At this point, I received a genuine smile and chuckle from Des that evaporated my anger.
“Darling, it’s time to go!” Brynn stood up and possessively placed her hand on Des’s shoulder. Clearly, his sharing a laugh with someone else was not on Ms. Roberts’s agenda.
“Well, it was charming to receive such useful advice from such a learned traveler! Good evening. Enjoy your stay at the Holiday Inn Express.” With that, Des Bannerman departed from the table, taking his companion with him.
The universe reconfigured, the clouds re-gathered, the sun faded, and with them went my hopes.
Hillary, Kathleen, and the rest came thundering over. “How’d it go? What’d he say?” they asked in unison.
It was a bit embarrassing, considering that Des and Brynn were only about two feet away. “For the love of God and all that is holy, could you at least wait for them to be out of hearing range?” I whispered loudly.
The flash of white passing by at waist level reminded me of “The Grand Plan.” I had forgotten to tell him about his fly. I still had a way into the sphere of Des Bannerman’s world. All hope was not lost, and Brynn’s agenda be damned: I was going in for another play.
“I’ll be back!” I said with the same determination as the Terminator.
I returned immediately. They’d disappeared, again. “What is it with these people? They disappear instantly! I need help finding him! Go! Find him!” I felt like a general sending her troops into battle.
Thankfully, the troops returned unscathed, and quickly. Des and Brynn had made it only as far as the bar. That seemed like an exceptionally reasonable place to reacquaint myself with him. Not too over the top at all.
Again, en masse we trooped to the bar. Hovering on the boundary of personal space, we chatted about skiing, the hot spots we had ventured into, the spa we were visiting the next day—anything we could think of to keep us there, hoping beyond all measure of hope that Des would turn around and provide an opportunity to speak to him.
Nothing happened. We talked, but he didn’t turn around.
“Move closer,” I whispered. En masse, we took a step backwards. Considering there were now nine of us, fortunately we did so without too much incident. “Ask me about my luck at the blackjack table,” I whispered to Kathleen.
“So, Charlotte, how was your luck at the tables? Did you lose a bundle?” she dutifully enquired.
I tried to sound confident, affluent, and knowledgeable. “I’m up seven.”
“Oh!” the masses replied, as if I was a blackjack genius.
Nonchalantly, I scanned the room, my gaze pausing at my target on the bar stool. Nope, still no notice from him. “Take another step back!” I commanded.
With great courage and verve, the group took another step backward.
“Bloody hell! Watch it, mate! You’ve gone and stepped on her foot!” growled Des. Brynn was grimacing in pain and rubbing her offended foot.
“Oh, we’re so sorry, we were just trying to get the bartender’s attention,” Kathleen spoke up.
“Quick on your feet, Kathleen! Well done!” I complimented while Des attended to his battle-wounded beauty.
I stepped forward and asked the couple, “May we buy you a drink to help dull the pain?”
After a lingering glare that managed to convey where her pain really lay, Brynn refused and announced that she was returning to “the chalet” since her foot was finished for the evening.
“Coming, darling?” she purred, perched on one foot like a gorgeous flamingo.
Pinching at his bottom lip, he looked up at her through his eyelashes, boyishly charming. “If your foot doesn’t require me for the evening, would you mind? I promised Ted that I would meet him. I haven’t seen him in ages. Darling, do you mind?”
Myriad emotions crossed her beautiful face but finally arrived at acceptance. “Fine! Could you call the car for me? I’ll see myself back and have a soak in that marvelous bath.” Brynn simpered up next to Des and said just loud enough, “For God’s sake, be careful. This group is just on the verge of throwing themselves at you. And I do mean that literally!”
Quietly, he soothed her. “Don’t worry. I’ll have Stan watch a little bit closer. It’ll be fine. Just go have a soak and look after your foot. We need you well enough to go skiing tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be perfect at the summit. A lovely day of skiing, just you and me.” He spoke melodically, his blue eyes laser-focused on her.
It wasn’t until then that I realized that another neckless fellow wasn’t too far from the lovebirds. He was talking on the phone and no sooner did he finish the call than he leaned over and whispered into Des’s ear.
