Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  She spotted Rick's arrival with his friend outside the display window.

  Between the garland, gold curtains and small stacks of hazelnut-dusted truffles, she had a clear view of the face of the unknown man who accompanied her client. He looked the perfect specimen of masculinity – tall and broad shouldered, dark curls at his nape above a leather bomber collar. When he turned, giving her his back, she liked what she saw – a lot - blue jeans fit a perfectly shaped backside. The guy definitely appeared more tempting than any of the sweets displayed in the window between them.

  “Do you see something besides chocolate you’d like to taste?” inquired Charlotte.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat and unnecessarily adjusted her eyeglasses. She unconsciously smoothed her hair, produced the lip balm from her coat pocket, and slid it over her lips.

  Charlotte laughed, following her friend’s line of vision. “Oh, yeah … Is that our business meeting?”

  A slow, distracted nod answered the query, and they both moved closer to the doorway with the intent of leaving but stopped short when they overheard the conversation unfolding between the two men.

  “You’ll like our ad exec, Darce. We hit it off instantly, not to mention, I think she can get the job done expertly for the Foundation,” stated Rick.

  Elizabeth grabbed the strap of Charlotte’s handbag - the one with Cyndi Lauper’s face imprinted on it - draped across her chest. She held her friend back from exiting the door but stayed hidden within earshot behind a tall display of red, foil-wrapped assortment boxes.

  It was clear by the tone of the first words exiting the stranger’s mouth that he had a bad day. His mood certainly did not reflect the festive spirit around them or the excitement of putting together this campaign using his particular firehouse. That should be considered an honor any firefighter would jump at the chance to have.

  The guy “Darce” groaned. “I never should have agreed to this. What was I thinking going along with this insane scheme of yours? This girl had better be a frickin’ marketing genius if I’m asked on my night off to tolerate these crowds in the freezing cold. She better be worth it.”

  “Stop the complaining and lighten up. Trust me, this woman is worth your time. You won’t be sorry you came, both for the Foundation and for yourself.”

  “I doubt very much she’s worth my time. Bookish, business professionals are hardly my type. Not to mention, your bizarre taste in women doesn’t lend you much credibility when it comes to setting me up. I don't know why I trusted you.”

  Mr. Happy looked at his cousin, giving Elizabeth a view of his profile. If it wasn’t for the distasteful downturn of his lips and his obnoxious behavior, her heart might well have thumped quite a bit.

  “You’ll be thanking me profusely before the night is out. Don’t be fooled by her outward appearance either,” Rick said.

  Another groan. “What’s wrong with her? Between Aunt Catherine and her cross-eyed debutante and Georgiana signing me up to Match.com, I’m not sure I can withstand any more women who are so pathetic they’re resorting to blind dating.”

  Rick laughed and slapped his cousin on the back. “Cut the crap. I know you don’t mean that since you’re now registered for online dating. You’re just acting like an asshole because you’re hung over. Even if you did mean it, there’s nothing wrong with Liz - absolutely nothing wrong with her. I’m sure you’ll agree, since you’ve actually seen her already. Does the name ‘Black Widow’ mean anything to you?”

  Elizabeth gasped, and Charlotte, with eager ears and excited disbelief, repeatedly slapped her friend’s arm with one hand while covering her mouth with the other.

  “Wasn’t she that stuck-up kickboxer who snubbed me at the Reebok Gym?” Mr. Grinch asked.

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow not understanding what the gorgeous prig was talking about. She was sure no one at the gym had approached her lately.

  “I highly doubt Liz deliberately ignored you. She’s not like that at all. She’s probably one of the least pretentious women I’ve met in a long time. If memory serves, you hardly made any impression.” Rick chuckled wryly. “Perhaps she would have responded to your over-inflated ego if you had actually attempted to speak to her instead of staring her down like some love-struck fool.”

  “I wasn’t love-struck, and I find it hard to believe she is the least pretentious woman of your acquaintance. You saw, she had fans cheering and she ignored every one of them. Any girl who delights in beating the crap out of men in a boxing ring obviously has severe issues with them. She’s probably a feminist or worse yet a misandronist.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “So that’s how you knew her? She’s the Foundation’s ad exec? This is a joke, right? She’s not really the one we are meeting tonight, is she?”

