Vivian, Midnight Call Girl (Iron Orchids Book 6)

by Danielle Norman

  I headed up to her front door with a bouquet of flowers. The path was spotless. There was no dirt or cobwebs—hell, even my house had stray leaves and pine needles on my front walkway. I didn’t have to knock before she was opening her bright red door and greeting me.

  “I was worried about you for a second,” she said in place of hello.

  “Why?”

  “You stayed in your car for a while.”

  “Oh, just nervous, don’t want to screw this up. Speaking of, these are for you.” I thrust the bouquet forward.

  “Come on in, let me set these in some water.” I followed her through her small house, feeling more and more like Baymax than the physically fit guy I was.

  Her home smelled of vanilla, warm and inviting. I stayed at the edge of her kitchen as she moved to a cabinet, placed one hand on a vase, and froze. She stood there for a few seconds, and I couldn’t stand it, I moved to her. Wrapping one arm around her and slowly placing my other hand on hers to keep her from dropping the glass vase that obviously had meaning.

  “I’ve got it.” I set it on the counter and then wrapped my arms around her tightly, holding her and no longer feeling like some giant catastrophic mess.

  Vivian tilted her head and leaned closer to me. For the life of me, I couldn’t resist it. I wanted to wait until the end of our night, but now was right. Sliding one hand to the back of her head, I pulled her mouth closer to mine. Our lips touched for the barest of seconds before my tongue was diving in, splashing into a world of tastes, the mint of toothpaste, her sweetness that seemed to permeate every inch of her body, and something fruity that matched the scent of her shampoo. Our tongues twirled, before I pulled back and then dove back in, almost to the same beat that I desperately wanted to move our bodies to.

  Vivian moved her hips closer to mine; she was pressed against my erection. She was reacting in the heat of the moment, but I didn’t want any regrets between us, I wanted so much more.

  “Come on, Little One, we better get going or we will miss our reservation.”

  “Oh, sorry, did I cause us to run late?” Her face squinted.

  “It was totally your fault, or rather your mouth’s, it was too damn delectable to pass up. Let’s get your flowers in water and get on the road.”

  It only took three minutes, then we were in the car, and we were walking into the restaurant only a minute or two past our reservation time.

  “Mr. Skkye, we’re so glad you’re here, we have your table ready just as you requested. Please follow me.”

  I lowered my head to whisper to Vivian, “Have you ever seen Young Frankenstein?”

  “The movie? Hell yes.” She threw one hand over her mouth, and we both laughed as I tugged her closer

  “Yeah the movie. You know when Igor says, ‘Walk this way,’ and everyone hunches over and walks like him. I’ve always wanted to do that. Like walk like her. Look, she has one hand on her hip. It would be so funny.” I stopped talking when we reached our table in the back corner of the restaurant. I had requested a four-top table with two chairs both facing away from the rest of the patrons.

  A server stepped up to pull Vivian’s chair out for her, but I moved into his way and helped her myself.

  Once I was seated as well, we accepted our menus, the server opening them to make sure we received the correct ones. Chatham Place was one of the, if not the most expensive restaurant in Orlando, but the food was worth it. There were two different menus, one for the date and one for the bill payer. The difference was that only the bill payer’s had prices next to items.

  “It seems you know your way around the place, is this where you bring all of your dates?” Vivian asked.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t date a lot, and no, I’ve never brought a woman here. The team actually reserves the whole place for meetings, so we can eat while being lectured.” In my peripheral, I saw someone coming toward us. “Quick, give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  I laid my hand on the table open, palm up. “Gimme, hurry.”

  Vivian quickly grabbed her purse, but it was too late.

  “Sir, Madam, I have a chilled bottle of Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades,” the sommelier said as he showed me the label and waited for me to approve the bottle. I nodded, and he popped the cork.

  “Is that champagne?” Vivian asked. I just smiled. “Smart ass.”

