Staying On Top(55)

The Santorini house was the most familiar to me; my mother had loved Greece, so we’d spent a good majority of holidays on the island. It was also the only property situated in close proximity to others, since there wasn’t any place on Santorini not covered by some kind of building. I liked it there, too, even though it had too big a tourist population to be one of my favorites. I’d never admitted my affection for it to my father, since saying something like that would be the fastest way to ensure he’d never invite me again.

Nonattachment was a way of life, and even though Dad spent more time in the Caymans than anywhere else, it had more to do with convenience than fondness. Me saying I liked something, or that something made me comfortable or happy, meant losing it the next day.

“I’m not staying in a hostel again, I swear. If you still say no hotels because no credit cards, then we’re going to buy some blankets and sleep on the beach.”

Sam glanced over at me from the driver’s seat, the expression on his face serious. He’d bathed in so much hand sanitizer that it had almost made me barf up last night’s vodka, but it had made him feel better.

I kept my mouth shut about all of the studies suggesting people who used too much of the stuff were making themselves more susceptible to germs in the long run, not less.

“Fine. There are some boardinghouses on Santorini that probably take cash up front, but it’ll be warm enough to stay outside, too, if you want to do that. I’m game.”

I felt game for anything, honestly, as long as it involved Sam. My dad wouldn’t be in Santorini. He could be anywhere, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t lived anywhere but on the Alessandra—his sailboat—for the past ten years. Since my mother died.

We passed most of the trip quietly, the person not in the driver’s seat sleeping off more of their hangover. A few silly games passed the rest of the time; we played a round of I Spy, then the Alphabet Game. I hadn’t played road trip games since I was a small child.

After Mom died I always traveled alone, and always by air.

“Maybe we could find somewhere to play a game or two of tennis,” I suggested. “You’ve got to be itching to practice.”

“First of all, please refrain from using the word ‘itching.’ Second, you would practice with me? I thought you weren’t interested.” Curiosity made his words curl up at the end.

“I play. I follow tennis. I just didn’t want you to see me as some kind of groupie, that’s all.”

“Blair. You are about as far from a groupie as anyone I’ve ever met. I’m, like, your groupie, with the number of times I’ve asked you out and been shut down.”

That made me blush. It got a little easier, the being honest with him about my feelings, every time I tried. Maybe it took practice. Maybe it took being with someone who didn’t seem to have any inclination to judge me. For now, anyway.

“I’ve never had a groupie.” I shot him a smile. “Anything I need to know?”

“Yes. First off, you need to learn how to act busy even if you’re not. In public places, take a friend and have fake conversations where you’re focused on each other so there’s no chance of making eye contact with someone random. Learn to listen to the crazy meter in your gut—there’s crazy, and there’s special crazy, and the second is the kind that leaves you tied to a bed staring up at a fat lady wielding a giant hammer.”

“Which kind are you?”

“What does your gut say?”

“Special crazy. But I don’t know what brand yet.”

“You might like it.”

I was sure that was true. After the scene in the bathroom the other night, there didn’t seem to be any reason to doubt that I would like just about anything he wanted to do to me. I wasn’t feeling quite comfortable enough to share that, though.

The navigation on Sam’s phone instructed us to make the last turn before our final destination, which was Piraeus, one of the ferry docks in Athens.

“We could make the one o’clock ferry, or if you want we could change some more cash and buy some tennis rackets?”

“Sure. Tell me where.”

“Hold on.”

It took me a minute to figure out how to search for sporting goods in Athens, then to find a store we could get to and back in less than an hour.

“You know, I could make one call and have rackets overnighted to Santorini,” Sam commented. “No paper trail, since they’re free.”

I thought about it in the context of the con I’d set up, then nodded. “I don’t think that would be a problem, but you can’t go through your management. They can’t know where we are.”