To the Gentleman in the Back
Alicia Blade
Chapter Two: Sunday
In Which Mina and Lita Receive Unfavorable Reviews
Serena awoke to the dull pangs of a hangover and the sound of Lita humming in the kitchen. She smiled against the headache. Lita always hummed when she was cooking, and something about kitchen floors—particularly hardwood floors like theirs—always made her dance. Serena could imagine her now, twirling around with spatula in hand, performing little pirouettes for the refrigerator.
This morning Lita was humming a cheerful, upbeat tune, so Serena knew that she was in a good mood. But of course, why wouldn't she be?
Sitting up, Serena took a moment to rub the tenseness from her shoulders and noticed that Raye's bed was not only empty but also already made; the corners tucked and her three crimson throw pillows straight and pristine against the headboard. She and Raye were the only two who had to share a bedroom—who knew that a condo in the Big Apple with a professional-style kitchen (Lita required two ovens and under-cabinet lighting), a master bath with a jetted tub (one of Mina's many requirements), and five separate bedrooms could be so hard to come by? But it had worked out well between her and Raye, as Raye's orderliness had forced Serena to pick up some of her cleaner traits. Plus, being all artsy, Raye had outfitted their room in sophisticated maroons and coppers and latte browns, which Serena had to admit was a lot better than the cotton-candy pink she would have chosen.
Throwing a robe on over her T-shirt and polka-dot boxers, she limped out to the kitchen, squinting her eyes to keep out the sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She caught Lita doing the cha-cha.
"Lita, I think it's illegal to be so chipper this early in the morning."
For a moment it looked like Lita might blush, but instead she grinned and waved her spatula toward the stove's digital clock. "It's almost ten o'clock, Sere."
"Eew, way too early. And on a Sunday!" Serena pulled herself onto one of the stools at the island that overlooked the kitchen. There was a pan steaming on the stove and a delicious sweet scent filling the room.
"Coffee?"
With a moan and a nod, Serena let her head collapse to the countertop. "Whatcha making for breakfast?"
"Hazelnut French toast with fresh strawberries in a maple-brown sugar sauce."
Serena managed to raise her head part-way off the counter. "You are my hero."
"I know," Lita sang, placing two aspirin and a cup of coffee, overpowered with vanilla creamer, in front of Serena.
She purred a thank you and downed the two aspirin. "Where's Raye?"
"I think she's in the living room, forcing her body into all sorts of strange and unusual contortions. She calls it 'yoga.'"
Serena grunted.
"And Amy is in her room reading,and I don't even think it's for school."
"Only a smutty romance novel could save her now."
"We'll have to sneak one into her collection. It'd go great between Madame Bovary and Lady Chatterly's Lover."
"Who?"
Lita smirked. "And Mina is still catching up on her beauty sleep."
"Why, that lazy bum."
"You're one to talk. Would you pour juice?"
"I am not a lazy…" The sentence was drowned in a yawn as Mina stumbled into the kitchen, dressed in a white silk negligee.
"Perfect timing, princess. Breakfast is just about served. One of you want to get Raye and Amy?"
They both shook their heads. With a glower, Lita pointed her spatula at Serena and commanded, "Juice," and Mina, "Roommates."
Mina yelled, "Raye! Amy! Breakfast!"
Serena clamped her hands over her ears. "Hey, some of us are a little sensitive to loud, obnoxious noises this morning."
"Aww, did somewody dwink too much last night?" Mina cooed.
With a growl, Serena dragged herself from the stool and poured five glasses of orange juice, setting them on the small round table that took up the dining room. It was one of the few hand-me-downs in the condo, a gift from Amy's parents when she'd moved out. Although it barely fit five girls around it, it had a rustic, antique patina that Raye insisted made the entire dining room work, despite the fact that bamboo floors and stainless steel appliance in the kitchen screamed of modernity. Raye liked to call it contrast.
Raye emerged from the living room, looking awake and perky in black and green yoga wear.
Amy wasn't far behind her, fully dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater, with her reading glasses perched on her nose. "Got bills ready for you, Mina," she said, dropping a stack of envelopes onto the kitchen counter.
"That time of month already?" Mina wrinkled her nose. "I sure hope I get this commercial gig."
"It's so promising to know that our livelihood depends on your remarkable acting talent," Raye said, plopping down at the table.
"It does not rely on my talent. It relies on my gorgeous looks."
"Well, that's comforting."
The rest of them sat while Lita brought out their meal and was met by a round of oohs and aahs, before everyone began devouring the French toast.
"So I want to know all about everyone's dates," Mina said through a mouthful of strawberries. "I'll go first, because mine bid the most and is probably the richest."
Raye rolled her eyes. "You get more modest by the minute."
"I'm just being realistic."
"All right, Mina, tell us all about him," Lita said.
"His name is Patrick and he's from London and he was wearing Versace."
Lita glanced around the room. "Does anyone else hear wedding bells?"
