She speaks very quickly, so I’m not sure I completely understand, but I think the main thing is that she wants me to accompany her on a shopping trip. I know I’ll enjoy that more than staying in the room, so I say, “Mmm… okay.”
Alexei might not like my going out, but I’m a pet, not a prisoner. He did say so when I asked him in New York.
I pack my purse quickly, putting my phone in the zipper pocket.
“Do you need to stop by the conference room to tell Alexei you’re going out?”
“No.”
As we leave the room, I make sure the door is locked. There’s a stranger at the end of the hall, and I freeze when I see him.
“It’s all right,” Zoe says, and I realize he’s her bodyguard. That’s good, I suppose. Safer for me as well.
He joins us in the elevator, but doesn’t follow too closely as we leave the hotel. We’d be able to talk privately if we wanted, but I don’t think it would be safe to confide anything secret.
Instead, I practice my English with Zoe as she explains more about American antiques. When she reveals the age of these ‘historical’ items, I’m surprised. In most cases they are only a hundred years old or less.
“It doesn’t seem very old to you, huh? America’s kind of young for a country,” Zoe says with a smile. “But we’ve done a lot in two hundred and fifty years.” She winks at me, which I’m not sure how to take. Usually it’s men who wink at me and not in a roommate-friend kind of way.
“America is very strong country. You should be proud,” I tell her.
She laughs as if I’ve told a joke. Again, I’m not sure how to take her reactions.
In the hotel’s parking lot, she leads us to a truck and then gets into the driver’s position. One day, I would love to drive my own car. The bodyguard sits in the passenger seat, and I get in the back.
Zoe turns off the loud music that plays when the engine starts, and then turns on the direction system whose accent sounds British actually, which I find very strange. Why would a person from the United Kingdom give directions in the U.S.?
The distance to the small town is not very long, so it takes only a few minutes for us to arrive. The main street is made of bricks and reminds me of old roads in Europe. When we go inside the first shop, I’m surprised by the clothes Zoe stops to admire. The clothes she wears are very modern, so I mention my surprise that she likes old things. She says her engagement ring, which she loves, is an antique, but that I’m right, she likes modern styles mostly. She fingers her gold necklace with its large geometric loops that hang down the front of her dress.
She smooths down her dress with its high slit that goes way up her thigh. Very sexy. She wears it with black leather boots. I would like an outfit like hers and wish we were shopping in New York City instead of a lake village.
“I’m not looking for things for me personally,” she says.
My head tilts in confusion. “I do not understand. Who do you shop for?”
“We’re producers, Rachel and me. We make Broadway shows, musicals. Sometimes we need things for the set or for the performers to wear, so I go places like this to see if I can find good bargains on pieces that I think we can use. Then we put them in storage. That way the costume designers and set designers have things to choose from, and we don’t have to buy everything all at once.”
I concentrate on her words and think I understand.
She smiles at my silence. “Any thoughts about that?”
“No.”
She laughs. It’s a pretty laugh, like everything about her. “You’re the first person who hasn’t asked a lot of questions. Do you understand English well enough to know what I’m saying?”
“Mmm… maybe.”
This makes her laugh again.
“You make stage plays, yes?”
“Yes, exactly. Have you been to the theater in New York?”
“No.”
“Would you like to go? I can get you tickets to our show, or to any really. I’d love for you to see ours. I’m biased of course, but it’s awesome.”
“Yes, I would like to see this. Thank you.”