  “Stop it! You’re just looking for something to dislike before you’ve even met her.”

  Tugging on Charlotte’s arm, Elizabeth chose that moment to exit the shop. They stood before the men with mischievous smiles. “Hi Rick!” she greeted enthusiastically, almost laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation.

  Rick immediately looked at Darcy, sure that the women heard their conversation.

  Somewhat nervous, he greeted her with a handshake. “Liz hi, thanks for meeting us. This is one of the firefighters from the West End Cave’s Ladder 13, Will Darcy. Darcy this is Liz Bennet, the Foundation’s advertising guru who is going to make us a ton of money.”

  The word ‘thirteen’ hung in the air like death.

  Elizabeth couldn’t be sure if the arrogant man’s red cheeks were caused by the chill in the air or embarrassment from being caught out for his unkind, judgmental words. She boldly held her hand out to shake, seeming to offer peace.

  Wrong.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Darcy.” She beamed devilishly then chuckled.

  “Ms. Bennet,” he solemnly replied, trying to discern the striking beauty he remembered from the gym, now disguised behind the glasses, below the tight hair bun, and beneath the huge scarf. All he saw was a spark of humor in her green eyes. Is she laughing at me?

  “Please call me Elizabeth. Rick’s being generous with his compliment. I sincerely hope I don’t disappoint him or the Foundation. After all, professional women like me tend to have tremendous difficulty when working with arrogant, misogynistic men. Not that Rick is like that.” She said, giving Darcy a full-blown, sparkling smile.

  His cheeks seemed to grow even redder, if possible. Yes, she had heard them discussing her. She had implied her anger, even if spoken through a breathtaking smile.

  Charlotte salvaged his halting, “I … um …” when she noticed that in spite of the rude words and wounded pride, the two still hadn’t let go of their clasped hands. She lightly elbowed her girlfriend.

  A flustered Elizabeth quickly released Darcy’s hand, directing a look of embarrassment toward her client. “Oh, right! I’m sorry. Rick, this is my dear friend, Charlotte Lucas. She’s BADCo’s number one free-lance photographer and will be the woman behind the camera at all our events.”

  Handshakes and greetings went around and Elizabeth thought she saw something flicker in Rick’s eyes when his hand clasped Charlotte’s.

  He had tickled Charlotte’s palm with his index finger.

  Around them, cheers erupted from the crowd as powerful beams of light, surrounding the towering tree, turned vibrant colors of pink, blue and purple. The four new acquaintances stopped talking as soon as the final countdown began reverberating throughout the vast crowd – five, four, three, two, one!

  Thirty-thousand colorful lights crowned by the huge sparkling Swarovski crystal star illuminated instantly, and the crowd went wild with whistles and applause, but it wasn’t the tree that held Darcy’s attention. Curious, he stole the opportunity to study the woman beside him. Chilled rosy cheeks framed her beautiful smile, and his heart rate thundered. In spite of the outward bookish persona, her alluring profile and festive enthusiasm held him spellbound. What proved to be mo
st intriguing to him was the fact that Elizabeth hadn’t fawned over him. Instead, she gave him a set down – punctuated with that delightful, little laugh of hers.

  The Pig & Whistle on 48th Street was a happening place since the fifties. Frequented by NBC executives and TV personalities, it remained the restaurant to be seen at, particularly on a night when NBC was center stage hosting the tree lighting.

  Although Rick, Darcy, Charlotte, and Elizabeth walked through the crowd in silence, that didn’t mean communication wasn’t happening between the longtime-paired friends. Charlotte continued to squeeze Elizabeth’s hand while Elizabeth tried to stifle her giddy excitement. Darcy aimed scorching glares toward his cousin’s humored expression. All knew that during the course of business, sparks of some sort – maybe all sorts – were going to fly. They were off to an auspicious beginning.

