by Crowe, Stan
She was right.
“Well, Nick,” she said, her hair brushing my cheek as she leaned in, “thanks. This has been really fun, even if it got cut short. Our next excursion has some big shoes to fill.” I held my breath. This was the part where the girl gives the guy a peck on the cheek.
Only she didn’t.
She got up. “I’m going to freshen up real quick while they’re bringing your ravioli out. I’ll just be a sec.” As she walked away, I noticed that my heartbeat was oddly synchronized with the sound of her footfall.
My food arrived before Moiré returned. I had it boxed, picked up the check and left a hefty tip. The business done, we made our way out into the simmering sunset. I walked her back to her car. She smiled and waved as she pulled away. I made a beeline to my Datsun and didn’t look back. I climbed behind the wheel, shaking. I tried over and over to convince myself that I had not just taken my research assistant on a date. But why did it take me five minutes to get her face out of my mind enough that I could drive home? It occurred to me that, for the good of my future marriage, I might just have to fire her. But I knew that I could never do it. I needed Moiré around.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Nick? C’mere. I’ve got something to show you.”
“What is it?”
“Take a look at this baby.”
“Wow! You actually bought the shotgun?”
“I call it the ‘Buck Tamer.’”
“So when are we going to take it hunting?”
“Might be Friday night.”
“Dad, it’s not hunting season.”
“Not if this Carl What’s-his-whosit brings your sister home on time.”
“Um… Dad? Isn’t that a little over the top?”
“Nope. I was thinking more ‘below the belt.’”
Though firing Moiré was not an option I’d consider, I “excused” her for the following week with the promise of full pay. I can’t recall the lame excuse I made up to deflect her concern, but if she was skeptical about the move, she was polite enough not to show it. The week passed in a strange, blurred silence, broken only by time spent with Ella. I wondered how I had gotten along for an entire year without a research assistant. Tests on volunteers still got done. Review and revisions still happened. But all my efforts seemed somehow… empty, as if they no longer meant anything if they weren’t being shared with someone. I tried hyping my work to some of the other grad students, but all I got were fake smiles and courteous dodges; they were all too wrapped up in their own stuff to care and I can’t say I blame them. By week’s end, my only tie to sanity was the brewing excitement for the Department’s formal dinner.
Friday night, Vera invited me in when I arrived and said I could wait on the couch while Ella finished putting on her war paint (Vera’s words). I thanked her and sat, curious to see what my lovely fiancé would cook up this time. I have to admit, Ella made for very good mental pictures.
Eventually, I heard the two girls talking on the stairs and a moment later, Vera came into the living room. I gave her a quick, pleading look and her eyes reassured me she wasn’t going to rat me out over my research dinner.
She mimed trumpeting and said, “Will the ladies and gents please welcome their princess, Ella Abel.”
I stood and watched Ella descend the stairs. My breath caught when I saw her perfect eyes and that radiant smile. Her hair framed her face perfectly.
The dress, at least at first, took my excitement up a notch. Ella didn’t believe in semi-formal. The gown was midnight blue—my personal favorite—and had a hint of glitter that caught the light just right. It was tight enough that it may as well have been painted on, though and the slits on the sides of her dress came a little too far up her thigh for my comfort.
The back of her dress started just above her waist and the neckline dropped lower than the snazzy, gold pendant dangling directly over her heart. That got my face hot. Normally, a guy wouldn’t mind that kind of a view, but she was practically begging to be ogled. I felt as outclassed as a bicycle racing a Corvette—I hadn’t even bothered to wear a good tie. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Breathe, Nicky. It’s okay to do that.”
I breathed, still stunned.
“Well, then, if you don’t have a compliment for your lady,” Ella began, her eyes mischievous, “perhaps I should just be on my way.”
“Whoa. No, wait.” I stepped over to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “You… are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Ella played coy. “You’re just saying that.”
“No. No, I’m not. Wow. Suddenly I’m not so hungry. Maybe we could just skip dinner and stay here while I look at you.”
