Authors: Kathy Reinhart
I knew a line when I heard one, but before I could question her, Gram tapped my shoulder.
“Who’s that strapping young fellow?” I shrugged, as she continued, “Whoever he is, I wouldn’t mind seeing him in one of those little, neon crotch panties... whew.”
Gram had a strong grip on my shoulder in an attempt to steady herself, as the good-looking waiter from the cafe stopped in front of our table. I felt the color drain from my face when he took one of my sweaty hands in his and leaned over the table, kissing my right cheek.
His scent was intoxicating and before he backed away, he whispered, “I hope you’ll save a dance for me”, which caused my breath to catch in my throat. As he turned to leave, he offered the sexiest smile I had ever seen, which I returned with a thunderstruck stare. Once again, this gorgeous specimen of a man attempted to connect with me and I fell apart.
I wasn’t able to speak until he had disappeared into the blanket of women, and when I did, all I could say was, “What is it about that guy. Every time he’s around I make a fool of myself.”
Charlotte joked, “You are consistent, I’ll give you that.”
“Seriously, a dozen handsome men in G-strings kissed me and... nothing. All this guy has to do is smile and I turn to pudding.”
“Don’t ignore the signs, child. They’re there for a reason.” Gram spoke quite seriously considering the amount of vodka she had surely consumed by this time of day.
The untamed part of me that had been lacking in the areas of love and lovemaking wanted to tackle the hard-bodied waiter and let nature run its course, but sadly, the conservative part of me that boasted prudence and practicality would win.
Cory set her drink on the table in front of me, and teased, “Here you go, drink up. After a few more of these, we’ll have to peel you off him like skin off a banana.”
I lowered my head in an attempt to conceal the blush my smile couldn’t hide. When I glanced up, I spotted a waiter headed in our direction, carrying a large tray covered with dinner plates.
Thankful for the distraction, I finished Cory’s drink and said, “Great—dinner. I’m starved.”
While we ate, we talked about how clever the party idea was and caught up with some of the girls from college. Holly now had four children and a husband she couldn’t give away, while Heather Greene had three ex-husbands and continued to enjoy ‘paid relations’ with each of them. Dawn had promised Cory she would attend but had not shown up and petite Fran was now anything but petite.
Slowly and with the help of several drinks, I eased into the comfortable, good-humored mood the girls had promised would come. I can’t say I actually saw the waiter from Sal’s staring at me, but somehow, I could feel his eyes resting on me as heavily as the alcohol on my senses. Each time I looked in his direction I caught his eyes darting away from me, or was I just imagining that? Either way, against my wishes, my attention belonged to him.
With dinner behind us, the band took their places. As they began to play ‘It’s Raining Men’, about two dozen men dressed in tuxedos filed out of the hanger and approached the gazebos filled with cheering women.
“What good is having a band if there’s no one to dance with?” Cory mused.
I shook my head. “I have to hand it to you, this is better than anything I could have imagined. You thought of everything.”
“This is only the appetizer.”
“Appetizer?”
Cory laughed. “You know, the appetizer... the prelude... the opening act... the teaser...”
“There’s more? What have you... you know what? I’m not even going to ask. This has been great... really.” I tipped my head back to finish another drink. After several seconds, I began to speak again, this time more seriously. “Thanks to you guys, Brian will quickly become a shoebox memory. My future is looking bright, I have my family, friends and work... it’s all good.”
As Charlotte rejoined us, she added, “With a push in the right direction, good gets better.”
Cory let out a deep breath and said, “I’m going for best or bust on this one.”
I gave her a quizzical glance, but turned my attention to Charlotte. “Where did you run off to?”
Charlotte avoided looking directly at me. “Oh, I had to run over to the bar for a minute... I had to... well, I had to talk to Kevin.”
The effect of several screwdrivers, it took longer than usual to process her words. “Kevin’s here?”
“Uh... Yeah. He’s bartending.”
Cory was being evasive and Charlotte was acting guilty—familiar signs of a scheme and the promise of a night I would never forget. I decided not to ask questions they probably wouldn’t answer anyway. Instead, I linked an arm through Gram’s and strolled with her to the pavement where the dancing had already begun.
Fourteen
...My silent singing had become vocal humming. I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath of his scent, now praying for another verse to the song...
“Those friends of yours sure do know how to throw a party, don’t they?” Gram’s drink sloshed over the side of her glass and onto her hand, which caused her to look away for a moment. Turning back to me, she added, “I think you should go over to that fine young fellow you keep looking at and ask him to dance.”
“Gram...” I didn’t want to get into a conversation about the waiter from Sal’s, especially with her, but I knew she wouldn’t stop talking about him until I did. “Gram, I don’t even know the guy. What am I supposed to do, walk up to him, slap him on the back and say, ‘Hey you, let’s dance.’”
“Well, that’s direct. There’d be no mistaking your intentions that way.”
I searched the crowd for a suitable dance partner for my teetering grandmother, as I tried to end her line of questioning.
“I just got out of a relationship with Brian; I don’t think I’m ready to jump into another one. Besides, he’s gorgeous, you know what that means.”
She let out a shrewd laugh. “I certainly do. It means you wouldn’t have to imagine someone else’s head on that body when...”
“Gram! What I meant is that men who look like that are usually empty on the inside. In this generation, gorgeous is synonymous with egotistical.”
