Chapter 49
I walk slowly, carefully balancing my steps on three-inch heels. The last time I wore something like this was twenty years ago trying out my grandmother’s high-heel pumps, which at the time were far too big for me, certain I would wear shoes just like that when I grew up. I grew up and slid into comfortable sneakers. And that never changed.
A snug-fitting, dark blue, satin dress falls down my body all the way down to my ankles. My shoulders and upper back are free, and I feel just a tiny bit cold, now that the steward has taken off my coat to place it in the wardrobe.
I’m waiting behind the large entrance to the casino, looking through the glass at the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower in background. Sam just paid the taxi driver and he’s entering the casino now. He is wearing a black tux, black shoes, and a dark crimson shirt open at the neck. He looks gorgeous.
He smiles his irresistible smile and takes my hand but moves two steps back, scanning me from head to toes, and back again.
“Wow! Why didn’t anybody steal you before me, I wonder?”
I blush.
“I have something for you. Turn around.”
I turn to face the side mirror and see him place a necklace around my neck: an intricate flat golden chain with several large dark blue stone.
I look at it closely.
Where have I seen this before?
Then I take a deep breath as it dawns on me. “I’ve seen this stone before! In the mall, the one that saleslady showed me on the day we m—” Then I turn my head to him. “Were you at the mall, the day you moved in?”
“Yes, I was.”
I turn around completely. “No!”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
He laughs. “Yes. Now turn around, I don’t wanna drop this.”
I turn around and he hooks it into place. “There.”
I’m staring into the mirror with wide-open eyes, lightly stroking the blue stones. I am shocked. Shocked that he was there with me, shocked at how beautiful this necklace is—and shocked at the price. I clearly remember the price of the tanzanite the saleslady showed me. And this necklace here—has several of them!
“Sam, it’s wonderful, but I just can’t—” I want to turn around to face him, but I lose my balance on my uncomfortably high heels.
Sam quickly catches and steadies me.
“You’re overwhelmed, I see . . .” He smirks.
“Sam, it’s beautiful, but I can’t keep it.”
“You know, I’d love to pretend this is just a spur-of-the-moment thing: jewelry for the lady from the guy she has enchanted. But there is more to this.” He touches the necklace and then slides his fingers over my collarbone down my shoulder, all the way to my hand. Then he laces his fingers into mine.
My heartbeat picks up immediately and I’m sorry we are in a public place.
“Did you know that tanzanite”—he points his finger to the necklace as he starts to walk toward the entrance—“is found in only one place in the world?”
I shake my head, not really understanding the point of the story. We enter the large bright hallway, full of glass and light. I hear the low murmur of many people talking at the end of the hallway.
As we are walking, Sam continues, “It is found only in the Manyara region in Tanzania. And the reserves for tanzanite are quickly depleting. When all of it is gone, the value, as you can imagine, will increase manyfold.”
“That’s nice, but why are you telling this to me now?”
“Because in the future, this necklace will be very, very valuable.”
“More reasons why you shouldn’t give it to me!”
“Twenty-two-karat gold and fourteen-carat tanzanite stones should, depending on the country, give you financial support for a pretty long time.”
“Sam, you are crazy! No way!”
Then he stops and looks at me, the blue of his own tanzanite eyes hiding under the shadow of his eyebrows. His look is serious and his smile is gone. “Jane, I’m not joking now. You need to keep it. This is your financial safety net in case—” He lowers his gaze for a moment.
“In case of what, Sam?”
He looks back. “It’s your safety net.” He smiles, but it’s a forced smile. “And anyway, you will see it fits this place perfectly.” He winks at me and walks into the large hall.
I’m silent and uncomfortable. I don’t like this safety net he’s talking about. I feel it somehow excludes him, and that’s a future I don’t want to have.
Also, this kind of jewelry makes me feel uncomfortable too. I rarely wear jewelry, and never something of this value. I even feel awkward touching it, so I keep my free hand squeezed against my thigh.
The area we enter is large and has many different side rooms as well. The people are gathered in different groups around tables. This whole place is full of expensive-looking dresses, tuxedos, diamond rings, and golden necklaces. I relax a bit, realizing that I am actually dressed for the occasion.
As we walk along, I’m holding Sam’s hand for support and I glance at the tables. The ones closest to us are for poker and blackjack; the dealers are making funny exaggerated movements with their hands to show they are not holding any cards. At the back, next to the bar, are four large roulette tables, and next to each is a screen showing a close-up view of the roulette wheel turning around. All of a sudden, there is a cry and sudden cheer in the back. It makes me jump and I turn around. A group of people raise their hands in the air, laughing and shouting.
“Someone got lucky,” says Sam and smiles. “Come, let’s get a drink.”
We walk to the bar and sit on the high bar stools. I am really only leaning on mine because, with this long dress and high heels, I can’t really hop onto it as I normally would, and it probably wouldn’t look very sophisticated if I tried.
“What would you like?”
I ignore his question. “Sam, why are we here again? This isn’t really the best place to hide, you know.”
He smiles. “Sometimes attracting attention is the best disguise.”
“I’m guessing we’re not here to gamble, right?”
“No, not tonight. There is a person here I need to meet with.”
“Why? What for?” I’m starting to get upset about not knowing what’s happening.
“Jane, calm down,” he says, then he continues more quietly, “We need new identities. I can’t count on Sentinel now. And there is only one person I trust who can organize new papers for us without leaving a trace.”