"So that's what I know. Raye's turn."
"I have even less information to offer than that," said Raye. "He's a guy. He paid for a date."
"What's his name?"
"Daniel."
"Was he cute?"
"Was Patrick?"
With a sigh, Mina slumped back into her chair. "I hate it when you're stingy with information on your crushes."
"It's not a crush. And if you answer my question, I'll answer yours."
Pressing her lips together, Mina stared into her glass, the sides sticky with orange juice pulp, and pictured Patrick's clean-cut dark hair and husky build. "I wouldn't say gorgeous,but he wasn't bad."
"Well," Raye said, flashing a proud smile at Mina, "I would say gorgeous for Daniel."
"What kind of gorgeous?" Serena asked. "Was he George Clooney gorgeous? Or Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones gorgeous?"
"I am not answering these inane questions. He's supposed to call today to set up our date, and you'll meet him then. Is there more coffee?"
Lita got up to grab the pot while Amy stacked the dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen. "That was a delicious meal, Lita!" Mina called after them, leaning back and placing her hands on her stomach. "Living with that girl is going to be the death of my modeling career."
"Better not be," said Raye, pointing the tip of her fork at the stack of bills on the counter. "We're still dreadfully reliant on your absurd income. Sadly."
"Not for long, I'm sure. It's only a matter of time before business picks up at the gallery."
"I hope so."
"Mina's right," said Lita, returning to the table and filling Serena's mug, before passing the coffeepot around the table. "Just think how many people at the auction last night heard about your gallery. The word's going to start getting out."
"Plus, I have a really good feeling about this week," said Mina. "I mean, any week in which we all have dates has got to be a good one."
"Yes, I see the correlation between our dates and my gallery. Ever insightful, Mina."
Mina stuck out her tongue and accepted the coffee as Amy passed it her way. "So what I'm really dying to hear about is how the reunion went between Serena and ... what was his name again?"
"Satan. And I'm not dying to talk about it."
"Oh, come on. One minute you're going off to say hello and the next you're getting schnockered at the bar? There has to be a good story behind this."
"There's not. Lita and I went over to say hello, Andrew was a sweetheart, like usual, and Darien was a jerk—like usual. Suffice to say that he can take his fat checkbook and shove it because I am not going on a date with him."
Three sets of eyebrows shot upward; only Lita seemed unaffected by Serena's word choice. Coming to the blonde's defense, she added, "Darien really was a jerk last night. It was very nostalgic."
"How much did he bid on you again?" asked Mina.
"850 dollars."
"Just to turn around and be mean? That is peculiar." Mina tapped her nails thoughtfully against her mug.
"What did he say, exactly?" asked Amy.
It took Serena a moment to recall the brief conversation that had left her so angry. It was just like that when it came to Darien. He would make her so livid, livid enough to curse and stomp her feet and want to strangle him, but the next day she could never remember exactly what he'd said. It was just one of the many traits of Darien Shields that drove her up the wall. "Well… I'm sure he called me Meatball Head."
Raye snickered.
Smacking Raye on the shoulder, Lita added, "And he insinuated that you still have terrible dietary habits and that your vocabulary was of an elementary level."
"True and true," Raye said, giggling when Lita smacked her again.
Mina snapped her fingers. "He must have been flustered!I bet he had a total hormonal overload when he saw you up on stage all sexified and irresistible, but when you came off the stage he panicked, hence the rudeness. Oh! This has so much potential!"
Serena snorted. "That's ridiculous."
"Well how else are we going to explain his bid? That's not the kind of money one just throws around."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure Darien's rich," said Raye. "Family inheritance, I think."
Mina gawked at Raye a moment, before leaning back in disgust. "No way. Gorgeous and rich? Serena, seriously, can we trade?"
"Gladly."
Serena was mid-grumble when the phone rang.
"Maybe that's Darien calling right now," said Mina, "to apologize."
"Yeah. Right."
"It's probably Daniel," said Raye, hopping off her chair. "Couldn't wait to see me, I'm sure." She lifted the wireless receiver with a glowing smile. "Hello? . . . Oh. Hi Andrew, it's Raye. Yeah, she's right here. Hold on."
Serena sighed in relief that it wasn't Darien after all. The mere thought that he would be calling her had sent her heart galloping in her throat.
Lita wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Don't worry, Raye. I'm sure Daniel is nervously pacing around his phone as we speak."
Raye made a face as Lita took the phone from her and jaunted into the living room.
"Well, we know how that date is going to go," said Serena, her voice dripping with bitterness.
"So what about you, Amy?" said Mina. "What did you think about your upcoming date?"
"Oh, I don't know. His name was Joe. He said 'awesome' a lot."
"'Awesome'?"
"Yes. At least three times in the course of two minutes."
"What is he, a surfer?" teased Serena.
Amy scrunched up her shoulders, the previous night's anxiety returning full-force. "That's all I know about him. We didn't talk for long. We scheduled our date for Wednesday."