“The car is out front. I’ll walk you out. Pierre, Andre, or whatever the hell his name is, will get you safely back. Have Miranda call me and let me know you’ve made it safely.”
With that, Des, Brynn, and two muscle-bound, neck-free individuals proceeded toward the casino doors. Brynn, carefully bundled up in furs, gloves, and glasses, gave Des a quick peck on the cheek, and then she was out the door with Mr. NoNeck Number One, leaving Mr. NoNeck Number Two to protect Des.
My opportunity just improved one hundred percent. I would be able to execute “The Grand Plan” and then some. “Tiziana! Please, please, please, would you be willing to distract Ted?”
Tiziana was my closest friend. Without any jealousy, we all acknowledged her as the true beauty among us. It’s quite disgusting, actually. Tiziana had many things in common with Sophia Loren; she was Italian, gorgeous, and intelligent. And they both oozed “Look at me!” upon entering a room.
She couldn’t help it. God had given her all the right things in all the right places, jiggling at all the right times.
“Of course I’ll help you, so long as my Gianni doesn’t hear of this!” she purred.
She wasn’t practicing; she always purred. I thought it was an Italian woman thing. Every answer was given in a sing-song, catch-me-if-you-can kind of voice. I spent a fair amount of time just listening to her speak. From time to time, I’d tried to duplicate her sultry style, but I ended up feeling ridiculous.
We all discreetly watched Des and Mr. NoNeck wander the casino. After finding a quiet table off to the side and placing a bet, Des settled in to play a hand of blackjack.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” the girls wanted to know.
“Well, I think I’ll hang back for a while and watch him. I don’t want him to get frightened. Maybe after Ted has arrived and they’ve chatted a bit, Tiziana and I will wander over. What do you think?”
In agreement, we made our way to the bar and found a table to sit at. The waiting was excruciating, for me at least. The girls were having a great time. Tiziana, as usual, had drawn a group of men into her sphere. Our earlier cohorts had wandered off when they heard Tiziana agreeing to help me with Des. Now new males were vying for her attention, drinks were being passed around, compliments were being passed out, and I was avoiding all things alcohol. I didn’t want to make any mistakes.
Fifteen minutes into playing blackjack alone, an elegant, well-dressed man walked toward Des. Des stood up and gave the man a half-hug, half-handshake. They proceeded to sit down, order drinks, and play cards. In between placing bets and loosely watching the game, the two men appeared to be giving each other a good ribbing. It was amazing to be sitting here in Chamonix watching Des Bannerman laugh his head off. I’d had dreams of moments like these, but never in my wildest fantasies did I think I would spend actual minutes just observing the man.
After another twenty minutes of staking out the table, I thought it was time Tiziana and I meandered back to the blackjack tables.
I gently but firmly extracted a male hand from Tiziana’s waist. “Tiziana, it’s time to go,” I whispered into her ear. Without pause, she put her hand on the cheek of the male trying to win her favor and said a few kind words. We were off.
I am a fairly smart woman, at least smart enough to allow Tiziana in her resplendent jiggling and oozing
fashion to clear a path through the casino. As she did, I issued instructions to her from behind, telling her to find out from Ted how much longer Des would be in town, where he was staying, and, above all else, to be sure not mention that I was trying to meet Des. After a circuitous path through the blackjack tables, we eventually arrived at the desired table.
I was not surprised that Tiziana had already captured Ted and Des’s attention. Well, to be fair, every male’s attention. Those two continued to stare just south of eye level, while the dealer asked if we’d like to place a bet.
I was certain the dealer had no idea what words were coming out of his mouth, because it was something like, “Mademoiselle, are you available? To place a bet, I hope. I mean, would you like to sit down? May I get you a cocktail? That is, the casino would happily offer you a drink!” Stumble, stumble, stumble. I had to say that I genuinely enjoyed these occasions.
Once Tiziana had been carefully escorted onto her stool, I plunked down beside her.
“Darling, of course I’d love something. Champagne for two!” she purred.
