Blank Slate

by Olivia Saxton

  It didn’t take them long to nibble up the sorbet. The waiter cleared their plates and then another waiter with a silver tray finally arrived with dinner. Alec almost breathed a sigh of relief until he saw what the girls’ main dishes were. Margo had a whole stuffed lobster on her plate – and it was huge. Bobbi had cracked crab, four of something that looked like miniature hush puppies, and broiled shrimp.

  Alec quickly started an estimate in his head. Okay, six courses, the last one is probably dessert. “What’s for dessert?”

  “Baked Alaska,” Margo said as she started forking her food. “I figured we could share that because they are huge here.”

  Okay, one dessert for everyone. Don’t know what Baked Alaska is like, but it sounds pricey. Probably about . . . thirty bucks. Let’s say thirty-five. Judging by his calculations, they would have about eight-hundred-dollar bill.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a text from Bruce. Alec glanced up at him. Bruce was looking at him over the phone. Alec looked back down at his phone.

  Bruce: Can we afford all this shit?

  Alec put in an eye roll emoji.

  Alec: Bill will probably be about $800. I’ll put it on my credit card. He pressed send.

  “Brucie, can we order another bottle of champagne?” Bobbi said.

  “Sure, beautiful,” he answered as he looked at his phone.

  Alec started typing again.

  Alec: Make that $920. Then, he put in all caps. And I expect to be reimbursed for exactly $460 when the statement comes! He hit send.

  Bruce put his phone down and smirked at Alec. Then he motioned for a waiter.

  “You two better not have been texting wives or girlfriends,” Margo said softly yet seriously.

  “Oh no,” Bruce said quickly. “It was one of the guys at the bureau. He sent a group text asking if we and some others wanted to come over tonight.”

  “We told them that we were on dates,” Alec said with a reassuring smile.

  The waiter approached Bruce. “Another bottle of what we had before please,” he asked as he pointed at the bottle in the ice bucket.

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter said and picked the empty bottle out of the melting ice. He walked away from the table.

  “Alec, you seem like a great guy. I can’t believe some girl hasn’t snatched you up. Am I missing something?” Margo asked as she examined him with sideways glance.

  And as if they were on an episode of Punk'd, Lana walked into the dining room in a group of eight.

  His mouth dropped open as he watched the maître d’ escort them to a round table in the center of the room. She looked perfect, absolutely perfect. The only thing that was wrong was they were there together with two different people.

  Alec slowly turned to Bruce and stared daggers at him. He heard someone clear her throat. Alec turned his head to Margo and immediately wished he hadn’t, because she was staring at him like she was his mother who had caught him with his pants down.

  Chapter 30

  A colleague of Damien’s had two extra tickets to Georges Bizet’s Carmen that was debuting at the David A. Straz Jr. Center for the Performing Arts tonight and had asked if Damien and Layla wanted to come with them. Another couple was supposed to go, but they had to cancel.

  During intermission, they had run into Valerie and her husband, Godfrey Young. They were there with family members who lived abroad. Valerie’s sister had married a British earl. They were already familiar with Damien and Layla’s host and asked if they wanted to grab a late snack at the Tampa Palms Country Club. Since Damien wasn’t on call at the hospital this weekend, they had accepted the invitation.

  “Will this be on separate accounts?” Alden, the maître d’, asked.

  “Yes,” Damien answered.

  “Nonsense,” Paige, Dr. Al Cameron’s wife, scoffed. “You are our guests for the evening.”

  “Yes,” Al said. “Put the Mileses tab on our club account, along with what we’ll order tonight.”

  “Oh no, Al—” Damien started to protest.

  “I won’t take no for an answer,” Al stated.

  Damien smiled. “All right.”

  “Alden, this is my sister and my brother-in-law, the Earl and Countess of Vaughn. Put their tab on our account please,” Valerie said.

  “Will do, ma’am. Do you know what you want to drink this evening?” Alden asked.

  After a quick discussion, two bottles of Dom Perignon, eight Beluga caviar platters, an order of bacon-wrapped dates, and two shrimp cocktails were ordered.