  “I thought it was funny.” Once we received our glasses, the bottle was wrapped with a cloth and set into an ice bucket on the edge of the table.

  “To a great night.” I held up my glass.

  “And continuing to learn more about each other.” Vivian brought her glass up to mine, and they tinged. “So, what was up with the camera?”

  I took another sip and then set my glass down. “I saw someone walking toward us, and his eyes were focused on me. All I could think of on the fly was for us to get all cozy and take couple photos. But the waiter came with the champagne and the man turned away.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Me asking for strange objects and then a waiter appears?” Vivian raised one brow. “Oh, you meant interruptions.”

  “Yeah.”

  “More than I’d like but not nearly as often as someone like Michael Jordan or Shaquille O’Neill.”

  Our food was quickly delivered, and the night seemed to be blowing by; I had no clue how to slow it down.

  “I’m really shocked you know Young Frankenstein,” Vivian deadpanned.

  “Why?”

  “It was kind of before your time.”

  “Bullshit,” I hissed. “That movie came out like fifty years ago, so it was before your time too.”

  She cracked up, and I sat there admiring the way her eyes lifted the same time the corners of her mouth did, and how her laugh wasn’t soft or loud, it was just contagious. I could listen to her laugh for hours. I glanced around and saw other diners watching her as well, and they too were smiling at Vivian.

  “Hey, come to my game tomorrow night.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “I have a home game tomorrow night, come as my guest, please. You can bring a friend or two, whatever. I just want you to be there.”

  “Are you sure? You won’t be embarrassed having this older woman sitting there?”

  “Okay enough with the older woman shit, no more, I mean it. Find something else to pick on me about because eight years is not that big of a gap. I want you there. Please, Little One.”

  “Let me see what I can do. Mikki tries to take off as many home games as she can. Let me see what she has planned.”

  “Just text me and let me know if you can make it and if you’re going to bring anyone with you. I’ll leave passes for you and them at will call.”

  Vivian

  “I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do.” I plopped down in a chair at the table where several of my friends had dropped in for lunch and to be nosy about last night’s date.

  “Was it that bad?” Sophie asked with a mouth full of salad. “Carter couldn’t stop laughing about how you drunk dialed an NBA all-star.”

  “No, it was wonderful. He’s wonderful, really, really wonderful. He scares me because he makes me feel things, but he’s so damned understanding when I have momentary breakdowns. He just holds me and lets me cry.”

  “Sounds sorta perfect to me,” Leo said. “Sometimes, that’s what we need, someone who sees what we need even when we don’t.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking from experience there,” Kat said and then directed all of her attention on Leo.

  “Touché.” Leo smiled brightly.

  “All of this is nice, but it isn’t my problem. My problem is that I’m going to piss Mikki off, and I never want to do that.” I slammed my hands flat on the table.

  “Why?” Stella asked.

  “Aaron invited me to a game . . . tonight.”

  “She’s going to kill you.” Sophie half laughed, half sighed with sympathy. “I mean that, she’s already hidi
ng her jealousy over you dating her dream man.” This had us all chuckling.

  “Exactly, and now I need to see if she will work tonight so I can go watch him play. Oh, I can take a friend or two. But, I’ve decided I’m going to text him and tell him that I can’t come.”

  “Don’t, ask her if she can work and explain it to her, she will understand. She wants to see you happy. She’s been with you since the day this place opened.” Leo rubbed my back.

  I was in jeans and a gray T-shirt because it was the closest that I had to the Lightning colors of blue and silver. Mikki, on the other hand, had #33 painted on one cheek and was wearing a jersey with the name Skkye above the number thirty-three on the back, silver tennis shoes with blue shoelaces, and jeans with basketballs embroidered all over them.

  “What are you doing dressed like that?” I asked.

  “I’m going to put the game on the television and cheer from here.”

  “I’m sorry Mikki, if this is too much, you go.”

  “Nope, you both go.” I turned to face the door as Leo, Sophie, Ariel, and several others walked in.

