Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  “Yeah, well he’s not for my sister. All that suave, slick demeanor wrapped up in expensive designer clothing. You don’t see me dressing like that even though I net about a half a mil a year.”

  “That much? You’ve come a long way from the president of the photography club at Meryton High. If they could see you now.”

  “They do see me. My work has already been on the covers of Time magazine and National Geographic more times than Robert Capa in his entire career.”

  His self-aggrandizing had already begun to grate on Elizabeth’s nerves, and she quickly regretted the topic change to him. “Is that why you couldn’t resist taking credit for Char’s photoshoot?”

  “Yeah, I thought my credentials could give her studio’s reputation a boost.”

  Logically and professionally, she knew his assumption was correct. Stan’s words echoed in her mind of how John’s affiliation with the campaign could ultimately assist the Burn Foundation. “You know John, if you can put aside your opinion about Rick, you could go to the Gala as my escort. I think the Foundation could benefit from your presence. Obviously not as the photographer, but as someone notable who supports the charity. Do you have a decent tuxedo?”

  “Sure, I’ll go. I’ll work something out about getting a tux. With you on my arm, we’ll be quite the couple.”

  She paused at the bottom of the up escalator, her eyes looking left at the signs directing them toward The Theater entrance, then upward to the huge New York Rangers banner hanging above the escalator. Her heart froze with realization. He’s not taking me to see “A Christmas Story.” He’s taking me to a hockey game.

  “Lizzy?”

  “Um, yeah?”

  “C’mon this is gonna be great, just like old times. I haven’t been to a hockey game since I went to Montreal for an assignment about three years ago. Man, I haven’t seen the Rangers play in about five years.”

  John tugged her hand, leading her onto the upward bound escalator. Once reality truly sunk in, she was midpoint on the climbing staircase, slowly making her way to the sports arena.

  Immensely disappointed but trying not to show it, Elizabeth looked down at her new Louboutins and chuckled. What else could she really do? An eight hundred dollar pair of python pumps for a damn hockey game. How’s that for advertising the versatility of a well-made designer shoe?

  “What’s so funny?” John snuggled into her neck as his arm once again encircled her waist. “Care to let me in on your joke?”

  “Nothing. Just something I saw. You know me, always finding a joke in something.”

  “Just like your dad. How is he by the way?”

  “The same. Pretty much everything is the same in Meryton. Both Kitty and Jane are getting married.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s great!”

  His thoughts meandered as the escalator continued to climb. There was no need to let on to her about that night he spent with Jane in Milan five years ago. A drunken dalliance on both their parts, but he remembered her body, and he’d take the memory of her arrow shaped, directional birthmark to his grave. Shame he never got around to photographing it. That could have made one phenomenal gallery show, sure to capture the critics' attention with photographs entitled: Stop – Don’t Go – Proceed – Enter at Your Own Risk – This Way – Shoot Arrow Here – Bullseye. The possibilities were endless with that unique little birthmark, but he was a bona-fide journalist not a sensationalist and he had the Pulitzer to prove it.

  Once Elizabeth and John arrived at their seats in the hockey arena, she couldn’t decide what would have been worse, nosebleed seats or the seats he had reserved: rink-side east, first row behind the plexiglass. She thanked God for the black shrug she had bought at Bloomingdales to wear over the newly created sleeveless dress and only hoped her toes wouldn’t freeze from the chill at the ice edge.

  John was over the top happy and, at nine hundred dollars a seat, was certain he would be getting laid following this extravagantly expensive date. It killed him to part with the money, but he really wanted to see the game from ringside, not to mention wanting to impress his Honeybee.

  “Whattya think, Lizzy? Are these great seats or what? You have no idea what I had to do to get these, but I pulled in some favors just for you.”

  Again, Elizabeth chuckled. “Thank you, John. I don’t think better seats could be had. I feel really special.”

