24…The City of Brotherly Love…
While waiting on Em upstairs, I use the time in my room to call Granddad, even though I can't understand him on the phone barely at all. But it doesn't matter because he doesn't answer. He didn't answer earlier today either. Same as before, I leave him a message and phone Bea instead. She tells me Henry is fine and not to worry. Then we make arrangements for us to have dinner with him tomorrow night when I get back to Manhattan. Or rather, she makes the arrangements; she is very specific about her instructions.
Em finally comes into my room in a low-cut black and white crocheted tank dress that hugs all of her curves. The thin red belt she has on emphasizes her tiny waist. She has high wedge sandals on and her perfect hair is flowing past her perfect delicate shoulders.
"James is going to have a heart attack when he sees you!"
"You think?" She does a twirl around; her dress is low cut in the back, too. "Stand up so I can see how that looks on you." I dutifully climb off the bed.
"You added a tank top underneath!" Em objects.
"It was completely see-through! I would've been uncomfortable all night. But I love the outfit, especially the leather skirt." Em had laid out for me a sheer black silk buttoned shirt and a really cool black quilted mini with a diagonal zipper and red trim on it. I'd added a black tank, which I'd luckily packed. It's only right now that I have a suspicion that Em bought this specifically for me. It's not her style at all.
"It's not leather. Neoprene, I think," she says. I have no idea what that is. "But it matched the only heels you brought, which, I might add, are sexy as hell." She eyes me, doing her usual inventory. "Perfect messy bun…perfect earrings… perfect necklaces….and those red shoes are just hot! I swear you do your make-up better than I do mine, but I want to add one more thing to your face, okay?" She pulls me into the bathroom.
Hand in hand and with fresh red lipstick on both our mouths, we enter an empty kitchen. Em starts to pull me toward the hall to find the boys when I remember the quilt. She follows me into the laundry room so I can put it in the dryer.
"Hey, I have an idea." She is holding one of the red grosgrain ribbons I'd left on top of the washer. "Come here." She ties one around my neck, knotting it in the back, and then adjusts the couple necklaces I have on around it. "It's weird, but there's something so sexy about this ribbon on you. I think I need one, too." I fix one on her neck.
"You're right," I say, seeing it on her. "It's very…je ne sais quoi."
"Uh huh. Leif's going to have a heart attack when he sees you!"
Dios mio, could she have said that any louder!
"Shhh! Em, I think you need to lay off the Leif stuff!" I lower my voice, pressing the start button on the dryer. "I don't think you're right about…you know…the attraction. There's nothing there, so please, don't try to push us together or anything, okay? Just let it be." I don't want to explain what I saw on the college green, or what I overheard earlier in this very room.
There are noises in the kitchen. "We'll see about that. Let's go." She turns to leave, but I don't follow her. Instead, I pray that we weren't overheard. Although, given my recent behavior it would serve me right.
"About damn time!" I hear Leif mutter as Em walks into the kitchen.
Em replies, "I can't help it if I had to wait for hot water. James, would you have wanted me to take a cold shower?"
"Good God, no, but I might need another one right now," he says in that plummy accent of his. "I must be the luckiest man on the planet. Come into the sitting room. I have a drink ready for you."
I listen to their footfalls in the hall and take a deep breath to walk out to the kitchen. And it's me that has the heart attack.
Leif is leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, glowering again, but that's not why. Nor is it that I hear a murmured string of what I think are foreign curse words come out of his mouth.
It's that he's dressed all in black and he looks absolutely…fierce.
And stunning.
And all man.
An "Oh!" escapes my lips. I want to wrap myself around him like that girl did.
His black shirt is kind of military-looking with epaulettes that have subtle red piping on the shoulder, and metal buttons, black jeans, black belt, and black brogues with red stitching. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms. He's got several leather and metal bracelets on. And that cuff. And that black hair curling over his ears and forehead. And those eyes.
It takes me a moment to realize I'm looking him up and down, staring wordlessly. It takes me another moment to realize he's doing the same. My eyes move up to his and he looks stricken. Does he not like what I'm wearing? Because nobody could look as good as he does and it's just mean if he expects it.
"Wha...what are you thinking?" I stammer out, self-consciously putting my arms around my middle.
"Exactly what he said," the sea god mutters cryptically. He stalks over to stand right in front of me, his eyes coming to rest on the red ribbon around my neck. He pulls one of my arms out from my side. He stoops to kiss my hand with those plush lips, then tucks it in his elbow. "I'm also thinking you need to stick close to me tonight."
