Sam took the flowers from him. This was the first time in her life anyone had sent her flowers. Was she supposed to tip the guy?
“Thanks,” she murmured as he turned to leave.
She stood there for a few moments and just looked at the gorgeous arrangement. Realizing her scanty attire, she retreated and closed the door. Walking into the kitchen, she found room on the crowded countertop for the vase. At least there was a note. Tearing it open, she read its contents while a warm, tingling feeling washed over her.
Dear Sam,
Thank you for an unforgettable night. I will treasure the memory always.
Jordan
Sam read and reread the note several times before putting it down. Inhaling the fragrant roses, she closed her eyes and conjured up his image. Could it be possible he’d enjoyed the night as much as she had? Or was he just being polite? Whatever the reason, she was touched and a little turned on. But would she see him again? That was the twenty-dollar question.
Chapter 6
“So who is this belly dancer you met last night?” Lori asked as she studied the menu at the Golden Dragon Chinese restaurant.
“Her name’s Sam–short for Samantha. I don’t think you know her. She works in an art gallery and does this belly dance routine at the Blue Monkey restaurant and at bachelor affairs,” Jordan replied. “I think I’ll try one of the chicken dishes.”
“Which one?” Greg asked. He was a solidly-built man in his mid-fifties with a head of thick gray hair. “Why don’t we share a Pu Pu platter and then two or three main courses? I always liked General Tso’s chicken.” He glanced around. “Nice little place–not too fancy but clean and pleasant. I love that garlic and soy sauce aroma.”
“So do I. Why don’t we add some dim sum? They’re like dumplings stuffed with meat or seafood. I hear it’s a specialty.” Jordan put down the menu and turned to his sister. “I ended up taking Sam home. She lives in a brownstone on the West Side.”
“No wonder Lara was upset. How come you didn’t take her home?” Lori asked.
“It’s a long story,” Jordan muttered. “She was in a sour mood from the moment I picked her up last night. Lara expects me to be at her beck and call. I only see her on the weekends due to my crazy work load. This situation has been building for the last several months, so I wasn’t surprised at her state of mind.” He took a long swallow of water.
“Something must have happened during the evening to bring things to a head. What aren’t you telling us?” Lori gave him a pointed look.
“Yes, you seem to be avoiding the central issue,” Greg said.
The waiter came to take their order, interrupting the conversation. It gave Jordan a few moments to reflect on how much he wanted to reveal. He had a gut feeling his sister and brother-in-law wouldn’t condone all his actions, especially the fight with Sam’s date.
“Well, what pissed Lara off was the fact that I got up to dance with Sam while she was doing her routine. Other men had danced with her, and I didn’t think it was a big deal. Everyone thought it was a lot of fun. People were laughing and clapping. Lara was the only one who didn’t enjoy the entertainment. By that time, I’d had it and asked Scott to take her home as he was leaving early.”
“Now I’m starting to get the picture. She wants more from the relationship than you do. When she saw you fooling around with the belly dancer that was the last straw. Am I right?”
“Probably. But I’d had it, too. It’s for the best. We’re just not compatible, that’s all. She really read me the riot act, calling me all kinds of names. A bit unsettling, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, maybe she had to get all that anger off her chest. I’d probably do the same thing,” Lori said. She poured hot tea into small cups.
“No you wouldn’t,” Jordan shook his head. “You’re much more even-tempered. You don’t get upset when your husband leaves you alone to go on business trips. You understand that it comes with the territory.”
“Ha, that’s what you think.” Greg leaned back in his chair with a smirk on his face.
“What do you mean?” Lori demanded, glaring at him.
“Listen you two, don’t start quarreling. I want some level-headed thinking here,” Jordan said, glancing from one to the other. The last thing he needed was another noisy argument. There’d been enough name-slinging for one day.
“Jordan, remember this. There are no relationships made in heaven. You’ll always have problems when you live with someone.” Lori stirred sugar into her tea and took a sip.
“Lara and I weren’t even living together. I saw her one night a week,” Jordan exclaimed.
“Maybe that was the problem. Everything came to a head on the weekends, instead of being spread out over the whole week. When Lori and I have a heated discussion, usually about the kids, we space it out over several days and eventually come to a conclusion we can both agree on, don’t we dear?” Greg sent his wife a broad smile.
She nodded her agreement and took a handful of crispy noodles to munch on. “I hope the food comes soon. I’m starved.”
As if on cue, the waiter appeared with several varieties of dim sum plus the Pu Pu platter.
“Wow, that’s a lot of food.” Lori reached for a barbecued spare rib and an eggroll.
“We’ll have no problem finishing all of it,” Greg declared, opting to start with the dim sum.
By the time the meal ended, Jordan realized he’d be better off keeping his own counsel than confiding in Lori and Greg. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his behavior at the restaurant, or later that night making love to Sam. He didn’t think they’d understand unless they’d been there and seen the provocation from Brice. But he felt better being with company instead of eating alone and ruminating on his complicated sex life.
