* * *
Lexy sat on the edge of a Queen Anne sofa in the rotunda-like lobby of the Savannah Hotel. Her black chiffon dress, fitted at the waist with short, flared shirting showed off her long, tanned legs, while the spaghetti-strapped bodice accented her delicate, swan-like neck. She fidgeted with the white pearl-embellished belt that wrapped her waist, while nervously waiting for her date to arrive.
Although dwarfed by the magnificent architectural detailing of the three-storey, wood-trimmed archways, gigantic pillars, and crystal chandeliers, she felt as if she were in a spotlight. She anxiously scanned the lobby, hoping Jack wouldn’t pop up somewhere.
Looking past the grand staircase that led up to the exclusive Bedford Restaurant, she spied a tall man stride into the hotel. He was dressed formally. Although she couldn’t get a good look at his face, she was sure it was her date, Victor.
He turned in her direction and pushed back a lock of thick black hair that fell over his forehead, his cheeks sharply cut. Her heart flip-flopped, a scrim of perspiration formed on her upper lip, the palms of her hands moist. She absentmindedly twisted a lock of wavy, champagne-colored hair around her finger, waiting for him to notice her. His nose was strong and straight, his lips generous. He had an aura of sophistication about him. The sharply creased black pants, expensive looking jacket and crisp white shirt, even his too-long black hair looked to be a designer cut.
He finally noticed her and quickly cocked a sexy smile as he swaggered toward her. His face was ruggedly handsome, and as he got closer, his eyes took her breath away. On the video at the dating agency, his eyes were deep gray but in person, they were a clear blue-gray like the color of the unsettling ocean.
“Your photograph doesn’t do you justice,” he said.
Lexy smiled shyly. “Thank you. I like your accent. You must be a New Yorker, right?” She marveled at how spectacular his eyes were up close, with dark gray flecks.
“Yeah, I am. Brooklyn, New York,” he said. Gently taking her fingers, he brought them to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. And she thought chivalry was dead.
“So, I’m Victor Capelli.”
“You’re Italian?”
One side of his lip curled up. “Hmm, I guess you could say that.”
“Well, I’m Lexy Anderson.”
“Swedish?”
“Yes,” she said as his strong hand kept hold of hers. His nails were neat and buffed. His eyes swept her face, her lips, her figure, but not in a leering, perverted kind of way, but more in an admiring kind of way. He locked in on her eyes. She felt the penetration of his gaze, and she felt as if he could see everything she was and everything she is. A feeling she couldn’t put into words.
He lifted his chin slightly. “I’m pleased to meet you Lexy.” From behind his back, he produced an exquisite bouquet of fresh calla lilies tied with a pink satin ribbon. “These are for you.”
Lexy’s eyebrow automatically rose; a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “What’s this? No doves hidden behind your back? Thank you,” she said, accepting the bouquet.
“Sorry, I can’t afford to pay them overtime. You’re welcome.”
Just then, Lexy looked over Victor’s shoulder and glimpsed Jack standing at the top of the staircase talking to Sam Petri, a waiter who resembled a very young Bruce Willis. She thought of him as the womanizer who had poisoned Jack into thinking every woman was easy, which in turn played on Jack’s insecurity, thinking he couldn’t trust her.
“Yes, well, shall we go to dinner?” said Lexy, as she looped her arm around Victor’s, and half dragged him across the lobby.
“Guess you must be pretty hungry,” Victor said, looking down at her.
She smiled demurely, taking notice of his height. Her new four-inch, black strappy stilettos put her at five-ten. Victor was an imposing six foot three and built solid with broad shoulders, and no way could she resist that bad boy Brooklyn accent. They walked outside and emerged into the hot, but comfortable night air. Across the street at the Paris Hotel, the majestic Eiffel Tower twinkled with thousands of white lights.
“I made dinner reservations at STACK. I hope that’s all right. If not we can go someplace else,” Victor said, as they walked north down the Strip past the lighted fountains at Bellagio. The synchronized waters danced to the orchestrated Broadway music of “Fly Me to the Moon.”
“No it’s perfect! They have great seafood dishes,” Lexy said.
She turned to look at him and raised the lily bouquet to her nose to take in the sweet scent. The hyper-reality of the Strip hummed inside her. Throngs of people walked in all directions, buildings glittered with miles of dancing, pulsating lights, some of it gaudy and tasteless, but in the neon wonderland of kinetic energy that evening, all she could see was Victor.
They made small talk as they walked the block and a half to the Mirage. He told her he was under contract with the Stardust and that he’d joined the dating service because he worked most nights, slept during the day, and didn’t get to meet many people. She couldn’t very well tell him she’d joined the dating service to knock some sense into her ex, so she told him she always chose the wrong guys and wanted to find the right one.
