THE GOD'S WIFE (17 page)

Instead, the unmistakable accented voice of Sharif snaked over the wire. He wanted her to accompany him on that moonlight sail on his private boat. She’d blown him off on his offer a couple nights ago, but here he was again imploring. The man was indefatigable. A car would pull up at her door in fifteen minutes, he said with silken vowels. She felt herself go rigid with indecision. The lure of Sharif, alone with her on a fully rigged sailboat, was almost impossible to resist. She could just see the lake breeze ruffling his hair and sense his strong arms lifting her onto the deck. She felt a bit dizzy. Yet, at the same time, Sharif ’s impertinence bothered her. He always acted as if his needs were paramount. The request had sexuality twisted all through it. What would she tell Jonas?

“What nerve you have,” she whispered into the phone. “How do you know I’m not —?”

“You’re not,” he interrupted. “Not doing anything. I said I’d tell you everything. No more secrets. Tonight.”

Rebecca stared at the photograph on her wall of strong-minded ballerina Gelsey Kirkland, one of her heroes, and tried to formulate an answer. The absolute gall of this man astonished her, while the thrill of a moonlight sail hovered like a tantalizing mirage. He often left her backed into a corner with no emotional way out. The air changed around her and even though he didn’t stand next to her, she still felt the attraction. The air almost became smoky with Sharif ’s sorcery. It always slowed down her thought process like a drugged drink

Outraged or not, she wanted those secrets he withheld, she wanted time alone with him, and the boat sweetened the deal. There wouldn’t be any other way to get those answers out of him, so conversation of some kind was necessary. That meant succumbing to Sharif ’s rude, but effective, invitation. She couldn’t resist, and she almost hated herself for it.

“Okay. Fifteen minutes,” she said and slammed the receiver down, exhilarated and defeated at the same time. The subtle sexual subtext of a moonlight sail bothered her, but she promised herself to stick to steering clear of any of Sharif ’s advances. Well, he
was
the artistic advisor for “Aïda.” Why not regard this as a business event?

She shouted down the hall to Allison that she had to go out for a work conference and then rummaged through things in her drawers until she found a shipshape outfit: jeans, long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker and shoes with soles that wouldn’t slip. She skipped the makeup; she’d be seeing only Sharif, after all. Minutes later, she raced to the door, mumbling apologies for not washing and cutting string beans and slipped out the door.

A sleek, black Volvo waited for her at the front stoop. In the back seat reclined Sharif, who jumped out to open her door. He was dressed in quintessential American outdoors-man clothes. A replete sailboat skipper from head to toe, in designer apparel. What designer Rebecca didn’t know, but the quality showed. Sharif returned, settled in next to her, and the driver shot off toward Montrose Harbor.

“So, you aren’t just here on a visit,” she said, as Sharif smiled in his plush seat. “You live here or you wouldn’t have a boat.”

“Well deduced,” he said, nodding his head in satisfaction.

She sat burning with irritation, realizing the “Until Tuesday” garbage on his business card had just been a ruse to get her to call him right away. He played the game, and she jumped through all his hoops. He laughed and tossed his head.

God, that profile. He’s made for the screen.
She checked her bodily responses – all going haywire.
Why does he make me feel this way?

As the car pulled up to the harbor, Sharif leaned, looking out the window until he found the boat’s slip. He told the driver to stop, then, as they exited, he mumbled something about returning in an hour and a half.

“Don’t I even get a choice about how long we stay out there?” Rebecca said. She thought she was used to Sharif ’s Old World, male-dominant attitude by now, but he never failed to dismay her.

“It’s my boat,” Sharif said with a smug smile. “Plus, the winds are variable. But trust me, you’ll love it.” He pulled on an immaculate white windbreaker and began undoing a knot tethered to an elegant blue craft with a shiny mainsail and jib. Rebecca fought back the urge to gasp when she took in the size of the sailboat. The craft alone had to put him back several thousand dollars. Add on the slip rental fees and he was paying like a noble for this maritime toy.

They undid the ropes around the dock cleats, and Sharif handed Rebecca into the boat, while he started the small engine and began to cast off. He saw her regarding the engine with suspicious eyes.

