CHAPTER ONE
Stretched out in her cozy bed, stuffed animals flanking her, Sarah looked across her room to the bulletin board she’d tacked up her upcoming itinerary. Georgia today, Rome tomorrow. Impossible. Yet, looking at the passport, the tickets on the bureau, across from the bed, that was exactly where she was headed.
Well, not just her. Cindy, her lifelong best friend and partner in evening adventures, was waking up somewhere — probably in somebody else’s bed — realizing that in a few hours, her life was going to change forever, really. And Karen, well, she was probably already up, already had her coffee, had written in her diary, was already packed, pressed and ready to go. They were quite a trio, the three of them.
She looked at the grade school picture of the three of them, standing in the front of Mrs. Dunn’s class, pointing to the globe. They were so cute. Little Karen, the turned up nose and freckles and deep blue eyes, Cindy, wide-eyed and pouty, even at 8 and Sarah, dark olive skin, button brown eyes. They were young women now, graduates of The College Of The South. The world awaited.
Friends since childhood, Cindy used to joke that since their mothers knew each other before they were born, they were sending vibes to each other in utero. “Yeah, you were trying to send texts,” Sarah told Karen. “And you were trying to steal money out of my wallet,” Karen told Cindy. “And you were telling your mother to hurry up and push you out. You had shit to do,” Cindy said, smacking Karen on the shoulder.
The plan for this tour, “Our World Tour” Sarah called it, came one night after a few drinks and a lot of conversation. What could they do, the three of them, to kind of celebrate their lives, their achievement — graduation — and their friendship all at the same time. Sarah had seen an ad somewhere about a European vacation tour, something about castles and exotic cities and rediscovering Europe, somewhere new and exciting and unpredictable.
Where were they going to go in America? Nothing and nowhere particularly interested any of them. They ran down the list. Seattle? “I’ve seen rain,” Karen said. “Los Angeles?” “I get in traffic here and am not impressed,” Sarah said. “San Francisco?” Cindy laughed. “My nipples get hard in Georgia. I’d freeze ’em off near Alcatraz.” They could not, even after a few moments, think of where in America they wanted to explore. So….they were quiet for a while. Quiet for them, that is. Then one of them spoke, funny thing is, nobody was really sure if it was Karen or Cindy or Sarah who said it but somebody blurted “Europe!” and they all yelled at once. This was it. The plan. The target.
As they began to talk about it, European MEN had to be more interesting than the beer-guzzling, Molly-peddling, tit-grabbing, get-me-off-first, tattooed muscle heads they had to fend off on an almost regular basis at any of the local clubs. The dating scene, the bar scene really, had sort of lost its appeal. What new pickup line were they going to try this time? Talk about bored. They’d heard them all, especially Cindy.
Sarah used to argue that her name should have been SIN-dy because, according to her at least, she lived up to her name. Certainly she looked at her sexuality as something she’d lose if she didn’t use it. She might not really have been that slutty but compared with the other two, she was pretty wild. She always got a laugh during their usual weekly drinks-after-school meeting at Donovan’s Pub near campus, when Cindy couldn’t wait to recount her most recent carnal expedition, no doubt embellishing everything for maximum enjoyment and bragging rights.
The most sexually adventurous of the three, Cindy had always seemed to be the one who would always keep the others laughing, sometimes at her, sometimes with her relentless sarcasm, which seemed to find its way into her every comment, one way or another. And four years of hearing every pickup line imaginable, listening to these guys go on and on about whatever it was had sort of given Cindy enough for a while. Europe, she thought. That might be very different. Europe might be very different. She could not imagine it being the same old tired crap she’d heard a thousand times, comments that had her eyes rolling back in her head before the drink was half gone. The guys had to look different than these tattooed, muscle-bound, chain-wearing, pinheads who were always trying to tell her how they were different and SHE was different and so on and so on.
Their bedroom conversations was always the source of much amusement for Sarah and Karen because when, after the evening’s festivities with Cindy had concluded, her partner l’amour would invariably seek some kind of sign of approval — something on the order of “Was it good for you, baby?” Cindy’s responses – at least the way she recounted them for her friends - were wry, withering at times.
”Earth-shaking,” she might droll. “I’ve never had it quite like that….(a long karakoçan escort pause) fortunately.”
