Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(41)
Natalie slipped her arms around Julian’s neck; it thrilled her that she could touch him whenever she wanted. “You don’t have to decide right away. And whatever you do, I’ll support you.” He smiled and started to kiss her, but she pulled back. “But can I tell my friends? I think I’ll explode if I don’t.”
“Can they be trusted not to spread it around?”
“No, but they’re both so dramatic, no one would believe them anyway.”
“I’d be more concerned that they don’t believe you. But if you trust them, tell them.” He kissed her gently above the ear. “I shouldn’t care either way, now that I have you. You’re all the good fortune I need. Everything else can go up in flames tomorrow and it won’t matter.”
Natalie nestled against him, basking in the warm glow of his affection. His love for her. How did this happen? She looked at Julian, at his blue eyes that held within them the intelligence and observation of an artist. Her favorite artist, the poet she had been waiting for, though she knew that if never write another word she’d be happy so long as he was hers.
He gently wiped the tear that escaped the corner of her eye “What is this?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Just…happy.”
“Me too. And that, my love, is the grandest understatement of the century.”
#
Over breakfast, he answered her questions and promised to answer the thousand more left waiting in the wings. When they’d finished, he took her in his arms and held her close.
“I want you to spend the weekend with me,” he said. “Until Monday.”
“This weekend?” Natalie bit her lip. “I have to work. It’s Thursday now. Too late to cover my shifts with such short notice.”
“Next weekend, then,” he said. “I don’t particularly want to wait that long but on second thought, it’ll give me time to plan something nice for you.”
“I sincerely doubt anything could top this Valentine’s Day,” Natalie said.
He laughed. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”
Natalie thought it over. She’d never taken so may shifts off in a row before. Not in three years. She wondered if Niko would be okay with it, and then realized he’d probably kick her out the door to know she was taking time for herself.
“I’d love to.”
“Excellent.”
“But Julian,” she said, “nothing crazy or fancy. Promise?”
He gave her a ‘who me?’ smile and then kissed her until she’d forgotten what she’d asked.
Chapter Nineteen
Club Kyrie was dark, and silent except for the tinny, tinkling chimes of a music box. Another song from Cabaret—Liberty’s theme for the season. All faces were rapt, shadows dancing over them as little table candles flickered. Tendrils of illicit cigarette smoke twisted upwards in graceful spirals. No glass clinked. No one talked or even coughed.
On stage, Liberty stood frozen atop a black pedestal. Her arms were bent at stiff angles, her head cocked to the side. Her dress was that of a child’s: a billowy but tattered and torn white tutu, ripped stockings, and black Mary Janes. Her cheeks were perfect red circles sprinkled with large black freckles. Her hair dangled on either side of her frozen face in two raggedy pigtails. The rigid smile on her face was clownish and too big, her eyes vacant.
The scratchy and tinny-sounding music filled the small club, another woman’s voice sang in German. Liberty began to move like a wind-up doll and the pedestal spun slowly. Her Barbie-bent arms moved up and down; she tilted at the waist and cocked her head, her expression never changing.
The song ended but the music started again, and Natalie watched, eyes shining, as the stiffness left Liberty and her doll began to slump, defeated. This time, she sang the song in perfect German, each lyric thick with emotion as she implored the audience with her sad, doll eyes. As the last note faded, she froze again, hands outstretched. There was a moment of stillness and then a shrill whistle pierced the silence, causing everyone in the club to jump; Marshall nearly spilled his cocktail.
Two men in S.S. uniforms goose-stepped onto the stage. The red swastika armbands were obscenely vivid. Liberty was frozen, on her knees, her hands outstretched stiffly and perfectly still. Natalie watched in amazement as the officers took the “doll” under its arms and lifted. Liberty’s pose didn’t change. Like a piece of furniture, the men carried her off stage, her white oval face in a motionless plea, and then everything went black.
The crowd erupted. Marshall tried to conceal his shining eyes. Natalie didn’t bother.
#
Liberty was in her silky kimono when she joined Marshall and Natalie at their table. Patrons applauded her again as she sat down, and Natalie thought her friend handled the praise gracefully. Marshall kissed her cheek, shaking his head in mute admiration. Liberty lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.
“I have a few minutes before the next act,” she said. She grabbed Marshall’s cocktail and taking a long pull, then turned to Natalie. “So speak.”
“Liberty….your show…”
She waved a hand dismissively and lit a cigarette. “My show will be here tomorrow night and the next, until they kick me out. You, on other hand, had sex. On Valentine’s Day, no less. That takes precedence.”