A crowd mingled outside the Mirage, while two lines snaked down the block waiting to get in to see the Cirque du Soleil show. They entered the cool, crowded lobby. Guests mingled in the brightly lit tropical-like atrium surrounded by sounds of tall waterfalls splashing into manmade ponds, all in a forest of rich tropical flora. The fragrance of exotic flowers and orchids with a setting of towering palm trees, elephant ears, and banana trees called to mind a beautiful day in Maui.
Victor put his hand on the small of Lexy’s back in a courteous way to guide her through the crowd and into the restaurant. The maître d’ led them through a trendy dining room with beautiful rippling walls of stacked wood, a canyon-esque structure with a sleek hardwood design. Soft jazz music played as they settled in seats across from each other at a table toward the back of the restaurant. A waiter quickly came and took their drink orders.
As Lexy looked across the table at Victor to meet his gaze, the buzz of the crowded dining room fell away, and there was only the two of them. Words like amazing, terrified, hypnotic sprung into Lexy’s head. In Victor’s eyes, she saw something more than his beautiful exterior. There was magic in his eyes. The way they held her attention, how they sparkled, they seemed to awaken a raw, sensual feeling inside her, and it seemed they held some mystical charm.
Their gaze broke only when the waiter returned with the drinks and took their dinner orders. As soon as he walked away, Victor clasped his hands together and leaned forward over the table. “Well, you’re so beautiful I barely know what to say.”
“So are you,” Lexy blurted out, unintentionally. She cringed thinking she’d just called a man beautiful. Thinking he was beautiful was one thing, but having it slip off her tongue, raised the heat from her neck to her face.
“Eh, good thing we’re not in Brooklyn. Guys would mistake that for thinking I’m a little, ah, ya know, too in touch with my feminine side, but thanks anyway.”
Lexy’s face lit up with a big smile. “I just love your accent. You have family back in New York?”
Lexy sipped her pineapple martini while Victor gave a hard stare into his long-stemmed glass of merlot. “It’s complicated,” he said, and raised his eyes to look at her. “My parents were killed in an accident when I was a kid. A distant Italian uncle, who still owns an Italian restaurant on Grand Street in Brooklyn, adopted me and raised me like his biological son. I’ve always considered him my father.”
He went quiet and Lexy could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, and thought it best to change the subject.
“So when did you start your magic act?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Around nine or ten. I’d collect some serious change on the weekends at my father’s resta
urant.”
“Intriguing, but I meant, professionally.”
“Hey, so what’s not professional? I had a magic kit, wore a cape, and raked in the dough.” One side of his lip curled up into a sexy smile.
She felt the irresistible urge to throw herself across the table and kiss him. What’s wrong with me? she wondered. Sure, her relationship with Jack was problematic and it’d been weeks since she’d dated, but why was she thinking like a desperate woman? She’d seen those clingy, needy, lonely creatures that couldn’t stand to be alone. Eventually, they’d turn into “serial daters” with panicky behavior who’d pull out all the stops to trap a man.
Get it together Lexy.
She sat up a little straighter in her chair and cradled her martini glass in both hands with elbows resting on the table. “So what brought you here from New York?”
“That’s kind of a long, twisted story.”
“So tell me a little about it.”
Victor fingered a scar on the back of his hand. Darkness crossed his face. “A woman’s love,” he said in a whisper, like his mind was reliving a painful memory.
Just then, their dinners arrived. Thank God, she thought, knowing she had just put her foot in her mouth. She stared down at the succulent main lobster on her plate and spread the linen napkin across her lap, while feeling embarrassed that she’d delved into something so personal.
“So, tell me something about you,” Victor said, as he sliced off a hunk of his Porterhouse steak. The meat so rare, it could have been classified as almost alive and kicking.
“My mother is a teacher, my father a lawyer. They both live here in Vegas. When I was a kid, they’d drag me and my sisters to Mass every Sunday. It wasn’t enough that we went to a Catholic school and had to attend daily Mass. We spent our early years on religion overload. Other than that life was good.”
Victor chuckled. “So, you have sisters.”
“Yes, three. With all the hair-pulling contests I’d competed in while growing up with three older sisters, I’m lucky I have any hair left. All are married now.” She rattled on about her college days at Boston University with bits of trivia here and there, talked about the articles she wrote for Las Vegas Magazine, and that she envied food critics who make a living by sampling dishes from world famous chefs.
“So, Miss Wannabe Food Critic how’s your lobster?”
