Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  “Thinks so? He hasn’t met me yet.”

  “I mean, will think so. Don’t be afraid, especially of him, he’s the best man I know - in every way. He’s had some sadness in his life, which tragically changed how he interacts with people, but he’s genuine and incredibly caring. Whenever I need advice, he is the friend I turn to. He has helped me in more ways than I can count.”

  Elizabeth continued to drink down the delicious, deceptively strong eggnog while listening attentively.

  Charlie topped off her drink. “So what I’m saying is, don’t pre-judge him before you’ve spent some time with him. I think … I think he’s someone you could easily fall in love with.”

  “Thanks. I promise to have an open mind. I don’t know about love, but I’m open for possibilities. Maybe a boyfriend. Now … what’s the story with this cute, little Burberry pooch sitting on my sister’s apron?”

  They watched Cancun sitting on the bar stool, his ears moving forward and back, seemingly listening to the entire conversation.

  “This little fella is Cancun. He’s my sister’s dog, and she’s upstairs.”

  She walked to the dog, petting him and cooing as only a true dog lover would. “I’ve never met Caroline. I didn’t realize she was coming for dinner, too.”

  “Neither did Jane and I. She showed up uninvited about fifteen minutes ago. Well, thankfully my sister will add comic value to the evening.”

  He held out the pitcher of spiked eggnog to Elizabeth. “Here let’s go up. I’ll carry the tray. Don’t tell anyone I spiked the eggnog. I think we’re all going to need it.”

  Charlotte’s Blog Post Here

  Chapter Seventeen – Tuesday, December 17

  8 Days Until Christmas

  Darcy, Jane and Caroline stood on the wrap-around terrace admiring the view. Along the railing, tiny white lights traveled the entire perimeter. The full moon hung low and large but the deepening chill allowed only short enjoyment of the pier’s red and green Christmas lights, reflecting on the surrounding water.

  Caroline quickly secured her arm within the crook of Darcy’s as soon as his hand tucked into his pocket. This was the image Elizabeth saw when she approached the sliding door with Charlie.

  She knew that particular curl of hair at the nape of the man’s neck very well. In fact, she had recently dreamt about twirling her finger around it during a deep kiss. For a split second, she thought her mind played tricks on her or maybe it was the effect of Charlie’s wicked eggnog. Darcy couldn’t be here and he couldn’t possibly be Charlie’s best man, but he would be with someone dressed like that.

  “Well! Here we are!” Charlie announced from the living room through the open slider. Already red faced from his heavy-handed rum concoction, he laughed as all three stargazers startled and turned.

  Jane’s cool, blue-eyed glare snapped him into abrupt silence. That stupid grin on his face told her he had already had too much to drink.

  Darcy turned to face Elizabeth, his eyes locked in anxiety with hers. He promptly withdrew Caroline’s clutching arm which felt like a boa constrictor tightening its grip.

  Within seconds, his expression turned hopeful when no objection to his presence came from those sultry lips of his date.

  His million-watt smile grew with each passing second as everyone watched. Two of those onlookers smiled brilliantly for a job well done. The third - not so much.

  As Darcy, Jane and Caroline re-entered the apartment, Elizabeth stood nearly frozen, disbelieving her eyes and struggling to ignore the rapid pounding of her heart against her chest wall. She was sure everyone could hear its staccato. Experiencing something akin to shock, she gaped. It is him, and he wears glasses.

  Charlie promptly made the introduction, “Elizabeth this is my best friend and my best man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darce, this is Jane’s sister and maid of honor, Elizabeth Bennet. You two will be walking down the aisle together.”

  Darcy approached her, and as he had done with Caroline, kissed her cheek. Only this time it was filled with true feeling when he took her slightly trembling hand in his. His lips lingered on the softness of her skin just longer than a simple greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth.” His thumb smoothed over hers silently suggesting, “Let’s start over.”

  Like a spell woven around them, their eyes remained locked.

  Elizabeth’s smile looked genuine. This "not so accidental" set-up by Charles and Jane didn’t prompt her knee-jerk reaction of: “you again” or “leave me alone.” She seemed delighted that he was her blind date.