They heard Lita's door open and she emerged from the hallway a moment later, a smile stretched across her lips as she tossed the phone onto the sofa. "Tonight. 8:00."
"Oh, Lita!" Serena gushed. "You're going on a date with Andrew! If I wasn't so happy for you, I would despise you at the moment. Do you think that he maybe had a crush on you all along?"
"The lanky tomboy who tried to impress him by beating the high scores on all the Street Fighter games? Yes, I'm sure he found me completely irresistible."
"He is picking you up, right?"
"Sadly, yes. And I want you all to be on your best behaviors."
Lita was met with four angelic smiles.
"So, what are you going to wear?" asked Mina. "Do you even have any date clothes?"
"I have the dress I wore last night."
"Oh please, you can't let him see you in the same dress. I'll look through my closet. Maybe I have something that would be long enough…"
"Let's just go shopping," Serena said.
Mina pouted. "I can't. I have that audition in a couple hours."
"And I have to go take care of some paperwork at the gallery."
"I need to study for a bio test."
Serena pouted. "You guys are terrible roommates. Lita, we can go shopping without them, can't we?"
"Well, we could. Or we could go buy the new Zelda game and waste the day playing it until 7:45 when Mina shoves me into whichever skintight dress she thinks would be best for a first date."
Face brightening, Serena clasped her hands to her heart. "Now that is a much better idea!"
The set was a mess of lights and cameras and crew rushing back and forth, setting up tables and chairs and bringing cups of steaming coffee to the higher-ups. Mina paused off the stage to scan the crowd, all of whom were ignoring her. Only on a set did she ever get ignored, and it was not a feeling she thought she would ever learn to enjoy.
Her eye caught on a pair of blue uniforms. Two policemen were standing beside the food table, styrofoam cups in hand. The larger of the two was munching on a scone as flaky crumbles stuck to the front of his uniform.
Turning away from the cops, she scanned the room for her agent, but he was nowhere in sight. It wasn't all that surprising. Her agent was in charge of the careers of no fewer than twenty models and small-time actresses. He didn't have time to come to each audition, particularly when one took place on a Sunday. Normally Mina wouldn't have bothered herself on a Sunday, either, but it had been awhile since she'd had anything other than a catalog gig, and her agent had assured her that these people were desperate for a pretty face at short notice.
She shrugged her organic cotton hobo bag (very eco-chic) further onto her shoulder and grabbed onto the arm of the nearest intern she saw, nearly spilling the poor kid's coffee.
"Pardon me, but I'm here for the audition?"
The kid peered at her through Buddy Holly glasses, skeptical eyes scanning Mina's full, waist-length blonde hair, before shrugging her away. His coffee hand gestured toward the other side of the stage. "Back there," he muttered, before taking off toward the lighting crew.
Mina frowned, inwardly cursing show business. In any other business, a lowly intern like that would have been fawning for the attention of a real supermodel. With a sigh, she headed back toward the stage, which was really more like a platform built up to look like a master bath set in the middle of nowhere. Some tech guy was testing out a steam machine.
She knew she'd reached the audition room when she saw the row of six girls sitting in plastic chairs, each fiddling with her nails or practicing smiles in compact mirrors. Mina gave them a quick once over, just as each of them paused to eye her with equal disdain.
In any other business, they could have been friends.
Mina was unimpressed with five of them, but the sixth girl had a head full of silky raven-colored hair in tight ringlets that most girls would kill for. She would be tough to beat.
Then Mina noticed another cop near the back wall, scribbling something into a notepad.
A tap on the shoulder startled her. Turning, she saw her agent, Tommy. She grinned with relief. Nothing like a friendly face in a room full of enemies.
"Tommy, you made it!"
"Of course I made it. Are you all right?"
"All right? What do you mean? I'm fine. Say," leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a whisper, "what's with all the cops? Does this commercial have a policeman in it or something?" She was already visualizing the commercial, with a hot girl being arrested right in her bathroom, in nothing but a big fluffy towel, because it should be illegal to have such perfect hair. Flash to Viva Salon.
But on second thought, those two men by the coffee hadn't exactly been sexy-cop material.
"That's just it, Mina. They're here for you. Didn't you hear?"
"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything wrong."
"No, no..."
"Mina Aino?"
She turned to see a plump man with a clipboard standing before her.
"Hi, I'm Rob Taylor. I'm the producer here. I trust you've been informed of the recent… events?"
"I was just telling her about it," said Tommy.
"What's going on? What happened?"
"I see," said Rob, tucking the clipboard under his arm. Mina knew that the six other auditionees were watching with mute interest and, from the corner of her eye, Mina could see the police officer stepping toward them. Nervousness stirred in the base of her stomach. Had they discovered that the Gucci bag she scored off eBay was really designer imposter? (She'd thought the deal was too good to be true.) Or had she forgotten to pay that parking ticket from three months ago? Or maybe Amy had made a mistake on her taxes?
