by Sorell Oates
Oscar pinpointed her upon entry. Even with the dark lighting, she fell below his expectations. Slightly disheveled, long strands of brown hair fell from the basic ballerina bun she’d styled and were clinging damply to her face. It was as if she’d run from the dance studio failing to glimpse herself in the mirror. The four inch stilettos were unfamiliar footwear. Stumbling as if walking a tightrope, the doormen aided her to thwart any mishap.
Wobbling to keep balanced and upright had the traditional black cocktail dress fitting awkwardly on Katy. Staggering straight to the women’s bathrooms, her eyes didn’t search him out. The girl obviously knew she wasn’t anywhere close to the woman on her profile picture. She’d gone to preen and make herself presentable. Oscar’s heart softened. Forming an opinion of someone from a brief online exchange didn’t automatically make it accurate.
Katy burst into tears seeing her reflection in the mirror. Tendrils of hair were matted in her thick foundation. Aware of the ticking second her on the watch and limitations imposed, she did what she could. Styling her hair would have to wait to a second date if it eventuated. Letting her hair cascade, she brushed the thick, darkest brown hair running halfway down her back.
Sleek and glossy, it was a major improvement on the sweaty ballerina. Her handbag hadn’t the capacity to include her entire make up kit. Powdered concealer was used to touch up her liquid foundation. Tidying her smeared eye liner and mascara with a piece of toilet paper, she reapplied them, grateful her blusher and lip gloss were on hand. It wasn’t her ideal presentation, but she sensibly tolerated it.
Lounging comfortably in a chair by the fireplace Oscar did a double take when Katy stepped out from the ladies bathroom. The black dress was classy. From the button attaching the high rounded neckline ran a delicate split to the top of her cleavage, giving a hint of what was beneath.
The silky satin material of the dress was simply cut, stopping above her knees, but from the satin band around the bodice fell a pleated chiffon skirt taking the dress to mid-calf length. The effect was stunning. It teased a man’s imagination with the trace of tanned skin from her chest and the toned legs underneath the chiffon. The long sleeves of the dress established its designer. On the satin cuffs were two gold CC buttons—Coco Chanel.
Unfazed in his armchair, Oscar saw Katy perusing the room for him. Above average in height, especially in her four-inch stilettos, Katy was nonetheless dwarfed by Oscar as he stood to greet her.
‘Glad you managed to rid yourself of the throng of salivating women before I arrived,’ said Katy.
Although barbed, the comment wasn’t unfriendly.
‘I had ample time, given you spent close to half an hour in the bathrooms readjusting yourself.’
Praying her healthy glow from the sun covered her blushes, Katy knew he’d had full view of her rumpled self as she breezed in.
Oscar mentally kicked himself. Funny in his head, aloud the comment was cruel. The color draining from her face had him awash in guilt.
‘It was worth the wait. It was as if one woman walked in and a totally different one came out. I approve,’ he jested.
Missing the compliment, Katy caught only the conceited ending.
‘I’m glad you do, but I wasn’t seeking your approval,’ she said controlling her voice.
‘I was teasing,’ said Oscar gently. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
Sitting across from him, she had a chance to take in the décor of the bar. In her homely chair, tilting her head she saw glorious high ceilings. The artwork decorating the walls would be appreciated by someone knowledgeable in the arts. The shades of rich red and moss green gave a comfortable ambiance. The casual pool table assured her she wasn’t absolutely out of place in the hotel bar.
Inspecting the menu of cocktails, there wasn’t a drink under $20. Her personal budget was already blown and the night hadn’t begun. In retrospect she should’ve told John what was going on to obtain an expense account to cover the cost of the assignment.
‘Sex on the Beach,’ she announced, slapping the menu cover shut.
‘Is that an invitation or a drink?’
Katy directed a frosty stare at him.
‘Give me a minute. Then you can tell me about yourself.’