  She looked around at the neighboring exclusive boxes reserved for corporate executives and the clients they wined and dined. On the level above them, dancing to the Nirvana song playing throughout the sports arena, stood seven shirtless, fat men each with a letter emblazoned across their chest spelling ‘Rangers’. Blue and red paint stained their cheeks like war paint. To her left sat another man who wore a blue and red clown wig. Suddenly memories of her high school days came flooding back - driving an hour to Nassau Coliseum in John’s beat up, heatless Mustang just so he could watch the Islander’s play. She never admitted then how much she despised hockey, but damn if she hadn't forced herself to learn to like it. Hat trick, slap shot, and face off were all terms she knew well, yet easily had pushed them to the recesses of her mind – until now.

  Like a bad dream, the hockey terms and memories resurfaced.

  John stood motioning for Elizabeth to remove her cobalt blue coat implying his desire to gentlemanly assist her, although his true intent was far less than gentlemanly- wanting to get a glimpse of the dynamite hot body below. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat? You know how I hate blue.”

  “It’s actually pretty chilly, Johnny. I think I’ll leave it on.”

  “Aw c’mon, where’s the Lizzy of old?”

  With the players practicing on the ice and the two national anthems about to begin, John was ready to settle in with a beer and enjoy everything for his eyes to feast on – the game on the ice and the game of melting the ice with Elizabeth.

  “The Lizzy of old learned to suck it up,” she said as firmly as she could, not so effectively stating how she was no longer that girl from Meryton.

  His smile appeared full of genuine pride even though her gut told her he was playing up to her insecurities.

  “But, you look so beautiful. I want all the men to see how gorgeous you are on my arm.”

  Elizabeth pushed The Black Widow further away from her conscious mind and obligingly removed her coat, resting it on the seat beside her.

  “That’s better,” he admired, his eyes scanning every bit of his old flame, resting quite a bit longer than was appropriate on her bosom. “You look incredible, Honeybee.”

  She was sure her cheeks reddened and it wasn’t from the comment. She was freezing and wrapped her arms around herself to warm her biceps but that only served to push her breasts together.

  John leaned into her, his eyes fixed on the deep line of her cleavage. “Remember all those summer days after your graduation in your tree house?”

  The tree house. She wished he didn’t bring up the tree house - that place of escape from her mother. “Who are the Rangers playing tonight?” She asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “The Calgary Flames. It’s going to be an excellent year for them, hot draft picks, and a management team that’s on fire to rebuild their dying team. Tonight’s game is going to be explosive, you watch.”

  This time Elizabeth didn’t simply chuckle – she laughed, loving every minute of the coincidence. Fire, flames, hotness – Darcy - explosive.

  With the first notes of “The Star Spangled Banner,” she stood beside John looking out at the ice and the gathered players of both teams. The Canadians’ uniforms with flames emblazoned around the letter ‘C’ on their jerseys mesmerized her. Her mind drifted away from the vocal performance, finding pleasant distraction in thoughts of Darcy, his athleticism and their vigorous fight in the ring yesterday. Slowly, she turned to look at John and his handsome profile, and she began to question exactly why she kept finding reasons to push Darcy away and why, oh why, did she feel safe with her hig
h school sweetheart, a man who had only been back in her life less than a week and had already disappointed her. A hockey game? Nothing had changed.

  Across the rink, two men sat in a corporate box. One of whom, wearing his Rangers white jersey was intent on singing the National Anthem while the other, in a black cashmere sweater intently watched the gorgeous, raven-haired woman standing on the other side of the rink. Two panes of plexiglass and a hard, cold sea of ice separated them, but he saw plainly that Elizabeth wore a dress he had seen once before. Concerned, Darcy knew she must be freezing cold. The black shrug covering her shoulders was hardly enough to keep her warm. He frowned, perplexed as to why she would wear her speed dating dress to a hockey game and further hating that she wore it for the jackass beside her. He wondered if perhaps she didn’t know her date was taking her to a sporting event.

  It was a stroke of luck that Darcy was available tonight when Rick called him just an hour earlier imparting inside information where Charlotte’s brother was taking Elizabeth. Darcy had thought twice about stalking her, because he was in fact doing so, but Georgie convinced him to go, convincing him that he needed to see his competition in action and no one would be the wiser. Besides, he liked a good game now and then and Pem Tech’s box usually went unused for the season.

