by Leslie Pike
The entry door to the restaurant opens and a man lets us pass.
“Welcome to Lotus. Enjoy your night.”
“Oh, we will!” Dove says. “It’s my birthday! And this guy is in love with me,” she teases.
“That is true!” I add.
This delights the man, who sends her a wide smile. And I admit her enthusiasm is catching.
Walking inside, I wait for the group standing ahead of us. They give their name and follow the hostess to be seated. It gives me time to hold Dove close. PDA has never been my thing. Before meeting my mountain girl. Now I barely give it a thought. If I want to touch her, I do. The public is lucky I don’t do more. Decency is the only thing holding me back sometimes.
This place is obviously popular. I made the reservations a few weeks ago and didn’t get in at first. They called back after a cancellation. Otherwise, my plans would have had to be reworked. Every table seems to be taken. Low lighting and upscale décor set a mood that suits how special this night is for us.
The hostess returns and takes her place at the podium.
“Good evening.”
“Lyon. Reservations at seven.”
The attractive hostess, dressed as if she stepped out of a designer’s fashion show, checks for the name and does exactly as I had requested. She doesn’t say anything else about the reservation.
“This way, please.”
With a hand on Dove’s back, we follow the woman through the room to where a private alcove is waiting. I can’t see if everyone is here until we are almost at the entry. Then, when Dove sees she makes a happy sound. A kind of squeak.
“Ohh! What did you do?”
As I round the corner the table comes into view. Good. They all made it.
Dove starts tearing up. “You guys! This is so beautiful!”
“Happy birthday!!” everyone calls to the birthday girl.
A few people raise cocktails or sake cups in honor of their friend. All four band members, their dates, best friend Deborah and hers, and us two make the party of twelve. The large square table is already filled with cocktails and appetizers. I don’t mind they started without us. I’m just glad they agreed to show up on time for the surprise.
I wasn’t so sure Jimmy would agree to come. The woman beside him is not who I imagined he would bring. Not that I know him at all. But she is older and plainer than expected. He definitely does not have a type.
“Anna! It’s so nice to see you!” Dove says it as the woman rises and comes in for a hug.
“You look so pretty!” Anna says.
“Nobel, this is Jimmy’s sister, Anna.”
“Thanks for joining us, Anna. Nice to meet you.”
So, he brought the sister. That’s kind of weird. Doesn’t the guy know any women he could invite? Maybe he is sending my woman a message. Don’t want to think of it now. Dove makes the rounds, kissing each cheek.
“Does everyone know each other? ZZ, Oscar, I don’t think you have met Nobel yet.” Dove says it as she takes the seat next to mine.
“We talked on the phone,” ZZ says dryly. He pours himself some sake. “For at least five minutes.”
“How the hell did you get him to talk that long?” Oscar asks me.
That starts off the rest of the friends retelling of infamous ZZ habits. The recluse tendencies, and how he never wants to talk to fans.
‘Don’t scare my date,” he says after a particularly sketchy story.
She isn’t scared. I’d say she is having a good night by the smile on her face.
I feel the warmth of Dove’s hand as it touches mine. She leans in. “Oh, Nobel. This is wonderful. Thank you, baby.”
“I called all of them. Wanted to make sure your celebration would go smoothly. Besides that, I needed to apologize to those who witnessed my reaction at your house that first day I met them.”
Dove looks surprised. “You didn’t need to do that. Not for me anyway. You don’t realize yet what a bunch of fuckups and hotheads they can be. I guarantee every one of them will piss you off soon enough.”
“Hey you two. Pay attention to us! This is our time!” Deborah calls.
For emphasis, Tony tosses a piece of sushi at my head. But The Invisible Man learned early to dodge whatever Aargon and Van shot my way. Rocks, dinner rolls, baseballs. Dirty underwear. My lightning reflex deflects the food and sends it to the ground.
At this moment it’s painfully obvious I’m dealing with people younger than me. I remember how fun it was. But I notice tonight how my idea of funny has changed. Other things have taken their places. I’m becoming my father. For the first time I realize what a great thing that is. Doesn’t mean I’m old. It means I am getting smarter.
Laughter erupts from Deborah. “That was brilliant hand eye coordination, Nobel. You are outmatched, brother.”
Tony reaches for the tuna roll. “I have no idea what my sister is talking about,” he says to his date.
George, the hot, young, body-builder hasn’t said two words. The guy’s thick head of dark hair is groomed within an inch of his life. The clothes he wears are tailored perfectly. How did he find a shirt that fit those biceps?
“Did you ever hear about the time Oscar and Tony decided to go skinny dipping in the mayor’s pool?”
“That wasn’t my doing!” Oscar protests. “He thought the guy was hot and I was just supporting his urges.”
When his date’s eyes widen, he adds, “You know, like a good friend does.”
One funny memory after another is told as we sample massive amounts of sushi and sake. Lucky for us, the owner is here tonight. She recognized Dove and the other members of Montana. She fangirled all over them and suggested we allow her to choose the feast. Deborah took her address to send autographed pictures.
