“Clothes?” Lauren said.
Vincent nodded and smiled. “That they do. And it is a snowy night, isn’t it?”
“If I didn’t keep moving out there, I would have been buried,” Lauren said. “I take it there’s a dress code here.”
Patrick didn’t tell me that.
“There is,” Vincent said, “but we always make exceptions, especially for you, Miss Short.”
You had better,
Lauren thought.
I just flew two thousand miles with a flight attendant’s sour breath in my ear.
“Thank you, Vincent.”
“We have our best table ready for you,” he said.
The best table is usually the most visible table, and I want to be invisible.
“I prefer something out of the way,” Lauren said. “We’d like our privacy.”
“Oh, but of course,” he said. “We’re short on staff tonight. You understand. This unexpected snowstorm. Please follow me.”
Lauren followed Vincent to a table in a far corner that was shielded from view somewhat by a frosted-glass partition. As she moved past other diners, she smiled and tried not to make eye contact.
I am seriously underdressed! There’s more bling in here than in some bistros in LA. And here I am, wearing boots, real boots, while these other women are wearing insensible high heels. Don’t they know it’s snowing outside?
After Vincent pulled out her chair and Lauren sat, he asked, “Will your date be joining you soon?”
“I’m really early,” Lauren said. “If the snow lets him, he should be here by seven.”
“I will bring him here to you as soon as he arrives.” Vincent smiled. “I have to tell you, Miss Short, that I have followed your career. I would love to have your picture join Sammy Davis and Frank Sinatra on our wall.”
Little old Lauren from D.C. on the wall with those icons?
“I’d be honored.”
Vincent whisked a single crumb on the table into his hand. “Enjoy your evening.” He returned to the front.
Now that’s service with some style,
Lauren thought.
Patrick chose this restaurant well. I already feel like royalty.
A young man wearing all black rushed by. “I’ll be with you in a—” He stopped.
“Hi,” Lauren said.
The man blinked.
“What’s your name?” Lauren asked.
“Donnie,” the man whispered.
He doesn’t sound too sure.
“Take your time, Donnie. My date isn’t here yet. Take care of your other guests first. I know you’re understaffed tonight because of the snow.”
“Okay.” Donnie swallowed. “What may I get you to drink?”
“Water will be fine,” Lauren said. “But there’s no rush.”
“Okay.” Donnie sped away.
It’s nice to know I still have that effect on people, but it’s really creepy to have strangers look at you like deer frozen in headlights.
“Miss Short, hi,” a smiling man said as he approached.
I know what he’s after,
Lauren thought.
They say my name first and then throw in a “hi” or a “hello.” How nice. The man still has his napkin tucked into his shirt.
“Could I trouble you for an autograph and maybe a picture ?” He pointed behind him. “My wife is a big fan.”
For the next half hour, nearly
every
diner at Tony’s made his or her well-dressed way to Lauren’s table for an autograph, a picture, or both, and Lauren obliged them because she had nothing better to do.
After Vincent took her picture for the “wall of fame,” Donnie brought her a glass of ice water. “Is your date running late?” he asked.
“The snow must be holding him up,” Lauren said.
“They just closed Lambert,” Donnie said. “When was his flight?”
“He’ll be here,” Lauren said.
“But it’s a little after seven,” Donnie said.
Do they need this table? This place isn’t at full capacity. What’s the rush?
“I would be more surprised if he were on time in this weather. Don’t worry, Donnie.”
“I’m not worried,” Donnie said. “I’m just . . .” He shook his head. “It’s just that with all that’s happened to you recently, I’d hate to see you get stood up.”
Why are perfect strangers so interested in my dysfunctional love life? They should be working on their own dysfunctional love lives!
“Patrick is not going to stand me up,” Lauren said. “But thank you for your concern.”
She took out her cell phone and called him. Once again, her call went straight to voice mail. “I’m here at the restaurant, Patrick, and it is
very
nice. Please hurry.” She closed her phone. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
“I hope so, Miss Short,” Donnie said. “Are you sure you don’t want to order something? Some bread, an antipasto, or osetra caviar perhaps?”
I’m starving, and it smells so good in here!
“I’m fine, Donnie,” Lauren said.
But I’m not fine.
It’s ten after seven.
My man won’t answer his phone.
These Timberlands aren’t as waterproof as I thought they’d be. My toes will not thaw out.
Donnie is about to have a fit.
Some of the people around me seem to be getting ready for another round of pictures.
Come on, man.
Let’s get this date started.