Her attention on one of the male dancers, Gram smiled coyly at him and offered a slight wave before turning back toward me. “I didn’t raise you up to be judgmental.” Her look became frighteningly serious, and she continued. “Meg, I didn’t always drink this much you know. And your grandfather, well, he’s a wonderful man but not everyone would agree and my little girl, only God above understands her.” She bowed her head for a moment before continuing. “Lord only knows what people would think of our family based solely on gossip or outward appearance.”
I felt the sting of my last screwdriver race through my head.
“Point well taken, Gram.” Motioning in the direction of the man Gram had waved at, I said, “I think that gentleman wants to dance with you.” Taking the empty glass from her, I led her toward him, and said, “Go ahead; I’ll get you a refill.”
“You think about what I said.”
I answered, “I promise, I’ll think of nothing else.” She had no way of knowing that underneath my sarcastic retort, I had thought of little else since seeing him arrive.
Carrying Gram’s empty glass, I slowly pushed my way through the crowd of dancers and mingling guests. I reprimanded myself silently when I realized that my eyes were darting back and forth in search of the man whose presence I desperately tried to forget.
One of the more aggressive male dancers twirled his partner directly into me, causing Gram’s empty glass to shatter when it hit the pavement. Offering a brief apology, he immediately returned his attention to his partner, as I bent to pick up the broken glass. An unexpected touch on my shoulder caused me to lose my balance.
“Here, let me get that for you.”
I used my fingertips on the pavement to steady myself, as I looked up to find the waiter from Sal’s towering over me. I unconsciously took his outstretched hand as he helped me to my feet.
Unable to take my eyes off him, I whispered, “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” His voice was deep and even in my inebriated state; I thought I noticed the subtle flirty undertone.
My eyes panned the width of his back as he picked up every piece of glass and stood in one, fluid movement. He made his way to a trashcan sitting a few feet away and I followed closely behind, as obediently as if I’d been ordered to do so. Rubbing his palms together, he turned toward me.
“So how about it?”
It took several seconds to force a one-syllable word from my mouth. “What?”
He cocked his head suspiciously to one side. “That dance. I thought that now might be a good time, that is, before your dance card becomes full.”
My mind raced for a believable excuse to avoid that dance. I was only breathing every third breath now and I knew my nervous system couldn’t withstand being that close to him for three and a half minutes of ‘Let’s Make a Night to Remember’. I found myself silently cursing Bryan Adams and all good-looking men.
“I’m... thirsty. I was just on my way to the bar.” My conjured excuse had no sooner passed my lips than I began to wonder if the restroom would have been a more suitable choice.
“I’ll walk you.”
I opened my mouth to protest but it was useless. Each one of my excuses sounded lame, even to me, so instead I nodded and said the only legitimate thing I could think of.
“I’m Meg.”
Offering an arm, he said, “I have a confession to make—I already know who you are. I’m...”
I blurted, “Popeye.”
I quickly released his arm and turned my head away from him with one hand. Embarrassment and the drinks I lost count of some time ago worked together to bring my inner thoughts from their hiding place.
Without missing a beat, he replied, “Popeye?” He shrugged his shoulders, adding, “I suppose you could have called me a lot worse.”
I was certain my face had passed every shade of red known to Crayola. Just when my embarrassment intensified so much that I began to wish I could evaporate, he broke the silence.
“C’mon. Let’s get you that drink and see what else you call me.”
I stood and stared into his back waiting for him to realize I wasn’t following anymore. When he turned, I began to speak before he made his way back to me.
“I’m sorry, that whole Popeye thing... it was a joke between me... and Cory... and Charlotte... Do you know Charlotte? You have to know my friends... we get a little carried away sometimes and...”
I hadn’t actually said a single comprehendible sentence as we walked to the bar, but somehow I felt like I had said more to this man than I thought possible considering our previous encounters.
After motioning to Kevin, he turned to me and said, “No need to explain. I recognize the signs.”
He turned his attention back to Kevin and our drink order and I turned away from him in search of an escape. How could he recognize the signs, he didn’t know me at all. How do you recognize lust anyway? Was it written on my forehead? Was there a sign taped to my back? He was one of those arrogant men after all.
I tapped him on the arm and began to speak before I lost my nerve.
“How do you know the signs? Is it like built in radar? Yes, I’ll admit you’re a good-looking guy... okay, very good-looking and I’m sure you have a lot... okay, lots and lots of women competing for you attention but what is it about me that you think you can read... okay, besides the fact that I was staring at you when you weren’t looking? I can be complicated and mysterious you know. So, don’t go thinking you know me when you don’t really know me at all.” I nodded my head and crossed my arms in front of me feeling quite pleased with myself. “Okay?”
He casually looked to Kevin who was trying his best to conceal a smile. Several, long seconds passed before he turned back to me.
“Actually, I was referring to the signs of too much to drink, but that was enlightening.”
There may have been a spin in my head, but I still knew I’d been beat. Under the circumstances, I did what any dignified woman would do and pretended the last few minutes of conversation never happened.
“Okay then.” Holding up the proper number of fingers, I said, “Kevin, I’ll have two more screwdrivers please...” I paused briefly, and then added, “And, you can put them in one, big glass.”
Kevin shook his head, threw a hand towel over his shoulder, and said, “You got it, Meg,” as he turned and walked away.
I saw him motion to Charlotte, who stood at the other end of the bar, talking to girls from college whose names presently escaped me. Before Kevin could fix my drink, Charlotte had joined Popeye and me.
She glanced briefly at each of the two men and then looked keenly at me. Guiding me to the barstool directly behind her, she said, “Meg honey, you having a good time?”
Instead of answering her, my attention was on Kevin and the empty glass that was supposed to be holding my drink.