I try calming my breathing. “Why would he help you?”
“Because of this.” And he flips a dark blue poker chip in the air and catches it with his other hand.
“A chip?”
“Yes.”
“It must be worth a lot.”
“Actually, not really—a few thousand dollars. But for him, this is not about money. It’s a memento.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Not to bore you with the details, but a few years back I won a poker game against this guy, and I won the chip. It… it means something special to him.”
“Okay . . .” I look at the chip and back at him. “And, if you give him back the chip, you think he will give you what you ask of him?”
“No.” He smiles a broad smile. “I know he will.”
The waiter comes over to us. “Madam, sir, what can I serve you?”
“I’ll take a martini. Jane?”
“Make that two.”
“Very well, madam, sir. Would that be all?”
“For the moment,” Sam says.
“Thank you.”
The waiter leaves and Sam turns to me. “Can you stay here for a moment, Jane?”
“Where are you going? Can’t I go with you?”
“I think you’d better not,” he says and stands up. “Don’t talk to any strangers.” He winks at me. “I’ll be right back.”
The memory of the gas station comes to my mind. My throat feels tight and my palms start to sweat immediately, so I grab him at the elbow and stop him.
He turns around, then tilts his head sideways and places his hands on my shoulders.
“Jane, I’m not going far. Look here!” And he points to the glass wall behind him, separating the nonsmoking casino area from the smoking room. “I’ll be right there. You’ll be able to see me, and I will sit so that I can see you at all times. All right?”
I nod and swallow. I lean back on the barstool and force myself to breathe calmly. Sam smiles and walks to the smoking area.
He enters and closes the glass door behind him, then looks around as if searching for a place to sit, although he told me exactly where he would be sitting. He walks over to a corner with a small table and a few large armchairs around it.
There is a woman sitting on the handrest of one armchair, and in it, comfortably snuggled into the seat, sits a man with a long blond plait with his back toward me. I might have thought it was a woman, but he’s wearing a tuxedo, and when he turns to the side, I can see he’s got a beard. One of his hands is resting on the woman’s thigh and the other, leaning over the other handrest, loosely holds a large cigar.
Sam walks to the empty armchair but doesn’t sit down right away. He says something to the man with blond hair. The man’s body shakes and I assume he is laughing. Then he points with his cigar hand to the free armchair.
Sam sits.
I realize I am all pins and needles as I watch them, trying to figure out from Sam’s lips what he is talking about. I can’t tell a thing, of course, so I close my eyes for a moment.
The waiter returns, bringing two martinis.
“Madam, your martinis. Enjoy.”
Good, just what I need.
I take the glass between my fingers and sip. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat. I shiver.
Ugh, this tastes awful!
I set the glass back on the bar and push it away, then look back through the glass wall.
Sam is holding his chip between his middle and ring finger, his palm facing down. He has a wicked grin on his face and I can tell he is the one holding the cards.
Then he flips his fingers and the chip flies up in the air, making a loop, and lands in the open palm of the blonde man. He, in turn, leans against the backrest and scratches his beard with the chip.
In response to a question from the man, Sam shakes his head and smiles. The man puts the chip in his pocket and then takes out a cell phone. For a few moments, he talks. I wish Sam would look at me so I can see how everything is going, but he doesn’t. He keeps looking at the man.
I realize I’m losing my nerves. I look back at the bar and pick up the glass again.
Oh, no, this tastes really strong. I set the glass back down. I can’t imagine I actually liked martinis before.
“Madam, would you like something else?”
I was hoping my reaction to the drink wasn’t so obvious.
“Ah, could you please get me a glass of orange juice?”
“Of course, madam. I’ll be right back.” The bartender smiles kindly and turns away.
I look back at Sam. He’s standing now as he says something to the man, who nods and puts his hand to his forehead like a soldier’s salute but remains sitting. Sam walks away, pulls open the glass door and exits.
He sits down next to me without saying anything.
I look back at the blonde man. He’s pushing himself up with his arms on the armrests and turning around to look at us. Now that I can see his face, I realize he’s carrying a few extra pounds.
“Sam, he’s looking at us,” I whisper, trying not to move my mouth.
“I know. Don’t worry.”
He takes his martini glass and brings it between us. “To new beginnings.”
I raise the glass of orange juice the waiter just placed in front of me and clink Sam’s martini glass.
Sam raises his eyebrows. “No martini?”
“No, I just . . . didn’t feel like it.”
He brings his glass to his lips and empties it in one go. “Good choice. It’s healthier, anyway.”
“What did he say?” I ask.
“We’re good.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ll get what we need.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
I’m getting more and more anxious. Bright lights, lots of people—I don’t like it. “Don’t worry,” Sam reassures me.
“Okay. Okay,” I say, but I keep fiddling with my fingers.
Sam smiles, then he looks behind me.
“What?” I say and turn around too.
A man passes by me and stands next to Sam. “Your documents,” he says in a French accent and hands Sam a thick envelope.
“Thank you.” Sam nods and puts the envelope in the inside pocket of his tuxedo.
“I wish you a safe journey,” the man says and leaves.
Sam looks at me and grins. “Shall we go?” He stands, lifting his arm.
I can’t resist his boyish smile so I wrap my hand around his elbow. He moves his arm back to his body, gently squeezing my hand in between.
“Where are we going now?”
“Ah, you’ll see. There is something special I wanna show you.” He looks at me sideways and winks.