Fool's Gold (Contemporary Romance), page 6
Trent laughed. “I bet. Omaha was sort of like that for me, but in reverse. I’ve been in the city all my life. My idea of a wide open space is Central Park, and then you’re sharing it with a thousand other people.”
“I went to Times Square earlier, and then down to Ground Zero. I still want to get up to Central Park and to the Statue of Liberty. And the Empire State Building.”
“Well, you said you’re out here for good, right?”
Victoria nodded.
“Then pace yourself.”
A pair of waitresses arrived with the wine. Both had burgundy aprons wrapped around their waists, white blouses and wide smiles. “Excellent choice on the wine, sir,” the older of the two said. She held forth the bottle, letting Trent inspect the cork. He waved it away, so she decorked it and poured a finger’s worth of wine into a glass.
Trent took a sniff, tested a sip, then nodded. “Very good.”
“Excellent.” The waitress poured two glasses while her assistant watched. “My name is Bethany and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Is there anything you have questions about or anything you’d like to get started?”
Trent ordered escargot. The waitresses complimented his choice and left without writing down the order.
“Order whatever you like.” Trent pointed to the menu. “The Lapin à la Moutarde de Meaux is wonderful.”
“Okay.” The menu wasn’t long, but everything in it looked good. It took her a moment to locate the lapin and determine that it was a rabbit with mustard sauce. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that expensive. She expected a Manhattan dinner to cost more. The expense probably came from the drinks.
“You alright?”
Victoria glanced up, meeting Trent’s frank gaze. She realized that she was frowning at the menu. “I’m good.” She smiled, trying to put him at ease. “It’s different than what I’m used to.”
He looked right through her, and it felt like he was gazing within her. “You said you’re staying with your friend from high school? Cheryl?”
“Christine. She went--“
“What part of the city is she in?”
“Queens.”
Trent’s easy smile faltered for a second, then corrected itself. “Interesting. She’s the musician, right? From the show we went to in Omaha?”
“Yeah, she sings for The Flaming Ravens. It’s rock, not jazz, though.”
“Speaking of jazz, I talked to my boy Dalton at the office. He says Birdland in Hell’s Kitchen is his favorite spot. You might check it out.”
“I have an audition lined up for this weekend, but that sounds good. Right now I just want to get to know some people in the music scene. Christine knows a few clubs, but they’re mostly rock.”
The waitresses returned with a basket of bread, then took their orders. Victoria went with the rabbit like Trent suggested. If he thought it was good, she might as well try it. He seemed pleased that she followed his suggestion.
Trent topped off her wine. “The bread is good. Not as good as the stuff Tony wrote about in Restaurant Secrets, but good.”
Victoria plucked a darker piece from the basket, feeling the rough texture between her fingers. Bits crumbled off onto the table as she raised it to her mouth. Trent was right: it was good. Rich. Warm. Yeasty.
“You like it?” Trent asked.
“Absolutely.”
“So I was going to get tickets to ‘Wicked’ tonight, but my concierge let me down. We can go try to find another show with open seats, if you want. Or I can just give you a tour of the town.” He presented them neutrally, and Victoria couldn’t tell which he’d rather do.
“Whichever you want. Either one sounds good.”
“How about the tour, then? Actually, you know what, how about we go up to the park? It’ll be cooler by the time we finish dinner. You said you wanted to see it, right? It’s gorgeous in the summer.”
Dinner and a romantic evening in the park? It was like a fairy tale. “Okay.”
The food came, and it was better than Victoria had imagined. The meat fell apart on the fork, the carrots and potatoes were cooked to perfection and the sauce had a wine and mustard flavor that seemed to dance on her tongue. Even after she finished the meat and vegetables, she used a hunk of the French bread to soak up the extra sauce.
“You like it, I take it?” Trent had left his food half eaten.
“It’s very good. I don’t think I’ve ever had French food before.”
“That’s something New York has on just about anywhere else in the world. We have food from every culture, usually only a block apart. And all of it’s amazing. It has to be or it doesn’t last.”
“I can believe it.”
The waitresses appeared again, this time with dessert menus. Trent ordered a crème brûléeand bananas flambé without asking for Victoria’s input, but she didn’t mind. He was the native. He knew what would be good.
Trent made small talk about the deal he was working, and the waitresses brought the dessert after only a few minutes. She set them in the table and left them with a pair of saucers and two spoons.
Victoria lifted her spoon, then paused. “Which is better?”
“The crème brûlée, usually.” Trent carved a chunk of banana from the flambé and took a bite. His nose turned up. “It’s adequate.”
Victoria poked her spoon through the sugary crust on the crème brûléeand scooped up some of the custard from beneath. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. Her mouth started to water as she raised the bite to her mouth. It tasted...
Terrible.
“What’s wrong?” Trent paused, his spoon poised above the brûlée.
Victoria grabbed her napkin and spit into it. “It’s sour.” She took a sip of wine to wash the taste from her mouth.
Trent caught a little on the edge of his spoon and sampled it. “You’re right. That’s disgusting.” He looked around the restaurant, spotted the waitress. “Hey miss!” He beckoned her over.
