He answers, “I just wondered if I could join you for dessert.” He smiles and indicates the plates he’s holding. “I’ve brought my own so I really won’t be any bother.”
Normally I would have sent someone like this packing, but who am I kidding? Normally something like this would never happen to me. There’s something about this man, so non-threatening and charming, I just gesture to the seat across from me and tilt my head to the side in invitation.
His name is Richard Bingham and he’s an advertising executive at Bingham, Charles & Alexander. And yes, he is the Bingham in the title. He says, “I loved watching you eat your lunch. You really savored the flavors.”
I am immediately mortified by his comment as I can only imagine what I must have looked like. I get an image in my head of a phone sex commercial for 1-800 Eat-This. I grimace and beg, “Please tell me you were not watching me eat.”
But he just smiles, “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. That’s why I brought the desserts over. I can die a happy man if you’ll just take one bite of each of them for me.”
I’m torn between jumping over the table and fleeing down the street and feeling down right flattered by Richard’s unique approach. I opt for flattered and explain, “Richard, I would love more than anything to eat both desserts in their entirety, but I can’t.” Then shock of shocks, I tell him why, “I’m on Weight Watchers and I’m sure even one bite of those will cause me to gain back the five pounds I’ve lost.”
He looks surprised, “What are you doing on a diet? You’re perfect the way you are. You’re a gorgeous woman.”
I can tell he means what he’s saying and I offer a silent prayer of thanks that curves have not really gone out of fashion like Hollywood would have you believe. So I continue to bare my soul and I tell him about Edith Bunker. Then I mention, “She’s bound and determined I lose this last fifteen pounds.”
He seems amused and asks, “She talks to you, does she?”
I joke, “In French…”
This Richard Bingham seems to think I’m a delightful companion and I must confess to being a little charmed by him, as well. He asks me out to dinner tonight but I tell him I have a previous engagement. I also explain I am not from New York so while I think he’s a very charming man, sadly, I’m only going to be around for three more days.
He replies, “I could go home with you on Wednesday and we could be married over the weekend. What do you think?”
I can’t help laughing at his easy quips and confess the truth is I happen to be on the verge of being in love with another. Half way through my cappuccino and two bites of each dessert later, I tell him all about Elliot and Beatrice.
Richard listens thoughtfully and declares, “What you need to do is make him jealous.”
I agree and tell him I had planned on doing just that. He suggests I invite him to this evening’s party and he will work diligently to make Elliot green with envy. Although, he assures me he will be working for his own cause, first and foremost; to show me I really belong with him and not a man that isn’t making himself available to me.
I only half joke when I tell Richard if he had only found me before I found Elliot, he could have been the one. I declare I’ve got my heart set on the Englishman, but if he really wants to help, he’s more than welcome to come tonight. I pull an invitation out of my purse and hand it over to him.
He puts it in his breast pocket and assures me that he’ll be there. When we say goodbye, he gives me a brief kiss on both cheeks and he’s gone, leaving me to wonder if I dreamt the whole interlude.
Chapter 22
Before going back to the hotel I window shop for a couple of hours. I go into an exclusive chocolate shop and buy several small boxes of fancy truffles for my family and then I stop at a newsstand and buy Kevin an “I heart New York” T-shirt. I know he’d prefer the chocolates but as his Weight Watchers buddy, I’m invested in working towards his ultimate goal. Speaking of Kevin Beeman, I start to wonder what’s going on with him and the beast, so I call his cell phone.
He laughingly answers on the third ring, “Yellllloooooowww?”
I hear high-pitched giggles in the background and ask, “Kevin, what’s going on? Who’s laughing?”
He immediately sobers up and exclaims, “Mimi! How’s New York?” So I tell him everything. Then I ask who’s laughing and he mysteriously answers, “Just a friend.”
I ask if the friend is Beatrice and he assures me it’s not. Then I ask if he’d consider marrying her and moving off to Bangladesh before we get home on Wednesday. He laughs and declares Beatrice is a very nice person and if I weren’t trying to steal her boyfriend, I would think so as well. I sense a little judgment on his part so I call him on it, “Kevin, are you saying I should back off and just let her have Elliot?”
He apologizes, “No, Meems, that’s not it. It’s just that she’s really a tragic character, kind of like me and she’s not a bad person. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Kevin Beeman, you are not tragic! I refuse to let you say things like that about yourself.”
He declares, “Okay, how’s this? I was tragic, but I’m not anymore.”
I agree that sounds better and I promise to call him again before I come home. I also remind him to keep working out and he assures me he has been.
I don’t get back to the hotel until five which gives me two hours to get ready. I call the concierge and ask if they can get me a last minute hair appointment. I’d like to wear my hair up tonight and the only updo I know how to execute involves a banana clip. Frederick confirms the salon will be expecting me in ten minutes.
When he’s done with my hair, my stylist, Renaldo, suggests I let them do my makeup as well and in a caution to the wind moment, I agree. Why not? After all, I have to look my best if I’m going to have Elliot on his knees.