“I can’t drink while working but perhaps afterwards. I could think of nothing I would enjoy more,” the dealer replied, stunned by his good fortune.
“Darling, while that might be wonderful, I was ordering for myself and my friend.” Her letdown was gentle.
Only then did a hundred pairs of eyes register my existence. The only pair that I cared about locked onto me and registered recognition. I could vaguely hear chuckling in the background. I seemed to have only one functioning sense whenever in the direct presence of Des.
“Ted, best be careful. Our charming table companions are undisputed blackjack experts. I’ve heard from reliable sources that one in particular is brilliant at the game. I heard it said that she was up seven. By the way, do you know what ‘up seven’ means?” Des asked while the champagne was served, the dealer’s face burning with embarrassment. Ted got up to sit beside Tiziana.
Bingo! Desired effect! Des stood up and moved over one seat. While he hadn’t sat down next to me, he was in close range. We now appeared to be a group as opposed to perfect strangers.
Tiziana was looking at her cards and determining her strategy when Ted leaned into her and said, “I would be most grateful if you would give me the benefit of your expertise. I’m on a terrible losing streak and will end up giving this chap quite a bit of money if it continues. Please, change my luck for me!”
Turning her head so that she and Ted were nose to nose, Tiziana trilled in a low, throaty voice, “I would love to, darling, but you see, I’m not the expert. I leave that to my dear friend, Charlotte. I’m afraid my skills are outside the game of blackjack.” Several jaws dropped.
“Would you care to recount your skills? I’m dying to know. But first, please, tell me your name,” Ted persisted.
“My name, darling, is Tiziana. What’s yours?”
Ted looked a little startled. “I’m sorry, could you say your name again?”
I jumped in because this certainly wasn’t the first time someone had been startled upon hearing her name. I leaned forward and said, “Her name is pronounced Teet-zee-awwn-na. With an ‘August’-type ‘a’ on the ‘anna’ part.”
“Well, Teet-Z-Awna, I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Ted. Not at all as exotic as yours.”
And so the game began. Tiziana reeled Ted in breath by breath, carefully including me in the conversation at first and then gradually allowing the conversation to drift away from everyone but the two of them.
As was so often the case when in Tiziana’s presence, I got the left-over guy. But what a guy! After a few more glasses of liquid courage and several hands of blackjack, Des got up and came to sit beside me. I assume it was because Ted hadn’t spoken to him in quite some time.
You can tell a lot about a movie star when they get up close and personal. For example, not only were Des’s eyes blue, they were azure; not only were his teeth white and straight, they were identically shaped and spaced; not only did he have dimples, but his dimples had dimples. Struggling to think of something to say instead of just gaping at the man, I placed a bet and nonchalantly said, “Nice hair! New look?”
“You think? The director wants me to grow it longer for a movie I start shooting in a few months, but I think it makes me look ridiculous,” he said, flicking his golden locks over his shoulder.
Smirking, I said, “No, what makes you look ridiculous is when you flick it over your shoulder.”
Fortunately, he had enough of a sense of humor to laugh at the comment. All those perfect teeth and dimples just a few inches away were almost too much to take. I decided to occupy my hands by placing another bet. “So, is that what all the muscle is about?”
“No. I’m always this ripped.” He laughed as a flush ran up his neck and across his cheeks.
“Really? That must take a lot of time.” I noted that his biceps were bulging inside his fitted long-sleeved shirt.
“I’m kidding. I detest working out. I’m to play a roman warrior, so I’ve been with my trainer four hours a day for several months. When he’s finished with squeezing every last drop of sweat from me, I spend a few hours a day being chased by a sword while I wear armor. I’m meant to be learning how to be heroic.” He laughed.
“Sounds like fun. Well, in case you’re curious, the training is working out, but I think the blond hair might have to go.”
“I’ll let the director know,” he replied, as he drained his glass of amber liquid. He signaled for another and motioned toward my now-empty glass of champagne.