Ella giggled and swatted me. I made to kiss her, but she instantly had a pair of fingers on my lips. “Not now, Nicholas. I’m not about to let you kiss this makeup off.”
“Right. Sorry about that.” I held her at arm’s length and gave her another long, appreciative look. She ate it up. “Well,” I said, pulling her close again, “shall we be off?”
“Lead the way, my prince.”
Ella knew how to make an entrance; that was for sure. She’d been stunning enough when I picked her up at her apartment, but to watch her just work a crowd like that was amazing. We walked in late enough to be fashionable and Ella just “happened” to pose—disguising it as a perfectly understandable pause. She didn’t make any noise, didn’t wave her arms around, or anything. She sauntered lightly in, almost as if she were dancing and she was just… there.
And everyone seemed to know it all at once.
Amid the crowd of onlookers, I asked Ella to choose our seats. She scanned the room for a moment and then nodded at a table near the dance floor. I took her hand, led her there and seated her the same way I’d seated Moiré a week before. Another couple was already sitting, testing the salads. I didn’t recognize either of them, but I noted that the guy looked like he’d escaped from a ’90’s boy band. The words “commercially handsome” seemed applicable. I stuck my hand out to him, anyway.
“Nick Cairn,” I said. “Clinical Psychology.”
He returned a lopsided grin. “Hunter. I’ll be a real doctor.”
I faked a rim-shot. Ella blinked. Jamie covered a snicker. Hunter glared.
“How far along are you, Hunter?” I asked.
“Last six months of my residency.”
“Cool. Which field?”
“Neurosurgery.”
Wow. A heavy hitter. “Neurosurgery, huh?”
He grinned evilly. “Yeah. I get to go back in and re-wire their brains after you psychos screw ’em up and bill ’em for it.” He laughed again.
I decided not to play his game. Jerks like this could really only win if you let them get under your skin.
“Well that’s great, Hunter. Neurosurgery. That begs the question, then: how’d you end up at a Psych Department dinner?”
He laughed at that. “Connections, man, connections. Med school isn’t cheap; free dinners are.”
“I see.” I decided not to ask further, but instead shook hands with the petite brunette seated next to him.
“Jamie Ambrose,” she said.
“Nick Cairn.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Hunter baldly examining Ella. “And this is my fiancée,” I added quickly, “Cindy Ella Abel, though she prefers Ella.”
“A pleasure to meet both of you,” Ella said smoothly, rising and graciously shaking their hands in turn. She flashed a full smile at Hunter. Hunter’s answering smile was broad, the glint in his eye more than a little suggestive.
“Well,” I said, hastily, “ever hear the one about the lawyer, the engineer and the psychologist?” They hadn’t, so I told them. It was enough of a distraction to break the awkward moment, but Hunter was admiring Ella again before I’d even finished the punchline. Small talk suddenly became rather strained for me, but I’d been in awkward situations before. I managed to keep my cool while we waited for the food, but Hunter’
s antics were quickly killing my appetite. I alternated between talking to Hunter and talking to Jamie, trying to keep Hunter’s thoughts off Ella. Ella was her usual, charming-in-public self and had the other couple laughing heartily before we had even finished our salads.
“So, Nick,” Hunter said as he took a sip of his drink, “are you writing a paper or doing a project?”
Ella jumped in ahead of me. “Oh, yes. Nicky is doing his dissertation of romance and responses to stimuli. It’ll be the most groundbreaking dissertation in the world and I think it’s so much classier than the rest of the stuff the psychos write.”
Since when had Ella started referring to people in my field as “psychos”? I pursed my lips as Hunter laughed at her joke.
“She’s exaggerating, like any good fiancée would, of course.” I took a gulp of water to help clear my throat. “In fact, what I’m doing is pretty mundane. But since it has to do with brain scans, it’s probably right up your alley, Hunter.”
“You know how to read an electroencephalograph?” he asked, somewhat incredulously. “You know, the word for the little squiggly lines produced by a ‘brain scan’?” He made the little “air quotes” gesture. I avoided the temptation to clench my teeth and I forced my hands to loosen.