  Rick had reserved a four-top table in the back of the classic New York pub-style restaurant. The girls slid onto the leather banquet below a painting of the Radio City Rockettes, and the men took the chairs opposite them in the aisle. As they took their seats, it didn’t escape Elizabeth’s keen observation that below Darcy’s leather jacket was one finely built GOD and, of course, purely for calendar purposes, she continued to admire him each time he glanced away from the table.

  He did the same thing once she removed her wool coat and navy suit jacket to reveal her ivory silk blouse.

  Both Rick and Charlotte noticed their friends’ surreptitious glances, and they immediately developed a silent language all their own. Eyebrow raises, heated stares, quirks to their lips, suppressed smiles and an unspoken agreement that the two intense individuals beside them had potential – for what – was yet to be determined.

  Once they ordered drinks, Rick began their casual business meeting. “Thanks again for meeting us. I’m really enthusiastic about what we can accomplish in the next couple of weeks. Was Reynolds on board, Liz?”

  Placing her legal sized pad before her, she replied enthusiastically, “Oh yes! We have already contacted radio, TV and print, booked a last-minute facility for a calendar audition luncheon this Saturday at Providence Club on 57th Street. Z-100 Radio will be giving away eight tickets valued at thirty dollars apiece, and they have committed to broadcasting live from the event. I’m confident that even with this last minute event staging, we can bring in a substantial number of attendees – that is, if you can guarantee the men.”

  “Oh, I can guarantee the men.” He confidently confirmed, elbowing Darcy who stared down Elizabeth as though searching for flaws.

  “Liz knows her stuff, Rick.” Charlotte pointed to the list sitting before her friend. “Look, each one of those colored circles has meaning. Personally, I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl, but this is why she makes the big bucks and I’m behind the lens.”

  Rick smiled eagerly, liking this little powerhouse more and more.

  Darcy continued to just stare and stare. It was quite unnerving actually, and everyone was thankful when the drinks arrived.

  Rick frowned when the waitress placed a scotch and soda in front of Darcy, but he continued his inquiries to Elizabeth. “Do we also have judges arranged for the firefighter auditions?”

  “So far there is myself and one of Z-100’s female radio personalities. Celebrity guests are “National Model Search” reality show’s Miss Toni Tony and Jane Gardiner who is a well-known Elite and former Sports Illustrated model. Oh, and we also have someone from the Foundation.”

  “Great. How much is the Providence going to set us back? That can’t be cheap,” Rick asked.

  “Let’s just say, the owner of the club owed Stan a huge favor, and Mrs. de Bourgh used her proficient powers of influence to close the deal. In return and in gratitude for her persuasion, BADCo invited her to be one of the judges.”

  “My aunt? Our aunt’s on board with this?” asked an astonished Rick.

  “Mrs. de Bourgh is your aunt? I had no idea.” Elizabeth looked to Darcy quickly comprehending that she must have been the ‘Aunt Catherine’ who had set him up with the cross-eyed debutante.

  Not skipping a beat, she antagonized, “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, do you have something against handicapped or cross-eyed women or is it just all women in general you dislike?”

  Not expecting such a question, let alone one clearly meant to attack his words of earlier, he choked on his drink, coughing severely when the liquid went down his windpipe.

  Rick patted his back. Oh yeah, he liked this Elizabeth. She was perfect for Darcy in every way.

  “Wha … what are you talking about?” Darcy stammered.

  “Well obviously, women who, in your opinion, are slightly flawed don’t stand a chance with you. I wonder why anyone would even try to fix you up on a date knowing your exacting standards of perfection and apparent proclivity for faultfinding.”

  She smiled so warmly, he hardly recognized the bulldozer scraping him across the concrete.

  “I … um, the only flaws that are a real turn off to me are those of women who clearly think themselves above everyone else and who have a propensity to speak their minds so freely that they have no regard for others.”

  “Yet, you yourself possess the same attribute.”

  “Children, let’s play nice,” Charlotte interjected after taking a huge swig of her margarita.

  “You’re right Charlotte. We’re not here to talk about anyone’s arrogance or ego, particularly Mr. Darcy’s.”

