between us. Something carnal—utterly primal. But Christos had me enthralled first.

Another knock interrupts any more questions. My father yanks it open, frustrated. He knows there’s more I’m not sharing. The American Ambassador to Greece enters with a few Greek officials and the attorney my parents hired from California.

“Congratulations. You’ve been cleared to fly back to the U.S.” The ambassador comes forward handing me a new passport. I flip it open hardly recognizing myself. It’s funny, I barely looked in the mirror’s at Exmoor. Strangely, there weren’t many anyway.

My hair is thick and long, hanging down my back. But it’s my face that spill my secrets. A knowing glint and the lift of my chin, telling the world that they will stay locked inside.

“When do you want to depart?”

“How about now,” my father replies gruffly.

“Let’s not rush? I thought we could have a family vacation while we’re here. See the sights, explore a bit.”

“That’s the last thing Jessie needs. To be dragged out, paraded in front of that paparazzi gathered outside wanting more of her story. I saw one reporter from TMZ downstairs when I went out for a walk. It’s a damn circus.”

“We flew half-way around the world for free. I don’t see why we should rush home, do you?”

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