  With the pleasant assault of Darcy’s woodsy aftershave, butterflies in her stomach began fluttering. She couldn’t deny the feeling his ever-presence was beginning to have on her. With each meeting, she was discovering more about his character and little by little, found herself falling for him.

  “The pleasure is mine, Fitzwilliam. Please call me Liz.”

  “I’ll call you Liz only if you call me Will.”

  Darcy playfully smirked, unable to resist the vision before him. He wanted to kiss her again, only this time on her lips and this time he wished she would reciprocate. The glossy tint of her red lipstick drew him closer. Her vibrant green eyes, accented tonight by carefully drawn black-winged eyeliner, had him spellbound. The silky fabric of her dress invited him to smooth his hand over her waist and pull her toward him, but he refrained from executing any of these early Christmas wishes.

  Elizabeth wore an exquisite red and black embroidered, Chinese-style cheongsam dress with cap sleeves and a mandarin neck. Three, black asymmetrical silk frog closures graced her shoulder. The knee-length double-slit garment fit her snugly, accentuating the curves of her bust, waist and hips. Her previously determined perfect feet were nestled within black, four-inch platform shoes, bringing her nearly to Darcy’s height. She looked sexy, statuesque and alluring, and her Asian-styled, lustrous hair and inspired makeup perfectly called attention to the exotic woman long-hidden below her usual conservative appearance.

  Darcy was about to whisper something into her ear when Caroline appeared beside him, placing a territorial hold upon his bicep.

  She remembered this woman who Darcy seemed enamored with. The TV image of her hand about to smooth oil over Cancun’s would-be daddy’s pectorals had seared itself behind the tattooed eyeliner on her surgically tightened eyelids.

  “I know you. You’re that woman from the news.” She sneered, feeling the loss as well as the snub when Darcy removed her hand, once again, from his person.

  “Yes, that was me. Although I haven’t seen the news report, but I can only imagine how such a perfunctory task as applying cosmetics for the camera may have appeared to the viewers. You must be Caroline, Charlie’s sister. It’s lovely to meet you.” Elizabeth extended her hand.

  Caroline accepted it in a manner reminiscent to the challenge between John and Darcy at the photoshoot. One woman with claws sharp at the ready, her fixed sneer and dilated pupils attempted to intimidate. The other woman, whose practiced business handshake and polite confidence ostensibly answered, “Good luck in the effort.”

  Faced with an eager rival for Darcy’s affections, Elizabeth suddenly found The Black Widow surfacing. Self-assured, she realized instinctively that he was no longer teasing her. His intentions toward her were genuine and honest.

  “Shall we have a drink?” Jane offered breaking the tension as Elizabeth looked to her, mouthing the words, “Bad. Girl.”

  “Sounds great!” Charlie eagerly distributed filled glasses of his happy holiday eggnog concoction.

  Jane chuckled mischievously and lowered the volume on the nearby console of the cheery Christmas tunes playing through the penthouse's integrated sound system.

  Moving to the modular sofa, Caroline took the seat on Darcy’s right side and Elizabeth sat diagonally at his left. Like bookends on each side, he became monkey in the middle. Charlie and Jane sat across from them on over-sized slipper chairs, ostensibly with the best view for the show about to un
fold. Cancun settled at Charlie’s feet, watching his new best friend quaff his eggnog a little too quickly, refill, then quickly guzzle again.

  Caroline rotated her body slightly to talk over Darcy. With a tilt to her head around his broad chest, she addressed Elizabeth, beginning her attempt to dismantle the woman who had disrupted her carefully laid life plan with Mr. Darcy.

  “So tell me Eliza, what is it that you do?”

  “I work in advertising - account management - for accounts such as the Big Apple Circus, MetLife, and Weight Watchers. You probably learned from Eyewitness News, that my firm is also handling the FD Burn Foundation’s 2014 fundraising campaign. The calendar is just the kick off to next year’s full cycle of events. You should come to some of them. I’m sure you’ll meet some terrific eligible men. Of course, from what I've heard, the news report gave a preview already.”