"If you insist." I smile.
Honestly, why am I even surprised when the cab drops us off at the same restaurant on the Schuylkill near Boathouse Row that my grandmother took me to before? I remember Grandmother explaining it was in the building of the old Philly Water Works. Why am I surprised that when the elegant hostess sees us walk in, or more specifically, when she sees Leif walk in, her eyes light up.
"Vince! I'm thrilled you decided to come here before you leave." She wraps him in a warm hug. "We are absolutely inundated with graduation dinners tonight, and have a private graduation party out on the terrace so I can't seat you out there, but we'll be sure to make it a real celebration for you."
I bet you will, I think before I can even stop myself from this snide thought.
She hugs James next, who introduces the hostess to Em, explaining, "Her boyfriend Bobby is the Sous-Chef here."
When Leif introduces me, she good-naturedly winks at him saying, "I approve." Oh, she thinks I'm his girlfriend. It gives me a little flush of pleasure, even though she doesn't know how wrong she is.
I see quite a lot of what seems to be students dining with their families when we're ushered to our rounded booth. And groups of students together, too. Why does it feel as if everyone is looking at us? Em and I squeeze in the middle with James and Leif at the ends.
And it starts almost immediately.
First, a bottle of champagne appears that no one ordered. The waiter who pours it indicates a table on the other side of the dining room where two young couples are lifting glasses towards us. Leif and James lift theirs in reply and I pick up mine only when Em elbows me. But I'm not about to drink it, not even a sip; I've not eaten but a couple bites today and I know somehow I need to keep my wits about me tonight.
An order of steamed mussels appears courtesy of another table and more glasses are held aloft from across the elegant dining table. I'm not touching those. Then an appetizer of grilled octopus—I'm definitely not touching that. Finally, there are some crab cakes and then flatbread appetizers and I eat those voraciously, only stopping to lift my glass when required.
It's not just food and drinks that come. We four barely get a chance to talk to each other because a near-constant stream of people stops by our table. Em and I keep giving each other looks of awe. There's the captain of the men's swim team with some teammates who almost gush over Leif. One of them says wistfully, "If only I could've convinced you to join, but I understand." Another makes a jokey bow to him, exclaiming, "To the veritable god of the river!" Em and I shoot each other looks and I snort indelicately. Leif must've heard me because he glances over with a smirk. There are a couple members of the Penn rowing team who comment on what I assume to be Leif's race from earlier. "I heard you did well below the dam today. Made some good money." Another one says, "They don't call you 'Invincible' for nothing." There are knowing looks and pats on the back. Oysters and shrimp appear at the table. It's not just Leif that people greet, though. Both boys are near constantly standing up to hug people, or shake hands warmly. There's a whole lot of bro-ing going on. We always get introduced and I note that nearly everyone looks at me with surprise when they see me next to Leif. Sometimes it's only a raised eyebrow. Em never gets that same look of astonishment. I wonder if it's because these people are used to seeing him with shorty-shorts girl from the college green.
Two orders of scallops appear from two different tables.
When there's a break between all these visits, Em asks James, "What's going on? You two are like rock stars!"
He replies, "We made quite a few connections here. Plus, Leif is something of a legend. I promise to tell you about it later." But he doesn't have time to explain further because a new group has come to the table. "Hey, brothers!" On the whole, women, I notice, unless they're part of a couple or in a larger group, mostly stay away. Strange.
When Em looks at me, shaking her head in awe, I smile back saying, "I don't like boat whistles." There's no need to invoke our secret code because both James and Leif are standing with these latest guys, but I want to talk to her without the possibility of them overhearing. We slide out of the booth and make our way to the restroom. Luckily, we have it to ourselves for the moment.
We both go into stalls, with Em calling out, "Contrary to what James just said, it's not only Leif who seems to have achieved legendary status. Did you see that last group of their MBA classmates? It was like they revered James. It just has a different vibe to it than with all those athletic guys who were practically genuflecting to their sea god. You'd better believe I'm going to find out what this is about!"
"I have an inkling. About some of it, at least." I tell her what I've figured out, without explaining precisely how I did.
She says, "It's cool, though, isn't it? To see them in their element? Where they've lived for the last six years? This is a new side to both of them for me." I nod realizing that I've not really seen them out at all, aside from that first brief dinner. The rest of the times have been in private homes, here and at The Rambler, or Henry's Rehab. Well, aside from my glimpses of Leif earlier today. And that damn elevator.