The elder waitress came over, her assistant trailing behind her. “What can I do for you? Coffee?”
“This is rancid.” He jabbed an accusatory finger at the bowl. “Take it away.”
Both waitresses’ eyes grew wide. “Of course, sir. Immediately. Can we bring you something else instead?”
“No,” Victoria blurted. She looked at Trent and blushed. “I don’t care for anything else. You can.”
Trent’s expression darkened. He turned to the waitress. “We’re finished. Bring me the check.” He slapped his credit card on the table.
“I’m sorry,” Victoria said. “I still have that taste in my mouth. More sugar doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s fine.” Trent pushed his dessert saucer away. “They should know better. I can’t believe they brought something like that to the table.”
The waitress didn’t come back. Instead, a jowly middle-aged man in a black suit and burgundy vest came over to their table. “Mr. Pearce, I’m very sorry. I have, of course, comped both desserts as well as the lady’s meal.”
Trent looked him up and down. “Thanks.” His voice was hard.
The manager, Victoria assumed he had to be the manager, took half a step back. He was practically shaking by the time Trent signed the receipt and collected his credit card.
Trent ignored him and rose, holding out a hand for Victoria. “Let’s find somewhere better for dessert.”
Victoria let him lead her to the front of the restaurant. She glanced back to see if the manager was okay, but he was already gone. Probably to berate the servers and the cooks and anyone else he could find.
“Is it a long walk to Central Park?” Victoria asked once they were outside.
“Walk?” Trent laughed. “We’ll take a cab.” He went to the curb and held up a hand.
Chapter 11
Beta
BETA couldn’t remember the last time a girl asked him to go on a date. Probably because it had never happened. And Charlotte wanted to pick him up. It was the weirdest thing he’d ever heard of, even it was with Victoria’s best friend. Maybe Charlotte would know how Victoria was doing in New York.
He took his time shaving, making sure he got every hair on his neck. If he wasn’t careful, they got ingrown and then they got infected and that was just a pain in the neck he wanted to avoid. He grinned at his own joke as he slathered on some lotion to help with the burn. He rolled deodorant under his arms, wincing at the sting. It took prescription strength stuff to keep him dry, and then he smelled like a New Orleans flophouse. Still, it was better than having sweat-soaked pits before they even reached the restaurant.
He was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt when the doorbell rang. Chuckles was laying on the end of the bed, and he raised his head to look at the door, then quickly went back to his nap. Chuckles had been a pretty good cat since Victoria had dropped him off a month before. He hadn’t pissed on the carpet once.
Beta opened the door, then blinked. Charlotte looked good. Her blonde hair draped around her shoulders, and the skirt she wore hugged her wide hips like it was skin. She was bigger, thicker than Victoria, but he hadn’t really given her credit for how pretty she could be. “Uh, hey, Charlotte. You want to come in?”
Charlotte peeked around him, her eyes settling on Chuckles. “How’s the cat?”
Beta’s brow furrowed. “Huh? He’s good.” Chuckles was still snoozing. His new climbing tower sat in the corner. Sometime around sunset he’d wake up and go to town on it, but most of the time he just chilled.
“Then no, I don’t need to come inside.” She turned and started walking, forcing Beta to tug the door closed and hurry to catch up.
“You look nice,” Beta offered.
Charlotte ignored him. “I’m open to suggestions on food. As long as it’s not Appleburys.”
“I don’t know. I thought you--“
“No, I didn’t really plan this. It was a spur of the moment thing.”
“Oh.” Beta didn’t feel nearly as heartbroken as he expected. Mostly he felt confused. For spur of the moment, she’d certainly dressed up.
Charlotte stopped at her car--a boxy, full-sized Town Car--and looked him over. “How about Mexican? I could kill for a margarita or three.”
“Alright.” Chips and salsa always sounded good, and a frosty Dos Equis didn’t sound too bad, either. Or a Negra Modelo. He wasn’t picky.
“It’s my mom’s car,” Charlotte said as they drove.
“I didn’t think you were the Buick type.” Beta wiggled in his seat. It was a nice ride, though. Leather with faux wood trim. The road noise was a fraction of his Civic.
“You know my mom has cancer, right?”
“Still?”
Grimness squeezed Charlotte’s face. Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Yeah. She doesn’t have long left.”
“Jesus, Charlotte, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Her grimness shifted to sadness, and then she smiled. “We’ve come to terms with it. Anyway, I’m staying with her and so I’ve been using her car. Now, on a cheerier topic, how are you?”
“I’m good. Work keeps me busy.”
“That’s good.”
Beta squinted at her. How was work keeping him busy a good thing? She must have seen his confusion.
“You realize that half the people in our graduating class don’t have jobs, right? At least not in their field.”
They turned into the lot for La Casa Blanca and parked near the back. There wasn’t a line out the door, but there were people in the entryway.
“Well, I’m not quite doing what I want. It’s mostly help desk with some programming.”
“It beats working in a restaurant, though.”
“I guess.”
“No, really. It has to beat working in a restaurant. When’s the last time you left work smelling like grease?”
They walked side by side toward the front of the restaurant. “Well, we did have Pizza Hut for lunch on Tuesday.”
