Chapter 2

Am I heartbroken? No,no I am not with tears in my eyes.

I consoled myself because I know Broken marriage is better than"Rest In Peace"

At the airport entrance, where Paul fed goodbye to me, waiting for chauffeur.

Immediately I saw a young and handsome Italian chauffeur

……*****.......

I turned to the young Italian chauffeur, standing by the entrance of the airport, with a little placard that read my name; ‘Betty Von Rosey’.

“Yes”. I uttered, looking at the chauffeur who seemed to have been standing in wait of me for quite some time.

“I’m your chauffeur from the Ragnar resort, I’m here to pick you up”. Said the young chauffeur.

“Good, have this”. I said, handing over my bag to him, and followed him while he led the way to a black ford mustang, packed at a safe corner near the airport building.

I slipped on my black sun glasses, which was a match to my black mini gown and my black silhouettes, and without waiting for the chauffeur to load my bag in the car’s boot, I opened the passenger door and hopped into the car.

The chauffeur joined me as soon as he finished loading my bags in the boot, and with just a single twist of the key, he woke the car engine, and gently glided into the long road.

My name is Betty Von Rosey. I am twenty-three years old, though I look eighteen, and I had skin as white as snow, and long hair that if not for my white skin, looked more Indian than European.

And these two features, coupled with my slim body, my height, and my pretty face, made me look more like an I*******m model.

And though the chauffeur was focused with his driving, he couldn’t help staring occasionally at me through the head mirror, and I, too, remained calm, pretending not to have noticed he was stealing glances of me from the mirror.

“Can I get anything from Tatiana?”. I posed, removing my black sunglasses, revealing pretty white eyes.

“I don’t think I have anything from Tatiana, but I guess Adele will be good for an hour journey”. Said the chauffeur.

“You can help me with that if you don’t mind”. I slipped on my glasses.

The chauffeur turned on the stereo, and then came a gentle blast of ‘Hello’, by Adele, filling up the silence in the car, and, I loved that calm motherly voice with which Adele dealt some justice to the pretty instrumentals.

I rested my head against the seat’s headrest, and shot a smile at a signpost which read;

‘welcome to Guts Island’,

But then came a flash of my ex-husband’s face on the fourth night of the previous month, drunk and scary, yelling and lowering towards my panicked face, making me sit up and gasp for air.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”. The chauffeur asked, he was literally concerned.

“Yes”. I said casually, knowing fully well that I had just lied on my first day in Guts Island.

I rested once more on the seat’s headrest, and removed my glasses.

The car rode through roads, guarded at both sides by pretty long coconut trees, which were not thick enough to hinder the light of the sun from lighting up the long road, creating a beautiful scene for eyes to see, but I was partly lost in thoughts, and the chauffeur was still stealing glances of me.

while he rode through the long road, giving very little attention to the beauty of the sun and the trees, and the long road itself, but a buzz of my phone, cut short his hubby of stealing lustful glances of my pretty body.

I fiddled through my purse for my phone.

“Please, get the music”. I said, making emphasis with my right hand.

The chauffeur turned off the stereo, but still watched me from the head mirror.

I placed the phone to my left ear.

“Hello”.

“Hey, how are you?”.

It was Laura, a friend of mine who helped me secure a hotel reservation in Guts Island.

“Good, you?”.

“Fine, but I can’t wait any long for you. I have to go get something. When you get to the hotel, ask the receptionist to hand you the keys to room 009, it’s reserved for you”.

“Okay”.

“I will visit you when I’m done”.

“Okay”.

She hanged up, and I dropped the phone, but this time, resolved to no other thing but staring at the long coconut trees, the pretty beach at sight, the people milling around the roadsides, with their eyes masked with black sunglasses, and their bodies cladded in light shirts and shorts.

The weather of the island was unlike the snowy weather of Europe during winter, it was sunny and breezy, and the coconut trees gave pretty shades to the long roads.

“The music, please”. I said, still pretending not to notice the chauffeur’s curious eyes from the head mirror.

The chauffeur turned on the stereo, so, I rested my head on the headrest, but as I closed my eyes, I caught once again, a flash of my ex-husband’s drunken, scary, abusive face, yelling and falling towards mine.

I jerked up once more, and gasped more and more for air, leaving the chauffeur no other choice but to clear by the roadside, to ask questions.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”. He posed.

“Sure”. I sat up, but I couldn’t pretend to be okay.

“Do you need water?”. He asked, not minding that I lied again.

“If you have any”. I said, with a slight cough.

He fetched a bottled water off the pigeonhole, and passed it to me

“Thank you”.

“You are welcome”.

The chauffeur glided into the road, and I opened the bottle and guzzled the water with the haste of someone whom had been thirsty for a whole week.

“Do you want more?”. He asked, his eyes still on me, through the mirror.

“I’m okay”. I said, feeling better.

He shook his head and focussed on the wheels.

“Do you have a name?”. I asked.

He turned and took a quick glance at me.

“Sure, I do”.

“What’s your name”. I posed.

“Stan, ma’am”.

“Stan”. I shook my head. “Good name”.

“Thank you, ma’am”. He said with a wry smile on his handsome face.