  “I’ll put your order in,” Alden said and left the table.

  They started talking about the play. A waiter came along with a pitcher to fill their water glasses.

  Layla looked around at the table. She supposed they fit in all right. Damien wore black pants, a white shirt with a red and gray striped tie, and a dark gray jacket. He did look rather smart in it. She had on a black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with a black-and-white leopard-print shawl. Her hair was down and brushed to one side — a silver comb with a large beetle on the top kept her hair from hanging down on that side. The ends of her hair had large, loose curls at the end. She had worn a white gold necklace with an onyx stone in the middle and diamonds around it.

  The countess had on a white-and-black dress that hung to her ankles. She had worn a mink stole that she kept draped over her arms. The earl and Al had on black suit jackets with matching pants. However, Al had on a dark yellow dress shirt with a black tie and the earl had worn a white dress shirt with a silver tie. Layla and Damien were the youngest couple at the table.

  The same waiter who had filled their water glasses came back with two champagne buckets with bottles of champagne in them. As he set them up on the stands, another waiter came along with champagne glasses. Once their glasses were filled and the waiters were gone, the earl raised his glass. “To fabulous food, spectacular company, and bloody marvelous entertainment,” he said in a British accent.

  Everyone brought their glasses together.

  As Layla was sipping her champagne, Margo St. John approached the table with a bright smile.

  “Damien, Layla, what a surprise to see you,” she said happily as she placed her hand on the back of Layla’s chair. She gave Damien a kiss on the cheek, which seemed to have surprised him and then she and Layla exchanged the double-kiss-cheek technique that seemed to be a thing that female Tampa socialites did.

  “Hi, Margo. You look great, and I love your hair.” She wore a tight, white dress with sparkling beading around her bosom and the hem came above her knee.

  “Thank you, but I don’t look as good as you, dear. Almost every man in here has their eye on you tonight,” Margo said with a grin.

  “Oh, stop,” Layla said bashfully.

  “I can’t say I blame them,” Damien bragged. “She looks good enough to eat.”

  “Damien,” Layla said and playfully tapped his arm.

  “Aw,” Countess Vaughn swooned.

  Damien chuckled.

  “Let me introduce you to everyone,” Layla said. “You know Godfrey and Valerie.”

  “I do. Nice to see you two,” Margo said with a smile.

  The Youngs acknowledge her. Layla introduced her to everyone else at the table.

  “Did you come out for a late bite too, Margo?” Valerie asked.

  “More like a late double dinner date. They’re right over there.” Margo pointed to the right side of the room.”

  Everyone followed Margo’s finger.

  Layla’s head jerked back.

  Margo waved at them, wiggling her fingers as she did.

  Bruce, Alec, and the woman who looked like a tall Elizabeth Taylor waved back. Bruce and Alec’s lips were parted.

  What the hell is going on? Why is Alec here – with Margo?

  “I excused myself to powder my nose and saw you over here and stopped to say hi,” Margo said as she turned around to face the table again. “Layla, would you like to come with
me?”

  “Yes,” she answered and grabbed her handbag off the table. As she began to stand, the men did, too. She wasn’t expecting such impeccable manners. She didn’t even know men still did that anymore. “I’ll be right back.”

  Layla followed Margo to the ladies’ room. Margo dipped to the left into one of the lounges. No one was in there. Layla closed the wicker door.

  Margo turned around to face her. “So, what do you think of my date?” she asked flatly.

  She knows. “Why don’t you tell me what you think of him?”

  Margo turned and bent over to open the cabinet that the mini fridge was in. “I think he has the hots for a married woman. That’s why his heart isn’t into the blind date he’s on,” she answered as she took out a bottle of miniature water.

  “I can’t believe–”

  “Neither can I. Small world, huh?” Margo asked as she sat down on the bench in front of the long, marbled counter. She looked in the mirror, and then down at her purse.

