by Cat Gardiner
She took Elizabeth’s hand, escorting her to the remaining empty table at the end of the row. “Lizzy, open your mind to the possibilities tonight. Please, please, please don’t be quick to judge. Not everything is as it appears and sometimes you may just find a diamond in the rough right under your nose. Or in your case what might appear to be an annoying spark could actually develop into a full-blown four-alarm fire of the best kind.”
“Huh? Are you referring to Wednesday night?”
“In a way I am.”
“I told you I felt bad about my lack of Christmas charity toward that Darcy guy. I promise, when I see him again, I’ll be more civil.”
“I know; you’re just stressed. Look, have fun and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Elizabeth smiled brightly, forcing her fears away. “Thanks for everything. You have fun tonight, too.”
And just like that, she was alone to face the wolves. Certainly every one of them would claim to be the alpha male of the pack.
She thought to herself, I’m in the ring. Own this; be confident. Don’t let them see you sweat, and don’t go down without a fight.
Unfortunately, that was not the mentality needed to win over any man seeking a soul mate and certainly would be setting up for a repeat performance of Rockefeller Center’s knockdown drag-out fight.
Reaching into her purse, she withdrew her own checklist of questions put together with Charlotte on the other end of the telephone. With her Mont Blanc settled beside an opened steno-pad and the speed dating pamphlet, she breathed deeply awaiting the ding of the bell to begin round one of tonight’s Match of the Hearts.
On the other side of the pub, the conversation between Rick and Darcy practically mimicked that of the girls.
Rick slapped Darcy on the back. “Well, I’m outta here. I’ve done my duty.”
Darcy’s head reluctantly snapped from the incredible vision before him. “What?!”
“You heard me. You’ve got some women to meet. By the looks of it, one in particular.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s why they didn’t measure you when you came in here. You never intended to stay from the start. You knew she would be here. You set me up!”
Rick grinned. “You’re damn straight I did. Liz is the first woman who has ever caused this kind of reaction in you. She's lit a fire in you. I'm telling you, she’s the one. I know you hate to admit it but that girl is perfect for you.”
“Yeah, she’s the one all right,” he grumbled looking to where Elizabeth sat talking with her friend. Dressed in vixen black with cascading raven hair and those voluptuous breasts – um … lips … yeah, lips, the perfection of which caused him to add, “More likely The Black Widow is the one who’ll rip my balls off with her teeth and spit them out all over the fight ring and most likely this pub.”
“Don’t be too sure and don’t be too opinionated. Your words may say otherwise, but I know you and your body language. Besides, I don’t think you’ll object to her mouth on your balls. You know as well as I do, you want a woman who speaks her mind - intelligently.”
“No thank you, I had a dose of that Wednesday night. What I do want is a drink.”
“Sorry, bud. You gave me your word, and your word is who you are.”
Darcy stared her down. “She laughed in my face the other night. Although intoxicatingly beautiful, perfect for me is not stuck up and judgmental. She didn’t even acknowledge that I was the guy she snubbed at the gym.”
Ready to tell him why, Rick squeezed his cousin’s shoulder. “That’s because Liz …”
As though ushering in the fight, the dating commencement bell rang, interrupting his sentence as Darcy quickly stood straight in response to the ‘ding’.
He made it a point to steer clear from table number twenty, choosing number four – the bubble-headed, bleached-blonde whose tight, red sweater left nothing to the imagination. It was clearly chilly in the pub.
His first three-minute date started well enough with a simple introduction and an exchange of names, only he couldn’t help the stifling anxiety he felt knowing that sixteen more women following this one meant he’d be sitting before The Black Widow in almost no time.
After one minute with Zoe the blonde, Darcy’s mind and eyes were already wandering to the crossed, long legs he could just barely make out at the end of the row of women.
“Are you listening to me Will?” Zoe asked with annoyance.
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry ...” He thought fast and lied, “I just have this … um … lazy eye thing I can’t control.”
Resting, his chin in his palm, he pretended to listen while repeating the mantra, help me in the back of his mind over and over. His ‘lazy eyes’ gravitated of their own accord toward the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, sitting and smiling just nineteen-feet away. Elizabeth’s smile lit the room.
Zoe droned on and on, endless, mindless, rambling chatter. “A lazy eye? Oh how terrible for you. My brother wears coke bottle glasses, and I wear readers on occasion but not because I read books but because it becomes really hard after awhile to text message without my eyes getting blurry. It’s hard enough to text with fingernails like these, but I am a nail tech and I have to stay on top of the latest designs. See here, this is shaped like the sun rising over lower Manhattan. The diamond is meant to represent the Twin Towers, such a shame about that. I once ate at the restaurant on top of one of the buildings - View of the World … or something like that. It was my prom weekend, and the boy I was dating I guess wanted to score big time, so he splurged. I’ll never forget that glass of wine spilling all over my dress, such a shame, too, because it was yellow, not the wine but the dress, and then I had this big splotch spread across my chest.”
