“Welcome to Villa Perfecta,” said the man in the security booth. “How may I help you?”
Maji flipped up the windscreen on the full-face helmet. “I have an appointment with Dr. Lyttleton. Beatriz Echeverra,” she rasped.
“Take off your helmet, please.”
Maji rolled her eyes as if exasperated and pulled the helmet off, revealing the red hair and makeup. “Satisfied?”
“Thank you, Ms. Echeverra. Down the road to the main house. You may park the moto anywhere you please.”
She gave him a wicked grin. “I always do.”
The cliffside compound overlooking the Mediterranean looked more like a resort than a medical facility. But Maji supposed if you paid for both Lyttleton’s services and complete privacy you might expect a spa experience for your recovery. Just what had Echeverra had to do for the Nuvoletta to afford a full facial reconstruction?
A woman in a lab coat came out to greet her as she parked Reimi’s motor scooter in the shade. “Aren’t you clever? And brave. I hope those horrible paparazzi didn’t chase you today.”
Maji kept the hoarseness in her voice. “I was as anonymous as any moto on the streets of Barcelona.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Too much rehearsal.”
“Ooh. Well, we have a lovely little café with a view of the ocean. Let’s get you something hot to drink. I am Carolina.” As Maji walked with her through the main house she added, “I watched your interview on TV last night. I wanted to say thank you. I have a friend who got drugged at a bar, and the hospital didn’t even have a rape kit available.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maji whispered. She’d listened to the surveillance feed taken from Erlea’s room. But who knew what the magazine edited out and what it left in.
“Maybe your act of courage will help.” Carolina offered the coffee machine and a seat with a sweep of her hand. “What can I get you?”
Maji craved a cortado, but that wasn’t what Erlea would drink while nursing sore vocal cords. “Tea with honey, please.” Maji found the interview on her phone and streamed it while sipping the boring drink. Erlea was very forthcoming with the reporter she’d selected for the exclusive.
Maji skimmed through the part about Erlea being drugged, the data on how many women this happened to, the unreported cases, and the difficulty in prosecuting rape. All good. Then she reached the part about Celeste.
“The woman you danced with that night, our sources have identified her as Dr. Celeste Guillot. She’s been linked with a number of famous athletes previously. Care to comment on your relationship?”
“If you’ve researched Dr. Guillot,” Erlea replied, “you know she’s a performance expert, the kind Olympians credit with overcoming their personal obstacles to winning the gold. She would never talk about a client, of course, but I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have a terrible fear of heights. And everyone wants me in the air for this spectacular aerial number. So why not hire the best?”
“And is dancing with clients part of the service?”
“Hey, everyone’s allowed a little fun in their off time. But it’s not like that.”
“So it’s true what they say, you’re just an ally for LGBTs, straight but not narrow?”
“I wouldn’t make that assumption. I know I’ve been photographed with a string of guys, but if they get called out for fucking around, everybody thinks they’re studs, right? Like it or not, women get judged by a different standard. So if I was dating one, I wouldn’t kiss and tell. Not for lack of pride, but out of respect for her. Get it?”
Not so bad. Maji admired Erlea, back to rehearsals after two days in bed and refusing Celeste’s offer to delay her visit to Barcelona.
“Ms. Echeverra? The doctor will see you now.” Carolina held a CD and pen, looking bashful. “Would you mind very much…”
Maji stood and smiled. “Not at all.” She scribbled Erlea’s signature, glad she’d practiced until it became as automatic as writing her own.
* * *
“Do you have to film every damn thing I do?” Erlea winced at her own tone. “Sorry. Could you maybe just not capture the part where I freeze up and flail around?”
Alejandro set the video camera down. “Of course. But conquering your fear would be great behind-the-scenes stuff.”
Erlea groaned. “Only if I get to approve the final cut. No matter what Nigel tells you.”
“You’re the boss,” he replied in his usual agreeable manner.
At least someone thought so. “Okay, let’s go again. Show me the move again?”
Tania, in the harness on the cord next to her, leaped up and forward. Instead of tucking her feet up and trying to roll as Erlea had, she kept her legs stiff and her core taut, letting the momentum of the harness lever her lower half into the air. Then the elasticized rope pulled back against Tania’s waist, and in a heartbeat she was back on her feet, giving a little at the knees to stick the landing. She looked expectantly at Erlea.
“Sure. You make it look easy,” Erlea muttered. She pantomimed her tight core, stiff legs, and the little push-up from the stage floor by her hands. Tania nodded her encouragement.