  Layla sighed with aggravation. “Why is he on a blind date?” she sat down on the peach, upholstered lounger and propped her feet up. She looked up at the ceiling. She had touched up her makeup at the theater.

  “I think Bruce pressured him into it,” Margo answered. “See, my friend Bobbi didn’t want to go out with Bruce alone. She likes him, but he can be rather . . . well, overzealous, and she has a habit of drinking too much when she’s out. She wanted me to tag along to make sure she didn’t sleep with him on the first date.”

  Layla looked over at her. She could see the front of Margo’s face through the mirror. She had placed a compact, lipstick, and mascara on the counter. “So, she insisted that he find a date for her friend — me — if he wanted to go with her.”

  “Oooh,” Layla said with understanding.

  “Yeah. Alec only has eyes for you,” Margo said as she applied her mascara.

  “Does that bother you?”

  Margo smirked as she put the mascara away. “No. Don’t get me wrong; he’s cute and in great shape, but I’m not trying to date an FBI agent.”

  “Why does that bother you?”

  “For one thing, it’s a dangerous job. I know they don’t go looking for a shootout, but raids and stings have gone wrong. Bruce was telling us how he got shot in the chest on a simple embezzlement case.”

  “Really? Wow.” Layla placed her head back on the lounger.

  “Tired?” she asked as she lightly used a pad to powder her face.

  “No, just . . . worried. How much longer are you guys going to be here?” Layla asked. She didn’t want to do something accidently to make Damien ask questions.

  “We’re eating the main course now. So with dessert afterwards . . . I’d say another hour.”

  The door swung open. “There you two are,” Alec whispered.

  Layla’s head snapped up.

  “What the shit?” Margo asked with shock.

  “Are you crazy?” Layla asked as she watched him close the door.

  His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. Then he started looking around at the peach wall color, the marble countertop, the box of Kleenex hidden beneath a gold cover, the peach couch and loungers, and the white TV mounted on the wall that was turned to QVC. He tilted his head at the refrigerated cabinet under the counter. “Christ, no wonder women take so long in the bathroom.”

  “Ugh,” Margo scoffed with annoyance. “It’s a lounge.”

  “Whatever,” Alec said and knelt down next to the lounger Layla was lying on. “Meet me outside in the back. Near the hedge maze, or whatever it is, in forty minutes,” he whispered.

  Margo shook her head as she picked up her lipstick.

  “I can’t.”

  “Please,” he hissed.

  “How am I supposed to get away?” Layla asked with wide eyes.

  “Tell them you got to go to the bathroom again.”

  “Or better yet, tell them you’re going out to call the babysitter. That’ll take a little longer,” Margo suggested in a muffled tone as she freshened up her lipstick.

  Alec and Layla looked at her with surprise.

  “I have to admit, that’s pretty good,” Alec commented.

  The door opened again. A short, old woman who had white hair and was wearing a long, pink dress with light sequence came in. She let out a short shriek and clasped her chest with her matching purse as she looked at Alec. She hurried out, leaving the door half open.

  “Alec, go now. The attendant had to have heard her,” Margo said as she whipped around on the bench.

  And sure enough, the attendant came in. “Sir, you are going to have to leave. Now,” she said sternly. Her brunette hair was pulled tight in a bun. She had on a black vest, a white shirt, and black pants. Her jaw was set like stone.

  “Shit, y’all got security in here, too?” he asked in a high-pitched tone, but he didn’t move a muscle.

  The tall, middle-aged attendant strode to him and grabbed his arm. She tried to pull him up. “Let’s go, or I’ll have you ejected from the club.”

  “All right, all right,” he said as he stood.

  She started pushing the front of his shoulders to get him to move out the door faster.

  “Forty minutes,” he said as he looked at Layla.

  The attendant got him out the door and stood there, probably watching him to make sure he left.

  Layla placed her hand over half her face with embarrassment.

  “Are you okay?” the attendant asked.

  Layla looked up. “Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

  “Do I need to call security on that man?”

  “Oh no, please don’t,” Layla said quickly.