Or “Oooh, you’re so big, it must really weaken your brain…”
Or “Nobody’s ever asked me that before. You’re really good. What a great question.”
Or, quoting the great Garry Shandling, when he would ask “Was that good for you?” Cindy would roll her eyes and drawl, “I don’t think that was good for ANYBODY.”
Like a tape recorder, Cindy would remember them all, too…..and could perfectly capture the guy’s always stunned reaction in that rather uncomfortable afterglow. “The idiot,” she would say and the three would laugh. Some of Karen and Sarah’s laughter, of course, was tinged with a bit of envy. They weren’t quite as willing or as daring as Cindy. And probably never would be. But then, Europe beckoned…
They had all had their moments, of course. In many ways, it was a wonderful experience to watch these three friends go from kindergarten to grade school to middle school to high school, noting the crushes, the hairstyles, the fashionistas, the silly and sad moments when life just sort of interfered or kicked you in the shins or spanked you on the ass, they were all there for each other.
Karen, of course, would write about many of these things in her diary. She would always take good notes in class, always the one who found where the restaurant specials were, was the one who took bar conversations most seriously, remembered everyone’s birthday, when they had lost their virginity, how long she would date a guy before she would let him kiss her, touch her breast and so on. Very organized and, in her own way, very funny.
She wasn’t sarcastic, just very literal. She would not say she loved someone if she didn’t, or say she liked a movie if she did not – no matter what the response of everyone else was. She liked plans, organizations, arranging her closet, filling her journal, there was always something she needed or wanted to do.
Sarah, the shortest and youngest, was always the one along for the ride. She was close with both of them; sometimes Karen would get exasperated at Cindy’s behavior and occasional drunkenness. Sometimes, Cindy would tell Karen she was way too much of a tight ass for her own good and they would go at it. Sarah was always the peacemaker, the one who tried to calm things and fix things.
So now, the three of them, the sistahhood, was going to relocate their organization overseas for a few weeks. From Rome to Paris to Dublin. They would fly to Rome to begin. Then work their way through France and then Ireland. They had picked out a few spots — well, Karen had, with a little help from Sarah and once they got to these exotic locations, they knew they could bend life to their will. Something would happen. Something fun and interesting and hey, weren’t they ready for the world? Wasn’t that what graduation from college was all about? To be READY FOR THE WORLD. “Fuck yeah!” Cyndy said when Sarah offered that suggestion that night at Donovan’s Pub, mapping out their itinerary. They all raised their glasses. “Fuck yeah!”
So, on this June morning, all across the city, the three of them were getting out of bed and getting ready for their early flight. The morning prep for each of them was just what you might have thought if you knew them.
Karen, of course, took the most time. A pert brunette, her long straight hair seemed to take forever to get right and just the right lipstick, the eyeliner just so. She had a large mirror, of course, but had others strategically arranged around the apartment in order for her to check how she looked in each one before she would leave. She was about 5-1 or 5-2, a runner and so, in great shape. A little slimmer than she’d like. She worried that her breasts weren’t large enough to attract men. Nobody had exactly said that to her, of course, but she could tell. In a bathing suit, the only time anybody said anything to her was when they saw her from behind.
Cindy took, naturally, the least amount of time to get ready. A quick shower, a swift, seamless, towel-drying of her hair, tiny bit of makeup – some days none at all – which did not endear her to her friends. She loved pastels, wore them flawlessly, everything always seemed to fit and flowed gracefully. Sometimes, it pissed the other two off.
Sarah was sort of between the two. Trying to get her hair right, sometimes it’d get a bit frizzy, trying to find the exact right color for lip gloss, those were the things that she was particular about. She was easy going, almost always awoke in a good mood with a happy spirit. She was just as excited as the other two and in some ways, maybe even more. Kevin was over. Just in the past. There would be a new man, maybe men – plural – in her future. Hello Europe!!!! Here I come. She looked at herself in the mirror. Giggled. Said it out loud, “Here I CUM.” And laughed. Some hot naughty sex…that’d be nice, too. Especially where she karaköy escort knew no one and no one knew her….
They were to meet at the Atlanta airport, that insanely overbooked ant farm of an aerial hub in the American south. Karen would have the most luggage, Cindy would have the least and Sarah, almost for sure, would lose a bag.