“Just enough to be dangerous,” I said, tossing a wink at him, just to throw him off. It worked and he seemed perturbed that both Ella and Jamie seemed to enjoy the quip. The look on his face told me the game was on, now. I gladly obliged.
The main course arrived and Hunter and I both dug into the steak with vigor. I speared a bite I’d carved off and then followed up with a moderate helping of mashed potatoes; no need to look like a pig. Make up for quantity with speed, right? Hunter countered by forking in an impressive number of peas and carrots in a single bite and then getting both some steak and potatoes in just moments later. We continued to devour our food, sneaking furtive, suspicious glances at each other until before I knew it, I was out of food. I swallowed my last bite and as I was getting a drink, I noticed Hunter glowering; he hadn’t finished his carrots. I mostly hid a grin as I leaned back in my chair and placed a hand very definitely around Ella’s shoulders.
“Hungry much, Hunter?” Jamie asked, glancing up as he hurriedly shoved the last few carrots down the hatch. Jamie looked over at me, and her eyebrows went up as she noticed my clean, shiny plate and empty glass. Her plate was still over half full. Ella had barely finished her veggies.
“I didn’t get lunch,” Hunter murmured. He was a terrible liar.
“How is your dinner, Ella?” I asked, not taking my eyes off Neuro-boy. I could tell my gaze was bugging him, but I knew it was keeping his eyes on me, instead of on my girl.
She swallowed daintily, wiped her mouth and smiled cheerfully at me. “It’s wonderful, Nicky. Thank you so much for bringing me.”
“Hey, what’s a fiancé,” I emphasized the word just enough to make it noticeable, “for, if not to take care of his woman?”
Hunter’s face barely registered the hit, but I knew I’d scored anyway. It was beginning to dawn on me why the males of many animal species fought so fiercely for dominance over other males: It wasn’t just to win the females; it was, in its own way, rather gratifying.
“So, Jamie,” I asked casually, “how long have you and Hunter, here, been dating.”
“We’re not dating,” Hunter said, just a little too abruptly. Ella’s eyes widened a little—in surprise at his rudeness, I told myself—and Jamie gasped.
“I mean, this is just, like, a friendly date, really. Jamie got invited, and since she was supposed to bring a date…,” he trailed off with a shrug.
Jamie’s skill at cloaking her anger was impressive, despite her visible wince. I wasn’t sure I’d heard a man package so many insults into so few words in quite some time. If it weren’t for the fact that it made him look like even more of a jerk, I might actually congratulate him for his eloquence.
Just then, the emcee for the evening stepped up to announce that the dance floor was open and Hunter was saved again.
“Big Band,” I hummed appreciatively, as I glanced at the musicians. Jamie nodded in agreement.
“Ella,” I said, as a swooning foxtrot rose to greet us, “care to join me?”
She looked at her food, looked quickly at Hunter and then smiled a plea my way. “But Nicky, we’ll be the only ones on the floor.”
“Aren’t we always?” I winked and she blushed. Whether from shame or the actual desire to dance with me, she wiped her mouth again and got up. I led her onto the dance floor and we took dance position without conscious thought. We owned the floor without trying. The smell of Ella’s perfume unleashed a flood of memories. For what seemed a long, dreamlike while, all was right between Ella Abel and I.
“Mind if I cut in,” Hunter asked, more politely than I thought him capable. I stopped, stunned as my perfect bubble of bliss imploded. He was standing there (looking rather noble), not even a trace of ill-feeling on his face. Ooh, he was good at this game. Fair enough. I was better.
“My lady is yours,” I said graciously. Though if you so much as look at her wrong….
“Treat her the way you’d treat your mother,” I added, as he took hold of Ella. Hunter’s eyes hardened as he caught the double entendre, but he grinned gratefully and took over my lead.
I glanced back at my table and noticed Jamie sitting alone, not quite sulking. I sat down next to her and watched as Hunter tried—almost successfully—to be as graceful on the dance floor as Ella was. For those who knew dancing, however, it was obvious that Ella was leading. I gave him credit for following well enough, though.