  “Hey, thanks for the last minute invite, Darce. My schedule was finally clear from wedding details so I’m glad it worked out,” Charlie said.

  “Glad you could join me. Apart from tuxedo fitting, you and I haven’t had a guy’s night out in a while. Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Maybe I should spend more time with you. Judging from that bruise to your eye, you look like you need some supervision.”

  “It was a love tap gone awry.”

  Charlie chuckled. Jane had told him all about that black eye after having learned about it from Charlotte because Rick watched the whole fight from the glass. News of this would-be couple had spread like wildfire down the chain of matchmakers. “Does, Lizzy know you’re here?”

  Darcy’s head snapped to his right. “You know she’s here?” He was astonished, nearly missing his padded chair when he sat down after the Canadian anthem.

  “Yeah, she’s sitting over there in Section One with that jerk from the news, her ex-boyfriend from high school.”

  “Lizzy?” Darcy knit his brows for a spit second. “Whoa … whoa, wait a minute. How do you know Elizabeth? How do you know about John Lucas?”

  “Her family calls her Lizzy … she’s Jane’s sister. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but you know how I suck at keeping secrets. She’s the reason you’ve been invited for dinner on Tuesday. Sorry I didn’t mention it last week.”

  “What! Elizabeth Bennet is your fiancée’s sister? Isn’t Jane’s last name Gardiner?”

  “Yeah, she changed it for modeling. Please don’t tell Jane you know about Lizzy or that you know who your blind date is. She’ll kill me if she knew I told you. She’s determined to play matchmaker after watching the two of you on Eyewitness News.”

  Darcy laughed. “Seems like everyone is in on this. One might think the way you’re all gunning for me, I actually stand a chance. Now if you can tell me how to get rid of that guy sitting next to her, I might actually have some success with her.”

  “A little competition is good. How do you think I feel? Every hot-blooded American male ogles my future wife wearing a swimsuit. She goes on photoshoots with some Brit named David Gandy who makes both you and I look like chopped liver. Competition, man, it’s the name of the game. Gandy was trying to score with Jane around the time I met her at that White Tie & Tiara Ball in London in June.”

  “The Elton Aids Foundation event?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Caroline made me go as her date. She wore orange, Darcy. I was never so embarrassed in my life. There’s this fabulous, statuesque blonde staring at me and I have my sister, who looks like Bozo the Clown, on my arm.”

  “Clearly, Caroline didn’t deter you and Jane from finding one another.”

  “That’s my point. Don’t let Lucas shit on your parade. Step up your game. Jane tells me he used Lizzy pretty badly, sucked the life right out of her. Lizzy needs to be appreciated and doted on; she’s special. Outside of Jane, there’s not a single person in their family who has ever done so. That guy there, like all the others, never appreciated her and all the things she sacrificed for him. Did you know that she gave up a full scholarship to Georgetown to stay in Meryton because he begged her to stay local while he went to Long Island Community College? It was only after she broke it off with him that she went to NYU and completed her degree in less than three years.”

  Ignoring the entire first period on the ice, Darcy focused on the couple in question on the other side of the rink. He could barely see the details but what he could see was how Lucas’s interest vacillated between intense sports enthusiasm by standing up and yelling at the players, to bending to the nape of Elizabeth’s neck for what Darcy assumed was a look down her dress.

  Abruptly, he turned to Charlie. “Do you want a beer? I’ll pick you up one my way back from the men’s room.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks.”

  Darcy climbed the steps up from the rink. He didn’t intend to use the men’s room. Instead, he headed straight into the Rangers store on level eight.

  He had one thing in mind for his purchase, and he wasn’t shopping for himself. Browsing through the rounder of women’s thick sweatshirts, he found a red, fleece zip-up jacket from the Rangers’ vintage logo collection. Price was of no consequence. It was her size, her color and heavy enough to keep her warm.

