'Annika, Annika Vanden Haag, sir,' she said to him. It seemed appropriate and not offending to use 'sir' with him.
'Tom. Tom Daly. Pleased to meet you.' They shook hands. He didn't say more and kept his body facing the bar.
'So, Mr Daly, where are you from?'
'The United States. New York. And you?' He only turned his head to look at her when he was speaking. Otherwise, he kept his eyes on his drink.
'The Hague.'
'Ah, we may be distant cousins. My mother's side was Dutch — really Afrikaner Dutch. Part Greek, too, if you go back far enough.'
'I'm only half Dutch myself.' She didn't mention her own Greek roots.
'I guess that makes us two more in this world's litter of mutts.' He laughed.
She smiled. 'Are you here on holiday?'
'Sort of. I'm a painter and come for inspiration.'
'Really? Should I know your work?' She realized the question was unintentionally insulting. She probably had had too much to drink, but the man didn't seem offended.
'I don't know. One of my pieces hangs in here.'
She looked behind the bar. My God, she thought, it's one of those awful paintings from the hotel.
He must have noticed the look on her face, for he lifted his eyes to see where she was looking. He burst out laughing. 'No, not that one — lord no — that one.' He pointed behind him to a large oil painting in a place of prominence on the rear wall.
She didn't recognize his work but somehow thought she should. It was filled with nymphs and color and ancient ruins.
She decided to compliment him. 'You're him?'
'Whoever "him" is, yes.' He nodded appreciatively.
'It's an honor to meet you, sir.'
He turned his body and put up one hand. 'Okay, Annika, don't bury me yet. Please call me Tom or else I'll never hear the end of it from all these youngsters at the bar.' He smiled and pointed toward Panos and his crowd.
'Is he giving you that "Don't take drinks from strangers" pitch again?' Panos asked with a wink. 'He tells that to all the pretty girls. Our watchdog of virtue, we call him.' Everybody laughed.
Tom shook his head. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' and went back to drinking quietly.
Annika leaned over and whispered in his ear, 'Thank you,' and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled without turning his head.
Panos said, 'Annika, I'd like you to meet my son.' She turned around to look in front of the bar but saw no one who looked like Panos.
'He's behind you.'
She turned to see the dark-haired boy behind the bar smiling at her. 'My name is Yiorgos — call me George. My father said I can talk to you.' A chorus of Greek chants along the line of 'It's time for the younger generation to have a shot at her' made her smile.
'So, let's talk,' she said, and broadened her smile.
'Not here. There.' He pointed to the dance floor.
She nodded, slid off the stool, and pressed through the crowd toward the rear. He walked in pace with her from behind the bar. They met at the end. He took her hand and pulled her into the crowd. It was body upon body upon body. She felt that, here, your body was no longer your own; it belonged to the crowd. His hands were around her waist, then on her ass. They were belly to belly moving to the music. The music pulsed and he thrusted. It felt good to have a man so close.
He dropped his hand to below her skirt and touched her bare ass. She let him. He moved his hand toward where only a bit of thong protected her and she twisted away. He persisted and she pushed him back. He gave a 'can't blame me for trying' grin, and they went back to dancing. She let him grind at her crotch with his. She knew she was building expectations she was not prepared to meet — at least not tonight — but it felt so good. When he tried to move his hand inside her again she said she wanted to get a drink. He told her he'd wait for her and started dancing with another woman who appeared not to have Annika's reservations.
Her bar stool was still available. 'I watched it for you,' said Tom without looking up.
'Thanks.' She let out a deep breath and reached for the wineglass in front of her. She paused. It had been sitting open at the bar. Anyone could have put something in it.
'I watched that too.' He sipped his own wine without looking at her.
She smiled. 'Thanks,' she said, and took a drink.
'You're some dancer Annika.'
'Thank you,' she said, not quite sure what else to say.
He spoke softly without looking at her. 'I once dreamt I lived on the edge of a wild amusement park, some place where any time I wanted, day or night, I simply stepped over the edge into the midst of my deepest fantasy, enjoyed my time there, and stepped back again unharmed.'
Maybe he's had too much to drink, she thought.
'That's Mykonos — a mad fantasy. It's not real. You might think it is when you're here, but it's not.' He sipped his drink again. 'But, then again, it's not completely the place of my dream. There I wandered about invisibly, taking in only the energy I chose and returning safely and unharmed to my reality whenever I wanted. Be careful of this fantasy, Annika, for here there's definite harm afoot.'
Before she could respond, Yiorgos was next to her, grabbing her arm. 'Come, let's go.'
'Go, go where?'
He seemed in no mood for talk. 'To watch the sunrise.' He pulled at her arm.
She pulled it away. 'I'd rather stay.' Her voice was sharp.
'We're going to close soon. It's after five.' His voice was impatient.
'I still prefer to stay.'
He tugged again.
'Yiorgos, stop.' She looked around for someone to say something to him, but none of the once-so-attentive patrons seemed to notice.
He leaned over, kissed her hard, and tried to shove his hand between her legs.
She slapped his face. He slapped her back. His eyes were on fire. Still no one seemed to notice. In Greek, he called her a miserable, cock-teasing whore and stormed out of the bar.
Only then did someone speak. It was Panos. 'I apologize for my son. He has a bad temper. Let me show you home.'
She was shaking. She couldn't believe what just happened. None of these people who'd been so very nice to her had said a word or lifted a hand to help her. 'No, no, thank you. Very kind, I'll get home okay.' She was ready to cry.
'Please, let me take you home.' Panos called to the remaining boy behind the bar for a glass of water. 'Here, drink this.'
Her hand was trembling as she took it and brought it toward her lips.
At that moment Tom said, 'Good night, everyone,' and got up from his bar stool. He stumbled and fell onto Annika, causing her to spill the water all over her dress. 'Oh, I'm so sorry. I apologize. I had too much to drink.'
Panos said nothing. Nor did he offer her another glass of water. He just glared at Tom.
'I better go too,' she said. She quickly thanked Panos for everything and hurried out the door after Tom.
She fell into step beside him. 'What was all that about? The speech — and the spilled water?'
'Nothing, just me rambling drunk and then stumbling drunk.' He didn't seem that drunk.
'Where are you going?' She sounded anxious.
'To the taxi stand and home.' He kept walking forward without looking at her.
'Where do you stay?' She kept talking and walking wherever he was headed. She didn't want to be alone right now.
'I rent a house from a farmer out beyond Ano Mera. Have been staying there summers for thirty years.'
The taxi stand was by the harbor on the opposite end of town from the bus station.
There were a lot of people in line, and she stood with him while he waited. He talked about his art. She talked about growing up in Holland, her miserable boyfriend, and how she should let her parents know where she was. He said that was a good idea, but guessed she wasn't quite ready to give up on her 'fantasy' search. She smiled and said he was probably right.