By the time her non-stop reply finished, Darcy was sure she had not taken a single breath, which was fine by him. The less he had to say, the better. His mind had been otherwise occupied, preparing for all the things he was going to say to number twenty.
Then that sweet, heavenly sound rang throughout the bar – DING! Darcy exhaled.
The men rotated and Elizabeth faced an equally torturous opponent.
Again, introductions were made. Vito, nicknamed in her mind as “Guido,” wore a black open collared shirt. A large, red horn dangled from a gold chain onto thick, black chest hair. Mirrored sunglasses rested upon slicked back, wind-tunnel tested black hair. He wore a diamond earring and chewed his gum like a cow.
She looked down, referring to her organized, systematic questions, attempting to ignore his prolonged leering at her bosom.
“So, Vito have you ever done this before?” She placed an ‘asked’ checkmark next to her question.
Between hard smacks of his chewing gum, in the thickest Staten Island accent she’d ever heard aside from reality TV, he replied, “Yeah, I come all the time, every week they got one-a deez. How ‘bout you?” He cracked his gum and eyeballed her up and down. “A hot babe like you doesn’t need to come to one-a deez. What gives?”
“This is my first time. I’m a bit nervous, but it seems like a nice crowd.”
He laughed. “Nice? You bett-a think again because every one-a deez boyz are all wantin’ the same prize at the end-a the night.”
Elizabeth wanted to ask her next question but instead asked, “Prize? You mean a date?”
“Tootz, with chimmy changas like those, they’re wantin’ more than a date, if ya’ know what I mean.”
With a naughty smirk, he took out his comb from his shirt pocket and ran it through his mustache and goatee.
“Um …” She swallowed hard and looked down at her list again, trying to hold back her reflex action to full-force her elbow into his jaw. “So, what do you do for a living, Vito?”
“I play pok-a. I’m on the circuit. Me and ma boyz rake in big bucks down at A.C. You like-a little card action, Eliza, or do you just like action?”
DING!
For both Darcy and Elizabeth, their next dates weren’t any better.
&n
bsp; “Hi Brian, I’m Elizabeth,” she said brightly.
After seconds of small talk, she skipped directly to number five on her list. “So … if you were to name your best attribute, what would it be?”
“It’s the reason I’m here.”
“So your height is your best attribute?”
She hardly noticed when he pulled out a tape measure from his vintage, baby-blue Members Only jacket, but when he held it before her, she furrowed her brow.
With his fingers, he sectioned off eight inches. “Not my height. Shit all these guys here are about six-one, six-two but how many of them are packing eight inches - soft. Size Matters, isn’t that the name of the event?”
Her mouth couldn’t help taking on an ‘o’ shape as she sought the proper words … comeback … anything in reply.
DING!
“You’re tall.” Darcy’s observant date noted. “What are you like six-four or five?”
“I’m only six-two.”
The innocuous conversation unfolded. The usual, what do you do? Do you live in the city? What do you look for in a date? It wouldn’t have been so tortuous but for the fact that Rosalie’s mustache became an object of fascination for him. Every movement of her upper lip seemed to hold him spellbound. To his discriminating OCD mind, it embodied all the qualities of a black, hairy caterpillar, either that or she was Joseph Stalin reincarnated. Although, their conversation progressed at a normal pace, he couldn’t help his mind traveling to the myriad of questions he had, speculation about her testosterone levels and why waxing seemed not to be on the list of high priorities. His head tilted a little to the right then left as he analyzed the mustache with a strange curiosity with each movement her lips made. Whatever her reason for having and keeping her side-show-worthy facial hair, it was the kiss of death for any red-blooded man.
Rosalie seemed to misinterpret his keen attention to her mouth, thinking he wanted to kiss her. She suddenly winked then ran her tongue over her top lip.
Darcy couldn’t help his reaction when the pinkness of her tongue appeared to brush over the facial fuzz. His eyes bugged out just a little bit and quickly sought refuge and comfort by snapping to Elizabeth’s sexy legs, then to her brilliant smile.
He was sure he heard her laughter ring out. To his ears, it sounded like the song of an angel – only he knew better. Elizabeth was the devil in disguise.
DING!
And so it went, until Darcy sat across from the woman right beside Elizabeth.
Shock registered on Elizabeth’s face when she realized who it was. Astonishment turned to outrage at her heart’s pounding betrayal and attempt to override her mind. What the heck? She had butterflies. Damn you, Charlotte! Damn you, Rick!
She smiled pleasantly to the guy sitting before her but, from the corner of her eye, noticed how Darcy stared at her, not his tablemate. It was the same type of stare from Wednesday night, disconcerting, yet smoldering, and intriguing. She felt uncomfortable in her skin, thinking he was either finding fault or undressing her with his eyes, either of which left her unsettled for entirely different reasons.
Elizabeth tried to pay attention to Matt or was it Pete, maybe it was Brandon who sat before her. She looked at his name badge and then her list and pamphlet trying to focus on the man and their three minutes. But it was so damn hard to do when Mr. Grinch sat diagonal from her, wearing that cream-colored Hugo Boss sweater clinging to his muscular biceps.
