On the Line Read online

  Maybe what he hated most was that he couldn’t have the plane on standby in a field somewhere; it just wouldn’t work. He had to go in commercially and then signal the guys to get them to fire up the plane, fly in under the radar and meet him at a mostly vacant location to pick him up. Then they had to get out without alerting anybody to their presence.

  “It had to be Egypt,” he mumbled as he thought about what he was going to have to go through to get where he needed to go. Not only would he have to struggle to get in and out, but he was going to have to pay his contact for weapons that he wouldn’t be able to get onto a commercial flight. “Dandy,” he mumbled as he opened his desk drawer and took one last look at Ariana’s photo. She was so beautiful, then and now. He had kept up with her. He had seen her pictures in People magazine and local newspapers and he had cut them out and added them to his collection at home. He had watched her interviews. He had even sat through the movies she danced in when he really hadn’t wanted to see the movies at all. He still loved her. When he made it back from this mission maybe he should arrange an accidental encounter.

  He shook his head and laughed at his own thoughts. Maybe he should leave her alone. Clearly she was happy as she was, but something wouldn’t allow him to let her go. One last moment of contact was all he needed. If she turned him away without even a word then he would know where he stood and he would force his heart to let her go forever.

  He wished he didn’t have to leave today. He had planned on standing in the back of the crowd at the show she was putting on in Austin. Now he had to get his limited supplies and get on a flight to Egypt to rescue the package. It was only Tuesday, maybe he would be back in time for the show Friday and he would still be able to covertly watch. He had done that a few times before; he had started doing that several shows ago. She always opened the show with a dance, and closed the show the same way. Smart woman, he thought. Anybody there to see the champion dancer would have to stay through the entire show to see her final dance. She charged for tickets upfront so people could either buy them from her ahead of time or at the door once they got there. The ticket price at the door went up about fifteen dollars, but he didn’t care, he would have paid it anyway. The problem was that there wasn’t usually any seats left after the first half hour of entry so there were no tickets to buy.

  Natalia had been his saving grace because she had purchased the tickets for two of the shows under her email address and name. When she received the tickets she passed them on to him. He had been reluctant to let her do it. She was his employee, but he knew he couldn’t do it under his own name otherwise the woman would know he was kind of stalking her. He couldn’t ask the guys to do it because they would know he was still in love with his ex-wife and he didn’t want them to know that. Natalia had caught him looking at a flier one day and she offered to buy a ticket for him. “Nobody has to know,” she had said. He took her up on the offer because the first show he tried to go to had been sold out by the time he got to the door. He paid the doorman heavily just to let him stand in back for the first dance only. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again so he let Natalia help him out.

  It’s amazing that it had taken a nudge from Alex to get them to even ask Natalia to join them for one of their night outs. She had helped them all above and beyond her duties in one fashion or another. Relationship advice for Jet, life advice for Alex, and assisted stalking for him. He laughed. He really was stalking the woman’s movements—maybe not in the creepy stalker kind of way, but keeping track of her whereabouts and hiding in the back of her shows was definitely the makings of a stalker.

  “Hey,” Natalia stepped into his office. “I have that thing we talked about. If you make it back in time I’ll have it in my desk drawer. It’s a back of the room seat as requested.”

  “Thanks, Natalia. I couldn’t stalk my ex-wife without you,” he chuckled and she laughed.

  “I’m a sucker for love. I just wish you would do something more than watch from afar already. Clearly she still loves you.”

  “She left me.”

  “As I recall you told me you told her that your career was the most important thing to you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  She shook her head. “If you haven’t figured it out yet then maybe you should wait a little while longer before making official contact. At any rate, be careful out there. And if you’re not back I’m using the ticket that you technically paid for.”

  “Micah won’t be happy you’re ditching him on a Friday night.” He knew even if he were back by Friday he would have to find a suitable excuse for ditching the guys too. Of course he would have a more difficult time because when they were all in town nobody missed a Friday night—none of the guys at least. Natalia and Akira came about once a month otherwise they were busying doing their own thing which left the guys free to just hang out and unwind with each other. They needed that time. Their missions were difficult physically and sometimes emotionally so a break-night was always a good thing.

