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“You’re still way overthinking. Calm down. They’re probably just more comfortable at home. It’ll be a good time if you don’t act as weird as you are right now.”
“I am not acting weird.”
“You are. Even weirder than normal, actually.”
I slap his arm and he laughs, surprising me by grabbing the offending appendage and kissing my fingers lightly before letting go. I know my face flushes immediately, so I turn and face the window until it starts to subside. The energy in the car has changed, but I can’t let it go in that direction anymore, no matter how much I want it to. There are a lot of things hinging on how well the evening goes.
“Listen, Dan… I didn’t accept this invitation just out of some desire to mend fences or whatever.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I didn’t figure you did. There’s always something conniving going on in that pretty little head of yours. So, out with it.”
“I’m really not trying to stir the pot,” I insist. “I just want to get some more information from Roxanne on the memoir she’s writing so I know how best to assist Dad with the fallout that the release will cause. I’m not going to try and stop her from writing it or anything like that. I just need to be prepared.”
Dan rubs his chin with his hand, and it’s then I notice his stubble, a shade darker than the hair on his head and grown in about a day's worth. I think about how it would feel against my skin and lips if I kissed him, but have to shut those thoughts away as soon as they appear to keep myself on track.
“That’s understandable,” he says finally. “As long as you aren’t trying to interfere with her telling her story, then I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world for you to talk to her. It’s none of my business, anyway.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about the cabaret, you know,” I blurt out at the mention of “business”. I feel guilty that I had almost told Dad what was going on with Roxanne still owning the cabaret, so I want to assure Dan that I’m not as much of a snake as people sometimes perceive me to be.
“I know, El,” his voice softens and becomes comforting. “I think Roxanne actually respects that you’re working so hard at your Dad’s company and preparing for the future like you are. There really isn’t a lot the two of you have in common, but being sharp and savvy when it comes to business and ambition is one of them. Lean into it.”
“Into what exactly?”
He waves his hand in the air in front of him, trying to find the words. “Oh, you know. The boss babe stuff.”
I laugh despite how anxious I am. “That sounds very stupid when you say it.”
“You get the idea,” he says in return, his tone humorous.
Dan doesn’t know it, but his advice is helpful in other ways besides what he intends. I plan on leading with questions about the memoir, but the end game is to get Roxanne in the position where I can ask her about hiring escorts. If she thinks I commiserate with her about how hard it is to be a young woman in the corporate world, she might be more receptive to me.
We arrive and find parking, and I’m already surprised. It isn’t the newest, most posh apartment building in Amsterdam, but it is one of the older, classic locations. Buildings are pressed up against each other, retaining their individuality through color and different roof shapes. I didn’t expect Roxanne to be able to afford somewhere like this, but it makes sense that she would want to live further away from the rowdier parts of the city. It overlooks the Dam square and must cost her a fortune.
Dan is holding a bottle of Malbec when he gets out of the car, a gift to add to dinner. I’m peeved that I didn’t think of it, but glad that he’s covering for us both. I link arms with him, and we enter, curiosity overcoming my nerves. I want to see what kind of place my brother and his unlikely fiancée now share, and if it’s somewhere Andries can be comfortable for the long term. Somehow I doubt it, but I’ve been proven wrong multiple times before.
I guess this time is going to be another example of that because the penthouse is enormous. I don’t even know Roxanne all that well, but I feel like if I had entered this place alone, I would have immediately been able to pinpoint it as her home. The penthouse glows in warm orange and yellow light, everything plush and unique in muted jewel tones. The carpet is soft beneath my shoes and looks to be an authentic Persian rug. There are scarves thrown over the brighter lights to filter everything through a more intimate lens. It’s a home that has clearly been lived in for quite some time and carefully formed into the perfect sanctuary for its occupant.
There are touches of Andries, too. Newer, but no less obvious. Piles of books and poetry, bright tabs sticking out of the pages that he wants to return to later. His school bag is thrown haphazardly near the large velour sectional couch, looking slightly out of place. A humorous reminder that Roxanne is engaged to a college student. I suppress a snort of laughter.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the lady and gentleman of the house appear out of the kitchen, looking warm and happy to see us. I’m flummoxed by how relaxed Andries is; he doesn’t hold any of that normal tension in his body that he usually has. No stiff, squared shoulders or perpetual frown. Instead, he’s loose and comfortable in both his own skin and his new home. I feel another stab of guilt for all the ill things I’ve wished and worked for regarding this couple.
Roxanne looks equally happy, but there is some apprehension in her, and I get the feeling it isn’t Dan making her feel that way. The only other guest in the home is me, and we don’t have the best track record, so I can sort of see why she feels odd having me here. I need to make her feel otherwise, because she’ll never open up to me if she still views me as some sort of threat or wildcard.
So, despite my desire to stay a few feet away, I come in to hug Andries quickly and then transition to doing the same with Roxanne. I can feel her jolt slightly when I go to embrace her, but her manners quickly take over and she does the same. We exchange air kisses above one another’s cheeks, and I thank her for inviting me into her home.
“You have a really defined sense of style,” I compliment her, motioning to the room around us. “It’s very suited to you.”
“Thanks. I’ve given Andries free range to add his own touches but that so far just seems to be a bunch of books and papers thrown all over the place,” she jokes, smiling up at her fiancé. “He’ll figure it out eventually, I’m sure.”
They lead us into the dining area, which is connected right to the kitchen, and we sit around a wooden dinner table covered with a delicate lace tablecloth. When Andries tells us we’re having homemade Italian pizza, I express concern about the tablecloth. Roxanne assures us it’s washable and not to worry.A weird start to the evening, but empty of any negativity, so it’s better than I could have asked for a week or so ago.
The pizza is even better than I could have ever expected. They had made the crust themselves. It’s perfectly crispy and chewy, and the cheese and cured meats are wonderfully salty. I’m glad I didn’t dress formally, laughing and dabbing at my mouth with my napkin for errant bits of sauce as we talk and eat.
We drink the wine that Dan has brought, but after a few nights ago, I keep my enjoyment of it to a minimum, sipping slowly only between large drinks of water. Andries and I talk about our classes while Dan and Roxanne look at each other, bemused.
“Enough about us, though. I’m sure your fiancée has heard more than enough about your schooling.” My attention turns to Roxanne, and after taking a sip of my water, I ask, “What have you been up to?”
“Working on the memoir, mostly,” she admits, and I cheer myself on internally at how easily she walks into the subject. “It’s taking a lot more time than I expected. When you’re living your life it goes by in a flash, but when you try and recall it all and put it to paper, you start to see how every little decision can mean so much. It’s kind of exhausting to recall.”