Okay. I had to force myself to partake in some of the slimier looking choices. And it took a few sakes to get me to the sashimi. But they sort of won me over bite by bite. That, or I’m too pickled in alcohol to make any good choices. I’m probably growing a ten inch worm in my intestine right now.
The conversation turns to music. That must happen a lot. Their animated faces wear a version of the expression. There is a look when people speak of what they love. Energy picks up. And it shows in the eyes. I see it here, all around the table.
“I’ve heard the story how Montana came to be, but what about the future? Do you have long-term plans?”
I ask not only to hear the band’s goals, but to solidify in my mind what Dove is reaching for. It will affect me. I expect Deborah to answer. As I take a bite from the elaborate roll, Jimmy does.
“Same as always, brother. We want to make it on the national stage. Eventually international. Write songs. Make records. Tour. World Domination. Nothing has changed.”
Message received. You hope I have zero effect on Dove’s trajectory. That’s how you see it, now let’s hear from the only voice I care about. I look at her and wait.
“Well, yes. That’s it in a nutshell,” Dove says with a pleased look on her face and a lift of her sake cup.
Shit. She agreed, didn’t hesitate, or make any adjustments to his narrative. There was not a second thought about Jimmy’s conclusions. He looks happy as shit. And for the first time tonight he sends me a smile that’s says he knows her better than I do. Fucker.
“That sounds great. I bet you will be on that stage someday. Someday soon.”
My words settle on the faces of the people at the table. Maybe some believe me. Others know I’m spouting what they want to hear. Definitely Jimmy does. But another might as well. For different reasons though. Deborah. Her eyes tell me she is looking at the whole picture. Aware of both my good intentions and her friend’s feelings toward me. In this moment I understand Dove’s choice of best friends.
How I feel is not politically correct, or loving. I know that. But I do not want my woman to be on the road three hundred days out of the year. Or be around fawning male fans who would love getting in her pants. Not to mention being aro
und a man who loves her. The one that isn’t me, while I sit at my desk reading legal papers. In my house alone, in the middle of Paradise without my Eve. No man would blame me for feeling this way. But the women, they would not share their opinion. Not even my own mother, who would give me a twenty-minute lecture on the importance of supporting your mate. Not to mention that all men should encourage financial stability in women. Then she’d segue into the history of women supporting the dreams of their men. I don’t have a leg to stand on.
But wait. What are the chances of fame ever happening? Am I a huge dick for even thinking that? No. It’s just the facts. I know nothing about the music business, but even I know the chances are slim. Talented singers and musicians are everywhere. Most never know success on that level. That is an unvarnished truth in life. It especially applies to the arts.
I wish them well, and know their talent warrants it, but it’s a long shot. The odds of Montana reaching the heights they deserve probably will never happen. So calm the fuck down and show your support.
Quickly I regroup and put back on a cool persona. Jimmy. What kind of a pussy name is that? Can’t let him know he got me good. Obviously, he isn’t finished with what he has to say though, because he points in my direction. Round two.
“What about you, Nobel? Dove said you work from home. You’re an attorney, right? It’s not quite as exciting as making music, but I bet the money is better and steadier,” he says, pretending he’s making the effort to get to know me.
What is happening is he’s pointing out my career is boring and lacking in any excitement whatsoever. I’d say he is attempting to point out to Dove how colorless life would be with a man like me. How dry and dull her days would be. Thing is, he has not considered the most important detail.
“True. The days can get a little routine,” I say, looking at Dove and smiling. Then I turn back to Jimmy.
“But the nights? I think those are every bit as exciting as you’d imagine.”
Imagine is the operative word, dude. That is what you have to do. I live it. His face begins to flush with my words. You could hear a pin drop. Literally. Three people start talking at once, filling the void. But Jimmy and me? We are both silent.
In reality I’m sure he would much rather grab the back of my head and smash my face into the table. For emphasis. Just as I’d like to do with his. An image of his rather large nose breaking comes to mind. I wouldn’t hate it if there was a pool of blood involved.
Get ahold of yourself. Do not show this jealous side or any lack of confidence. I smile before responding.
“Yeah. I’m hired by other attorneys to weigh the evidence of their cases. Sounds boring, but it’s far from that. It’s heavy on the cerebral.”
I pause after that declaration just to make sure he understands the insult. How I am turning his own words against him. I can give as good as he can.
“And yeah, the pay is good,” I continue. “And reliable. But then it’s not as exciting as a keyboardist’s life. That’s for sure.”
I add a half grin and my tone sounds sincere. That’s how good I can fake it when someone deserves nothing less. This is his doing. I am just a player on the stage he built. Hopefully, he hears the message I am sending.
And he does. As the conversations continue and the toasts are made, he’s eyeing me. Not with a smile or relaxed body language. Instead, dark eyes and a furrowed brow accompany his silence. Like he’s deciding what to do next. Yeah, I don’t much like you or your intentions either, guy. I see you.
12
Dove
Come on! It’s your birthday. I have plans, you know.”
“I just have to finish this one thing,” Nobel says for the third time.
I have left him to his work for the last two hours as planned, but soon I’m going to head for the river with or without the man.
“You have five minutes. Tick, tick, tick. We are on a schedule!”