  “He’ll be out with the guys and while I know I’m invited now, I’d rather go watch the show.” She winked at him and shimmied her shoulders. “I’m thinking of taking classes with your ex. I’ve been watching her videos on-line. She’s good. And I’d like to learn something to do one night for Micah. Hey, if I take lessons with her maybe you can drop me off if I happen to accidently have car trouble.” She winked at him as she left his office.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Accidently have car trouble,” yeah right. Although that might just be the cover he could use to see Ariana up close and personal once again. Of course according to Natalia he should figure out why saying his career was the most important thing to him was such a bad thing. It was very important to him and Ariana knew that when they got married. He couldn’t figure out what was such a divorce inducing big deal about his career in the Air Force being important to him. “Women,” he mumbled. They were soft, beautiful, delicate yet strong, but they were also crazy. There was no way any man stood a chance figuring them out. He would say that was reason enough to run from all of them, but he didn’t want to. This was one woman he wanted to get back in his life. He had waited too long, procrastinating, being stubborn, refusing to talk to her to ask why she left him the way she had. At first he was angry, then he was sad, then he was just trying to get her out of his mind. After he talked with Victoria and realized that Ariana was the only woman on his mind when he should have been focusing on the job and the client he knew he wouldn’t be able to move forward until he got answers to his questions. If he was lucky he would get her back in his life. If he failed, then at least he would know why she left him the way she did.

  Ariana moved around the ballroom of the Four Seasons. The reason she had picked this location had started to elude her until she took another look at the lake view. The beauty of nature combined with the beauty of the human body in motion would be amazing. She loved picking the right location to fit the theme of the show, each show having a different theme sometimes meant she had to step outside the comfort zone and spend a little more to bring it to life. The cost was expensive, but she hadn’t lost money on the event. They were sold out actually. There wouldn’t be any door tickets left to purchase. She smiled just thinking about the show she had put together. This would be special for the dancers, beginner or experienced, student or troop dance routines, she knew they would all enjoy it. When they were done dancing, they had a very good meal waiting for them too. She, however, would have to spend the night meeting and greeting people, keeping dancers’ nerves in check, making sure the show went off without too many hitches—and whatever hitches were to arise she had to make sure she fixed them. She had a backstage assistant, but for the most part the work was on her shoulders. “As it should be,” she whispered. This was her baby and she should be the one to make sure things went according to plan. She had been in the dance world long enough to have experienced major dance competitions and shows. She had learned how to organize
and manage these events from watching the people around her who were doing just that. While the dancers were getting hair and makeup together she had already gotten herself together and spent the pre-show time studying the behind the scenes activities. She had been putting these shows on for years herself, but with each one she was still just a little nervous. For some reason this one had her more jittery than the others.

  She chalked her jittery nerves up to the location. She was a pro at this, there was no way in the world her stomach should have this many butterflies fluttering around. She wasn’t nervous about her opening and closing routine at all; she figured nervousness for that would come right before the first dance, as it always did. She just felt nervous about this show; as if something was going to go wrong and she wouldn’t be able to fix it.

  She shrugged off her worries and kept making sure her vision for the room would work. The manager had been gracious enough to allow her to come in the past few days just to look around, take more pictures and mentally play around with the setup. She already had the setup in mind but she wanted another look. They would be able to get in early Friday morning to setup all the fabrics they would need for decoration, make sure the hotel staff had the tables in the right order so that she could place the table numbers, and get the room ready for the show that would be that night.

  “Ceridwen?” She heard the highly accented male voice call behind her. She had chosen that name, far different than what most dancers were choosing at the time, because it was the name of a Welsh goddess. Being part Welsh she wanted to incorporate that into her dance world. From the first moment she started being in shows she had chosen the name of the goddess. She had learned that modern Wiccans—not that she was into that kind of stuff—thought of Ceridwen as the Celtic goddess of rebirth, transformation and inspiration. Everything she had read painted the goddess in a light that she found favorable, including Medieval Welsh poetry referring to her as possessing the cauldron of poetic inspiration. What was dance if not poetry in motion? She was a romantic from birth she would assume because she believed everything she thought of the name even when her instructor at the time tried to get her to take a more traditional belly dance name. She did not want traditional, she wanted Ceridwen. She was barely six at the time. Her mother had called her stubborn, but then she had said that fire inside her was good, that it would take her places she only dreamed of going and to never let anybody extinguish it.

  She turned to find a man with dark features—hair, eyes, and a richly almost Middle Eastern skin tone kissed by the sun and smooth.

  “Yes. May I help you?” People who called her by her stage name typically knew her as a dancer only. She would guess he wanted an autograph or something. She had a lot of work to get done, but one autograph wouldn’t throw her off schedule too much.

  “I saw you dance in Morocco on your last Universe win.”

  That was so many years ago, but she understood why people still associated her with it. She was the reigning champion in the competition for so many years—more than any other dancer, and to just drop out of it probably still seemed crazy to everybody on the outside. Her life had changed so much in such a short time after that competition that all of her subsequent choices made sense to her with the exception of one choice that is. Sending Preston divorce papers is the one do-over she wished she could have. Although she wasn’t sure why she felt that way given the fact that the man hadn’t decided to fight for her or for their marriage. He had meant every word he said when he relegated her and their relationship to second place in his life—maybe it was deeper than that because his not even attempting to fight for their marriage told her that it had no place in his life; maybe that hurt her more than coming in second to his career.

