Page 9 of Paved in Venom

I transfer the money as soon as David sends me the information. Now all I have to do is wait.

Chapter 2

Simona

When I step out of the airport and get my first glimpse of Bucharest, the doubts start to crowd in. Traveling to Romania had been a rash decision on my part, one I normally wouldn’t make. I’m not really a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. I’m more of a planner, a let’s gather more information and wait and see kind of girl. But then my parents died in a car crash, and my desire to visit the country where they were born turned into a longing I couldn’t ignore.

With the large crowds of people bustling around me, speaking a language that I don’t understand because my parents never spoke it to me, I’m starting to seriously consider getting the first flight out of here. While I debate the pros and cons of this plan, a taxi pulls up in front of me.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks. His accent may be thick, but I understand him. I take his arrival as a sign from the universe and give him a friendly smile.

“I do. Can you take me to this hotel?” I show him the information I printed out, and when he sees the name, he smiles and nods before getting out to put my suitcases in the trunk. Getting in, I start to feel better about this trip. I can hire a translator if I need to. It’s not going to kill me to relax and enjoy myself in a foreign city for a couple of days. Plus, I feel close to my parents here. They’d left Romania when my mom was pregnant with me. My dad had been offered a job at a university, and they’d both been excited and ready for an adventure. I guess the brave, adventurous gene didn’t get passed down to me. This is my first time leaving America. Hell, it’s my first time leaving the city I was born in.

That’s not pathetic, I tell myself. I’m a homebody. So fucking what?

“This is your first time in Romania?” the cab driver asks when he gets back in and weaves us out of the airport and into the dense traffic.

“Yeah,” I tell him, gripping the door handle when he swerves in front of another car with inches to spare. “My parents were from Romania. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

He catches my eye in the rearview mirror, but I’d much rather he keep it on the road in front of us. “Welcome.”

He says something in Romanian, and I’m forced to say, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak the language.”

“Why didn’t your parents teach you? You should know where you come from. You should be proud of your roots.”

“I am proud,” I say, feeling the need to defend my parents. “They thought they were doing what was best. It took my mom a long time to learn English, and she thought that she’d just confuse me by speaking Romanian when I was younger. They always meant to teach me.” I look out the window, trying to distance myself from the memories. “They just ran out of time.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a left turn with enough force to press me against the door. “It’s never too late to learn.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll pick up some while I’m here.”

He pulls in front of my hotel and turns back to give me another big smile. “Maybe you’ll fall in love with the country and decide to stay.”

I laugh and pull out the money to pay him. “Maybe.”

He helps me get my suitcases and then waves goodbye before pulling away from the curb. I look up at the beautiful, old building, glad that I hadn’t chosen the cheapest hotel I could find and instead went more the middle of the road. The money my parents left me is paying for this trip and will help me pay for my apartment, but it’s not enough to cover the massive student debt I’ve acquired over the years because I thought getting a degree in music was a good idea. It drove my dad crazy. He said I’d never be able to find a job. He wasn’t wrong. I love playing the piano, though, and I wanted to try and make it work. It’s the only thing that really makes me happy, but it turns out I never got over the extreme stage fright that I was sure I’d outgrow. It’s only gotten worse, and now I can’t play in front of anyone, let alone figure out a way to make money doing it.

A worry for another day, I tell myself, rolling my luggage into the lobby of the hotel. Once I’m checked in, I take the elevator to my floor, admiring the plush, red carpet and ornate chandelier in the hall. My room is adorable. A large bed with a white down comforter, robin’s egg blue walls with white trim, and a small Juliet balcony that looks out onto the city. It’s so different from the small city I’m from. Everything here feels like it holds so much history. I suddenly can’t wait to go exploring. It’s only noon here, and there’s no way I can give into the jet lag and sleep all day. That will completely fuck my sleep schedule up.

Deciding I’m going to be brave and venture out for some lunch and maybe stop at a few museums, I grab my purse and leave the hotel. My bravery lasts for about a block. I’m just about to call it quits and order some room service when a young woman gives a soft laugh and holds out her hand to me.

She says something in Romanian, but when I just give her an apologetic smile, she switches to English and says, “I’m sorry to laugh, but you look scared to death. I’m Adriana.”

The woman in front of me is stunning. She’s several inches taller than me, her long, blonde hair is in a messy bun that I would never be able to pull off in a million years, and the dress she’s wearing probably cost a small fortune.

I shake her hand and say, “Hi, I’m Simona.”

“A Romanian name for a girl who doesn’t speak Romanian,” she says with a smile.

“Yeah, my parents are from here, but I never learned the language.” I quickly add, “I’d like to learn it, though. It’s so beautiful.”

“Maybe they can teach you one day.”

There’s an awkward pause before I say, “They died last year, but maybe I can take some lessons while I’m here or something.”

She pulls me into a quick hug like we’ve been friends for years and pats my back. “I’m so sorry.”

The hug is sweet, and it feels sincere, and I realize that it’s been way too long since I had a friend. Before I completely lose my shit and embarrass myself further by crying, I pull back with a smile and say, “Thank you. It’s been hard, but I thought coming here might make me feel closer to them.”

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