I let her go back to the table alone as I want to make a quick stop at the outside dining area where my grandmother and I sat last time. It looks different, though. Now there's a tent on one side of the patio with a huge dinner party in full swing. I look out over the river, thinking how funny it is that cycles seem to be repeating today. I remember sitting out here with Rosamunde as she looked out over the river pensively. In one of the rare times she talked about my dad, she told me how she brought him here during a visit to her parents' when he was little. This was long before it was a restaurant. He was fascinated by the structure of the little Schuylkill dam which we could see from our table. My dad grew up to be an engineer of way bigger dams and other large public works projects.
I'm pulled from my reveries when I hear, "Hey, beautiful. You need a drink." I turn to see a young man, mid-twenties or so with sandy blonde hair and twinkling green eyes. What with his tanned good looks, he should be in a Ralph Lauren ad. He's holding out a glass of champagne.
"I'm sorry, but I don't take drinks from strangers," I say flatly. This was a strict rule of my grandparents. And Bea. And Em.
"Well then, let me introduce myself. I'm Varick Falk, but most people call me Vick." He holds out his hand. I see something like consternation cross his face when I don't take it immediately. But that name rings a bell and I'm trying to recall where I've heard it.
Finally I take his hand, exclaiming, "From Falk Atlantic Investments, right?" I remember from my internet searches that the head of Falk has two sons, both of whom work there.
"The very one. My family owns it," he says with no small amount of cockiness. "You've heard of it?" He holds onto my hand a little longer than strictly necessary.
"Not only have I heard of it, but I just got hired there. I start Monday."
"What a coincidence! Are you graduating at Penn?" There is a distinct gleam in his eye.
"Nope. Just got out of Stanford. What about you?"
"This is my alma mater, I graduated a few years ago. I'm back visiting friends."
I hear a woman's voice call out from the tent, "Vick!" A drunken whiny woman's voice. Sheesh, it's like nails on a chalkboard. She sort of looks like a female version of Varick, all wealthy and tan and well-dressed. "Come back to the paaaaarty."
"Chillax!" he calls over his shoulder harshly before turning back to me. "Hey, I noticed you with Vince in the dining room. Are you one of his many girls or something?"
"No!" I didn't mean it to come out quite so harshly, but I'm reeling from the thought of his many girls. I explain, "He's sort of a friend of a friend."
"And how well do you know him?" He searches my eyes.
"Not well. I just met him a couple weeks ago." I'd like to know him a lot better, but I'm not about to say that, nor do I bring up the fact that he's sort of a family friend.
"And you know he just got hired at my father's company, too, right? In the mailroom." He says disdainfully.
"Yes, it's another crazy coincidence," is all I reply, but his tone kind of irks me. I realize I feel a bit of protectiveness over Leif, even if he's probably the last man on Earth who needs protecting.
He pauses a moment, as if having an internal struggle. "I probably shouldn't say anything, but you seem like a nice girl and I want to tell you…just…watch out for him. Vince is not a good guy. Some might even call him a violent, lying son-of-a-bitch. There were allegations…" He trails off, watching me intently. "I tried to talk my father out of hiring him, but the guy who runs the mailroom has my father wrapped around his little finger and... Just be careful around Vince."
I look up at his earnest handsome face, wanting to ask a million questions, but not knowing where to start. I don't get the chance because the drunk girl is whining at him again. "Viiiick!"
"Jesus Christ!" he mutters under his breath. "Hey, I better get back to the party. It was good meeting you, though. Keep in mind what I said, okay? Be careful." He hands me the glass and heads into the tent.
I turn back to the river, hearing the drunk girl ask, "Who the hell is that skank?" She obviously didn't have a grandmother to teach her better.
I stay out here a few more minutes, pondering this new information. I start to take a drink of the champagne when I hear that familiar sexy voice behind me.
"I've been looking all over for you!" He sounds almost frantic.
I don't turn toward him, "Sorry. Just reminiscing." He grabs my arm to turn me toward him, pulling me close. His eyes going to the ribbon around my neck.
"Is everything all right?" he asks, tenderly brushing a wisp of hair off my cheek. I take a step back, not because I want to—every impulse in my very being is urging me toward him—but because Vick might be watching. I'd just told him I barely knew Leif and I don't want him to think I was lying. It's true though, I barely know this compelling man staring down at me.
I decide not to tell Leif who I just met.
He looks almost hurt for a moment, before he turns toward the doors into the dining room, holding out his hand. "Let's go back to the table." I don't take it and instead move in front of him to open the door myself. One surreptitious glance at the party tent shows me Vick is indeed watching. He lifts his glass in a salute, smiling.