  She refocused on the man in front of her and smiled warmly. “Well it is very nice to meet someone who has followed my career,” she hoped those were the right words. Just because he remembered her championship days did not mean he was following her career.

  “My boss is a fan,” he smiled.

  “Do I know your boss?”

  He shook his head. “I do not believe you have met. Ammon is a very reclusive man.”

  “Oh,” she said knowing that she sounded puzzled. If this Ammon guy was so reclusive then how was he following her career? The movies and anything televised she could understand, but the competitions were not televised. She mentally shrugged off her questions. It didn’t matter really.

  He chuckled. “He has seen you dance. He is a very powerful man. He saw you for the first competition you took part in. He was in Morocco and stumbled upon the dancing while you were on stage. You captivated him with your beauty.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say so she said nothing. She did do the math in her head. The first competition her parents allowed her to go to Morocco with Suspira for was when she was sixteen years old. She had come in third place that year, which Suspira told her was a huge accomplishment because she had gone up against the best belly dancers in the world. She went back the following year and came in second. It wasn’t until her third year, when she was nineteen years old, that she won first place and title.

  “He has received recordings of your routines in the shows. He sent me to make them.”

  “I didn’t realize they allowed cameras in the competition.”

  “He is a very powerful man,” he reminded her.

  “I see. And who are you?”

  “I am Panhsj. I am not important. I am only he who does Ammon’s bidding.”

  “Well you shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she said. “I am sure he wouldn’t get along without your service.” Like most bosses the man probably didn’t do much of anything for himself.

  “I do much for him, but it is he who saved my life. I owe him everything. I will do anything for him.” He nodded. “I shall let you finish what you are doing. I am not in town much longer myself and I must make preparations to return to Egypt.”

  “Tirooh wa tigi bis salaama!”

  “Shukrn. You speak Egyptian Arabic,” he smiled like the Cheshire cat.

  “I speak Moroccan Arabic and Modern Standard Arabic as well, but since you said you were from Egypt I assumed you preferred the Egyptian.” She hoped she hadn’t assumed wrong. She tried to use the correct Arabic for the region, but she was much more familiar with the Arabic spoken in Morocco since she spent the most time in that country during her travels.

  “I speak the Moroccan as well,” he smiled. “You are very smart. You shall please,” he said. She looked at him trying to decipher what he meant. His English had been very good, but maybe not perfect. “Tmreq ssalama, Ceridwen.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she let out a slight nervous laugh. Why was he wishing her a peaceful trip? He did nothing more than smile at her before walking away. She watched him for a little while before shaking her head and going back to her work. She had two days left to revisit all the small details because Friday would be too crazy busy to have to worry about if she forgot something or not. She would have to get the room setup. She would have to make sure the sound system was ready. She would have to make sure the makeshift dressing rooms were stocked with whatever the ladies might need, yet have forgotten to bring with them. Usually somebody had extras of something and they could share, but Ariana still liked to be prepared for the just in case. Years of being back in those dressing rooms changing and prepping had taught her that even the most prepared person could forget something, or have something break and the backup break too. Dancers were usually helpful to each other. She had thought it wouldn’t be the case because competition could be fierce; dancers typically wanted to win, to have their dancing recognized for the greatness of it, so it would make sense if they were less likely to help the completion. That wasn’t the case at all. Even with her first international competition, where she was already well prepared, one of the older women back stage had taken the time to help her get her wardrobe situated in a way that would not cause her embarrassment later. She knew how
to dress herself, but the costume was different, she would say, than what she was used to and there were some issues with the hook and eye feature of the top rather than the buttons she preferred. Thanks to the ladies she had enough pins placed in spots that would assure those slipping hooks and eyes would not cause her top to fall off during her routine.

  “What makes you different?” Suspira had asked her once. Ariana didn’t understand the question so Suspira asked her again, this time she stipulated that she wanted to know what made her dancing different. Ariana smiled brightly and said, “because I don’t want to win.” Suspira had gasped, as if that was the wrong answer, but it was truth. She just loved to dance. She didn’t want to get out there and dance with winning as her goal. She wanted to go out there, feel the music and let her body interpret the poetic beauty of it, putting the musical heaven into a visual display that was beautiful and heartfelt. Ariana saw the same qualities in Zahara. If Zahara had started dancing when she was five Ariana would bet she would have been the next six time American champion for the Belly Dance Universe competitions.

  “Hey, I am here to help.” Zahara nearly skipped into the room.

  “I was just thinking about you,” Ariana smiled. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work today.”