"Oh, I am so sorry about that. That's not what I meant to give you." Was he blushing? Samson could feel his face growing warm as he practically ripped the tract out of the shocked woman's hand, replacing it with Gina's card. "This is the tour leaving in three hours. I'm not sure where you're staying...well, I hope you're staying in Venice anyway, but as I've said, I've been here many times and Ginevra knows her city. I don't get a commission or anything, I just want to make sure she stays in business. I mean, I'm not involved with her in any way, she's just a very good tour guide." The words seemed to be spewing out of his mouth like water out of Old Faithful. The last time he remembered this sensation was in high school when he asked Connie Phelps to the prom.
Willing himself to take a breath and slow down, he said, "My name is Samson Kincaid. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm a New York Times Best Seller? Hard-Cover Fiction. Actually I've been on the list several times." Samson continued to blather on about his various accomplishments and awards and failed to notice the girl of his dreams politely easing away. Not allowing her to escape, he extended his hand, "Forgive me, I didn't catch your name."
"I didn't throw it. Have a wonderful stay in Venice, Mr. Kincaid. Thank you for the bit of advice, and for the card." With that, a customs agent summoned her out of the conversation as Samson was beckoned by one on the opposite side of the room.
After quickly answering the official's questions, Samson hurried outside to catch the shuttle to the dock, where the rides to "The City of Bridges" awaited. Seeing the sapphire-suited beauty boarding the Agilaguna Line water bus, he decided not partake of his usual water taxi splurge and opted instead to join her, even without knowing which route this particular water bus would take. What he did know was that it would give him another chance to at least, hopefully, learn her name.
As the waterbus pulled away from the dock, every tourist-looking person with a suitcase had pulled out a map of Venice, except her. Unlike Manhattan, where the streets are in a grid pattern and logically named, Venice is a collection of winding pathways and approximately 400 bridges connecting 18 small islands. Priding himself in knowing the city well enough to give directions, something even locals struggled with, Samson confidently walked up to an older, obviously-American, couple who appeared to be having difficultly with their map. He introduced himself, asking if he could be of assistance.
Immediately the woman said to to the embarrassed looking man, "Harold, I told you it was HIM!" Then to Samson, "Mr. Kincaid, it is a pleasure to meet you. I've been an avid fan of yours since your first book Duality. I told Harold here I was certain that was you the moment we boarded the water bus. I have Four Hours with me; I haven't been able to put it down since Steve got the phone call from Renee that Sarah had been in the car accident. Oh! Would you mind terribly to give me your autograph and allow me to have a photo with you?"
Harold was obviously mortified but Samson couldn't have been more pleased, positive the object of his attention had not only seen this exchange, but was also well within earshot. "I couldn't be more pleased madame." Speaking a little more loudly than necessary to make sure Blue Suit could hear the comment directed to his smiling fan, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name, dear."
Samson (Chapter One, Part Four)
As the travelers made their way to customs, Samson made his way alongside the beautiful woman. Usually after watching a woman several minutes, Samson had a pretty good feel for her and for what tactics would work best to woe her off her feet, but strangely, this one perplexed him. What he did know was he wanted to see her again, a want that felt very much like a need. Crossing his fingers in hope, Samson asked, "So, are you headed to the islands?" Looking startled, she replied a little too quickly, "Forgive me for sounding rude, but I don't think it would be appropriate, or safe, to disclose my travel plans with a complete stranger."
Unfazed, he replied, "Well, forgive me if I sound rude, but, might I give you a piece of advice? You should do yourself a favor, and put the Fodor's Gold Guide to Venice in your suitcase instead of out where any passerby can see it. I was merely being polite by asking." Thankfully his charm appeared to say more to her than his words, as her facial expression softened, she allowed a half-smile and said, "Well, then, I guess I've already disclosed at least a portion of my travel plans, haven't I? I certainly wouldn't want to go any further."
Samson made a practice of carrying several of Gina's tour-group cards with him every year for this very reason. He had only used them once, on Blondie and her Pi Phi sorority sisters. After that, every time he touched the cards he sighed remembering Gina's words "it was the last view of the free world the convicts would see before being taken to their cells". This time, however, the thought was quickly replaced by a strong desire to have the chance to see this mysterious beauty again. She didn't fit his usual target by any means, that would have been the gorgeous long-legged blond standing in front of her in the line for customs. Not that he didn't consider his chances much better with the blond one, especially considering the wink and nod she had just given him, he just couldn't take his eyes off the one playing hard to get. There was something so magnetic about her he felt compelled to get past the "Bridge of Sighs" hex that had been on those business cards.
Fumbling through the contents of his pocket, he timidly offered her a card with the suggestion that the tour leaving in just three hours was by far the best. Although she took the card and thanked him, she stiffened again and eyed him skeptically. He guessed she probably thought it to be a scam so he quickly explained that this was an annual trek for him; out of all the tours he had been on, Gina's were the most interesting. He didn't bother to tell her Gina's tours where the only ones he'd tried, after all, he was certain they actually were the best, even without first hand knowledge of the others. The woman looked puzzled and held up the card Samson had just given her which turned out to be a Christian Tract someone had thrust in his hand at the New York airport. The bold faced caption read, "Are You Going To Hell?"
Unfazed, he replied, "Well, forgive me if I sound rude, but, might I give you a piece of advice? You should do yourself a favor, and put the Fodor's Gold Guide to Venice in your suitcase instead of out where any passerby can see it. I was merely being polite by asking." Thankfully his charm appeared to say more to her than his words, as her facial expression softened, she allowed a half-smile and said, "Well, then, I guess I've already disclosed at least a portion of my travel plans, haven't I? I certainly wouldn't want to go any further."
Samson made a practice of carrying several of Gina's tour-group cards with him every year for this very reason. He had only used them once, on Blondie and her Pi Phi sorority sisters. After that, every time he touched the cards he sighed remembering Gina's words "it was the last view of the free world the convicts would see before being taken to their cells". This time, however, the thought was quickly replaced by a strong desire to have the chance to see this mysterious beauty again. She didn't fit his usual target by any means, that would have been the gorgeous long-legged blond standing in front of her in the line for customs. Not that he didn't consider his chances much better with the blond one, especially considering the wink and nod she had just given him, he just couldn't take his eyes off the one playing hard to get. There was something so magnetic about her he felt compelled to get past the "Bridge of Sighs" hex that had been on those business cards.
Fumbling through the contents of his pocket, he timidly offered her a card with the suggestion that the tour leaving in just three hours was by far the best. Although she took the card and thanked him, she stiffened again and eyed him skeptically. He guessed she probably thought it to be a scam so he quickly explained that this was an annual trek for him; out of all the tours he had been on, Gina's were the most interesting. He didn't bother to tell her Gina's tours where the only ones he'd tried, after all, he was certain they actually were the best, even without first hand knowledge of the others. The woman looked puzzled and held up the card Samson had just given her which turned out to be a Christian Tract someone had thrust in his hand at the New York airport. The bold faced caption read, "Are You Going To Hell?"
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