No, that wasn't possible.
"You see, Miss Aino, we received an anonymous phone call this morning."
"Okay..."
"And it was of a threatening nature."
Mina glanced at Tommy, who nodded.
"Threatening toward me?"
"I'm afraid so. The caller threatened that if you were to get the part in today's audition, then… well, they would, well…" Rob cleared his throat and looked down at the clipboard. "I quote, 'find you in your sleep and chop off every inch of those golden locks.'"
Mina grimaced and wrapped her hands protectively around said golden locks. "Who would say such a thing?" She looked at her agent again, but he only shrugged. She turned back to the producer. "Do you have any suspects?"
"No, Miss Aino. I'm afraid we're still investigating," said the police officer, drawing her attention for the first time.
Mina couldn't stifle a gasp when she saw him. She usually had a natural radar for hot men when she entered a room, and yet this guy had somehow not made a blip, despite the fact that he was gorgeous. He stood nearly six inches above her, even with her three-inch heels, and the blue uniform fit him like a masterfully tailored suit. His complexion was olive-toned, his hair short and black and full of curls, and his deep brown eyes were lined with eyelashes that would make any mascara model envious. The only imperfection on his face was a slight bump on his nose, screaming of Italian descent, and yet Mina couldn't help but think it was also the most charming thing about him. Now he was sexy-cop material.
"Tell me, Miss Aino," he continued, forcing her out of her mental appreciation, "has such a threat occurred before regarding any of your past auditions, that you're aware of?"
"No, officer. Not that I know of," she said, fluttering her fingers over her heart in her best helpless damsel impersonation.
"Is there anyone you can think of who might do such a thing? Someone who wouldn't want you to get this role?"
Perhaps one of the six girls sitting behind her?
"I'm afraid not, officer. I'm sure I don't have any enemies. I mean—everyone loves me."
He nodded, flipping his miniature notepad closed and tucking his pen into his breast pocket, before turning to the producer. "There's not much we can do here, I'm afraid. Let us know if it happens again, or if there is any further suspicious activity. That goes for you too, Miss Aino."
"Of course, officer," she breathed.
"In the meantime, try not to worry too much about it. Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Here, let me give you my card, so that you can reach me directly if you need to." He pulled a stack of small white cards from the same pocket that the pen had gone into. He handed one to the producer, the agent, and finally to Mina. She resisted the urge to look down and find out his name immediately.
"Good luck on your audition, Miss Aino," he said with a nod and a small smile that sent Mina's heart fluttering. "Take care, then."
He headed back toward the front of the stage, disappearing in a cloud of steam. By the time he was gone, Tommy was already trying to woo the producer, and the producer was trying his best to ignore him as he rounded up the other six girls and gave them instructions for the audition.
Mina could not hear him, too dazed to think of anything but the sweet, honest smile that had flashed before her moments ago. She managed to tear her eyes away from the steam cloud to look down at the card in her fingers.
The symbol of the NYPD stood out in the upper left corner.
And on the right, a name she committed to memory the moment it met her eyes.
Officer Antonio Marino.
"Has anyone called for me?" Raye asked the moment she entered their apartment, cradling her keys and red leather satchel in one hand.
"Hello, Raye. How nice to see you, too. My day was fine, thanks. How was yours?" Lita said, eyes glued to the newest Lee Child novel. Serena, immersed in her new video game, didn't bother to respond at all.
Raye dropped her things onto the couch with a sigh. "Hello, Lita, darling," she sang. "I've missed you so. You're my most favorite roommate ever. Did anyone call for me?"
"Actually… yes."
Though she tried to hide it, there was a definite glint of excitement that entered Raye's eyes. Bustling forward, she rested her elbows on the back of the sofa and leaned forward with a grin. "Was it my date?"
Lita tore her eyes away from the book to meet Serena's sideways glance, before shaking her head at Raye. "Your dad."
Raye reared backward with an instant snarl on her lips. "What did he want?"
"Oh… you know… the usual."
Planting a fist on her hip, Raye leveled Lita with a glare, her jaw working as she tried to rid her mouth of a bitter aftertaste. "The usual, as in he wants to waste my time on another one of his filthy publicity stunts, or the usual as in I've somehow embarrassed him and potentially ruined his career, yet again?"
"I'm going to go with the latter. He heard about the auction."
"Well, of course he heard about the auction," she yelled at the ceiling. "Heaven forbid I do anything that doesn't come across his desk in a nicely printed memo. And I'm sure he's thinking that I've now debased my reputation by selling myself or some crap like that, right? Did he even consider that it was for charity?"
"The charity aspect didn't come up."
"Of course it didn't come up. You know what, never mind, I don't care what he thinks. Are you sure no one else called for me?"
"I'm sure. Sorry, Raye. But I bet Mina would gladly share some of her popularity," Lita said, tentatively returning her attention to the book now that Raye's temper had ebbed.
"What do you mean?"