They had traveled together before and by now, with such an important trip ahead, they agreed to each drive themselves — no more waiting for Cindy — and meet at Gate 33 for the trip. It was an evening flight, an 11-hour flight, arriving at Leonardo da Vinci — Fiumicino Airport at 8:37 a.m., just in time for a full beautiful day on the other side of the world, the Eternal City, Rome.
They arrived at the gate within minutes of each other — surely a great sign, Sarah noted and the three hugged each other, chatted happily as they walked together down the hall to the gate.
“Couldn’t do anything all day,” Sarah said, straining to keep up with Cindy’s long, easy strides. “I got a lot done in the morning,” Karen said, playing with the zipper on her leather jacket, as she walked. “I was all packed,” Cindy said, “I just sat around and texted.”
Karen had been the one in charge of the schedule/sight-seeing plan and she had made copies for the other two. A couple of copies for the other two, in fact, since Cindy was prone to lose/ignore hers and Sarah would stash it away somewhere and forget where the stash was. Karen liked to schedule and organize things anyway so it was no big deal for Sarah and Cindy to let her come up with plans/ideas that might or might not happen. And now, Rome. Cool. They did want to see the Coliseum, of course, that was a must, as it is for everyone who has ever strayed within the confines of the Eternal City for the first time. They had mentioned a few things to Karen but pretty much trusted her to hit the high points. She was good. They had planned to stay at a Bed and Breakfast, the All’obeliscianian Bed and Breakfast near Quirinal Hill in the center of the city. Cindy had just asked about this again when they sat down at their gate, waiting to board.
“Remember the baths?” Karen told the girls. “Constantine? Remember how Burnside went on and on about Roman Society?”
“Burnside!!” They all laughed.
Professor Adolphus T. Burnside, their Humanities teacher back when they were wide-eyed freshmen, delighted the three of them with ribald tales of life in Rome, particularly some juicy sagas of the wild things that went on at the Roman Baths. They seemed juicy at the time to three teenagers new on campus.
Burnside was quite a character in his own right. Charismatic, funny, almost profane at times, he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of all things ancient and usually the naughtiest angle, too. He knew how to hit freshmen girls where they lived and he got a boot out of it. And they got a boot out of him.
His Humanities course was designed to enlighten them to the world around them, that is, the ancient world that they knew nothing of. In some ways, what Burnside did was inspire this trip, several years down the line. Karen still had a couple of books from his course, including Lorenzo Titian’s classic “My Roma, My World,” which, among other things, she used to plot out their visit to the Eternal City. She figured she had to start the trip with a bang.
Karen actually went to the trouble of buying a map of Europe and put it up in her bedroom, with colored tacks placed in all the spots they intended to visit. After Rome, then on to Paris, maybe even Amsterdam, ending in Dublin. Their tour would be a little over two weeks. Talk about seeing Europe on the fly!
Karen had even bought a special journal to record her memories of the trip. She tried to get Sarah and Cindy to do the same but they couldn’t be bothered. Sarah said she might send herself texts. Cindy just laughed. “I’ll remember what I need to,” she said. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“I really do think Burnside would love that we’re doing this,” Sarah said, patting her leg excitedly. “He used to tell us about the summer trips he’d make to Europe…”
“And all the trouble he supposedly got in,” Cindy said, laughing. “Especially in Rome.”
If he only knew the three of them were about to hit Rome, to go to Quirinal Hill themselves!
“We should call him,” Cindy said.
“That would be so cool,” Sarah agreed.
“Ah, he probably doesn’t even remember us,” Karen said.
“Oh no,” Cindy said. “He’ll remember me.”
The other two looked at each other.
“Don’t even say it.” She wagged a finger. “I didn’t sleep with him,” Cindy said, her voice getting that whine she always got when she was annoyed. “But I did make him smile.”
Before she could say any more, the announcement came to board their flight. The three of them stood up and did their little salute, linking their pinky fingers like they had seen in an episode of Seinfeld, then clip-clopped karaman escort their way to the gate to board the flight. The adventure was on.
