Chapter 8
"My God, Sandy, you're drunk!" guy snapped.
"So what? What did you expect me to do, sit here and knit all day?" Her words were slightly blurred. She had been drinking steadily since she returned to the hotel early that afternoon.
"Look," Guy said softly, trying a new tact, "I know that this hasn't been easy on you. So far it hasn't been much of a honeymoon for either of us. Believe me, darling, if I had known it would be anything like this, I wouldn't have accepted the assignment for our honeymoon. Just bear with me a little longer, Sandy. I may be close to wrapping this up now."
"Did you find your man?" she asked, emphasizing the word "man" pointedly.
"Not yet," Guy responded. "But for the first time I know where he is and have an address where I can contact him. We have to pack right away to catch the flight to Lima."
"Lima! Guy Morrison, I'm not getting on another plane!" Sandy pulled herself off the bed and stood facing him defiantly. Her balance was poor and she swayed slightly. "We've spent more time in the air than we have on the ground! I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this entire trip! You remind me of a restless hummingbird, I swear. What kind of a man did I marry? I want to talk to you about that. You don't know anything about me, and I don't know anything about you."
Her words ran together as she became dizzy and fell back on the bed. Guy looked at his new wife and shook his head. He knew that there was a great deal of truth in what she said, and he knew that she had a perfect right to be angry about the whistle-stop honeymoon that this trip had turned out to be. At the same time, Guy had his first misgivings about his marriage. He had never been sympathetic or tolerant toward drunks. Several people had even accused him of being impatient with people who drank. The thought that he might have married a potential alcoholic sent a chill racing across his skin.
Yet he had never seen Sandy drink before, and he simply had to believe that this was an isolated incident brought on by unusual and unfortunate circumstances. Guy sighed. His task now was to get Sandy in a tractable mood and get them packed and to the airport.
"Come on, darling," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her hand in his. "Sure, we have to talk and get to know more about each other, but this isn't the time. With any luck, all of our time will be our own tomorrow or the next day. Then we'll talk everything out."
"Oh, Guy, do you promise? It's very important, you know. Why can't you call New York and tell them you can't find this man? Then we could try to work out our own problems. Please, Guy."
"I can't do it, Sandy," Guy said quietly. "I'm the kind of a man who sees something through when he starts it. You know that. And, honestly, I really believe it's almost over now. I promise we'll straighten everything out tomorrow or the next day. We'll find a quiet spot and tell the world to go fuck themselves. Come on, help me get packed so we can catch the Lima flight."
Sandy stared at him for a long time, her lips pouting and her eyes fixed in a vacant stare. She was aware that she had consumed far too much alcohol. It was difficult to maintain any chain of thought for any time. She wanted to throw the young girl that she had seen him with at him, but she knew that it would be better to collect her wits first. Getting on another airplane was the last thing that Sandy wanted to do, but she reasoned that it would perhaps be best. She would confront him with the girl in the morning when she felt better.
"All right," she sighed, "but, Guy, this is the last time!"
"Agreed," Guy said. "You want me to help you pack?"
"I'm just relaxed, Guy, not falling-down drunk!" she snapped, pulling herself off the bed and aiming her feet toward the closet.
Guy shook his head, but he knew better than to try to help her in her current mood. There was ample time. He smiled to himself when he remembered that he had a car and driver waiting. Guy had completely forgotten about the taxi that he had waiting at the Mina de Oro when he left with Barbara Salton. The driver had followed them all over Bogota and was waiting when Barbara drove him back to the Hilton. Guy's bill was close to one hundred dollars, and, he suspected, well padded at that. He had given the driver three twenty-dollar bills and asked him to wait to drive them to the airport. Thank heavens this was all on the expense account!
Without appearing to, Guy helped Sandy arrange her clothes in her suitcase and then called for a bell boy. He used his credit card to check out of the hotel and was grateful that the driver was a model of tact on the way to the Bogota International Airport. Sandy dozed on Guy's shoulder most of the way and sat in one of the lounge chairs in the duty-free shopping area while Guy checked them in.