  Elizabeth smoothly crossed her legs, drawing Darcy’s attention to those well-defined calves, shapely knees, and naturally, the deep side slits of her skirt, which revealed perfectly toned thighs. If he wore a tie, he would have loosened it. Already it was getting hot in the room and it wasn’t the much appreciated alcohol laden drink Charlie had just given him. Darcy looked to the barely burning fireplace at his left. The heat was clearly coming from her smoldering presence.

  Caroline smoothed her left palm down Darcy’s arm. “Well … Eliza, you might take your own advice about finding an eligible man. As for me, I only noticed one firefighter.”

  "Hmm ... small world. So did I. But now that you mention it, I was pretty busy that day, hands-on, so to speak.” She smiled mischievously.

  "You know, Eliza, you should try to stay out of the cameraman’s lens. Bless your heart. Take a tip from one who knows, and I’m sure Jane will agree. Perhaps your client Weight Watchers could provide you some guidance because television isn’t very flattering to a woman’s figure, hon. It adds about ten pounds to a curvy figure and one must be cautious of color. You should fire the stylist who suggested you wear that red skirt. Take it from a fashionista even at my own barely 114 pounds, red is a huge faux pas on media screens. It’ll make your backside look like J-Lo’s.”

  Elizabeth smiled politely, refusing to take the bait or comment on the "fashionista's” orange animal print faux pas or the enormous size of her russet colored lips. “I know! Believe me, I had no intention of being on camera.”

  She noticed Darcy’s wry smile and gave a flippant shrug to her shoulders. “Tough, messy lube job but someone had to do it.”

  Given that the excessive rum in Darcy’s eggnog hit him harder after two weeks of nigh-near abstinence, he couldn’t resist joining the fray. She looked so damned sexy sitting there in that Chinese dress that, before he knew it, he was saying things he never thought would leave his lips. Think – yes, but say – never.

  Like Charlie, Elizabeth had begun her drinking before the other guests, so suffice it to say, she felt no pain at all. In fact, she barely registered how inebriated Darcy had become, but behind those innocent ‘Clark Kent’ eyeglasses she saw his blue eyes dance with humor when he spoke.

  He adjusted his glasses. “Oh, I don’t know, I enjoyed Liz’s red skirt very much. She perfectly matched the body of my apparatus, my heavy streaming ladder pipe, my proud lucky thirteen insignia helmet, and the large head of my broad axe. I didn’t see the news report myself, but from where I stood, she was perfectly suited and extremely proficient at her task. My gear certainly appreciated her efforts and responded ...” He coughed and smiled. "... for the camera that is."

  Elizabeth blushed. Funny … she wasn’t bothered in the least by his sexual innuendo or the intimation of his arousal from her oil-job. In fact, feeling relaxed and highly amused, she felt no qualms about encouraging his suggestive repartee. “What, I didn’t suit the penetrator nozzle, too?”

  “That’s a tool used on the engine, my apparatus is a fully extending ladder, which provides maximum length and movement from the base. It can reach places the penetrator nozzle can't. I'm sure your sensitive eye can appreciate the subtle tonal advantages."

  Amusement played upon her lips. “Hmm… I suppose an attack hose is on the engine too?”

  “Yes, that and ejector pumps, but that doesn’t mean my ladder and I don’t know a thing or two about hose coupling. With the right grip and pressure, I can bring about the desired results with great proficiency.”

  They grinned, locking eyes, so pleased at how well they played off one another.

  Charlie laughed raucously … hysterically, actually, like a drunken madman. “Extending ladder, hose coupling … that’s great Darce!”

  Jane shot him a reprimanding look which silenced him behind the rim of his eggnog. In his drunken reverie, he did momentarily consider how he was becoming more and more like Mr. Bennet and she, more and more like that man’s crazy wife.

  Fingers wrung upon Jane’s lap. “Caroline, tell us about the new corporation you formed.”

  “It’s actually an LLC. Lord knows I don’t want to be responsible if things don’t work out between my clients. There is no return policy you know.”

  “What is it you do, Caroline? Charlie tells me you work with dogs. Is that right?” Darcy asked.

  “Dahlink, I am a boutique dog matchmaker. My services or I should say the services of Poochie Mama Matchmaker are highly sought by an elite clientele.”