Erlea took a deep breath and dove forward, thinking plank while resisting the urge to curl into a wheel for a forward roll. Determined to not let the cord pull her back onto her ass again, she held the right body mechanics. Not as gracefully as Tania—but it worked. On her feet again, she laughed out loud.
Tania beamed at her and demonstrated a new move, holding the cord up high and walking in a circle in the opposite direction. As she gained speed and bounce, her feet came off the ground at controlled intervals.
Erlea had to admit it looked like fun. She made her own less ambitious circle around the stage. Small hops. Not so bad.
“That’s a start,” Imane said as she approached from the wings. “Have you seen Maji? Celeste is all wound up and trying to track her down.”
“Maji’s out for a few hours,” Erlea replied, not wanting to say where. The cast and crew didn’t need to know about Maji’s doctor’s appointment any more than the media did. “Celeste is back? I could really use her about now.”
“I bet you could,” Imane said with a wink. “But seriously, I don’t think this is a good time.”
Erlea spotted Celeste in the wings, pacing. “Is it the interview? Did I fuck up? Please say no.”
Imane shrugged. “She just said it was personal.” She waved Celeste over. “Maji’s out doing double duty. Can you consult for a few minutes?”
Celeste strode out to join them onstage. “Show me the piece as you intend it.” Erlea noticed she spoke only to Imane, not looking her way. She hates me. Did they misquote me?
“We’re still working out the ground moves, but here’s the kicker,” Imane told Celeste. She put on the headphones, spoke to the control booth, and gestured to Tania to run for the wall.
The music came on near the end of the song, and Tania moved to it, getting into the rhythm and position. Erlea held her breath as Tania heard the cue and started running for the wall, lifting off the ground with her arms outstretched. Just as she reached the second story window, the wall tilted away and the bungee pulled her back. She landed safely on her feet and crumpled to the stage, just as she’d done in the earlier demos.
Celeste nodded. “I see. And how are the nonflying parts coming?”
Imane looked to Erlea to answer. “Okay. I’m getting my feet off the ground for short periods.”
“Good. Keep doing that,” Celeste said, looking at her briefly. “Develop some confidence with the basic moves first.” She switched her attention back to Imane. “Call me when she hits a sticking point.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Imane said to Celeste’s retreating form. She turned back to Erlea. “What are you waiting for? Get out of that rig and go apologize.”
“For what?” Erlea said.
Imane stared at her. “I don’t know. I’m not the one she’s pissed at. Just go.”
* * *
Celeste opened her office door to find Erlea, shifting from foot to foot but not speaking. “Are you ill? Was it too soon to send you back to rehearsals?” Now on top of everything else, she was failing as doctor to her only patient. Erlea deserved better. “I shouldn’t have run off. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Erlea said. “I feel fine thanks to you. And now I’ve pissed you off.”
Celeste motioned Erlea to come in. “It’s not you I’m mad at.” She turned away, not able to meet her gaze.
“The reporter then,” Erlea ventured. “I thought she was a safe choice, even read her notes. But after they edited, I can see it sounds like we’re involved. I’m so sorry.”
Celeste had pushed that worry back, but now it leaped onto the pile of her anxiety. She looked at Erlea, willing herself to not cry. “I was so close to starting over. Now I won’t be surprised if they rescind the job offer.”
“You got a job in Barcelona? That’s great.” Erlea looked cautiously happy for her. “If it would help, I’ll tell them you’ve been nothing but professional with me. I’ll do a press conference, whatever it takes.”
“No. I don’t need you to speak for me,” Celeste said, her voice rising. “I don’t need my name splashed across the tabloids. I just want my life back.” She burst into tears, covering her face and turning away again to hide her shame.
Erlea placed a warm hand on her back. “I’m here. And I believe in you.”
Celeste spun back and buried her face in Erlea’s shoulder, comforted by her embrace. “Tissue,” she managed after catching her breath. She took the tissue and blew, accepted another, and used it up, too. What a mess. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sick to death of being scared, of running away and hiding.” Anger surged through her again, but not turned inward for a change. She pushed Erlea away. “She’s still fucking controlling me.”
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Erlea said. “But I’ll help in any way I can. Do you need a place to stay?”
Celeste could see she meant that. But it was time to stand on her own two feet. “I can afford a hotel while I get settled. Just for a week or two.”
“My apartment is empty, except for the cat, who would love you. You could stay as long as you like,” Erlea said. “It’s very secure. And I made Alejandro show me the settlement terms. If she comes near there, the deal is off. I can talk about what really happened that night, even release the whole video.”