Heading towards the mahogany bar with its carefully crafted shelves packed with an enormous range of spirits, she knew he’d come straight from work. His navy suit was tailored and well designed. The double breasted jacket restricted her view of the pristine, sky blue shirt underneath and the multicolored blue and gray tie. His trousers were crisp and smooth. Katy had no theory as to how his clothes remained crease-less. His shoes were shiny black leather lace ups, which Katy knew to be Italian. Nothing gave-away that his suit was Armani, but she couldn’t deny he dressed to reflect his finances.
Consulting the barman, she admired his rangy frame from behind. Tall, broad and toned, he was solid and masculine. Turning with cocktails in hand, she was drawn to his face. Red-headed men weren’t her type, but her stomach flipped with his blue eyes locked directly on hers. Smiling as he sat, his lips curved in the same cheeky way they had on his profile picture. Somehow the clash between his coloring and chiseled features gave him a school boy look, rather than a man with middle-age lurking in the not too distant future.
‘You, Katherine, are not at all what I expected,’ he said, ‘Can I expect a lot of people recognizing you or popping over for an autograph?’
She was flummoxed. What an odd question to ask? If that was his sense of humor, the evening did not bode well.
‘Why would you ask that?’ she mustered from her bewildered state.
‘Answering a question with a question. Here I was thinking I’d play the mysterious bachelor. Now you’re competing as the even more mysterious bachelorette.’
From her confused expression, he grasped she was by no means being coy.
‘It said on your profile you’re a reporter. I assumed given the,’ he paused finding a tasteful way to present his assumption. ‘I assumed given the website’s requirements you were a TV news reader or of a related position to fit the criteria. Let’s face it, journalists are renowned for being poorly paid, given the hours and conditions of the job.’
The red velvet drapes and fireplace inferred the premise could be the gateway to hell. In that instant Katy would’ve been happy to face the devil’s wrath to escape the painful conversation. They mightn’t be ‘on the ball’ at Exclusive Love, but Oscar was. She’d come in dressed for Halloween and was visibly unraveling in their initial exchange of words. Overcoming the chasm in social etiquette and carrying out a relationship in a bid to get an insight into his world, was going to require serious effort on Katy’s part.
‘Have you seen me on TV?’ she feigned disinterest.
‘No, but I haven’t been here very long. I tend to stick with BBC news. It keeps me from feeling homesick. I figured you might report for a cable channel.’
‘Report or present the weather?’
Oscar was taken aback. He wasn’t seeking a clash, nor was he questioning her qualifications or professionalism. Hitting on what he assumed was a touchy subject, he diverted the conversation.
‘Either one. You’re sharp. I’d guess you to be a reporter or newsreader, but you’re definitely pretty enough to be the weather presenter worshiped by a cult of regular male viewers.’
The words were calming. Unsure of his sincerity, Katy was grateful to sidestep the issue. Lying didn’t come naturally to her, which in the future could be potentially problematic given her line of work. Lying by omission she deemed acceptable.
‘What do you then?’
Grinning Oscar revealed straight white teeth.
‘You know, Katherine, I detected the merest intimation of displeasure that I hadn’t consulted your online profile before accepting your offer of a date.’
‘I didn’t ask you out on a date,’ she corrected. ‘Your rather brief summary on Exclusive Love reads as an open invitation to date whomever crosses y
ou in cyberspace.’
His chuckling was low and deep, making Katy fuzzy and girlish.
‘A fair comment. It doesn’t, however, excuse you from the fact that you slapped my wrist for not checking out your photo when you’ve not read my profile.’
‘I have. Asking your line of work was merely a conversational pleasantry.’
‘Let’s not bother with those, then. Life’s too short. What is it I do?’ challenged Oscar.
He was right. Approving his photo and initiating contact on the basis of a physical attraction, Katy was the shallow one. His attire gave away nothing. Her only clue was, unlike the other men online, his picture was stamped with a gold star signifying him as a billionaire.
‘Finance. You work in finance.’
‘Lucky guess?’
Katy was unable to resist his charm.
‘Maybe.’
‘Definitely.
‘Okay, you win,’ she conceded.