  “I’m sorry, what do you do?” asked Elizabeth, though she clearly heard her the first time.

  “I match designer dogs with new owners. My network of breeders from around the world affords me some of the best dogs that I, in turn, match to those in my social circle. Who would have imagined that a beautiful accessory could draw so much attention? Why, even I have difficulty finding a bracelet to match every outfit, but Cancun’s specific coloring does the job perfectly. Our dogs are like combining a Gucci with a Louis Viutton during the breeding process.”

  “An accessory?” Elizabeth quickly drank down her third glass of eggnog, sure she was about to blow a gasket any minute at the offending woman.

  “Yes Eliza, an accessory. It’s the newest fashion craze. Wouldn’t you agree, Jane?”

  Jane nodded with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Several of her Elite friends had small dogs they carried everywhere with them.

  “See, even your sister agrees. They’re significantly less fuss than a baby and certainly poop a lot less. You’re guaranteed the attention from admirers, particularly given all the gorgeous clothes, totes and strollers. The jewelry available for these doggies rivals some of the finest at Van Cleef and Arpels. You should see Cancun’s platinum, bevel-cut diamond collar. Simply marvelous. It’s a well-known fact, people will spend millions on their pooches, and I’ve made quite a living at making matches so they can.”

  “Let me get this straight, you match Frankenstein mutts – because that’s what these hybrids are - with affluent airheads who want to play dress up with dolls? That is so not right and so not normal, Caroline,” Darcy stated.

  “I don’t think it’s that bad, Will. Many of my friends at Elite have designer dogs.”

  The alcohol finally caught up to Elizabeth’s lips and sharp tongue, allowing her angry words to spill out. Gone was the polite dinner guest. In her place sat The Black Widow, possessed and passionate. “Jane, how could you say that? It’s an abomination! I see these so-called “designer” dogs all the time, sweet little things alone and abandoned at the ASPCA. Once the novelty wears off or the puppy grows up or becomes too big to carry, they get dropped off, and if they’re not adopted, they’re euthanized!”

  Jane opened her mouth to speak but was quickly shot down by Elizabeth’s finger point.

  “Trust me, last year’s rescue adoption campaign focused on public education and awareness on this very issue - the truth about boutique dogs, which are NOT purebreds, but considered hybrids. And don’t even get me started on the health risks imposed on these poor animals that run the risk of genetic problems from crossbreeding second a
nd third generations. I’m sorry … puppy mills, over-breeding and crossbreeding for money are wrong. There are so many dogs already available for adoption at every shelter in the nation. A true animal lover would know that.”

  “You volunteer at the ASPCA?” Darcy asked, once again blown away by her conviction and outspoken passion.

  “Yeah! What of it?”

  “The ASPCA is one of the Darcy family charities. In fact, I donate fairly heavily to the one on 92nd Street. I donated the grant money for last year’s Community Engagement Award.”

  Elizabeth’s voice softened, almost becoming dreamy. He is a dog lover … sigh … criteria number 25. Donated money … sigh … criteria number 31. “You did?”

  Darcy nodded, hoping Elizabeth was beginning to see him in a different light than her heretofore opinion of him as the Grinch determined to steal her Christmas.

  Charlie was so sure that given the chemistry between Elizabeth and Darcy, Caroline and her insanity was actually helping the cause. He looked at Jane sitting prim and proper with her back straight while toying with her caviar laden cracker. He couldn’t resist the impetus to instigate. “Caroline, tell us more about some of the dogs.”

  “Thank you, Charlie. At least I can count on you to hold a rational conversation. Cancun – has an official registry certificate from the American Canine Hybrid Club, though there are some slight irregularities, well a typo to be precise. Poor baby, but they've promised to reissue the certificate as soon as they get some issues resolved. I just can't understand how a firm located so close to Mexico wouldn't know that Cancun doesn't end with a "T.”

  Charlie knit his brows, struggling for a moment with what she had just said. Finally he sprayed his eggnog. "Wait a minute! The dog's name is CanCunt!"

  Even Jane burst out laughing at the revelation.