42
A
t 7:25 p.m. a weary bus full of cranky people arrived over two hours late at the Greyhound bus terminal in St. Louis. After getting directions to Tony’s from the man behind the ticket counter, Patrick snatched his duffel bag as soon as the driver opened the luggage hatches and took off running through Triangle Park to Clark Avenue. The thick snow confused him momentarily until he saw the colossal outline of Busch Stadium.
North to Market . . . and Lauren,
he thought as he panted, his boots throwing clusters of heavy, wet snow behind him. He turned on his phone and grimaced at the flashing battery sign. After listening to Lauren’s messages, he turned it off.
She’s there safely,
he thought.
That’s a blessing. I’m only a half hour late for dinner. I hope she’s not too angry.
Once he hit Market Street, he slowed to a fast walk to catch his breath, and once inside Tony’s, he assessed his condition.
I have some serious body odor, a mixture of funk and diesel fumes. My jeans are soaked up to my knees, my boots have changed from light brown to dark brown, and it looks as if I’ve just gotten out of the shower.
I am officially a mess.
Let the date begin.
Patrick looked into the dining room. He saw flashes around a crowd of people in the corner.
Unless there’s a birthday party going on, Lauren Short is definitely here.
An elderly gentleman wearing a dark dinner jacket appeared in front of him. “I am Vincent Bommarito. May I help you, sir?”
He looks just like a taller, older Joe Pesci. He’s even wearing a pinkie ring.
“I am really late,” Patrick said. “Reservation for Esposito.”
Vincent raised his eyebrows. “Esposito?”
“Right, Patrick Esposito,” Patrick said. “I was supposed to be here at seven. I’m sure Lauren Short is already here. She’s my date.” Patrick noticed that every man inside was wearing a dinner jacket or a suit.
Oops. I suppose I could wear my belt as a tie.
“Miss Lauren Short is your date,” Vincent said.
“Yes.”
“The
actress
Lauren Short,” Vincent said.
Patrick stared down at Vincent’s bushy gray eyebrows. “Yes, Lauren Short, the actress.”
“Forgive me, but I am going to need to see some identification,” Vincent said. “I hope you understand. Miss Short is an important guest.”
Patrick pulled out his wallet and removed a Salthead ID badge, one he rarely wore. He handed it to Vincent. “I don’t drive, so I don’t have a license.”
Vincent stared at the ID. “I knew an Esposito who came over here from Salerno, in Campania.” He looked into Patrick’s eyes. “You could be his twin.” He handed back the ID. “You have kept Miss Short waiting, Mr. Esposito.”
Patrick straightened to his full height. “I know. I’ve just spent over thirty hours on a bus from Brooklyn, I’m soaking wet, and this is our first date.”
Vincent smiled. “I am sorry I doubted who you were, Mr. Esposito. It would be my honor for you to wear one of my dinner jackets.”
Patrick sighed. “I’m soaking wet.”
Vincent nodded. “The jacket will warm you up.”
“I’m now forty minutes late,” Patrick said. “Why can’t I just go in?”
“We have a dress code, Mr. Esposito,” Vincent said.
“Business casual on weekdays.”
Patrick sighed again. “My business is buildings maintenance. If I had worn my coveralls, would you have let me go in?”
Vincent laughed. “I think I would have, especially on a night like this.” He nodded. “Forgive me for hindering you. Allow me to escort you to your table, Mr. Esposito.”
“I can manage,” Patrick said.
Vincent shook his head. “I may have to block for you. Follow me.”
Patrick followed Vincent carefully around several tables toward the crowd around Lauren.
They’re all so well dressed, and I am not. They all smell nice. I do not. I am at least forty-five minutes late now, and I’m carrying a soaked duffel bag full of soaked clothes. I need to shave, my hair will dry in all directions, and I am not wearing a tie or a dinner jacket.
So far, so good.
Patrick waited beside Vincent while the last few groups of people took pictures with Lauren.
She’s so beautiful.
I can’t believe I’m here.
He watched a woman tug on a man’s arm until the man turned and said, “Huh?” She then pointed at Patrick. “Oh,” the man said, and he and the woman stepped aside.
Like the parting of the well-dressed sea.
Vincent motioned to a chair.
Patrick looked into Lauren’s eyes. “Sorry I’m late.”
Tony’s quieted completely. No fork scratched a plate, and no glass dinged. Servers paused in mid-serve. Even the delicious garlic aroma seemed to dissipate for a moment.
Lauren smiled. “I wasn’t worried, Patrick. I knew you’d get here eventually.”
Patrick set his duffel bag on the floor, took two long steps, leaned down, and kissed Lauren’s cheek as flashes lit up the corner. “Hi, Lauren.”
Lauren laughed slightly. “Hi, Patrick. How was your trip?” She smiled. “No, don’t tell me. I can already tell. It was pretty horrible, huh?”