The dress I’ve chosen to wear is a floor-length red gown. I like to think of as the updated version of the dress Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman, and while I don’t have diamonds hanging at my neck, I’m not sure I need them. I stand in the mirror and just stare at the vision before me. It’s not only the change of hair color I’m seeing either. It’s a change of attitude. It’s a change of mannerisms, even. It’s as though I’m a snake that has outgrown its skin, shedding the old for the new.
I knock on Elliot’s door but he doesn’t answer. So I call the front desk and ask if there are any messages for me. I’m told there’s one from a Mr. Fielding. There’s been a change of plan and he’s going to meet me at the party, but a car will still pick me up at seven. To say that I’m disappointed would be an understatement. To say that I’m angry would be an understatement. I am full-blown enraged Elliot has something more important to do than escort me to his party. Even if I’m not his girlfriend I did travel all this way with him as his PR person. One would think common courtesy dictates that he treat me with a little more respect.
I take the elevator down to the lobby by myself and ask the concierge if my car has arrived. In a very Sex and the City moment, I’m led to a Lincoln Town Car, and then helped in. A formal Saturday night out in New York City has to be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. Edith Bunker hasn’t complained once tonight which surprises me as I’m currently in three inch heels. I’m guessing she’s been placated by a day of relative comfort. I even begin to wonder if Stan and Ollie missed the flight as there have been no signs of either of them.
The car pulls up to an art gallery in SoHo, which has been rented out for the evening, and I feel like Cinderella stepping out of her carriage. I walk into the party by myself and am immediately approached by two of the men I chatted with at last night’s meet and greet. Both of whom happen to be much shorter than my current six-foot-two inch stature. I wonder what it is about short men that demands they approach the tallest woman in the room and try to romance her. I am not a height snob, but the truth is I feel like I’m being hit on by the neighbor boys I used to babys
it. I peer effortlessly over both of their heads looking for any sign of Elliot but I don’t see him anywhere. Who I do see is Richard and I can’t help but smile. When he notices me, he makes a grab for his heart as though I’ve just stolen it.
He glides across the room towards me as if I am the Pussy Galore to his James Bond. The two men I am flanked by immediately sense they have been replaced by bigger game and disappear. Richard does not kiss my hand but rather pulls me into his embrace and whispers into my ear, “You look positively gorgeous tonight.”
I whisper back, “Elliot isn’t here yet so you can relax.” The truth is, Richard looks pretty darn terrific too. He is dressed in a black tuxedo and wears it as comfortably as most wear jeans and a T-shirt. He is one of those elegant men who are perfectly comfortable at grand affairs and I find myself a little awed by him.
Richard kisses me on both cheeks and declares, “I told you making Elliot jealous was merely a byproduct of my true intentions. Which if you will remember, is to sweep you off your feet and marry you on Saturday.”
I flirt back, “Richard Bingham, you would drop dead if I accepted your proposal and actually expected you to follow through with it.”
Looking totally serious, he declares, “Oh yeah? Try me.”
Just as I consider throwing all my eggs into Richard’s basket, I see Elliot walk in. Or should I say limp in. The man has added a new accessory to his person in the form of crutches. I begin to move towards him when Richards stays my arm, “Let him come to you, darling. It’s the cardinal rule of capturing a man.”
In a haze, I look at Richard and say, “But he’s been hurt. I need to make sure he’s okay.”
Richard assures me if Elliot were not okay, he would not be in attendance. Then he adds, “Come on, let’s make him jealous.” Then he leans very close to me and runs his hand up my back. “Now, I’m going to recite the Preamble in your ear and I want you to laugh like you’re having the time of your life.” I giggle at this and really do nearly bust a gut when I hear him murmur, “We the people, in order to form a more perfect union…”
Nearly doubling over in mirth, I reply, “Richard stop, you’re too much!”
But he continues, “To establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense…” Then he whispers, “Your target has spotted you and he’s on his way over.” I’m about to spin around and see when Richard body blocks me to keep me from looking like a lost puppy come home.
I can only imagine what kind of picture Richard and I make when I hear the singular sound of annoyance and I know Elliot has arrived, “Mimi, you look lovely this evening.”
I turn around and pretend to be shocked anew by the sight of his crutches and declare, “My goodness, Elliot, what happened to you?”
He replies, “In a word, racquetball. Marcus convinced me to play him after lunch and I think it’s safe to say, it’s not my game.” He doesn’t say any of this while looking at me. He stands eye to eye with Richard and stares at him the whole time. He asks, “Mimi, who is your friend?”
Before I have a chance to speak, Richard puts out his hand and announces, “Richard Bingham, and you are?”
“Elliot Fielding.” And then like a spoiled child he adds, “This party is being thrown in my honor.”
“Oh yes.” declares Richard. “Congratulations on your new book. I understand from Mimi it’s much anticipated.”
As the energy sparks between the two, I wonder which one of them would win in a Bridget Jones, knock-down-drag-out- street brawl. But before any such display can break out, Marcus arrives. “Mimi, you are easily the most beautiful woman here! Move to New York and come to work for me. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Richard croons, “Darling, did you hear that? Now you have no reason not to marry me.”