‘I always win,’ he laughed.
Arrogance was not an attractive quality to Katy, but it befitted Oscar. Passing it off in a humorous, casual way, he blended it with his finer characteristics.
‘Are you on a winning streak with me?’
‘Too early to say. When you tramped in I would’ve said no. I couldn’t believe from the way you lurched in you were on TV. When you reappeared, my admiration increased tenfold.’
‘How rude. My pilgrimage here was trying, but I can’t have looked that bad to be let in by the doormen. They are exceptionally particular with their clientele here.’
‘I know. I’ve been occasionally dragged here. I told the doormen to keep an eye out for you and give a subtle signal when you showed up.’
His confession took the wind from Katy’s sails. Her spirits diminished as her ego deflated.
‘I didn’t know you’d been before. I should’ve guessed.’
‘Apparently it’s quite the haunt for gold-diggers,’ he said without insinuation. ‘Hence it isn’t my kind of scene, but it’s serene and private enough to talk.’
‘Have you come across a lot of gold-diggers since landing in America?’
Katy wished she had a notebook and pen, or at the very least her Dictaphone. Her cell phone had a voice recorder but turning it on and placing it on the table would not aid her cover. Amused she thought of covertly slipping it on the mantle by the fireplace. Playing it later she’d find snippets of conversation interspersed with the sounds of glasses clinking, staff taking and serving orders, and patrons chatting.
‘Believe me, whether America or England, I can reassure you men like me always come across gold-diggers—whatever part of the world we’re in.’
‘You said you’ve not been here long?’
‘Coming up to a month.’
‘How have you found dating?’
‘Wow! What’s with the questions tonight? Don’t you take a break?’ he asked glibly.
The comment was innocent but Katy realized her tactics were not discrete.
‘Old habits ingrained in me. Curiosity and a genuine interest in people tends to draw one to journalism.’
‘That’s a poetic way of putting it. Generally reporters, especially tattle-tale tabloid gossips have a bad reputation. You make it sound an honorable profession.’
‘It is, but only if the stories are based on facts and reported in a balanced voice. The journalist’s opinion should play no part.’
‘I think, Katherine, you might be the only honorable journalist left in America.’
‘Is that a jibe?’
‘Do you always assume every compliment is insincere? Can’t you relax? It feels like you’ve come to meet me with a massive chip on your shoulder. I thought the plan was to get acquainted, not partake in a verbal boxing match.’
His voice was casual, but Katy was stung.
‘It’s hard to relax around someone who went to great lengths to ensure I knew how haggard I looked when they first laid eyes on me and that my only permit to the bar was because a British billionaire paid them.’
‘I didn’t pay them to do it. If it wasn’t for the steam coming out of your ears I’d tell you with my hand on heart you look a ‘million bucks’ as you Americans say. In my defense you have sat across from me as though thrown in a boxing ring waiting for the bell to ring.’
‘I’m impressed having been here less than a month you have influence over the doormen. As for my appearance, at least I could fix myself in the bathroom. That ginger hair of yours can’t do you many favors with the other sex.’
Acting wounded, Oscar dropped to one knee, putting a hand to his brow. His display was drawing attention.
‘That mop on my head is strawberry blonde I’ll have you know. At the very least it’s blonde with red highlights.’
It was mean to pick on his hair. It was nowhere near ginger. Hoping to knock him down a notch or two, Oscar hadn’t fallen an inch. Responding to her insults with good grace, he climbed higher in Katy’s esteem.
‘That was out of order. Awful on my part. I can’t believe I said it. I was hurt by what you said, but my reaction was despicable. Forgive me?’
Surveying the young girl’s coffee brown eyes, he could see her guard had dropped. Her apology was sincere. Forgetting she was ten years his junior, Oscar reminded himself his twenties were far behind him. Reckless banter could be harmful to a tender ego. He hadn’t considered the impact of his thoughtless bravado.
‘Do you really think I’m ginger?’ he averted his eyes, taking his seat.
‘No way,’ she pledged vehemently.
