Part 15 (2/2)

I wipe off the heavy lipstick they made me wear to perform and smooth on Watermelon Ice. Reminds me of Scott. Poor Scott. He's so far away from me here and now. So different from Derek. Steady. Loyal. Sweet. Friend.

Derek doesn't seem like any of those things. Especially the friend angle. But sweet? For sure. Last night showed sweet. And singing for him just now was extreme sweet. But that was in me. How did he feel? What could he possibly see in me? Maybe it is all an act. Those guys have been around. He's had a lot of chances to perfect picking up a girl to pa.s.s the time with at a festival. I never imagined something like that happening here, but, heck, I'll play along. Why not? He doesn't know who I really am. I am free here. He thinks I'm beautiful.

We meet Derek and Blake at the pizza place across the road from our hotel. The pizzas are all named for movie stars-mostly American. The guys got us a table outside on the sidewalk. Kind of loud with cars going by but way European.

”Great job.” Derek shakes my hand in both of his-holds onto it while he says, ”Beautiful, Beth. Exquisite. How do you do that?”

I draw my hand back. ”I heard you sing. You know how to do it.”

”Not like that. I can't sing like that.”

Blake leans over his shoulder and looks me up and down. ”Maybe you just need the right inspiration.”

He gets another elbow in the gut and, ”Shut up,” from Derek.

We order pizza to celebrate. Blake cheats again with the dairy, but Derek gets pasta with meat sauce. When his order comes, he takes out a handful of capsules and swallows them-notices my stare, shrugs. ”Vitamins. My mom is way into macrobiotics.”

I believe him. Every word. Honest.

This place serves authentic Italian pizzas-thin crust, wood fired. I stuff a slice melting with mozzarella into my mouth. It's so different from home. Fresh and chewy. And the tomatoes are sweet. I close my eyes to savor it better-can't believe I'm actually eating with him. I'm learning this guy stuff as fast as I can.

”You don't eat it like that.” Derek watches me swallow from across the narrow table. He picks up a slice of my pizza, folds it over. ”Here.” He slides it into my mouth. Obedient as always, I bite and manage to chew without turning too pink. He's staring-looks like he's starving.

”You want a piece? This is way too much for me.” Everyone gets their own small pizza here, not giant ones that will serve a table like back home, but it's too much.

He shakes his head. ”Cheese.”

”You guys sing tomorrow, right?”

”I hope you'll come.” He looks at me the way he did while I sang.

”Wouldn't miss it.” I gaze back at him and hope I'm sending the right message.

I'm lost somewhere deep in his velvet-brown stare when my cell phone rings in my bag. I'm carrying it today. Mom said she'd call to see how our performance went. She warned me that calls from Europe cost a fortune in roaming and long-distance charges, so we've made due with emails, but today actually talking will be worth it.

I find it before she hangs up. ”Mom?”

”Beth?” She says something I don't hear.

I shout, ”Hang on a minute,” and get up, walk up the sidewalk. ”I think this is better.”

”How did it go, honey?”

”Great, Mom. I sang like I never have before.” I glance back at Derek sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair, staring at me. He holds my eyes, makes my face hot. ”We met some nice guys from Amabile-over the border in London.”

”Good, dear. I'm glad you're having a nice time.” She sounds down.

”You okay?” I worry about her alone.

”Sure.” Her voice breaks.

”What's going on Mom?”

”Nothing that can't wait until you're home next week.”

I close my eyes. No, not today. Agree with her. Hang up. Wait. You don't want to know. ”Is it that test?”

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