“The engine only gets us in and out of the harbor,” he said, still gathering rope. “When we are out on the water, I switch to wind power only. Or if the wind dies, the engine gets us home. Or we hope so.” He smiled with a hint of apology.

Rebecca sat in a corner while Sharif tugged on the mainsail line. Before she knew it, he put her to work straightening the sheet as it ascended the mast. She felt a bit of a thrill doing the work of a real sailor and pouted when Sharif commanded her to sit back down. He turned off the engine, raised the jib, tacked out toward Navy Pier, then leaned back and engaged the auto-tiller, which left his hands free. He opened a bottle of fine wine that he kept in a box nearby and, with her help, poured out two glasses. He placed his on a small table near the rudder. He leaned back ready to talk.

“Where do I start, Rebecca?” he asked, holding out a hand to the side, as if he had nothing to hide.

She sniffed, sat up with her back ramrod straight and sampled the wine to buy time. Preoccupied, she really didn’t taste anything.

“Okay,” she said, running through her endless list of things to interrogate him about. “First, let’s start with why you came to Riverfront Dance Company.” The wind picked up and sprayed her face with droplets of fresh water.

He chuckled and refilled his glass. One word escaped his lips: “Lenore.”

“Le-NORE?” Disgust filled her belly. “What is she to you?” Sharif rolled the wine in his mouth before swallowing, stretching out the answer as long as could.

“She’s my wife.”

A variety of emotions played across Rebecca’s mind: anger, incredulity, disbelief, even fear. She found herself laughing instead. She let out such a nervous whoop that passengers of a passing sailboat turned to look her way. She got a hold of herself, realizing they weren’t out far enough for privacy, and stared with a sarcastic tilt of the head into Sharif ’s eyes.

“Your wife.”
How did they hide this relationship? You’d think Lenore would be crowing about it.

“Yes,’ Sharif said, his eyes merry. “You see, I’m from the Middle East. It’s very hard to emigrate from my part of the world to the United States these days.”

Although jittery inside, Rebecca folded her hands and forced herself to be calm, indicating he should continue. The starry night sky, the soft lake winds, the romantic setting were lost on her as she fixed on Sharif ’s tale. It was too bizarre. She needed to concentrate.

“I met Lenore when she was vacationing in Egypt — some tour of ancient sites. I was the Egyptologist who accompanied her group to Giza to see the pyramids and the Sphinx.”

“And you fell in love?”

Now it was Sharif ’s turn to laugh, albeit without mirth.

“Goodness, no. We worked out a deal in which she’d marry me to give me access to your country.”

“And what did she get in return?”

Sharif readjusted the rudder before answering. “She’s getting it now.”

Rebecca’s mind raced over the possibilities, but she ended up with only one thought: he promised her a big dance role.

“How could you do that?” she said. “What did you know about dance? What did you know about her abilities? For heaven’s sake, Sharif, you had no idea that she wasn’t just some bumbling student. She’s awful. Even Randy doesn’t think she’s very good.”

“True,” he said, staring off into the distance, dreamy-eyed. “But you don’t know my family. The Cadmus clan is powerful in many parts of the world. We know dancers and conductors just as we know shipping magnates and arms dealers. I was pretty sure I could help her.”

At that, Rebecca’s eyes opened wide. So Jonas’ snooping had been on the money.

“Arms?”

“Well, we don’t deal much with that now. It’s too risky a business these days. But we have contacts everywhere and many favors to call in.”

“You sound like the Mafia.”

Sharif pursed his lips in a vestige of a smile. Without warning, he yelled “Coming about” and flung the boom across the side of the boat. Rebecca ducked her head just in time and went to sit on the opposite side of the craft. She had a lot to learn about sailboat maneuvers, but one thing she noticed was that the wind was dying down and Sharif now tacked farther out on the water. She realized, with a dizzy feeling, that they were miles from shore and could be stuck if the wind failed utterly. Then she’d be at Sharif ’s mercy, with no one but herself to blame.

Sharif pounced on her next question before she had a chance to ask it.

“You want to know why, if I know so many people, I needed Lenore’s help to come over here.”

Rebecca nodded, too full of thoughts and hampered by fear to enunciate anything at all. She watched the shore grow fainter and the city lights begin to dim in light fog that began to move in.

