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PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
I am an international fugitive from justice. At any moment I expect our car to be overtaken by Interpol, and for Jane and me to be yanked out, slammed to the asphalt, and slapped into cuffs. I suspect Black Hawk helicopters are hovering over us at this very moment. Undoubtedly, we’ll be thrown into an Italian prison, and no one will ever hear from us again.
And Rhonda, ultimately, will have the last laugh.
We did it. We perjured ourselves. Committed fraud. Forged our friends’ names on government documents.
And they never suspected a thing.
Jane was right. It was a cinch. The guy behind the bulletproof glass barely even glanced at us or our passports. He just asked us where we were staying, made a laconic comment when he found out it was Le Marche, slid the form through the slot for us to sign, then gave us back our documents with the form stamped appropriately. All that waiting—we didn’t get back on the road until almost five-thirty—and we were done in five minutes.
I thought Jane was going to have an embolism, she was so delirious with joy. She kept clutching my shirt—not an unpleasant sensation, by the way—and hissing, “It worked! We did it! It worked!” as we rode down the elevator.
Then she seemed to sober up and asked, “What did that man say about Le Marche?”
So I told her he’d said, with a grunt, when he heard where we—I mean, Mark and Holly—were pla
This filled Jane with righteous anger—”What did he mean by that? What’s wrong with Le Marche? I think it’s beautiful. Just because it’s not overrun with American tourists like Rhonda, that means there’s something wrong with it? That pig,” etc.
This struck me as highly amusing, considering her sentiments on Le Marche after coming out of the bathroom at the restaurant where we dined just last evening.
Still, it’s true that Le Marche is begi
I haven’t been eager to get anywhere since… well, ever. I wonder what that’s about. It seems as if places have always been just that to me… places. I can’t imagine what’s happened to make Le Marche seem less like a place and more like… well. Home.
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris >
Fr: Malcolm Weatherly
Re: Ciao!
Hey, babe! How’s it going? Haven’t heard from you in a while. What happened? You run off with some Italian stallion or what?
Drop me a line, will ya? I miss your face.
And I really need to know if you’ve seen my lucky hat.
M.
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
Jane Harris
Talk about weird.
I mean, that I’m stuck in a car with Cal Langdon, and I’m actually having a not-bad time.
What’s HAPPENING to me?
Why did he have to put his arm around me back at the consulate? Not that I didn’t like it—far from it, of course—but ever since then, I’ve been wishing it would happen again. Why do I even want to touch him, anyway? He’s a modelizer!
But he did come through for Mark and Holly. And against his will, even. I mean, he never wanted them to get married in the first place.
But I haven’t heard a peep of protest out of him all day. In fact, thanks to him, those two are going to have their dream wedding after all.
That’s gotta come as a blow to someone who is violently opposed to the institution of marriage. I wonder if he even realizes this.
Me: “Hey, so what happened to being all anti-marriage?”
Cal: “What?”
Me: (turning down Queen) “I thought you were totally against Holly and Mark getting married. So why’d you go along with this whole thing?”
Cal: “Are you recording this conversation in that book?”
Me: “Um. Sort of.”
Cal: “Great. What else did you say about me?”
Me: “That you drool in your sleep.”
Cal: “I do not.”
Me: “You do too. I saw it for myself this morning when I woke you up.”
Cal: (making a grab for this book) “Let me see that.”
Me: “Hey! Eyes on the road, mister. Seriously, what changed your mind?”
Cal: “About what?”
Me: “MARRIAGE!!! Why are you pro now, when you were anti before?”
Cal: “I’m still anti. Just not in the case of Mark and Holly. I changed my mind.”
Me: “Obviously. But why?”
Cal: “They just seem very… together. Like a couple should be. I guess.”
Me: “I told you.”
Cal: “That doesn’t make me pro-marriage, you know. It just makes me pro-Mark and Holly.”
Me: “That’s all I wanted. You remember. Back on the plane?”
Cal: “Well, I barely knew Holly then. I still think Mark would be better off seeing the world before he settles down. Don’t snort. It’s a big place, there’s a lot to see. A man shouldn’t let himself get tied down too young.”
Me: “Excuse me. Mark is thirty-five. That is middle-aged in many countries. And he TRIED exploring the world, remember? He got food poisoning for his efforts.”
Cal: “I realize all of that. That’s why I amended my opinion. About Mark and Holly.”
Me: “But not love and marriage in general.”
Cal: “I still believe marriage is an outdated institution. I also believe it robs people of their individual sense of self. I mean, just look at how women take their husbands’ names—”
Me: “Not ALL women.”
Cal: “The majority of them. Would you?”
Me: “Um. I’m the creator of Wondercat. YOU may never have heard of me, but lots of people have. If I changed my name, it would confuse my fans. And besides. I like my name the way it is. Even though, of course, it was handed down to me by a patriarchal society that subjugates women by robbing them of their birth identity upon marriage.”
Cal: “See? That’s what I’m talking about!”
Me: (snorting again) “Hello. I was kidding.”
Cal: “Oh. Well, that’s still what I’m talking about.”
Me: “No, it isn’t. That isn’t what you said before. You said you don’t believe in marriage because mammals are genetically incapable of monogamy, and I cited wolves and hawks as examples. Also that chemicals in the brain cause us to believe ourselves in love, when actually, we’re merely in lust. It’s right here in this book if you don’t believe me, I can look it up.”
Cal: “You put that conversation in there, too? Holly and Mark are going to read that!”
Me: “Er. Yeah. Maybe. Stop trying to change the subject. Do you really believe that? That human beings are incapable of monogamy? Because I can cite a lot of examples of marriages in which neither partner strayed—”
Cal: “How do you know?”
Me: “I think I’d know if my own parents were cheating on each other.”
Cal: “How? Unless they told you. You wouldn’t know. You’d have no idea.”
Me: “Well, what about Rhonda’s parents?”
Cal: “Who the hell is Rhonda?”
Me: “Rhonda. Of Rhonda and Paolo. Her parents were celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding a
Cal: “You have no possible way of knowing whether or not Rhonda’s parents have been monogamous for those thirty-five years.”
Me: “True. Still. I’ll bet you twenty bucks they have been. Nobody goes on a cruise with a cheating spouse.”
Cal: “You are unbelievable.”
Me: “No, you are. Just because your ex-wife cheated on you, you think all women are incapable of being faithful. Admit it.”
Cal: “I never said any such thing.”
Me: “You didn’t have to. It’s totally obvious. When you say you think humans are incapable of monogamy, you mean women.”