  Darcy laid it on the counter, picked up the salesclerk’s pen and scribbled a note on the back of one of the store’s business cards.

  “Can I help you, sir?” asked the older man, working behind the sales counter.

  “Yes, thank you. I was wondering if there is someone here who could deliver this jacket and this note to Section One, seat AA for me. It’s pretty important. I’ll pay for delivery, of course.”

  The salesclerk looked at the one hundred and fifty dollar ticket price and noted the three one hundred dollar bills spread below the customer’s fingers, sliding across the counter.

  Darcy smiled then raising an eyebrow in question. “Keep the change.”

  “Yes of course, I can take care of it for you. I’ll take my break a little early, no problem.”

  “Thank you. It’s for the beautiful woman, not the inconsiderate creep with her. Her name is Elizabeth.”

  “And who should I tell her it’s from?”

  Darcy chuckled. “Tell her it’s a gift from Mr. December.”

  Fifteen minutes later, when number twenty body checked the opponent’s number three into the plexiglass in front of John and Elizabeth’s seats, she was startled from her daydream when number twenty’s helmet banged repeatedly against the glass guard. She began to question herself, wondering what on earth she was doing there. She warmed her biceps again and looked down at her expensive dress, feeling as though the effort put into dressing to impress had been a complete waste. Regretful for the bold and brave transformation to her hair and makeup, she tucked her long locks behind her ears then put her kid leather gloves on. Her toes were frozen and she removed her shoes, sat on her feet and pulled her coat over her lap.

  A smiling man with gray hair approached from the small nearby staircase. He held a shopping bag, and she noticed how he gave John a nasty look.

  “Are you Elizabeth?”

  “I am.”

  John looked on, curious at the exchange.

  The courier handed her a bag with a brilliant smile. “Then this is for you.”

  “For me? What is it?”

  “Look in the bag. Judging from the redness to your nose, I’d say it’s arrived just in time.” Again, he looked at John with disdain.

  Elizabeth peeked inside the bag, seeing the warm red jacket folded at the bottom. “I don’t understand. Who is it from?”

&nb
sp; “He wanted me to tell you, Mr. December, with his compliments.”

  She grinned from ear to ear and pulled out the jacket, rubbing the soft fleece against her near frozen cheek.

  Excitedly she looked all around for Darcy, blatantly ignoring John’s questioning look. She quickly shrugged into the soft, warm jacket.

  The salesclerk held out the business card. “He also wanted me to give you this.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before the man left she said, “Wait … let me …” as she dug into her purse.

  “Please, no … Mr. December paid me very well.” He looked at John again, giving him a once over with the discerning eye of someone who knew a thing or two about quality and character. “You’re a lucky lady, having someone like Mr. December as your personal Santa, someone who is a gentleman. He obviously cares. Tall, dark and handsome, as well, I might add.”

  He smiled and winked at Elizabeth. “Enjoy your jacket and happy holidays.”

  “Thank you; you have a great holiday too.” In a daze, she turned over the business card. It read – ‘Because you’re cold, and I care. See you Thursday for a memorable date.’

  Burrowing into the jacket, she zipped it up to her chin and snuggled deep into the cozy fabric.

  John simply could not resist commenting, feeling quite miffed that his request to fully admire her had been disregarded by her once his competition’s gift arrived. “Mr. December? Is that the calendar guy who you shamelessly couldn’t stop touching at Charlotte’s photoshoot? The egotistical asshole who foolishly throws his millions around like he’s some benevolent do-gooder out to save the world.”

  The twenty-six year old, self reliant, normally headstrong woman said nothing, although The Black Widow was fighting her way to the surface, battling with the insecure young woman who had been ingrained for so many years. Elizabeth’s suppressed thoughts screamed internally. Yeah, and I’d do it again and again, if for no other reason than to thank him for his gentlemanly consideration. Unlike you!

  “Millions? I don’t think so, John. He runs his family’s company and is a firefighter. The calendar is for a cause the fire department supports.”