“Delicious!” She wasn’t the type to offer a guy a sampling of food from her plate on the first date, but Victor was different. She felt an unexplained, immediate intimacy with him. She dipped a flaky piece of lobster into the garlic butter sauce. “The lobster is to die for. Here try some,” she said, and leaned forward to place the forkful in his mouth. With lightning reflexes, he grabbed her wrist pointing the fork away from him. He gazed at the morsel of food as if it were a venomous python.
“What’s the matter?” she said, as his actions took her by surprise.
“Garlic,” he said, with much disdain.
She felt like an idiot for not ordering lemon butter for the dipping sauce, especially since it was their first date, but was relieved she hadn’t yet dunked a piece for herself. She didn’t want to kill him with her breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her wrist. “Although not common, I’m highly allergic to garlic. Similar to people who have a bad reaction to shellfish or peanuts, my throat closes up.”
“I’m so sorry.” Lexy pushed the silver ramekin that held the garlic butter sauce off to the side.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m the one who should apologize for grabbing your wrist. I’m sorry. I almost died from garlic once and I tend to become panicky if it gets near me. I overreacted. Please accept my apology.”
Oh great, and she was afraid she’d kill him with her breath.
Seriousness washed over Victor’s face as he dabbed his dinner roll in the bloody juices on his plate, the bread a soggy pink.
“Hey, by any chance, do you like dancing?” asked Lexy, trying to lighten the sudden heaviness that seemed to hang in the air.
Victor looked up from his plate with a wide grin of enthusiasm. “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I love disco dancing. Ever been to the House of Blues?”
“Get out!” she said. Lexy opened her black rhinestone clutch, pulled out two complementary passes and drink tickets for the House of Blues, and waved them in the air. “I got these in a packet from the dating service, and tonight just happens to be disco night! The Boogie Knights are playing live. How’s that for a coincidence? After we eat we can boogie on down to your favorite dance club.”
“Great idea,” Victor said, as they picked up their drink glasses to clink them together in a toast. They spent the rest of their dinner discussing a variety of topics and learned they liked the same kind of music, were drawn to the same types of people, and that they both loved to travel.
“Truthfully, Victor, I have never before met anyone that I’ve had so much in common with,” said Lexy, as the waiter arrived with the bill.
“We’re a perfect match,” said Victor as his gaze held hers.
“I guess the dating service was well worth it,” she said, and shyly averted her eyes to look out into the crowded dining room. Halfway across the restaurant she spotted Jack lurking around the bar. She folded her napkin and placed it on the table.
“Victor, I just need to go freshen up a bit. Be right back.”
As soon as she stepped away from the table, her face took on an angry lock and load expression, so intense she felt the furrow between her eyes begin to cramp as heat pooled in her head. Jack was busy talking to the bartender, as she walked up behind him and jabbed her clutch bag into his side.
“Ouch!” He spun around to look at her.
“It serves you right. You’re just lucky I didn’t grab a steak knife on the way over and shove that in your side.”
“Oh, c’mon babe, don’t be like that,” said Jack, while rubbing his side.
“I’m not your babe, and exactly what the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work.”
“Hey, it’s a free country. I happen to want to take my break here instead of at the hotel.”
Lexy shifted her weight to one side and planted one hand firmly on her hip. “You know what I mean. You followed me here. Didn’t you? You have no right doing that.”
“Yeah, like you had a good reason to throw your date in my face by meeting him at the Savannah.”
“I had nothing to do with that. Besides, I don’t need to explain anything to you. You’re history, remember? And I don’t appreciate you stalking me!” Lexy glared at Jack. All she could see in his brown puppy eyes was torment and suddenly, she felt sad for him.
“Look, it hasn’t done any good following me to the grocery store, or the drycleaners, waiting outside my office building for me to come out, or driving past my house every night to see if I’m home. Has it?”
“You know I drive past your house?”
“Who else would play ‘Unchained Melody’ and blare it from their car stereo night after night?” She took a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping Victor wouldn’t turn around, when just then, he did. Great, she thought, now she’d have to explain Jack to Victor.
“Lex, I’ll always love you.”
Next to Victor who was definitely all man, all she saw in Jack was a boy. A boy, with slightly ruffled chestnut hair, dressed in a cream-colored sport coat, summer trousers, a dark tan shirt, and brown Ferragamo’s. “Yeah well, love wasn’t enough to keep us together. Please Jack, just stop following me.”
As she turned her back on Jack and walked away, she felt a sense of calm and peace knowing that leaving Jack was the right thing to do. Victor Capelli was the answer to all her dreams. She’d make him fall madly in love with her and they’d move to New York where he could perform his magic act and she could write for The New Yorker. She just wante
d to be with a normal guy out on a normal date and leave all the craziness behind.