His eyes lift to mine and he smiles and stretches. “All right, warden. Let’s go fishing.”
Maudie’s head turns as Nobel gets up and makes his way to me. Her understanding of the inflections in her human’s voice is impressive. Even without us being by the door, she knows we are about to leave the house.
“You look awfully cute, you know. Reminds me of when I saw you that first day. Except for the naked thing.”
We come together into default position. Arms encircling bodies. The kissing. The wonderful kisses.
“Happy birthday, baby. I love you.”
“This is the first time I’ve looked forward to the day since I was twelve.”
“From this one on, it’s going to be your favorite day of the year.”
“You’re aiming a little high, aren’t you? It’s just not my thing to be the center of attention.”
I spank his ass. “We need to make up for all the ones you missed celebrating. And I know how to win you over.”
“You already have. In every other way.”
“How did you end up loving a woman who thrives on the spotlight?”
“The law says it’s opposites that attract. We balance each other.”
“So today, being that it’s my choice, I’m going to take you a bit out of your comfort zone.”
His arms drop and he takes a step back.
“Wait a minute. Don’t go crazy. What have you planned, Dove?”
“Quit worrying. Grab your jacket. You’re going to love it all.”
“I think that was the headline on the Titanic brochure.”
Nobel watches me pouring mimosas by the river, under the big sky.
“How’d you get all this stuff here without me knowing?”
I point to my temple and wink. “Planning and timing. I started bringing things down two days ago.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I’m impressed!” I say, watching Nobel fry the freshly caught trout. My compliment is returned with an exaggerated look of disbelief.
“That I can fry a fish?”
“No! That you caught one and then cleaned it like a boss.”
“Is there any man or boy, living in Montana, who doesn’t have that skill set?”
“Of course there is.”
I spread the flowered quilt Grandma made me on a flat space beside the river and place the two big green pillows side by side.
“That’s nice,” Nobel calls as he removes the pan from the fire.
What a god. I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to the man than I am in this moment. He’s having more fun than I hoped for. I can tell. Lookin’ good in that old jean shirt. It shows off the flat stomach and wide shoulders. Fuck. Good idea. Definitely after lunch. I’ve got it all planned. If I can make it that long without tackling and mounting him like the animal I am.
“You want this on that plate?”
“That’s good. Put it with the other food on the table.”
I walk over and take out the potato salad from the cooler. “Go sit on our magic carpet, birthday boy. I’ve got this. Oh! Take the champagne and glasses please.”
He doesn’t fight the plan, and I get a kiss as he leaves. Making a plate for myself and one for him, I add one small flower at the edge of each dish.
“You look extra beautiful like that. Barefoot in the kitchen,” Nobel calls. “I’m serious.”
I take no offense to the compliment. In fact, he gets a happy dance. It isn’t meant as a macho cry. He is just saying he loves this part of me too. Not just the glitter, but the glue.
As I hand the plates over and he sets them between us he adds another thought.
“I left one thing out. I think the saying goes ‘barefoot and pregnant’. What are your ideas about that?”
The surprise on my face must be obvious because he starts laughing. One open palm comes up before his words.
“No pressure. Just think it’s something we should know about each other. Are kids in your plan?”
I take a seat and look him in the eyes. “Eventually. Yes. Definite
ly. You?”
“To tell the truth, I never put much thought into the idea. That sounds ridiculous for a man my age, but it’s fact. And suddenly the subject has popped up occasionally in my mind. It must be the Dove Effect.”
My body is tingling with some weird response to the words. I don’t know what that means, but I think it’s positive. Otherwise, I’m having a stroke.
“Here’s the thing, Nobel. I’m at the place in my career that it’s either going to happen for me or it isn’t. We don’t have an infinite amount of time to be discovered. Babies don’t factor into my life right now. I have time, reproductive wise. What are your thoughts? Do you think you want to be a father?”
“Yeah. I think I do.”
As the words leave his lips a faint image appears. Nobel is sitting on the big boulder a few feet away. His back is to me. A laughing toddler sits on his lap. Sitting next to Nobel is a woman with shoulder length dark hair, wearing a blanket around her shoulders and a hat. She has a hand on the child’s head. What? It dissolves before I have a chance to see more, and my heart begins to beat faster.
“Yoo who?” he says, calling me back.
“Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“This fish is delicious. I did an excellent job if I don’t say so myself. And here’s to weak tree branches,” he says, lifting his mimosa.
“To weak tree branches and the man who fell for me,” I add.
I push the image aside. It doesn’t mean anything. She could be a friend. Or a cousin maybe. It could happen. Shit. But I know without doubt that she was feeling love for the child and the man. I could sense it. It seemed to be the most important piece of the puzzle. There is no denying that. No. That was not a glimpse of the future. It’s just my paranoia of losing him.
We get to the feast by the river. He is the best company I have ever had. Smart and funny. Romantic. Expressive. There is this sense that I am the only woman who he has opened up to. This is my man. Not the woman with the dark hair. I refuse to bow to the image. We have free will and I will use mine to make our love a lasting reality. I’m getting riled up with the thought of another woman loving him.