  “Oh fuck no, there is no way I’m going with her,” Stella announced as she walked into Sixes wearing jeans and an Orlando Lightning shirt. “Jeans and jersey are fine, rest of the shit goes.”

  “Stella, I brought you some decals for your face and brought you some blue and silver basketball beads. Oh and glasses, see?” Mikki pulled items out of her bag.

  “Oh, well then, you can stay. Give me that shit. Let’s go all freak.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, what’s going on?” I practically shouted.

  “I’ve worked restaurants most of my life,” Kat, a motorcycle deputy and one of our close friends, said as she walked into the bar. “Hell, I still do when my parents are desperate for help in theirs. I’m stepping in to help.”

  “I called Alexis, and she should be here in a few to help as well,” Mikki added. Alexis was one of my full-time waitresses, but she usually worked days.

  “But I told him that I was coming alone, he won’t have passes for all of us.” I suddenly was worried.

  “Yes he will,” Stella said, her head bobbing with stupid sunglasses. “I still had Erin’s old number, so I called him and told him what we had planned. He’s got us covered.”

  “Thank you.” I kissed one finger and held it up and waved it. I caught myself, that was something I used to do with—. No, I’m not going there, not now.

  “Have fun!” was yelled out. “Can’t wait to hear what all happens.” I wasn’t sure who had said that, so many people had gathered around. “Make her be wild.” Was the last call I heard before I was outside and heading to Stella’s Tahoe.

  “I have instructions.” I pulled out my phone and read the text out loud. “We are to find the lot marked blue lot, city officials only and give Aaron’s name. They will need my ID.”

  We were only about five minutes away and with traffic, so the hardest part was finding the blue lot. When we finally did, I realized why: it was only for about twenty cars.

  Stella pulled up so the guard was more on my side; he reminded me of John Candy. “This is a reserved lot.”

  “Thank goodness. I believe there is a spot reserved for me. My name is Vivian Haines, Aaron—”

  “Of course Ms. Haines, park anywhere. Walk right through here and you can use the back side of will call. There is never a line; it is for VIPs.”

  “Thank you so much.” I rolled up the window and turned to Mikki, who was sitting in the back.

  “Thank you, thank you so damn much for bringing me. I still hate you for encroaching on Aaron, but if you keep up these perks, I might learn to forgive you. Can you ask him who else is single?”

  “You’re weird.” I shook my head.

  “Okay ladies, let’s go check out this man of Vivian’s and maybe find an extra for Mikki.”

  We headed in the direction the guard had pointed, stopping to clear thorough security before stepping up to what looked like a teller window. “Hey, whose tickets do you need?” a woman asked without turning to face us. She was busy working with the fan in front of her, he was still outside.

  “Aaron Skkye, there should be three tickets,” I answered.

  Without skipping a beat, she reached into her drawer, grabbed an envelope, scanned the three of us, and turned her focus back at me. She opened the envelope and studied the passes. “What’s your name?”

  “Vivian Haines, this is Stella—”

  “Good enough, here you go.” She slid me the envelope and went back to helping the fan at the other window.

  I pulled out the lanyards and handed them out. “Oh. My. God. He gave us Lightning passes.” Mikki kissed the plastic card and then prayed to the Almighty above.

  “I figured since that’s the name of his team.”

  “No, there are three levels of tickets: silver, blue, and lightning. Most of the people who come in here are silver. They have their seats. Blue has special seating, maybe even a box, plus they get extras like if there is a before game or a meet-the-team thing after a game. It’s never the whole team, just a player or two. Last but not least, there are lightning passes: spouses have those, maybe parents, but that is about it. You can go into the tunnel. You will have someone come check on you and your comfort. It is the best of the fucking best.”

  “Is that all, Mikki?” I fought to hold back my grin.

  “Is that all? You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Yes, I’m kidding you. We’re here to show support. Who wants to get a drink and snack?” I asked and moved toward a concession stand.