With beverages refreshed, my luck with blackjack continued, and soon I was instructing him in the fine art of when to split, when to double, and when to raise his bet. In between our scholarly pursuits, we made catty comments about the people in the casino, laughed when two men ran into each other after laying eyes on Tiziana, and counted how long it took people to realize he really was Des Bannerman once they sat down at the table.
“Personally, I really don’t see what the big deal is. I’m just another bloke,” he would tell them and then order drinks for the table.
It wasn’t lost on me that there hadn’t been a single mention of anything personal nor had there been any action to lead me to believe that he found me attractive. We were just pals. Other than the lack of lingering kisses and wandering hands, it was just as I’d imagined spending an evening with him would be: entertaining, relaxed, and surreal. It felt perfect.
“Hey, I‘m up five!” Des cheered. Ted looked up long enough to laugh at Des’s good fortune. He and Tiziana had quit placing bets but continued to talk quietly beside us.
“Charlotte, I must say that I’ve truly enjoyed the knowledge I’ve acquired this evening, not to mention the opportunity to enjoy such charming company. However, I fear it has come time for me to get myself and Ted out of here and to some place where we can sober up and get some rest,” Des announced after asking the dealer for the time. It was 4 a.m.
Though I was disappointed to have the evening end, I knew it must. This wasn’t a fairy tale. There was no point in saying anything other than a cheerful goodbye.
As Tiziana and I stood up to say goodnight, Ted gallantly suggested that they drive us home. Considering we had no idea where the rest of the girls had disappeared to, we took them up on their offer.
On our way to the entrance of the casino, Des looked down at me. “You’re a tiny little thing. How tall are you?”
“Didn’t your mother tell you not to ask a lady a question like that? Let’s just say, I wouldn’t mind being a full foot taller. I feel a bit ridiculous at times. Maybe your trainer has some steroids or something.”
“Are you suggesting something?” He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge.
“No, not at all! I’m sure that’s all you.” I swept a hand gesturing from my head to toe. “And this is all of me.”
“You should go into show business. A lot of celebrities are short. Have you ever seen Robert Downey,
Jr. or Reese Witherspoon?”
“In real life? Oddly, no. Our paths haven’t crossed,” I answered sarcastically.
Mr. NoNeck called for the car while we gathered our things from the coat check. While we were bundling up into our coats and hats, Tiziana murmured discreetly, “Darling, how did it go? Did he profess his undying love?”
“Yeah, right! He’s charming, unexpectedly friendly, and he made it clear, without words, that he feels nothing more. Quick, let’s get home so I can dream about this!” I sighed, mostly satisfied with how the evening had gone. Just then we were joined by Ted, Des, and NoNeck to be escorted out of the casino.
I noticed that none of the three men had put on their coats. “Won’t you get cold?”
“No, the cold air will do me good. Bracing wind, no better way to sober up. A little hypothermia never did anyone harm,” was Des’s reply.
As we walked through the door and headed for the steps, I suddenly remembered the critical part of “The Grand Plan.”
I leaned over to Des. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you all night that your fly is down. You’ve been flashing your tighty-whities.” I pointed to his white patch of fabric.
He looked up with a sheepish grin, embarrassed. “Now she tells me! A little hypothermia in some places could do a lot of harm,” he replied in a high-pitched yelp. I giggled.
It was then that the sun rose. Then I realized that it wasn’t the sun rising, it was about a million flashbulbs. Quickly, Mr. NoNeck guided us toward an open car door while politely shouting at the paparazzi to let Mr. Bannerman pass through.
“Bollocks!” muttered Des.
***
The inside of the car was luxurious. The soft leather seats that were warm to the touch; the golden glow of low lights; and the smell of heavenly aftershave. I settled myself into my seat and leaned back into the cozy cocoon. I noticed a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.
Soothing music filled the car, and Des leaned toward me. “Would you care for a glass?” He placed his hand on my thigh and moved toward me more intimately. “You have the loveliest eyes. I hate to be so cliché, but a man truly could lose himself in them,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss me. I felt my heart pound, and all sense of time stopped. Des Bannerman was kissing me…!
Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) Page 3