Charlotte laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think that counts.”
Beta edged through the crowd toward the hostess stand, then gave up and held up two fingers. The hostess beckoned him toward her.
“We have a table for two if you don’t mind a small one,” she said in a Spanish accent.
Beta glanced at Charlotte. She nodded. “Sure,” Beta told the hostess.
The table was tiny, alright. Barely big enough to hold a basket of chips. Beta held Charlotte’s chair for her, then sat down across from her. His eyes wandered out the window. A yellow moving truck idled past. An oversized Ford truck honked as it changed lanes without signaling.
“Earth to Beta. Come in, Beta.”
Beta jerked his attention back to Charlotte. “Sorry.”
She shook her head. “You been okay lately, kid? No one has seen you much.”
“I’ve been working.”
“And holing up in your apartment to play video games?”
“Maybe.” He hadn’t felt like interacting with people. Not in real life, anyway. Besides, who said real life people were all that counted? He had plenty of internet friends.
The waitress dropped off chips and took their drink orders. Beta let his attention wander back outside.
“You still love her, don’t you?” Charlotte asked.
“What?” Charlotte was peering across the table at him, and it was like a light had turned on behind her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t ask Victoria out casually back in June. You really love her. How many girls have you dated since the last time she broke your heart?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlotte. I just like to keep up with old friends.”
“Bullshit. You took her to dinner, then you went to her show. How many girls have you dated in the last three years, Beta? Don’t lie to me.”
He slumped forward. “None.”
“And you just work and play video games?”
“Yeah.”
“God, no wonder she wasn’t interested. Beta, you need to grow up. I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re the same person you were when we were sixteen and I tried to get you to go smoke weed with us behind Christianson’s barn.”
“I do other stuff, too. I’ve been to a couple concerts. I even went to some of the College World Series games in June.”
“But you still love Victoria.” Charlotte sat up straighter. “God, I feel so much better.”
“I’m glad you do.”
“Really, Beta. I was worried. It’s so simple, though. If you love her, you need to go win her.”
Beta laughed. “From Mr. Rich Dude in Manhattan?”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“What do I have on that guy? He’s like a hotshot investment banker. I’m a Midwestern computer nerd.”
“You want to be a hotshot programmer, right?”
Beta nodded.
“Girls love that. Computers are sexy. Stocks are for old men.”
“Old men with Ferraris and Rolexes.”
“I bet the nerd that started Google has a dozen Ferraris.” Charlotte leaned forward. “Listen to me, Beta. If you love her, you have to woo her. Go to New York. Get a real job. Don’t like stalk her or anything, but just be in the area. Fifty percent of love is proximity.”
Beta crossed his arms. “I can’t do that. I don’t know anything about New York. No one there would even want to hire me.”
“Have you sent out resumes?”
“No.”
Charlotte smiled victoriously. “You’re the smartest computer nerd I know. Send out resumes. Sell yourself. Hell, maybe some of your internet buddies are hiring.”
“So that’s it? That’s why you wanted to go out tonight? To lecture me?”
“No, I told Victoria I would keep an eye on her cat before she left, and I forgot to do anything. Now I can tell her we had dinner and everything is fine.”
Beta was just about to shove his foot firmly into his mouth and tell her what a terrible person she was, but the drinks arrived. Twenty-two ounces of dark beer gave him just enough of a pause to keep his mouth shut.
Charlotte gulped down half her margarita in one long swallow. “You can do it, Beta. I met this Trent guy she’s seeing.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He’s a prick. I don’t know what she sees in him, but all he sees is the prettiest girl in Nebraska.” She lowered her voice. “It also means you have a chance. Act like a grown-up for a few months. You never know what will happen with Victoria.”
“I’ll try.”
Dinner proceeded easily enough, and an hour later Charlotte was dropping him off outside his apartment. And on the plus side, he wasn’t even going to be late for the EVE op.
Chapter 12
Sailing
AS dates went, Victoria had to admit that no one had ever taken her sailing. Just the thought of it was simultaneously exhilarating and frightening. The wind in her hair, the salt in her eyes, she would be queen of the world.
Then there was the drowning.
She could swim. That wasn’t an issue. And the boat had lifejackets, but as she waited on the dock while Trent checked over the sailboat, she couldn’t help but worry about the waves. The lakes in Nebraska didn’t really have waves, not like the ocean. She could see Moriches Bay to her right, glittering blue over a spit of grass-topped sand. Long, broad swells rode across the bay, and from where she sat, it looked impossibly big.
“Alright, come onboard,” Trent called. He stood on the side of the boat, one hand resting on the rope that held the boat to the pier. His shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders, the white weave almost translucent.
Victoria jumped from the dock to the boat, feeling it wobble beneath her as she landed. It wasn’t big. Maybe twenty feet. Plenty of room for the two of them.
Trent pulled the loop of rope off the piling and shoved them out into the water. A moment later the outboard motor rumbled to life and they started chugging out toward the bay.
Victoria peeked under the awning in front of Trent. It covered the front of the boat, protecting the lifejackets and the fishing rods and the basket they’d brought for dinner.