CHAPTER TWO:
The flight from Atlanta to Rome was long, bumpy and well, quite surprising. Karen had watched two Lifetime movies, slept and was just re-reading some of Titian’s classic, that Burnside had so loved. She was re-reading one of her favorite passages: “If there was a place on Earth where Original Sin had to have taken place, it could only have been at the Roman Baths on Quirinal Hill,” he wrote. “There were more original sins committed there than in any seven Garden Of Edens.” Think of all that sin. She laughed out loud, even though she’d read that line many times. As she did, she looked up and noticed a tall, slender, immaculately dressed man standing up near the center of the plane staring at her.
She looked back at Cindy, who was sleeping, then over at Sarah, who was in the midst of a conversation and didn’t see her right away. When she finally caught her eyes, she motioned with her head, like asking “did you see that?”
In a few moments, a stewardess came over with a small handwritten card — and a rose. “Care to join me in first class?” The name at the bottom of the note stunned. “Your friend, Lorenzo Titian.”
Titian? On THIS FLIGHT? And he wants to SEE ME? What? She looked at the name on her brown, battered book, the same. She looked at the picture of him inside the back book jacket. He was handsome and broad faced, very Italian with smoldering eyes, a turned-up lip that she imagined could spew fiery language when angry. He did not look pleasant but intimidating. He was staring into the camera with unrelenting eyes. And now he was inviting her up to first class? What?
She couldn’t go right up there. That’d look bad. She’d look desperate. What to do. She thought quickly, reached for a pen and asked the stewardess to wait just a moment and return the note. In her very best handwriting at the bottom of the card, she jotted “Traveling with two college friends who would also love to meet you. Wait until Rome?” and handed it back to the stewardess. “Thank you.”
She was nervous with excitement and tried to get Sarah’s attention. Cindy was still asleep. In a few moments, the tall, slender man returned and came to Karen’s seat. He was young, dressed immaculately in a crisp white shirt with a blue collar, pastel tie, his hair short, his very brown eyes sincere, focused and direct.
“I apologize for the abruptness of this,” he said. “My name is Antonio and I am Mr. Titian’s assistant. I spotted you reading his favorite work; well, I should be more direct, enjoying his work. When I shared that with Mr. Titian, who is in a most expansive mood today, he requested I summon you. Since we recognize your personal unfamiliarity with him, we would also welcome you and your friends to our first class seats. We would most enjoy your company, if you are amenable.”
No one had ever spoken to Karen that way. It was lovely but also somewhat intimidating. Here she was, thousands of miles away from home, on her way to a country she had never been to, being summoned to meet a man whose words she had so enjoyed – just like that. She found it impossible to say no. She found it impossible to say anything. She managed a nod and pointed to the back of the plane.
“Yes,” Antonio said softly. “Collect your friends and come forward as you wish.” He left as softly as he came. She closed her book, sliding her airplane ticket in her place, and got up and went back several rows to try to awaken Cindy. Sarah, she knew, would be all for it. You could bring her anywhere, do anything on a moment’s notice and she was up for it. But Cindy was asleep. She had to wake her up, THEN tell her they were going to first class to meet a celebrity. Maybe she shouldn’t use that word. Cindy will think it’s Snookie or Drake or Johnny Depp. But she knew Titian, she had to read that text, too.
Sarah would remember him. She liked the book and Karen remembered that the way Titian described Caesar’s cremation touched Sarah, because the two of them had to do a presentation for Burnside. Caesar wasn’t real likeable in Shakespeare’s play. But the way Titian wrote about him, his murder was a real tragedy for Rome. Or at least that’s what they told Burnside, who loved their presentation.
Sure enough, Cindy was fast asleep, her long blonde hair flowing beautifully over her shoulder, her face tilted to one side, eyes shut tight. A whisper would do it. She leaned down and whispered directly into Cindy’s ear. “Do you want to go sit in first class?” Cindy said straight up, blinking, stretching. “What?” she said, softly.
“It’s a long story but we got invited to go sit in first class for the rest of the flight,” Karen said. “Come on.” She’d fill Cindy in later or would let her figure it out. Too much information now would just slow the moving process. Cindy shrugged.
“If you say so,” she said, getting up. “Let me freshen up.” She headed for the ladies’ room.
Sarah spotted her talking to Cindy and was all ears when she got to her seat. “Do you remember that book we read in Burnside’s class?”
“Yeah…Roma something?”
“He’s ON the plane.”
“No.”