Reaching over to run her hands through his hair for closer inspection, Katy wondered if Oscar felt the same electricity as she did.
‘Definitely strawberry blonde,’ she assured.
‘All right then I forgive you, but only if you let me apologize.’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about,’ she said, feeling lighter in herself.
‘Course I have. I forgot we were strangers. I forgot we weren’t drunk. You don’t know me, let alone my sense of humor. I can see my teasing could be misconstrued as insulting. The last thing I ever want to be is insensitive, certainly not to you. I’ve not dated in a while,’ he confessed.
‘How come?’
‘Broken engagement. New in America. No friends. The women I do meet are interested in my wallet not my stunning ginger hair.’
‘If you want to avoid gold-diggers and attract women appreciating the rugged redness of your hair, rethink your profile. It doesn’t sound as if you’re after anything more than a sexual companion on Exclusive Love,’ said Katy bluntly.
He shrugged, neither agreeing with nor contradicting her observation.
‘Settling into New York has proved difficult. Normally I do short stints in the international offices. With the company my father runs and my qualifications, I’m in the fortunate position to satisfy the wanderlust of my heart. Sadly though, I could be here a while. I’d like some semblance of a social life. I’d like it to be fun, not heavy with continual emotional demands.’
It wasn’t an unreasonable wish.
‘If I’d wanted drama and arguments I wouldn’t have broken off the engagement,’ said Oscar, half laughing, half serious.
‘You said yourself women were drawn to you in droves. It can’t be that impossible to find someone matching your needs.’
‘Wouldn’t you think? It tests my patience to take out woman after woman who blatantly has no interest in me as a person. If it’s money or a luxury lifestyle they’re incessantly after, it does drain one’s confidence. If you choose that type of playboy lifestyle, you may as well sleep with a high-class hooker, because it’s essentially what you’re doing. Paying an exorbitant amount of money to sleep with a woman. The woman. satisfied from the opulence, having enjoyed the night, is happy to spread her legs.’
‘Crass,’ winced Katy at the image.
‘Sorry. My dating experience here has been crass. I never imagined I’d have to resort to online dating to lan
d a lady.’
‘This is a first for you?’
‘Yes,’ he lashed out.
‘Don’t be defensive. The stigma surrounding relationships formed online has changed significantly over the years. Hence the rise of dating websites.’
‘That’s true. Does it bother you to be searching for love online?’
The way Oscar posited the question, had Katy feeling she was at the Last Chance Saloon by signing up for Exclusive Love. She certainly hadn’t utilized it previously. Raised in a town with a population of approximately 15,000, it wasn’t as if there were millions of men knocking at her door. Reminding herself she joined for ‘research purposes’, Katy downed her cocktail.
‘I’m an online dating virgin, too,’ she disclosed.
‘I knew we’d find a commonality eventually,’ said Oscar.
Clapping his hands, given Katy’s attitude and his preconceptions, he’d achieved a huge feat.
‘What now?’ she buzzed.
‘Fancy going up to the terrace bar for a bite to eat or a few more cocktails?’
Katy was happy for him to lead the way.
Chapter Five
Its roof retracted, the balmy air of the terrace bar was refreshing to the skin. It may have been Chanel, but the long sleeved dress in summer made for a steamy affair. A fairies playground, the strings of lights and foliage and vines disguised the room’s sterling reputation. Playing mellow beats, the DJ was matching the tranquil early week vibe of a Tuesday night. Sitting on the elegant furniture, Oscar pointed out artwork by Andy Warhol and Damien Hirst.
Keeping quiet, Katy sipped on her drink as an imposter. Although familiar with fellow countryman Andy Warhol and the pop art movement he pioneered, Katy drew a blank on Hirst. Divulging her ignorance to Oscar, could have him branding her a philistine. Reverting to nodding her head on one side, she faked interest in his comprehensive lecture.
The angle and repetitive motion cricked her neck. Reaching under her long hair, she inconspicuously massaged her neck to remove the knot.