“My family isn’t completely influential. U.S. Immigration is a tough nut to crack. Even now, the INS agents pay visits to make sure Lenore and I live together. It’s really rather difficult to convince them that we are a love match.” He smirked.

“Live together!” Rebecca said with her mouth half-full of wine. She coughed as a trickle went down her throat the wrong way. When the spell passed, Sharif was looking at her with curiosity.

“Yes. We do. She’s in one room. I’m in another at the far end of the hall. We pretend my room is a guest room when the INS people show up. But it’s all strictly a business arrangement.”

“Why did you have to go to such lengths?” Rebecca’s mind whirled at the thought of anyone enduring life with Lenore.
But to live with Sharif .. .now that would be different. A cosmopolitan, wealthy, sexy, man ...
She stopped her subconscious mind before it led her off into deeper water than Lake Michigan held.

“Let’s say there are things I need to accomplish in the United States.” Then he clammed up. Rebecca could see this was one secret he meant to keep.

In time, his story began to spell itself out. She had to guess whether it had any veracity. Sharif had arrived in the U.S. with Lenore, who had an inkling that “Aïda” was under discussion by Randy and the board of directors. What better show for an Egyptologist (or phony Egyptologist) to get involved with than that? She told Sharif she wanted the lead, but Randy gave it to Rebecca. This explained Lenore’s extreme antipathy toward her. Rebecca let out a loud “hmmph,” showing Sharif it took more to impress her than this story, but Sharif continued.

Sharif jumped on Lenore’s problem in an instant, he said. By glomming onto Rebecca and crashing the fund-raiser and dinner, he became indispensable to the company. From there, it became an easy task to make Randy change his mind and declare Lenore the understudy. Sharif convinced the uneasy Randy it was unnecessary that Lenore would ever be needed to dance the lead. The company director finally relented.

Sharif said he would allow Rebecca to make a name for herself when the show debuted in Chicago. He even agreed she needed New York exposure. But after that, on those trips to London, Paris and other European capitals, Rebecca must bow out, giving Lenore her shot at stardom. Then, the contract fulfilled, Sharif would quietly divorce the little punk and continue his life.

Rebecca listened to this tale of manipulation, not comprehending that Sharif could be serious.
He must be mad. None of this can work.
She said little as he talked, looking up at the little flag over the mast, noticing the wind stopped blowing. They passed a buoy that rocked on the slight waves, but its bell wasn’t ringing. No craft of any kind had come near them for twenty minutes or so. Terrified inside, trapped out on the lake with no one within shouting distance, she clung to her anger — or was it fear? She narrowed her eyes and fastened Sharif with the most forceful look she could muster.

“What makes you think you can get away with it? Why in the world would I suddenly give up and surrender my role to a woman who can barely do a pirouette? She’d make Riverfront the laughingstock of Europe. Just think of how Emmylou Sailor would react. Mashing her work like that. You’d have a scandal on your hands.”

“Oh, you’ll bend,” he said, reeling in the useless jib. “I’m sure of that. And Sailor,” he snapped his fingers. “We’ll buy her off.” He half-closed his lids, as if he were enjoying something rare. He grasped one of her hands. “You see, you can have it all if you come with me, back to Alexandria. When my work here is done, I can make you a world star — anywhere you want. What’s Chicago to you? Bid Randy goodbye and make your own mark. You’re a rare beauty, and I’m lucky to have discovered you.”

Rebecca snatched back her hand and turned her head, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear this insane plea. She finally spoke with closed eyes because it pained her too much to hear such horrid words issuing from Sharif ’s sensuous lips. She could feel her attraction to him dying fast.

“Why, Sharif ? Why do you think I’d ever do that? How about Jonas? How about my family and friends?” She felt a tremble come over her body and loneliness worked its way into the depth of her being.

Sharif didn’t answer. He stared out toward Michigan, invisible across the vastness of the lake. Somewhere, a large boat bound for Navy Pier sounded a lonely horn. They weren’t moving at all. Rebecca clutched her side of the sailboat. When she got up the nerve to look over at Sharif, he was busy starting the engine. “Oh, you’ll come around,” he answered. “Just like you came to sail with me.”

A brittle feeling of hatred was beginning to work its way through her body, eventually rendering her shoulders and neck rock hard. She wanted to spit out her words but held herself back through an agonizing act of will.