“The whole video?”
“Yeah. Some guy was stalking me with his phone. He got the whole evening. Most of it’s really boring, until you come in.” Erlea looked sheepish. “Nigel never told me about it. Alejandro showed me.”
Celeste’s stomach turned at the thought of Erlea watching Adrienne screaming at her, hurting her. “I’m on tape, too? That part never made the news.”
“Only the little bit that makes me look like a drunken brawler,” Erlea said. “If only I’d been sober, I would have handled things better, made sure you were okay. I missed a whole year of knowing you.” She cradled Celeste’s face in her palm and caressed her cheek with her thumb.
Celeste ached so much to kiss her, she stiffened up and pulled back. “No, don’t be silly. I’d have thanked you and we’d have parted ways. You were very busy touring.”
“I’ll never be too busy to care about you,” Erlea said, reaching for the door. “But I can’t seem to stop overstepping. Think about the apartment, let me know, okay?”
“Yes,” Celeste said. Yes to all this sweet, funny, achingly sexy woman offered. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”
Erlea smiled and slipped out the office door. Celeste dropped into her desk chair and stared after her, still feeling the warmth of Erlea’s touch on her face.
* * *
“Someone’s going to come fetch the moto,” Maji told Carolina as she prepared to leave Villa Perfecta. “Apparently there’s a reporter waiting outside your gates to catch me leaving.”
“Oh no,” Carolina said. “We can get you out of here in a van. We do it all the time.”
“No need. I’ve got a car meeting me behind the Cuevas del Drach.” Maji put on her curious face. “They said there’s a path along the cliff top. Show me?” Should match the satellite images she’d gone over with Dave.
“Of course.” Carolina beamed, delighted with the intrigue.
Maji changed from her moto-riding leathers into a sundress and sporty sandals, her hair under a wide-brimmed hat and her face half hidden by large sunglasses. She followed Carolina until the woods that shielded the compound from view gave way to hard-packed earth. As the trail opened out to look down into one of Majorca’s many little coves, Maji reveled in the sound of the waves and the feel of the sun. And having a few minutes alone and unwatched, not making her throat raw with a fake voice or minding her every mannerism. She paused to admire the stone wall at the edge of the tourist attraction’s property, the way the Majorcans remade the old into the new, refitting ancient stones into new walls. Life was rebuilt that way at the edges of farms, vineyards, and fincas all over the island.
A middle-aged couple in capris and sandals walked toward her, talking and pointing to the ocean. She smiled politely at them. They smiled back and even said, “Bon dia.”
Entering the site’s grounds, Maji coasted past families waiting to enter the caves, discussing the dragons in the attraction’s name. More tourists thronged the shops and café by the ticket area and parking lot. Maji wound through them, listening for any buzz about Erlea, looking for any sign of paparazzi. She got in line for gelato and phoned Dave.
“I’m ready in the harbor,” he said.
“Hi, Dave. I’m fine,” Maji said, refusing to hurry. “How are you? Want a gelato?”
“I’d love one. But you better keep one hand free at least. My guy on overwatch says a camera van just pulled into the parking area.”
“Almost showtime.” Maji hung up and bought a two scoop cone, chocolate and coconut. She strolled away from the café, licking the cone like getting a little of each flavor in every bite was the most important task of the day. When she spotted the van and a group of tourists speculating on whether Erlea was really going to make an appearance, she looked for Dave’s spotter. He stood up and waved his yellow ball cap at her.
Maji stopped to say hi and ask him for a thirty-second start. Halfway to the road she took off her hat and heard him yell, “There she is—heading for the Majorica shop.”
Maji started jogging lightly toward the shop, dodging a group of cyclists as she crossed the road. At the corner, the store’s doors slid open for her and she stepped into the cool dry elegance of the famous pearl jewelry boutique.
“Welcome, how may I assist—oh,” said the clerk in an incongruously Scottish accent. She switched to Spanish. “We’re honored to have you visit. What can I show you today?”
“Just the back way out, I’m afraid,” Maji whispered. “The paparazzi are at it again.”
“Of course,” the clerk said as if famous people being chased by the media was a daily occurrence there. “Right this way.” She showed Maji the stairs down to the harbor.
Maji scanned the boats docked below, spotted Dave’s yellow speedboat, and smiled. “Thank you so much. Selfie?”
“Why, yes. Please.” They snapped two shots together just before a disruption at the entrance upstairs signaled the media’s arrival.