Sandy's dizziness was gradually fading. She wanted another drink, but she knew that this would upset Guy so she had a cup of the delicious, strong black coffee that the public-relations men passed out to people waiting for flights. Even in her intoxicated condition, Sandy recognized that this was the best coffee that she had ever tasted. It was strong, but not bitter like the coffee she had tasted in Caracas and Rio. It had a unique, delightful flavor that she had never tasted before and she gladly accepted a second cup as a waiter in a white jacket passed by.
The strong coffee seemed to revive Sandy's senses and she began looking at the items on display in the duty-free shops. It was while she was standing at the jewelry counter that Sandy's mind suddenly became alert. Standing across from her was the girl that she had seen with Guy that afternoon! The girl's clothes were very chic. She wore a camel-hair miniskirt and jacket and her hair was covered with a large, floppy hat that made her look like she had just stepped out of a fashion show. Her stylish shoes matched her ostrich skin purse and Sandy knew that the girl had no less than a thousand dollars on her back. A radical change from the barefoot-Levis outfit of that afternoon, but Sandy was certain that it was the same girl. The girl's face was etched on her mind and clothes would never disguise her to Sandy.
"Five minutes until we board," Guy said, coming up to stand beside Sandy. "See anything you want?"
"I don't think so," Sandy replied, watching Guy carefully to see if he recognized the girl.
"Well, let's go to the boarding area, then," Guy said, linking his arm in Sandy's. He looked directly at the girl across the counter without recognition.
Barbara had watched the whole scene and smiled to herself when she saw Guy look right through her without recognizing her. She had done this several times before. It never ceased to amaze her what a difference clothes made!
Sandy was pleased to see that the coffee had helped clear her head. She glanced over her shoulder several times and noted that the young girl was following them to the boarding area. Sandy had to admit that the girl was certainly more attractive in her chic clothes than she had been in Levi's. She was, in fact, almost stunning.
Their flight was called and they boarded the DC-9. Sandy studied Guy's every move and became convinced that he was unaware of the girl who took a seat at the rear of the plane. She had planned to confront Guy with the girl during the flight, but something made her hold back. Something was going on and Sandy was determined to find out what.
Guy declined the hostess' offer of cocktails without consulting Sandy. This angered the young bride. She didn't want another drink, but she felt that she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Sandy restrained herself and said nothing. She placed her head on Guy's shoulder and dozed during the two-hour flight to Lima, Peru. She knew that she needed the rest, and she also knew that if Guy left his seat for any reason she would know.
It was late when they arrived in Lima and there was little to see from the window of the taxi that took them from the airport to the El Conquistador Hotel in the center of Peru's capital. Sandy sat in the modern, garishly decorated lobby while Guy registered. She kept her eye on the door and smiled to herself when she saw the chic dressed young girl alight from a taxi at the entrance.
"All set," Guy said as he walked over to where she was seated and offered his hand to pull her to her feet.
Without a word, Sandy followed Guy and the bell boy to the elevator, and then to their room. Guy tipped the boy and closed the door behind him.
"Sandy," Guy said seriously, taking her in his arms, "I promised this would be the end of our merry chase and that tomorrow we would wind it all up. To make sure I can keep that promise, I'm going out right now for a little while. If I can't see the man, I can at least leave word for him so I can be sure to see him in the morning. I hate to leave you again like this, but I want to be sure we get the honeymoon we deserve. You need some rest, and I wish you wouldn't drink anymore."
Fury boiled up inside Sandy, but she managed to control herself with an icy calm. "Don't worry about me, Guy. I'm sure you're in a hurry to keep your appointment. I'll just crawl into bed and get a good night's sleep."
Something in the way that she said it bothered Guy, but as long as she took it calmly, he could hardly ask for more. He kissed her briefly, then left the room.
Sandy counted to twenty slowly and then opened the door quietly and slipped out into the hall. She heard the elevator close as she approached, which meant that Guy was already on his way to the lobby. The other elevator was discharging two couples when she arrived and Sandy stepped inside and pushed the button for the main floor.