That’s the smile and the laugh I’ve been longing for,
Patrick thought.
I’m not worried about a thing now.
“It was worth it. You look exquisite.”
“No I don’t, but thank you,” Lauren said.
Patrick looked under the table. “I like your boots.”
“I like yours, too,” Lauren said. “Please sit.”
Patrick smiled at the diners around them. “I’ve been sitting for a long time.”
Vincent held out his chair, and Patrick sat.
“I haven’t been sitting in anything this comfortable, though,” Patrick said. “Thank you.”
Several more flashes bathed them in light.
“Nothing this bright, either,” Patrick said. “I’m seeing spots.”
Lauren laughed and motioned to Vincent. “Vincent, could you please do something about the picture taking? Patrick is here now, and we’d like to eat in peace.” Lauren looked at Patrick. “I’m sure that kiss is already on its way to the Internet.”
Patrick took Lauren’s hand. “It’s okay, Lauren. I only see you. Sort of. In between all the spots.”
Lauren looked up at Vincent. “Is there anything you can do?”
“I am sure they will go back to their meals,” Vincent said, and he sauntered away, pausing at tables here and there to chat.
Lauren turned to Patrick. “It is so rude for them to take pictures of two people eating,” Lauren whispered.
Patrick squeezed Lauren’s hand. “It’s okay. I think I would be more amazed if people
didn’t
take your picture or ask for your autograph.”
Lauren squeezed his hand. “Your hands are cold. But I am so glad I can finally touch you.”
Another flash caused Patrick to see more spots than Lauren.
“I
really
hate that,” Lauren said. “Are they going to take a picture of our every bite?”
“They do that?” Patrick asked.
“Sometimes,” Lauren said.
Patrick nodded. “I don’t always chew with my mouth closed.”
“Neither do I,” Lauren said.
Patrick shrugged. “We could make faces.”
Lauren bit her lip. “We could.”
Patrick smiled. “Let’s.”
“On the count of three,” Lauren whispered. “One, two, three . . .”
Lauren and Patrick turned to the diners around them and made ridiculous faces while even more flashes went off.
“I have had
enough
of this,” Lauren said, and she stood.
Tony’s quieted to a dull murmur.
“You all should have plenty of pictures already,” Lauren said. “Do you mind not taking any more? This is our first date. Do you remember your first date? Did anyone film your first date from start to finish?”
Another flash went off.
“Come on, have a heart,” Lauren said.
This is the moment,
Patrick thought.
This has to be the moment. Chaos has its uses.
Patrick stood and took both of Lauren’s hands in his. “It’s okay. I don’t mind having my picture taken with the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve been dying to kiss you all day, and I don’t care if I go blind.”
Lauren looked up into Patrick’s eyes. “Then . . . kiss me.”
Patrick placed his lips squarely on hers, and for a few moments, he couldn’t see her at all because of all the flashes. As he removed his lips, he whispered, “I will never forget this kiss.”
“Neither will I,” Lauren whispered. “I hope some of their pictures turn out so I can see the kiss, too. Man, I’m seeing spots now, too.”
Patrick squinted. “You’re slowly becoming brown again.” “Doesn’t all this bother you?” Lauren asked.
“It’s a new thing for me,” Patrick said. “If it bothers you, I can stop it.”
Lauren laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
Patrick moved behind Lauren and put his arms around her waist.
Oh, she feels so good. Soft, solid, and sensuous.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?”
Tony’s quieted down.
“Lauren Short and I are indeed on our first date,” Patrick said. “We have both traveled a long way to get here. Lauren flew in from LA, and I took a bus for over thirty hours through the snowstorm all the way from Brooklyn.”
Patrick heard several whistles.
“This is the first time we have ever been face-to-face,” Patrick said. “We have been corresponding by e-mail, instant message, text, and phone, and we finally decided to meet in St. Louis, right here at Tony’s. We didn’t plan on a snowstorm, and I didn’t know about the dress code, but whatchagonnado?”
Lauren laughed and held his arms tighter around her waist.
She likes the accent. Very cool.
“Now, I want you all to do something for me. I want you to record the next few minutes with your cameras and camera phones, and the second we leave, I want you to upload everything to the Internet, okay?”
“What?” Lauren whispered.
“Trust me,” Patrick whispered. “But I don’t want you to do anything with your pictures or videos until we leave,” he said to the crowd. “That’s important. Don’t forward or upload anything until we leave the restaurant, okay?”
“Patrick, what are you doing?” Lauren whispered.
He turned her slightly, pulling her hips closer to him. “I’m trying to make this the single greatest first date in world history, Lauren, and they are going to help us.”