  Mikki grabbed my arm. “Don’t, I’m serious. Food is brought to us. Trust me, please.”

  “I say we trust her. Look at her. She matches most of these people, you look like the freak.” Stella pointed to me. “Not so sure we should be seen with you.” Stella wrapped an arm around me. “Maybe we’ll forgive you this time. Come on.” Her beads jangled.

  “Are you going to take those sunglasses off?” I asked.

  “Nope, I make this shit look good.” She placed a finger at the tip of one arm of the glasses and wiggled them. Do I look like Rizzo from Grease?”

  “More like Jan.” I waited for her comeback.

  Without missing a beat, she lifted one leg behind me, brought it up, and kicked my butt.

  “Where are our seats?” I asked Mikki.

  “They’re in the first row—holy shit, we have seats behind the bench.”

  “I’m totally lost,” I said to Stella.

  “Me too.”

  We followed Mikki down stair after stair, a mixture of leather, plastic, and sweat sort of filled the air. It was not overwhelming, but it was there. I wondered how someone got rid of the smell of sweat, or if it was like old bars with the smell of smoke, there was nothing you could do, it was in the very fibers of the foundation.

  Our seats were directly behind a bench. “That’s where our players sit,” Mikki announced. “You’ll get to see Aaron up close and personal.”

  I smiled when I spotted the souvenirs that had been left for us, and my smile only got bigger when I took in what was in my seat.

  “Put it on.” Mikki grabbed the jersey from the stack and slid it over my head. “It’s his official jersey.”

  “It’s so big.” I held it away from my body. “It’s practically a dress.”

  “Yeah, because it is really his. Like one of his that he wears. I’m so jealous.”

  I picked up the tote bag that was full of socks, decals, beads, clackers, and all the other swag that Mikki seemed to come with. But it was the pale blue envelope that caught my attention.

  Sliding one nail under the flap, I opened it and slid out the card. A simple matching blue correspondence card.

  Vivian,

  I’m glad you came tonight. Let me take you home. After the game, I have to go to the locker room, but I’ll hurry. I’ll meet you at our tunnel.

  Aaron

  “Which is the Lightnin
g’s tunnel?” I asked Mikki.

  “That one”—she pointed to her left—“and the one on the right is for the visiting team. They lead to the locker rooms.”

  “I don’t care about tunnels, what did the letter say?” Stella asked. I handed it over before flagging down someone.

  “May I get you something?” a woman in what could only be described as caterer clothes asked.

  “Can we just get some sodas?”

  “Absolutely.” She called off the list of drinks. “Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Mr. Pibb—”

  “Diet Coke,” we all said in unison.

  “May I grab you something from the salabars or would you like something else?” She waited for our answers.

  “If it isn’t too much trouble, can I have a hotdog?” The food over there looked fancy, come on, they had carving boards—oh, excuse me, salabars—but I just wanted something simple.

  “No trouble at all. A lot of people still want their stadium dogs, kind of a staple. Anyone else?”

  “Me, hotdog,” Stella agreed.

  “Me too, mustard only,” Mikki added.

  “I’ll bring you all sorts of condiments.” She left, and I turned to Stella, who had handed the note over to Mikki.

  “He really likes you.” Stella placed one hand on top of mine.

  “You can tell that from this letter?” I asked, taking the letter back and tucking it into the tote.

  “Yeah. He seemed genuine about wanting to spend time with you. It was sweet.”

  “You got that from four sentences?”

  “Positive affirmation, I tell you, he was going for positive affirmations.” Stella locked eyes with Mikki. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Yep. He didn’t give you fan stuff; he gave you his real jersey. The expensive signed stuff is on jersey replicas. Oh shit, I didn’t look. Turn around.” Mikki grabbed hold of my shoulders and twisted me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Awwee, here it is. He wrote, ‘My Vivian,’ and signed it.”

  Stella pulled out her phone, snapped a photo, and then showed me the screen. “Here.”