"She had seven phone calls."
"From her agent?"
Lita and Serena both shook their heads.
"Then who?"
"Mister Patrick Marcott," Lita said with an extravagantly faked British accent.
Raye snorted. "Tell me he wants to cancel so I have something to feel good about?"
Lita laughed while Serena paused the game and let her head drop backward to look at Raye upside-down. "Quite the opposite. First he was calling just to confirm Tuesday at 7:00. Then he called and wondered if she was happy with Tuesday or if she might want to move it to later in the week, because either way would be fine with him. And then he called to ask if she was okay with him picking her up—which he was, of course—but he didn't want to seem too forward. After that I forget what he wanted. I'm beginning to feel like he might be a little high maintenance, though."
"Well, no one can be more high-maintenance than Mina. Maybe they'll be perfect together."
"He's probably just nervous," said Serena, un-pausing the game. But within moments she burst into a frustrated scream as her on-screen character was killed and a little fairy twinkled sadly above his body.
"So how did it go at the gallery?" Serena said, tossing the controller onto the floor.
Raye flopped onto the recliner and peeled off her boots, setting her stockinged feet on the coffee table with a sigh of relief. "Fine. Wrote my first check for the lease, which was slightly heartbreaking. This upcoming exhibition had better go well, because I needto sell a painting this month."
"You will. Pretty soon you won't be able to keep the rich people away."
"Art isn't just for rich people, Serena."
"I couldn't afford it."
"You're twenty-three and unemployed. By the way, where is Mina?"
"Dinner with Ralph Lauren," said Serena.
"Really?"
"No. I have no idea where she is. Still at that audition, I guess."
The phone rang and was almost immediately answered by a loud groan from Lita. "Please answer it. If it's Patrick again, I might have to reach through the phone and knock him out."
Serena grabbed the phone off the coffee table as it rang again.
"Hello? Oh, yes, hello again, Patrick."
Lita shuddered.
"No, this is Serena again. No, she's still not here. Yes, of course I'll let her know. Hey, Patrick? We have your number. You know I can just have her call you when she gets home, right? You don't have to keep calling. Oh, no, you're not being annoying at all…" She glanced at Lita, who could not contain a snort. "It's just that I'm sure you have plenty of other things to be doing with your time. Yes, I'll have her call you the moment she walks in the door. She's a really busy girl, you understand? Okay then. Have a good night, Patrick."
"Serena, you should consider going into customer service."
"Yeah, that's exactly what I want to do with my marketing degree," she said, snatching the controller back from Lita.
The front door opened and they all turned to see Mina wrapped in her favorite white cashmere coat, humming to herself as she kicked her shoes off into a corner.
"Well there's the lady of the hour. How did the audition go?" Lita asked, startling Mina from her reverie.
"Audition? Oh! Oh, it went fine, I guess. There was one girl who had the fullest, silkiest black hair you can imagine, so she'll be tough competition. Hard to say, really."
Eyes glued to the TV, Serena called over her shoulder, "Patrick called for you."
"A mere eight times," added Lita.
Mina blinked, head tilting to the side. "Patrick?"
"Yeah… you remember, your date?" said Raye. "You're acting blonder than usual."
"Oh, him," said Mina, waving her hand through the air. "What did he want?"
"We're not entirely sure," said Serena. "The gist was 'have her call me, but only if she wants. She doesn't have to. I know she's busy. But I miss her. Wah wah.'"
"Okay, I'll think about it. Hey Leets, what's for dinner?"
"I'm not cooking tonight."
"Oh, that's right, Future Mrs. Furuhata."
"She's abandoning us already," Serena said with a sniffle.
"You guys aren't that helpless. Why don't you order takeout?"
"I second that idea," said Raye, settling her chin into the palm of her hand and frowning at Lita. "Say, you're not planning on wearing sweats tonight, are you?"
"What's wrong with sweats? I think they highlight my feminine figure." Lita peered cheekily at her roommates, but was only met with stern looks of disappointment. "Okay, fine, let's go get ready."
"Come in!"
Inhaling deeply, Andrew adjusted his tie, checked his zipper, clutched the bouquet of red roses firmly behind his back, and opened the door.
When Lita had told him where to pick her up, he'd expected nice. Downtown condos were nothing but nice. But he hadn't quite expected it to be this nice. The building's lobby, with its ultra-modern vibe, mirrored walls, lofty ceilings, and art deco chandeliers, had started his awe in earnest. That feeling had continued through the elevator ride where he was surrounded by marble and chrome, all the way to the fourteenth floor—the hallway of which was painted a dramatic red and lined with moody black wall sconces.
And now he stood in the living room of a condo that was about a gazillion times nicer than his own apartment. Between the top-of-the-line entertainment center on the far wall and floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the city in all its nighttime glory, he was rendered speechless. And if it was possible to feel any more out of place, the room also contained a particularly feminine vibe, with framed paintings of Tuscan villas on one wall, a collection of potted bamboo near the windows, and zebra-print upholstery on a footstool.
