Chapter 19

Lynn woke up late, and lay in bed for a long time, puzzling over her behavior with Curt the night be-fore. The interlude with the musicians had no more significance than a dream. It was her behavior with Curt that really bothered her.

What had gotten into her? Or what hadn't gotten into her? In the past two weeks, she'd been eager to fuck every Tom, Dick, and Harry, or every Juan and Don and assorted faculty members and musicians; but last night, with a man she'd really wanted, she'd behaved like a nun on sabbatical. Turned him away at the door.

What was wrong with her, anyway? She dragged herself out of bed at last and headed straight for the shower. Maybe some cold spray would clear her head.

There was no one she knew eating breakfast, and she was just as glad. As she was finishing her coffee she thought it might be a good idea to take a drive all by herself, and see what there was to see in this part of the Costa del Sol.

As she approached the desk in the lobby to find out about renting a car, the girl behind it slipped away and headed toward the door marked 'Ladies.' Lynn waited patiently for her to return, but after a minute or so a door lettered 'Manager,' to the right of the desk, opened, and a tall, tanned man stepped out. He was a good-looking man whose age was not apparent, with a neat Van Dyke beard. His hair was very light for a Spaniard. Sandy, almost.

"May I be of some assistance?" he said, smiling at her. His accent was an odd mixture of Oxford British and Spanish, and she sensed that he chose his words with a conscious effort.

"I wanted to rent a car for a day or two," she said. "I thought you might have a number for me to call here in Fuengirola."

"We have the number, yes," he said, going behind the desk in the girl's place. "But I am afraid it would not do you any good to call it now. All cars now are rented. After the weekend, early next week, there will be cars available again."

"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I'm in no hurry. My explorations can wait."

"There are bus tours for guests at the hotel."

"I don't think I'd like that. I'd like to explore on my own."

"A shame," he said, smiling again. He had a charming smile. He didn't have to speak English at all with that smile. "You are Miss Lautrec? In Room two twelve?'

"Yes. How did you know? I saw you when you checked in. I like to take a peek--is that the word?--at new guests. The peek I took at you was the most rewarding I have taken in six months here. Please pardon my hesitating English."

"You speak good English," Lynn said.

"When I only speak it isn't too bad. But when there are letters to write--to American travel agents, to American guests who leave things behind, and they leave much behind--then it is an agony."

Lynn had a quick impulse, and she didn't choke it back.

"Are there many letters?" she asked. "To Americans and to English people, I mean?"

"Never more than two or three a day," he said. "But to me, they are the hardest part of my job. I have been promised an assistant who is fluent in the English language--in writing the English language--but so far, nothing." He shrugged.

"I l be glad to write the letters for you while I'm here," Lynn said. "I'm sure you have an English or American-speaking typewriter in your office?"

"That I have," he said, with a smile of sheer de-light "It would be too kind of you. I couldn't ask it."

"You didn't ask, I volunteered," she said. "I'll stop in your office every day, right after breakfast or right after lunch, whenever I have nothing else to do. Those are wasted hours, anyway, before I go in for a swim."

"I must find some way to thank you," the tall man said. "My name is Rico Clemente, by the way."

She extended her hand, and he shook it. For a second, she had been afraid he was going to kiss it.

While they were shaking hands, the glass lobby door opened, and Curt walked in, smiling at her. Thank God, he wasn't going to be angry about the ridiculous way she'd behaved the night before.

"Today," she said to Rico Clemente as he let go of her hand, "it will be right after lunch."

"Very good," he said. "Any time you want to help me is very good."

The clerk had come back from the ladies' room, and Senor Clemente went back through the door to his office.

"What's so very good, any timer Curt asked as he stepped closer to her and reached up to squeeze her nearest shoulder.

"I've volunteered to help him with the hotel's correspondence, in English," she said. "Once a librarian, always a librarian. You can't get away from it."

"You've been doing pretty well up till now."

"It's really such a small favor for me to do. And he's such a nice man."

"I wouldn't know," Curt said. "He never knocked himself out to introduce himself to me."

"Did you want him to?"

"Of course not."

"Then what are you bitching about?"

They had moved out into the middle of the lobby, and Curt grinned at her suddenly.

"Did I sound like I was bitching? I guess Pm jealous. I don't meet .a Lynn Lautrec every day, or every week. Or every lifetime. I'm curious about what brought you to the desk in the first place. You didn't just waltz up to him and volunteer to help him write letters in the all-purpose English language."

"No. I wanted to find out where I could rent a car, so I could do some exploring."

"You're a nut," Curt said, looking pained. "I've al-ready rented a car by the week, and you know that I'll drive you anywhere you want to go. Or if you want to drive around by yourself, here's the key."

"Oh, stop it," she said. "I didn't have any burning desire to drive around on my own. I just forgot that you told me you had a car. Also, if you want to know the truth, I was pretty sure you were mad at me, after last night."

"No," he said. "It was my own fault. I was rushing things. But that has something to do with the climate. And the whole what-the-hell atmosphere over here. People have a tendency to shed their inhibitions. People just do what comes naturally, right away, without any of the old hat-dance they go through on their own home grounds. Boys and girls both," he said, looking into her face.

"Maybe I just haven't been here long enough."

"Well," he said, "that's better than telling me you're just not that kind of girl."

"Isn't it?" She laughed. So did he.

"Let's go for a drive."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"All right."

"We can look for bullfighters on their day off," he said as they climbed into his little white rented Seat. "Also, I've discovered a couple of quaint little native bars, untouched by tourists. I've planted my flag in them."

"I bet you've done a lot of flag-planting over here," she said before she could stop herself. She was thinking of the three girls with him and Larry. that first morning.

"Now, now," he said.