  “Well, maybe we are,” stated Rick. “I mean, truth be told, the guys who show up for the audition, will to some degree, have to have an elevated opinion of themselves and …”

  “And the camera will pick up that confidence,” finished Charlotte, their eyes locking.

  “Exactly what I was going to say. That comes across as sexy to women, and that will sell calendars,” Rick said.

  Charlotte took out her camera and began to snap candids at the table. “It’s what the camera sees and captures, not our skewed opinions.” She pointedly looked at Elizabeth over the lens and gave her a chastising smile before snapping a few consecutive photos.

  Elizabeth looked to Darcy. “Well, I personally don’t find that mindset sexy, but if that’s what sells then I have to ask, will you be auditioning Mr. Darcy? With that elevated ego of yours, the camera will certainly have a field day with you. I’m sure you’ll be pleased by the sufficient amount of fawning all over you on Saturday - women touching your bare chest, all vying for a date with Mr. Narcissus. I bet you think you’ll be chosen as the cover, that smirk of yours staring back at women in the shopping mall as they pass the calendar kiosk. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

  Elizabeth wondered if that was a glimmer of laughter she saw in his eyes. It was hard to tell through the faceted rocks glass he brought to his lips.

  Lowering the drink, he furrowed his brow. “No, Elizabeth, I wouldn’t like that. I won’t be auditioning for the calendar.”

  “Because you don’t think you need to audition, your inclusion is guaranteed?”

  “No, not at all. Simply put, I won’t be partaking in my cousin’s crazy idea.”

  Rick gave Darcy a firm look. “Don’t listen to him, Liz. He’ll be there and his inclusion is guaranteed. Darcy here, newly named as Mr. December, will be present to usher in the Christmas spirit. We’re auctioning off a date with him.”

  As Darcy began to voice vehemently his objections, Charlotte and Elizabeth locked eyes with an abrupt snap of their heads. In the unspoken language of close friends, they both knew what the other thought. It couldn’t be helped, really, they tried, but both women lost it. They couldn’t hold back when laughter burst from them simultaneously, volleying back and forth, ebbing and flowing, causing the other dining patrons to turn in their direction. Tears rolled down their cheeks. They didn’t know what was funnier – Elizabeth as a lesbian or this jerk, Darcy as Mr. December, the embodiment of the Christmas spirit.

  He suddenly stood, threw his napkin on the table and stared Elizabet
h down as he towered over her. “I don’t have to take this shit from a woman who calls herself The Black Widow. See you later, Rick. Charlotte, nice to meet you. Elizabeth … you can kiss my ass.”

  And with that, he grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and was gone.

  In truth, Elizabeth knew she pushed too hard. It was a damn shame, too, because she couldn’t help remarking to herself what a great ass he had and how kissing it would have been a delightful experience - so long as he kept his mouth shut.

  Regretfully she said, “I’m sorry, Rick. Really, I shouldn’t have pushed him as I did. I’m sure underneath all that he-man, sexist bravado, he’s probably a nice guy. You know, I don’t want to damage our professional relationship. The Foundation’s campaign is too important to both of us.”

  “Don’t worry about it Liz. He’ll survive. I don’t want to make excuses for him, but the holidays are a really tough time for him. Not to mention, he just buried one of his buddies who was killed in the line of duty on Thanksgiving. Will’s still suffering from a two-day induced hangover following the station’s funeral and subsequent memorials at Sharky’s Pub.”

  “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. He just pushed every button of mine with that smug look upon his face. It was so unprofessional of me; I’m so sorry.”

  “Like I said he’ll recover and don’t worry. It has no bearing at all on our working relationship.”

  Was it Rick’s imagination or was Charlotte rubbing her foot up his calf from across the table? Damn if he didn’t love that!

  Ninety-minutes later, Elizabeth stood with Charlotte and Rick at the corner of 50th Street and Fifth Avenue, waiting for the town car she had called to take her uptown. The streets were still crowded, and she could vaguely hear the jingling of the Salvation Army Santa’s bell from where he stood before St. Patrick’s Cathedral across the busy thoroughfare.