  “You know how men get inpatient waiting for us to come out of the bathroom. She’s just a little embarrassed,” Margo explained as she grabbed a tissue from the gold box.

  “My ex-husband used to drive me crazy, rushing me in the store,” the attendant said.

  Chapter 31

  Forty minutes later, Layla had excused herself to check in with Izabella, but in reality, she had snuck out on the back patio. The tasteful LED lights lit her way as she stepped onto the lawn. Layla assumed Alec was trying to describe the garden maze. She entered it. There were four different ways to get in and out of it. Small garden lights were posted in the brown mulch around the thick hedges.

  Layla turned a corner. She had seen him leave the dining room when they had already taken several bites of the baked Alaska. Clearing her throat, she smiled as she remembered the look on his face when the waiter set it on fire in the silver mobile serving dish.

  She turned another corner. Damn it, where is he? I don’t have long.

  Someone grabbed her arm and whirled her around, making her gasp with surprise. Alec pressed his lips on hers as he cupped both sides of her face. She opened for him, letting his long, talented tongue inside. Clasping her hands around his wrists, she moaned against his mouth. His lips were so skilled and soft. The tip of his tongue grazed her lower lip. Once he had thoroughly ravished her mouth, he slowly ended the kiss. Alec pressed his forehead against hers.

  “What are you doing here?” they asked at the same time, and then they both smiled.

  “I take it Bruce roped you into doing him a favor? That’s what Margo guessed, anyway,” Layla said.

  “Yeah, he owes me big, too. He didn’t say we were bringing the girls here until he picked me up. The silverware in this place alone is probably a month’s salary for us. So, what are you doing here?”

  “We went to the theater with another couple. We ran into Godfrey, Valerie, and the Earl and Countess of Vaughn. The countess is Valerie’s sister. They invited us out for drinks and a late-night bite.”

  Alec raised his head and looked at her. “You know, I can’t provide you the champagne wishes and caviar dreams lifestyle,” he mumbled with disappointment.

  “I know, and I don’t care,” she whispered sincerely. There might have been a time she did, but not now. Yes, she enjoy
ed the life she lived now, but she adored Alec. She accepted him for who he was.

  ****

  They came together again for a kiss. Alec wrapped his arms around her waist. A soft moan escaped her. She tasted like champagne and strawberries.

  Footsteps and rustling could be heard from behind them. Just as quick as they broke the kiss, the branches behind them were being spread apart. Half of Bruce’s body and his head poked out between the branches right behind them. “Good, I found you,” he hissed loudly.

  “Yeah,” Alec replied sarcastically as he kept a hold of Layla’s waist.

  Bruce stepped between the branches to be on their side. Twigs and leaves were left on the walk in his wake. “Yo, man, we need to get the hell out of here,” he said with wild eyes.

  “Why? Did something happen with a case?” Alec asked as his senses heightened.

  “No, when the waiter arrived with girls’ decaf international coffees, he set the bill down,” Bruce hissed hysterically.

  Alec frowned. “Them bitches had the nerve to order coffee after all the food and alcohol they ordered?” he asked with disgust.

  “Alec,” Lana quietly chided.

  Normally, he wouldn’t refer to ladies like that, but he was tired of all of this. “I’m sorry, honey, but we had a six-course meal – that they are not paying for. Throwing coffee on top of all that is like kicking someone when they’re down.” Then he looked at Bruce. “And I told you it would be about nine hundred bucks, and I’ll cover it with my credit card,” Alec said with annoyance.

  “It’s not nine hundred, Mr. Calculator,” Bruce retorted as he pulled a white slip out of his pants’ pocket. “It’s three thousand, seven hundred ninety-five dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

  “What!” Alec exclaimed.

  “Shh!” Lana and Bruce hushed.

  Everything was getting darker. He felt light-headed. Then he felt arms grabbing him on each side of him.

  “Stay on your feet. This isn’t the time to pass out,” Bruce hissed as he shook Alec.

  “That’s . . . that’s impossible,” Alec breathed as he blinked his eyes. “There isn’t a restaurant bill that high in the world.”