He had a feeling that Lita hadn't had much to do with the decorating.
He barely had time to scan the room and pull his jaw off the floor before his attention was hooked by the two girls sitting on the back of the sofa before him. Serena and Raye smiled sweetly, their legs crossed, their fingers tapping against the sofa cushions.
"Andrew, how nice to see you!" said Serena.
He attempted not to chuckle like a nervous idiot.
"Hey girls, been a long time, huh?"
"Two whole days. Felt like a lifetime. So you're here to pick up our darling Lita."
"Yes, is she—"
"And are those roses behind your back?"
He'd forgotten all about them. "Yes, they are. Does she like—"
"All right, enough chitchat," Raye interrupted. Andrew took a step back. "We're going to have to lay down some ground rules. First: no hanky panky. Second: curfew is at midnight. That does not mean 12:30, or 12:15, or even 12:02, but midnight. Third: you are to treat her like a lady at all times. This includes, but is not limited to: opening doors, opening car doors, assisting her with her jacket, keeping your eyes above collarbone level, posing an average of one compliment every twenty minutes, and refraining from commenting on the topics of sex, politics, religion, or your ex-girlfriends. Do we have an understanding?"
Andrew's lips quirked. "I missed you girls."
"Raye, are you quite finished?"
Turning, Andrew saw Lita leaning against a wall with her arms folded. She wore a red cashmere sweater, a khaki knee-length skirt embroidered with poppy flowers, and heeled Mary Janes. Mina stood in the hallway behind her, beaming from her accomplishments.
"You're early. I haven't gotten to threaten him yet."
"I'm not early, I just wanted to be here for that part. Please, continue."
Andrew tore his eyes away from Lita as Raye continued, "If word gets back to me that you did not follow these rules as instructed, you will be forced to watch Sleepless in Seattle. With Mina."
Lita and Serena both cringed, but Andrew only furrowed his brow.
"Trust me, it's worse than it sounds."
"Are you finished now?"
"Yes, Lita, dear. He's all yours."
Andrew returned his gaze to Lita and handed her the flowers, feeling a little vulnerable. "You look fantastic."
"Thanks. I'll assume you would have said that even if Raye hadn't forced you to." Grabbing her coat, she passed the flowers off to Serena who promised she would find a lovely home for them somewhere around the kitchen.
"Have fun, you crazy kids!" she said, waving, as Andrew escorted Lita into the hallway.
As the door shut, Mina swiped a fake tear from her eyes. "There she goes, all grown up."
"We did the best we could with her." Serena sighed. "She'll have to make her own way in the world now."
"So," Andrew drawled, tapping his butter knife against the table. "Do you come here often?"
Lita lowered her menu and pursed her lips against a smile.
"Oh, right… I forgot."
"Hi Lita!" their server said, appearing next to their table with a notepad in hand.
"Hi Chelsea."
"Wow, are you on a date?" Chelsea asked, eyeing Andrew with an appreciative smile.
"I was in the date auction."
"No way!" Chelsea gaped at Lita, clearly wanting details right then. But Lita ignored the hungry look and folded up her menu.
"We'll have a bottle of pinot noir and the artichoke and crab appetizer. I'd also like a house salad."
"Sure thing, Leets. Would the gentleman like a salad as well?"
Andrew squinted at the menu. "Um… sure?"
"And would you like to order your entrees now or do you need some more time?"
Andrew stuttered and glanced at Lita. She was watching him with utmost patience. "Um… what would you recommend?"
"Well our specials are—"
"Get the filet mignon," Lita interrupted. "Joel is running the line tonight and he makes an excellent filet mignon."
"Sounds great."
"And for you, Lita?"
"The lobster, please."
Chelsea grinned and winked as if to an accomplice. "I'll be right back with your wine."
As the waitress scurried away, Lita unfolded her napkin onto her lap and Andrew tapped his foot against the table leg.
"So… five years."
"Went by fast, didn't it?"
"You could say that again. It's weird seeing you after so long, and all the girls. You look great, by the way."
"Has it been twenty minutes already?"
Andrew lowered his eyes. "I just meant that you've… grown."
"I'm pretty sure that's normal."
"No, I—"
Lita laughed. "I know what you mean. You've grown up too."
They passed an awkward few moments while Lita stared out the window at the twinkling Wallabout Bay and Andrew continued to tap his foot against the table.
"Pinot noir?" Chelsea said, reappearing with a bottle of red wine cradled in her arms. She uncorked it and poured a bit into each of the wine glasses on the table. Andrew stared, wondering why he didn't get more, while Lita took the stem of her glass between her fingers and swirled it around on the table. Lifting it to her nose, she breathed in the bouquet, and finally took a sip. "Perfect, thank you," she said, setting the glass back on the table, marked with a shiny pink silhouette of her lipstick.
