2010

They sat together in a small café and coffee shop on Branson Street. It was an "up and coming" neighborhood, the British realtors would say, but others might call it run down and dingy, in bad need of a good street cleaning and out-door decorator. Still, this shop served the best hot drinks on the east side.

"You'll like him. He's an actor. Mostly theatre but he's done some American TV too."

Gwen Townsend rolled her eyes. How often had she heard this from her friend. Another set-up. "He's an American, you say?" she asked, as if to clarify. Actually, Gwen had heard of Lawrence Sandoval, even seen him years ago when she had been in New York. He was doing Hamlet off Broadway at the time. And he was good. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed watching him perform on stage. She was never a true Shakespeare fan but the ticket was free, sent to her anomalously, and she had a couple hours to kill.

But she had known a few actors in her lifetime and they always came across as arrogant. She found most of them distasteful.

"He's ruggedly handsome." Pearl spoke enthusiastically, her auburn ponytail bobbing, "They say his Father was a famous bullfighter in Spain - and his Mother is an American politician of some kind. They divorced when he was a boy and she brought him up …"

Gwen nodded, only half interested as she sipped her latte.

Her friend, Pearl, was dating the manager of the now ancient The Theatre Royale near Piccadilly, where Lawrence Sandoval and his theatre group were currently engaged. It was a world tour of some kind. His Richard the 3rdwas getting wonderful revues from the local critics.

"He could be the one, Gwen."

"The one, what?"

"Mr. Right, of course."

"OR Mr. Right-now." she smiled blithely, amused by her joke.

"Gwen, you are such a cynic." Pearl giggled, "He was very interested when Peter, through me, suggested you two meet. You should feel very flattered. He could see any woman he wants while here and he chose you."

"I'm just not ready for anything serious. And dating is such a waste of time."

John had left her with a broken-heart. At least, she kept telling herself it was broken even thoguh she felt numbness more then pain.

Pearl studied her friend sympathetically. "It's been nearly a year." she said, "That dolt leaving you for Emily was the best thing that could ever have happened. He didn't deserve you."

Spoken like a true friend. Gwen nearly smiled.

"And it is only a date. You're in control. If you don't like him you don't need to see him again. Besides, he's probably going back to the States soon."

"Fine." Gwen gave in, "When do we get together?"

"Here." Pearl pulled a theatre ticket out of her blouse pocket and slid it over the small round table to Gwen, "Tonight. You'll watch the performance then go see him after in his dressing room."

"How romantic." Gwen quipped.

"He's going to take you to dinner, silly."

"Well …" The ticket was for 3rd row center. Not bad, really. "I suppose. The tall, dark and ruggedly handsome type isn't really my style but I guess I can make an exception."

Pearl laughed as Gwen slid the ticket into her own purse.

XXXXXXXXX

The performance was superb and Lawrence Sandoval made his curtain call to a standing ovation.

Gwen was impressed although, anyone watching her might have thought she was merely satisfied. She stood and applauded with a little less enthusiasm then most, gauging how the actor bowed then clasped hands with the man and woman on his right and left and they all bowed together.

He had a wonderfully powerful stage presence. His Richard was nearly beastly. The Bard would have been proud of him.

Briefly, during his bows, he made eye contact with her, and Gwen wondered if he knew she was his date. Pearl said nothing of showing him a photograph of her so Gwen didn't think he knew. But certainly Peter had described her to the actor. Perhaps he had over-sold her. Was that why she saw a sudden pensive look in his eyes?. Gwen shivered a little. There was something vaguely familiar … but of course, she saw him in New York. Why was she over-analyzing his expression? She probably had nothing to do with it.

Gwen wore a simple black dress, hem above the knee, as was the fashion, and she allowed her wavy almond colored hair to fall free, framing a face of minimal make-up. No smoky eyes for the evening. She wasn't in the mood. Some might call her attractive, others might even call her beautiful. Right now she just hoped she was presentable. And Gwen disliked that it mattered to her what the man thought of her looks. She didn't even like actors …

As the curtain closed Gwen had a sudden urge to run out of the theatre and call for a Minicab. Why was she doing this? Why was she so afraid?. Right now she just wanted to go home to her cat, a pint of chocolate swirl ice cream, turn the TV on and watch an old Benny Hill rerun.

Still, something pushed her forward. She wasn't quite sure what it was but a small voice in her head told her if she didn't move onward with this encounter she would regret it for the rest of her life. She winced. The voice in her head sounded desperate. That was a sad commentary on her love life right now.

It's only a date.

(to be continued ...)