We're not back for a minute when a man in a white apron and hat comes to our table carrying a large plate of some steak appetizer. This must be Bobby the Sous Chef. As soon as he puts it down, he pulls Leif then James into yet another bro hug. "I made this special with a new marinade I'm working on. You'll have to tell me what you think. And dinner's on me." James starts to protest, but he shuts him down. "I've made way too much money off you two to hear any lip about it." He eyes all the half-eaten appetizers on our table smiling smugly. In his delightful Philly accent, he adds "I happen to know you've not actually ordered anything yet, and by the looks of all these plates, I'm going to get off easy in buying dinner." I'm half full already from picking at all this.
Leif introduces Em and me and there's another eyebrow cocked in surprise.
While they continue talking, I whisper to Em, "See, I think I'm right." About a couple things, actually, but what I'm talking about now is Bobby's money comment.
"I'll wait until we leave to ask James," she whispers back. "And by the way, while Leif was looking for you, I talked to James about the whole dating thing. I'm working on him slowly. I'll fill you in when we're alone."
"Stop, please. You're wrong there."
Em looks at me sweetly, whispering, "Sometimes you don't have the sense God gave you, little chitlin." She downs an entire glass of champagne.
"What are you two whispering about?" James sits, putting his arm around Em.
"We're talking about our two rock stars," she says. Her sweet Southern accent is thick and I have no doubt she'll get the scoop out of him. I try some of the steak and it's melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Now that I've gotten a decent food base, I think I could actually have a drink. I look around, but there's not a drop left of any champagne anywhere on the table—and we've received multiple bottles. Em must've drunk mine, too.
"Well, that's a funny story…" which is all James gets out before a young man stops by with what are presumably his parents and younger sister in tow.
"Mom, Dad! These are the guys I've been telling you about!" I only realize he said that first part in Spanish when he switches to English to make the introductions. James and Leif both stand up to shake their hands, congratulating him on his graduation. We get introduced as well. I notice the boy, Martin, looks at Em like she's a goddess. He goes back to Spanish to say to his family, "These two are the real reason I can start my MBA in September. Jaime was the best tutor and Vincente hooked me up with that scholarship and the guaranteed internship at the company for next summer if I keep my grades up. They can use some Spanish speakers." I love the way he pronounced both James and Leif's name in the Spanish way while talking to his parents.
He turns back to our table saying in English, "I'm the first one in my family to go to college and my company's profits are going to ensure Rosa gets to Bryn Mawr in two years." He puts his arm around his sister. "I'm telling you, my sister's going to be the real star of mi familia." Rosa shyly glances up at Leif and her cheeks turn the pink on her dress. I immediately want to put my arms around her and tell her Entiendo—I understand. Only too well.
As they wrap up their conversation, I'm struck by the fact that my grandmother, Rosamunde went to Bryn Mawr as well. I can't help but smile at this young Rosa, who is wearing a dress printed with cherry blossoms—my grandmother's favorite. Yep…Cycles keep repeating all over the place. I make a note to tell Henry about this when I get back. The parents thank the boys in heavily-accented English, but it wouldn't matter what language it's in; their faces say it all anyway. Leif takes Rosa's hand, saying to her, "You already are a star." Her face goes from pink to puce as both Em and I giggle. Entiendo, Rosita. Entiendo!
What a shameless flirt he is!
As the family turns to head back to their table, I hear Martin say proudly to his parents in Spanish, "I'm going to buy their dinner as a surprise and a thank you!"
I translate what I heard and James exclaims, "We can't let him do that!"
Leif grins at James across the table. "Sure we can." James regards him as if he's grown another head. "It might be important to Martin. Besides…remember what Bobby said."
"Ahh…of course." James finally gets it. "Good thinking, man."
When our waiter comes back to the table Leif finds out that he's also the server at Martin's. Leif instructs him not to tell Martin that Bobby's buying our dinner and to let him think he was. What's more, Leif says that he'll make it worth his while if he declines any tip from that table. Our waiter agrees to tell Martin that it's a special restaurant policy that they don't accept tips from undergrads who were graduated from Penn today.
It brings to mind something Leif said to me during our weird little verbal tug-of-war at the Rambler.
I sweetly smirk, "Isn't that lying to him?"
He narrows his eyes at me before his lip lifts up in a half-smile. He obviously remembers it, too.
We leave soon after, never having ordered anything ourselves. I can't tell exactly how many hundred-dollar bills Leif leaves on the table.