“I take it Hunter’s not quite what you’d had in mind when you set off to conquer a man,” I said off-handedly to Jamie.
Her forehead creased. “He’s… known,” she said simply. I caught her meaning.
“So why’d you bother to go out with him?”
Her frown deepened slightly. “I don’t know. Bored on a Friday night, maybe?”
“Ah,” I said, reading between the lines. “You see the good, charming, decent guy that’s really buried deep inside him, don’t you?”
She recoiled and shot me a scowl. “Do you make it a habit of psychoanalyzing strangers?”
I shrugged. “No offense. Just testing what information I’ve gathered.”
“So now I’m not a stranger; I’m a guinea pig?”
I chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to invade your personal life. And hey, just to show I’m a nice guy, this session was free of charge.”
She chuckled through her pout. “I’m sorry. It’s just, well… some guys need help, you know?”
I nodded and watched other couples take to dancing.
“Hunter’s one of them. To be honest, most of the girls who I’ve seen him with, well … they’re the kind that prefer coming out only at night, if you know what I mean.”
“Enough said.”
“Sometimes,” she said sadly, “I tell myself it’s just the way he is. But that’s not right. He can always make his own choices.”
“Yes, though I’m not sure I approve of all of them.” I looked meaningfully at where Hunter and Ella were dancing.
“She’s absolutely lovely, by the way,” Jamie said wistfully, nodding appreciatively at Ella. “I wish I could look even half that good. A dress like that wouldn’t even stay up on this kind of a figure.”
Hunter and Ella were now close enough to share air, staring at each other a little too much for my liking.
I glanced at Jamie. “If you’ll excuse me….”
“Yeah. Nice meeting you.”
I left her with a “You too,” as I made my way to the dance floor.
Neither Hunter nor Ella so much as twitched their eyes my way. The first song stopped and after the barest pause, the band started into a racy salsa number. Some hasty dancing of my own got me through the crowd without injury and I fell into orbit around Hunter and my bride-to-be.
> “Pardon me,” I said, tapping Hunter on the shoulder. “May I?” He kept dancing. Okay. Time to check out.
“Ella, babe,” I said, hooking her waist with my hand as she twirled by. “I’ve made a few other arrangements and they’re on a schedule. We can box your dinner and take it with us, but we really should be going.”
Hunter looked at me with a calm, arrogant coolness, almost as if I were a piece of rotting meat that he was just good enough not to openly disdain. Ella blinked her way out of deep involvement in the dance and looked at me for a moment as if I were a stranger.
“Oh, Nicky. We really need to go?” she asked with that awkward, discreetly begging tone. “We haven’t even had dessert,” she pled. “The dance isn’t over, either. Be a dear and let me finish just one more dance, please?” She batted her eyelashes and did the little pout thing.
I smiled. “You know how much I like Latin dancing,” I said in a low tone. She blushed, and looked rather pained as her eyes swung back and forth between my inviting smile, and Hunter’s commanding frown. In the end, she slowly—almost grudgingly—pulled away from Hunter. I managed not to smirk and bowed even more graciously to him than he had to Ella and watched as he sulked back to where Jamie was looking rather amused.
I smirked at Ella and she blushed crimson, looking guilty rather than flattered. Certain that Hunter would be watching, I swept Ella back into dance position, caught a good starting point in the song, and we were off.
I knew Salsa like I knew Jungian dream metaphors and the few times I caught a glimpse of Hunter, he had this “If only I could shoot lasers from my eyes” expression. Ella, however, was unusually stiff. Her total unresponsiveness made it much more difficult to give a smooth, convincing performance. When it was over, I looked at Ella, hoping to discover at least some of the reason she’d been uptight. Her immediate glance at Mister Neurosurgery Man told me exactly what I wanted to know, which was also exactly what I didn’t want to know. I closed my eyes to conceal my pain and took Ella’s hand to lead her out.