~ ~ ~
Peter gazed at the vase of long-stemmed roses set in the center of Sam’s crowded kitchen table. “You have a secret admirer or something?” He walked around the table, eying the flowers from several angles. “Those are pretty gorgeous blooms. Not the cheap ones either.”
Sam wasn’t sure how much to mention about the previous evening’s amazing happenings. She treasured his good opinion and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. “Uh, I did a belly dance routine to fill in for Eve last night at the Blue Monkey. She was out with the flu and, even though I protested, I got drafted. The roses came from one of the patrons who insisted on dancing with me. I guess he got carried away with the routine Beth and I were doing.” It was a partial truth.
“Hmmm.” Peter tugged at his neatly trimmed gray beard, a skeptical look on his face. He was a slightly-built man with expressive brown eyes and thick dark eyebrows. “Must have been some performance.” He smiled and his eyes twinkled.
Sam knew he suspected something more had occurred but wasn’t going to probe. Which was just as well. Every time she thought about last night’s events, she felt warm all over. It would be embarrassing to explain her actions to him. Peter wasn’t a prude. He loved an off-color joke and could sit through all kinds of sex scenes at the movies. But this was too personal to share. Besides, this was most likely a one-night stand. Jordan had sent those roses as both a thank-you and a farewell. Sam was sure of it.
“How’re things going with that nice guy you brought to the gallery? What’s his name–Brice or something?”
Sam took a quick, indrawn breath. Should she tell the truth or a small fib? She opted for the latter. “I don’t think he’s that pleasant. A bit of a wolf, if you know what I mean.”
Peter laughed. “You mean he came on to you?”
“That’s an understatement. The guy isn’t going to be here very long–maybe another week. I didn’t mind taking him around or conversing about art, but I wasn’t going to hop into bed with him. And that’s what he wanted. Well, he can have a f
ling with someone else. I’m not interested in casual affairs.” Sam checked the time. “We’d better get going if we want to make that movie.” She’d had enough talk about men for one evening.
~ ~ ~
“Do you think you could do something with the color of my hair? Maybe tone it down? I thought a dark auburn would look good. What do you think?” Sam sat in the chair at the New Diva Hair Salon, the one Beth recommended, while Carlos studied her from all angles.
“You definitely need a darker color. That carrot color doesn’t do anything for you. Let’s see what shade would work. Once we have the color right, I’ll layer your hair so it hugs your head instead of flying around in all directions.”
The salon was a small, intimate one with modern-looking furnishings and white walls. On Monday it was relatively quiet, which Sam appreciated. Carlos was a slim man with olive skin and thick black hair. Beth told her he hailed from Argentina and really knew his stuff. Sam tried to concentrate on that instead of worrying about the outcome.
Carlos draped several swatches of hair around her face until he found the one he wanted. “This is it–a warm, dark auburn. How do you like it?”
“Looks good to me,” Sam said. Anything was better than the bright red she’d been born with.
“We’ll darken your eyebrows, too. That will bring out the lovely color of your eyes.”
Nice to know he thought her eyes were lovely. These Latin men had a way about them.
Two hours later, Sam looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t help smiling. “You did a remarkable job, Carlos. It doesn’t look like the old me.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased. If you come for regular touchups and trims every four or five weeks, we’ll be able to keep you looking beautiful. If you have the time, I would suggest a facial and new makeup. That would be the icing on the cake. Also, if you want a change of style, let me show you some hair pieces you could use.”
He left for a few moments and came back with a long swatch of dark auburn hair. “If you pin your hair up and attach the hair piece, it will give you a whole new look.” Carlos demonstrated the technique for her and, when the long swatch was in place, he handed her a mirror. “See how sexy that is?”
Carlos was right. “How much is something like this?” She wasn’t about to spend a bundle on false hair. Then again, why not splurge a little?
“I can give you a good price.” He mentioned a number.
Sam took a deep breath and nodded.
“While you’re here, why don’t you have a facial and a makeup consultation?”
“Carlos, you are one smart salesman,” Sam exclaimed. “I’ll be penniless when I leave this place.”
He laughed. “But you owe it to yourself to look as beautiful as you can.”
He had a point. “Okay. I’ll have to go without food for the next two weeks. Maybe I’ll lose a few pounds.”
The esthetician wasn’t busy and could work on her. She might as well go the whole nine yards and consider it an early birthday present. She’d be thirty-seven in a few months.
Carlos insisted on taking a photo of her before she left. “I should have taken one when you first came in. Like a before and after picture.” He handed it to her. “It’s given me much pleasure to make you over. Now, since you have a model’s height, you should wear slim-fitting black leggings to show off your lovely long legs. Those baggy jeans don’t do you justice. And I would try to wear colors like browns, rust, yellows, and reds. Even black would set off that hair color. You could wear a short skirt over the leggings with a colored top or a long tunic. Make the most of what you have, and every man you pass will give you one of those wolf’s whistles.” He pursed his lips and gave a rendition.
She started giggling. “Oh, Carlos, you are something else.” Impulsively, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for everything.”