Chelsea nodded and continued to fill the glasses to half-full. Andrew stared at Lita until their waitress had wandered off again.
"Wow. You did that like a pro."
"Did what?"
"That…" he gestured, "…wine tasting thing."
Lita took the glass between her fingers and swirled it on the table again. "It's part of our training—knowing how to taste wine, and being familiar with all the wines we serve. Do you like it?"
Lita thought she registered uncertainty in Andrew's eyes as he tried to mimic her swirl and sniff technique. "It tastes like… uh… wine."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Oh, yeah. I mean—it's good. I'm just not really familiar with it, you know? I'd pretty much be happy with anything—cheap, expensive, red, white…. Heck, I wouldn't complain with root beer."
"It takes some time to develop a taste for it, I guess. Theoretically, this pinot will bring out the smokiness in your steak."
"Oh, good. I like my steak to taste extra smoky."
Lita laughed, but it quickly faded to another awkward silence.
"How long have you worked here?" Andrew asked.
Lita counted back. "Almost seven years, but I've only been in the kitchen for five of them. And I've only been head chef for a few months."
"Still, that's really impressive."
"It's all happened really fast. I—" She hesitated, unused to talking about life goals with cute boys, but that's what first dates were all about, right? She continued, "I've always known I wanted to do this, since I was a kid. I want to be one of those chefs that's known worldwide and gets invited to judge Top Chef and be interviewed in Gourmet and when people are planning a trip to New York they say 'Oh, we just have to go eat at Martucci's and try the food of Lita Kino.'" She shrugged, as if her dreams were silly, even though she intended to see them come true.
"That'll be so cool, to be famous like that," said Andrew, grinning widely.
"It's less about being famous than… I don't know. Proving to myself that I can do it, you know?"
Before Andrew could respond, a middle-aged man shadowed their table and clapped Lita on the shoulder.
"Lita! What are you doing here?"
Barely able to keep from spilling her wine, Lita cast a fake-glare out the corner of her eye. "Well I was having a pleasant dinner conversation."
Waving her comment away, the man fisted both hands on his hips and grinned at Andrew. He was just about to hold out his hand for a shake, when realization struck him and he snapped his fingers and returned the smile to Lita instead. "That's right! You were in the date auction, weren't you? And this must be the lucky winner. Lita's quite the catch, you won't find better in all New York. I'm Bill." This time he completed the handshake with a bewildered Andrew.
"Bill is the restaurant manager," Lita said.
Andrew aahed.
Turning back to Lita, Bill's smile started to fall. "I'm so glad you came in tonight, Lita. I know your next shift isn't until Tuesday and I was worried that you might feel… well, disconnected, after the review this morning. But I can see you don't let stupid things like that bother you, which is just what I like about you. I just want you to know that nothing that critic said in any way effects my opinion of you, or Mr. Martucci's."
Brow furrowed, Lita slowly leaned back in her chair. "What review?"
Bill's look of sympathy changed just as quickly to one of surprise, his face a ping-pong match of emotions. "What—you haven't seen it? I though perhaps Chelsea had already told you… although, now that I think of it, perhaps she doesn't know either…"
"What review?" Lita pressed more adamantly.
"Oh, well…" Straightening his spine, Bill held up both hands and shook them as if to erase his previous comments. "Never mind, never mind. I'm sorry, I thought you'd read it, but if not then we won't even worry about it. You two just enjoy your meal and—"
Resisting the urge to growl, Lita grasped onto one of Bill's wrists and yanked him toward her. "What are you talking about?"
Sheepish, and perhaps a bit frightened, Bill tried desperately to wriggle out of her iron grip. "It was just a stupid restaurant review in the Times this morning. You know those critics… always criticizing."
"They gave Martucci's a bad review?"
"Well…" Bill cleared his throat, casting an apologetic—or was it pleading?—look at Lita's forgotten date. "The overall review was… adequate."
"Then what?" Lita paused, her eyes widening and her hold unconsciously tightening on Bill's wrist until he flinched. "Don't tell me they gave me a bad review!"
Chewing on his lip, Bill cast his eyes to the floor.
"Let me see it. Do we have a copy?"
"There may have been one up at the front desk earlier…"
Releasing her manager, Lita lunged out of her chair and stormed up to the front desk, a bewildered and concerned Andrew not far behind. "Do you have a copy of this morning's Times?"
The startled hostess wasted no time in pulling the paper out from behind the podium. It was already folded open to the restaurant reviews section, with the short article for Martucci's circled in green marker.
Snatching it away from her, Lita stepped back from the desk and read through the review at first with astonishment, then disbelief, and finally sizzling fury. Though Andrew at first tried to read along with her, once he noticed her knuckles growing white and her face growing red, he kindly stepped away.
"Dry and under-seasoned?" Lita screamed, crumpling the paper in her fists. "This man is a moron." She shook the paper at Bill, who stood a safe distance away trying to console her with outstretched hands.