Maji bolted, taking the stairs at a good clip but not so fast they couldn’t keep sight of her. At the promenade at the bottom she stopped and looked up, saw the camera van parked on the road above, and waved. As she reached the dock with Dave’s boat, she heard a voice calling out for her to wait. She turned and saw a lone photographer jogging doggedly to catch up with her. She shrugged and untied the bowline, hopping on board with a hand from Dave for good show.
“This could get interesting,” Dave said, nodding back down the dock.
Maji couldn’t make out what the photographer was saying, but his wad of cash and gesticulating toward her were clear enough. One little runabout’s owner took the cash and ushered the reporter on board.
“We’ll outrun him in a hot minute,” Dave said. The engine engaged with a throaty rumble. “Want to go below?”
“No,” Maji replied. “I want to drive.”
Dave backed them out and handed the wheel over to her. Maji took the speedboat past the other pleasure boats at a reasonable speed, trailed closely by the runabout. A few boaters looked up and waved, did a double take, reached for their phones. As the harbor opened up, she gauged the channel’s breadth and the locations of other vessels. Nothing small enough to be endangered by a little hotdogging. “Hang on.”
She opened the throttle and took off toward the ocean, then eased off just short of the harbor’s outlet and swung the agile motorboat into a wide arc, making a circle around the runabout. She smiled and waved at the photographer as he tried to capture her in motion.
Dave laughed and took the wheel back, piloting them safely out to the coast. Once in open water, he set a moderate speed and gave her half his attention. “Romero says your uplink worked. His team is sifting through Lyttleton’s records as we speak.”
“Then the trip was worth something. I don’t think I can stomach letting him work on me.”
“What? He’s good enough for Arturo Echeverra but not for you? Wait, he didn’t brag about her daddy’s face to Erlea, did he?”
“No. He’s not stupid. Just a racist asshat who takes dirty money and gets off on celebrities.”
“Point taken. What’s the big deal, anyway? I thought they cleaned you up at Landstuhl.”
Maji pulled up the cap sleeve on the sundress, exposing her left shoulder and the keloid scar. “They did what they could.”
“Eh. That’s a distinguishing mark all right. But it’s not Mashriki’s mark. What’s Colonel Wyatt say?”
“I haven’t asked him. I need to take care of it myself. My body, my life.”
Dave nodded. “I get that. But fixing your skin won’t get Fallujah out of your brain.”
“Might make it easier to look at myself in the mirror.”
Dave turned his eyes to the ocean ahead of them. “I had a hard time with that after my first kill, too. It was your first, right?”
“First, second, third, fourth. Shit, I don’t even know how many.” Maji held on to the top of the windscreen, looking ahead with the wind whipping her hair behind her. I should at least know their names.
“Look. You hit one kid by accident—or ’cause he’s got an IED and you have no choice,” Dave began. “You miss your shot at a van and watch a whole mosque go up. You run to a burning car and drag a woman out, only to watch her die while you hold her, waiting for the medics to arrive.” He spared her a glance. “It all sucks, Rios. Whether you pulled the trigger or not.”
“It’s not the same, Dave. I mean, yes, there’ve been times I had to stay in cover, had to let somebody get hurt. I’ve had the nightmares, I’ve seen the shrinks.” Never Ava before. “They got me back on my feet and back in the field. But this…I did this. I lost control. That’s on me.”
“You made it three years with no body count, Rios. You know how unheard of that is? Why do you think they call you Magic?”
“Well, now they can stop. I don’t deserve the fucking pedestal you want to put me on.”
“I never said you were perfect. Maybe you thought you could be, but seriously, no amount of training will ever get you there.”
Maji used every swear word she knew in Spanish, then threw in a few Arabic phrases as well. It didn’t help enough. “Then how do I know I won’t do it again?”
“Just like this,” Dave said. He gave her a quick sideways hug and let her go. “Work your way back to where you trust yourself again.”
Maji stared out at the glistening ocean, wanting to dismiss his words as too pat, too simplistic. But after a few weeks on assignment, she felt worlds better about her abilities than she had after passing all her field recertification tests. “You haven’t issued me a sidearm.”
“Did you want one?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Good. It’d be a lot to sell to the press if Erlea whipped out a pistol and suddenly became an expert shot.”
“Dave. You’ve really got no qualms about working with me right now?”
“Not a one.” He gave her a small smile. “But take it from somebody who’s been there. It’s better to keep talking with someone you trust than to try and gut it out alone. That will bite you in the ass.”
“Hooah.”