Sam walked out the door of the salon in a euphoric mood. She hadn’t felt this light and happy in a very long time. She walked through the neighborhood of small shops and boutiques, thinking about Carlos’s instructions. Maybe she did need a different kind of wardrobe. The outfit she wore today, a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, was serviceable but boring.
Sam scrutinized the fashions displayed in several of the boutiques. One of the stores featured the type of leggings he’d mentioned, plus several colorful tops. Before she could change her mind, she walked in. A half-hour later she came out wearing black leggings, a short black skirt and a striped rust and black long-sleeved jersey that hugged her shape. Her baggy jeans and flannel shirt plus two additional tops were stuffed into a shopping bag.
Why hadn’t she done these things before? She gave the question several moments of thought. Finally, she came to the realization that her encounter with Jordan was the impetus for the change. With this awareness came unwelcome feelings of anger and then sadness. Impressing a man shouldn’t be the reason for improving her appearance. Besides, he was past history. She’d never see him again.
Another issue bothered her. She hadn’t heard from Beth since the incident at the restaurant Saturday night. Was her friend angry? Should she be the one to call? As she pondered this weighty issue, she continued walking home. She could have taken the cross-town bus, but the exercise was good for her. Walking encouraged reflection and helped her think about the best way to handle these situations. Absorbed in her inner world, Sam scarcely noticed the crowds of people waiting at the bus stops or the small park in her neighborhood filled with mothers pushing baby carriages.
Looking back on the whole incident with Brice, Sam knew she couldn’t have acted any other way. The man was drunk and obnoxious. The fact that he was Sean’s cousin, however, didn’t help matters. Maybe Beth and Sean empathized with him and wouldn’t see her point of view. The only way to find out would be to call. The worst that could happen would be Beth giving her the cold shoulder. The very thought of that possibility made Sam hesitate.
She’d wait another day and then phone. That was probably the best thing. A more immediate need was stopping for groceries. The cupboards and fridge were almost empty. With all the money she’d spent today, eating in was a definite necessity. The small market near her home, which was run by a Korean family, was her all-time favorite. Specializing in fruits and veggies, the store boasted some of the freshest produce around. Ben, the college-age son of the owners, was on duty.
“Hi, Ben,” Sam called out as she entered. He was a slim, dark-haired young man busy unloading boxes of strawberries and setting up a display at the front of the store.
Ben turned and stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Sam?” he asked, appraising her with a questioning air.
She’d momentarily forgotten her changed appearance. “It’s me,” she said trying not to laugh.
“Wow,” he exclaimed. “You look like one of those fashion models on television.” He gave a low whistle. “Pretty hot, Sam.”
At that point Sam convulsed into giggles as Carlos’s prediction proved correct. “Thanks, Ben. It’s just new hair color and clothes.”
“Whatever,” he said, still eying her with interest. “I probably wouldn’t recognize you if I passed you on the street.”
That was news. Sam picked up a shopping basket and started looking for her favorite items: mushrooms, garlic, onions, eggplant, tomatoes, and an assortment of fresh greens. She planned on making her special tomato sauce and a pan of eggplant parmesan. That would take care of dinners for the next several days.
When she walked into her home later, the answering machine was blinking and the cats were meowing in unison. “Okay, okay, guys,” she said, moving aside several stacks of magazines to place her groceries on the kitchen table. She stood for a moment, admiring those gorgeous long-stemmed roses, and took an appreciative sniff. An image of Jordan’s handsome face flew through her mind, bringi
ng a poignant sadness. With determination, she banished those feelings and fed her cats, put away the groceries, and then listened to her messages. There were three from her mother.
“Samantha, I know this is your day off. Please call me back.” The next one was even more explicit. “Samantha, I must speak to you right away. It’s very important.” The third one was emphatic. “Samantha, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. You don’t answer your cell phone and I’ve left two messages on your home phone. Where are you? If I don’t hear from you by seven tonight, your father and I are coming down to your house to see if you’re still alive.”
The last message, with its dire warning, spurred Sam to action. She punched in her mom’s number and sat back in one of the kitchen chairs. Much better to talk on the phone than to endure a face-to-face encounter.
“Well, it’s about time. Where’ve you been all day?” her mom asked.
“I had errands and shopping. Isn’t that what most people do on their day off?” She was being sarcastic, but she couldn’t help it.
“Andrea made an appointment for you for a fitting tomorrow night right after work. You’re finished at five and the seamstress has you down for five-thirty. You can take a cab to her place. Get a pencil and paper and write down the details.”
Something in her mom’s tone of voice convinced Sam an argument would be futile. With a grimace of annoyance, she grabbed a pad and pencil. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn’t have a choice. Andrea’s wedding loomed like a monster hurricane bearing down on her. She couldn’t wait to see it over and done with.
Chapter 7
“I’ve had a hysterical call from your ex-girlfriend and another call from Don Metzger with an amazing story. Seems you got into a brawl at that restaurant the other night. I thought you might need the services of a lawyer,” Scott Madden said.
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