"Now, Lita, you are absolutely right, of course. And we all know that you're one of the best chefs in the city. Maybe this man just came in on a bad night or something."
"Or maybe this man is an obtuse idiot who wouldn't know a perfectly-seasoned steak if it sat on him."
"Yes… maybe that, too."
"I can't believe the nerve of this guy," she said, uncrumpling the paper to scan the review again. "'Kino's dishes consist of predictable, uninspired fare that is not worth the reputation of such a renowned establishment.' What a jerk!" Crushing the paper again, she threw it to the ground and kicked it straight into the lobby's fireplace.
"Lita, I can see this has upset you," said Bill. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"
"I'm not working tonight."
"Oh. Oh, yes, I remember that now."
Sucking in a breath, Lita held it and glared at her manager until she could feel her heart rate beginning to ever-so-slowly diminish, before letting it out in a whoosh. "Fine. I'm going to go enjoy my… my predictable, uninspired lobster."
Shoulders squared, she stomped all the way back to her table. It wasn't until she got there and saw two platters laid out before her did she recall that Andrew was even there.
"They said they would find you in your sleep and chop off your hair?" Serena said through a mouthful of chow mein. "Are you serious?"
"That's what they said."
"What kind of a threat is that?"
"Not a very effective one," said Raye.
"Hey, we don't know yet how effective it was," Serena pointed out. "When do you hear back if you got the part, Mina?"
"Thursday."
Serena hummed thoughtfully, twirling her chopsticks around her plate. "Maybe I should start placing threatening calls to all the people I interview with."
"Now that sounds much more reasonable than working on your resume."
Not bothering to refute Raye's comment, Serena chose to snatch a potsticker off her plate instead. "That's not nice. Besides, I had Amy check my resume. She said it was fine."
Amy glanced up from the textbook in her lap long enough to confirm Serena's argument.
"So how do you think Lita's date is going?" Serena asked.
"I bet they're making out in the back of a cab right now," Mina said with a wicked grin.
"Mina, that's only something you would do on a first date," said Raye.
Giggling, Mina pushed her empty takeout carton away on the coffee table. "Or maybe the back of a police car."
"What?"
"Nothing. Were we going to watch a movie or what?"
"Well, that was in fact the best filet mignon I have ever had."
Lita grunted, digging through the clutch Mina had given her in search of her key as they meandered down the hallway. "Are you sure it wasn't dry and under-seasoned?"
Andrew tried to laugh as if Lita had made a joke, but the sound came out superficial and nervous. "Not at all. Really. It was fantastic. And I bet your steaks are even better than that Joel guy's."
"I think some food critics might disagree."
Fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, Andrew watched Lita pull a key out of her purse.
She paused with a sigh, and finally turned to meet Andrew with a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I know I was a horrible date tonight."
"Naw, it was just bad timing. I understand."
She inserted her key into the lock. "I'm just so… livid about that stupid review. What right does that idiot journalist have to criticize my cooking? He probably couldn't tell hollandaise from mayonnaise!"
Andrew wanted to ask what hollandaise was and if it would also taste good on a turkey sandwich, but instead he said, "I bet you're right."
"You know what I should do?" she said, spinning on him.
"Agree to go on a second date with me later this week?"
"No. I should march down to the Times office tomorrow and make that idiot explain himself." She clenched her fists in front of her, as if preparing for a pretend boxing match. "This has to be libel, right? I wonder if I could sue for a public apology."
Andrew scratched at his shirt collar. "Does that mean… no second date?"
Lita blinked at him, anger beginning to steam away, and slowly lowered her fists. "Oh. Um… yeah. Yeah, of course I want to go on a second date."
"Really?" He visibly relaxed, which oddly made Lita tense up again. "Because I think you're great. Screw what that stupid critic thinks."
"Yeah, screw him." She tried to smile, but her teeth were clenched beneath it. "So, I guess, call me?"
"I will. Good night."
Andrew briefly teetered on his feet, before leaning forward and kissing Lita on the cheek. He scurried away before Lita could respond. She watched him disappear around the corner before letting herself inside.
The living room was dark, the blue cast from the TV glowing on the walls. Bruce Willis was on the screen, the volume nearly muted. Lita wasn't familiar with the movie. The coffee table was littered with Chinese takeout boxes and empty soy sauce packets. Raye's form was curled up on the recliner and Mina was stretched out on the carpet, both apparently fast asleep. But at hearing her enter, Serena sat up on the couch and glanced back at her.
"How was your date?" she whispered.
Lita hesitated. She wasn't quite sure how to explain that it hadn't felt anything like a date. Not when the pretend yelling match between her and the food critic that was repeating in her head was way more interesting than anything Andrew said.
"Fine, I guess."
"Did he kiss you?"
She tried to remember the look of his warm brown eyes in the hallway, tried to grasp the tingling, heated feeling of his lips on her cheek. But it had already faded.
"Not really."
"That's a shame," Serena said through a yawn. "Better luck next time."
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