Marcus jumps on the bandwagon, “I didn’t know you had a gentleman friend in New York, Mimi. I’m serious about my offer. If you’re interested, just let me know and I’ll send a moving truck straight to Pipsy.”
Elliot intervenes with, “Mimi’s family is in Pipsy. She’d never leave them.”
I glare at him for making any such presumption and declare, “I will live anywhere I want, Elliot, especially if it means marriage.”
With a naughty gleam in his eye, Richard contributes, “And babies, lots and lots of babies.”
Elliot grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downs it in one gulp. He replaces his empty one for a full one and alerts the waiter not to go too far away. Then grabs my hand and asks, “May I see you alone for a moment?”
Marcus disappears to play host to the media and Richard declares, “I’ll just go get us another drink, darling.”
As soon as they are gone Elliot demands, “Who is that man?”
I answer, “Richard Bingham. You were just introduced to him.”
Elliot explains, “What I mean is, who is he to you?”
Feeling my hackles rise, I answer, “He’s a very successful advertising executive who also happens to be attracted to me in a romantic sense. As you can see he’s even asked me to marry him.”
Elliot declares, “You can’t be serious, Mimi. There has to be something wrong with him.”
Seconds away from throwing my champagne in his face, I demand, “Why, because he’s interested in me? You know you’re not the only one who gets to live happily ever after, Elliot. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean I can’t too!”
He answers, “I told you I may not be marrying Beatrice.”
Infuriated, I ask, “I see. How long do you suppose I should wait around to see what you decide to do?”
Elliot takes my hand and tries to explain, “It’s complicated, Mimi.”
I snap back, “Well Richard is not. So why don’t you just take yourself off and leave me alone?”
Elliot looks hurt and mad and before he can respond to my demands, Richard is back, “Care to dance, darling?”
I take his arm gladly and storm away leaving Elliot to think about the choice he has to make. The rest of the night is a blur. While I truly have a wonderful time with Richard, I’m so mad at Elliot I want to scream. What could possibly be so complicated about breaking up with a woman he’s not even engaged to? I understand it wouldn’t be a pleasant scene but it’s not as though he would be asking for a divorce. People break up all the time.
At the end of the evening Richard asks if he can escort me back to The Plaza and I gladly agree. Without so much as looking at Elliot, Richard and I leave the gallery arm in arm.
Chapter 23
Richard helps me out of the Town Car and leads the way towards the hotel entrance. I tell him I had a lovely evening and there is truly no need for him to see me inside, but he insists, “If I’m right, your Mr. Fielding will be arriving shortly to make sure you go to your room alone.”
And just as we approach the elevator, I see Elliot hobble through the front door. I smile and declare, “Methinks this is a game you have played before, Richard. Elliot has just walked in.” With an intimate smile, I ask, “Would you care to come up?”
Richard graciously agrees, but first he draws me into his arms and gifts me with a truly-toe curling kiss. I swear, if I didn’t have this crazy, infuriating lust for Elliot, I’d run off with Richard tonight. This is the moment I realize Stan and Ollie didn’t miss the flight after all. There is no way I, Mimi Finnegan, would have attracted the attention of Richard Bingham without them. Richard and I get on the elevator and just as we hit the button for the fourteenth floor, I hear Elliot call out, “Hold the elevator.” But of course, we don’t.
As soon as we arrive at my floor, Richard bids me goodnight and says, “Hurry into your room so he doesn’t know whether or not I’m in there with you.”
Surprised, I ask, “You’re not coming in?”
“My dear, Miss Finnegan, when I go into a hotel room with you, there will be more than conversation happening. Remember that should you invite me up again.”
I thank Ri
chard for a wonderful evening and sprint away as fast as my three-inch heels will carry me. I briefly feel like I’m taking advantage of his kind disposition but I remember I leveled with him from the start. And who knows? The way things are looking with Elliot, Richard might be the man to sweep me off my feet after all. I would be very lucky to have him even though he isn’t my first choice.
Once I get into my room, I turn on the clock radio to a classical station so Elliot will hear music should he press his ear to the door, as I expect him to do. I hear him go into his room moments later and smile because he’s cursing, “Bloody this, bloody that…bollocks of a night,” etc. He’s making an inordinate amount of noise and it occurs to me he’s trying to interrupt whatever is happening in my room.
Smiling to myself, I change into my new pink silk nightgown, compliments of LeRon and Fernando and pull my bed covers back. The banging next door has increased so I knock on the connecting door and ask Elliot to please keep it down. Instead of doing as I ask, he pulls his door open and demands, “Why, am I interrupting something?” Then he charges into my room like a stampeding bull, all the while hopping on one foot. He is obviously in search of Richard. The whole scene is rather comical especially as he starts to lose his balance and has to throw himself onto the bed in hopes of a soft landing.
Elliot lays spread eagle on my duvet and grumbles, “Racquetball is the stupidest bloody sport.”
I walk over and try to help him up, but he refuses to move. Instead he rolls over and demands, “Is your bloody boyfriend in the loo, then?”
I grab Elliot’s arms and try to haul him up saying, “Come on, Elliot, time for you to go to bed.”
The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan (The Mimi Chronicles Book 1) Page 13