The brunette sitting before him made a joke and he smiled. Damn! He had dimples. Double Damn! He had a great laugh. She diverted her eyes back down to her list, trying to gather her thoughts and put all her energy on the task … um … guy in front of her.
Her three-minute date noticed her distraction. “Elizabeth, I don’t mean to be rude, but this really isn’t working out for me. I’m interested in Sarah – number five up there. I think she and I hit it off, and you do seem a bit preoccupied with that list of yours. I’m not really into lists or people who live by them. Do you mind if I check my voicemail until our time is up?”
The same warm smile graced her lips but she was torn between feeling rejecting or relieved. “Oh, sure. That’s okay, I could use a breather. My list and I will just sit here and wait for the bell.”
Her date picked up his cell phone and rotated in his chair giving her his profile. She felt bad about that but what could she do? The top of her pen tapped against the pad, and she noticed Darcy’s little smug smirk playing across his lips at her snub. He snorted a small laugh, clearly delighted.
She fought the urge to say something in reply. Instead, she listened in on his date with the eager woman sitting before him.
“What do you do for a living, Will? You look like you could be a model.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“I’m the President of Pem Tech Electronics.”
“Really? Wow.”
Elizabeth could tell the woman was impressed by Darcy’s apparent lie. President, indeed! Liar!
“So, what do you look for in a girl?” the date asked.
Elizabeth’s ears perked up. Oh, this should be good. She was ready for a repeat of Vito Guido. Something to the effect of, “I look for a girl with thirty-four double d’s and a pear-shaped ass that swings from a pole down at Wiggles Strip Club on Queens Boulevard,” but that’s not what she heard from those full lips, the bottom curve of which repeatedly drew her covert glances.
Darcy responded to the pretty girl before him, “What do I look for? Well, besides compassion, intelligence, and kindness, I’m looking for someone who is honest, not only with those around her, but also, more importantly, with herself. Not someone who hides behind a persona, but someone who is comfortable with who she is, and knows what she wants in life. I’m only going to marry once in my life, and I want my wife to be happy. I don’t want to wake up one day to find out she’s miserable with who she became or the life we built together. I want someone real.”
Brooke sat dreamy-eyed. “Wow … if I woke up beside you, I promise you I’d never say that.”
Elizabeth pretended to scan text messages on her iPhone. His articulate and sensitive reply dumbfounded her. She wondered if he was passive-aggressively speaking to her or mocking her.
“What are you looking for in a partner?” He asked his date. “Are you picky, do you have lists?”
The brunette chortled. “Gosh, no, I’m just looking for a good time. I’m actually not looking for a relationship – I’m more of a hook-up type of girl.”
DING!
Elizabeth held her breath, tapping her pen nervously against the questions on her steno pad. She continued to look down at them as the metal chair before her scraped against the floor. Knowing he sat before her, her head kept its position even as he said in that deep sexy voice of his – “Elizabeth.”
Although her head didn’t move, her green eyes peered upward to meet those piercing, sky blue ones of his. She was mortified to be sitting before him, and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, chanting in her mind the words, Kill Charlotte, Kill Charlotte, but Charlotte’s words echoed back as a reply… Christmas spirit, non-judgmental.
Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled brightly. “Hello, Mr. Darcy, fancy meeting you here.”
He clasped his hands on the table before him and deliberately egged her on, still smarting from their previous two encounters - one snub, one set down. “Is it by coincidence or by design?”
“Are you implying that I knew you would be here?”
“No, not in the least. I’m just asking. It just seems that my cousin and your best friend may have conspired, and I just can’t help to wonder if you knew.”
Before she could respond, he offered, “Listen, we only have to sit through each other’s company for another three minutes, so let’s get on with it, maybe even make the best of it.”
“Fine. A temporary peace accord.”
She offered a quick twitch of a fake smile and looked down at her list to ask number seven. “What do you like t
o do during the holidays?”
“That’s right, you and your lists. Hmm. Well, what I actually do and what I would like to do are two different things. I’d like to take an intelligent, beautiful, and spirited woman ice-skating in Central Park or up to St. John the Divine for a concert. Maybe even do something hokey like see the Rockettes.”
Again, he had rendered her silent for a split second, and she wondered if he meant with her but quickly dismissed that possibility.
Darcy preempted what he knew was coming and quickly reached over, pulling the pad from her clenching fingertips. A tug of war ensued until he became the victor with a final wrench and a victorious grin.
He looked the questions up and down. “Let’s have real honest conversation, shall we?” He sat on the pad.
Elizabeth may have been momentarily disarmed by his charming answer of a romantic Christmas in New York City, but as soon as he stole her one and only remaining safety net, she quickly slapped out of her dreamy delusions, causing her smart-ass reply to slip right into gear.
“Gee, you’d like to be as honest as you were with your last date? President of Pem Tech? Please. You’re a firefighter, Darcy. This from a man who claims to value honesty in his partner.”
He smirked. “And this condemnation from a knockout woman – in more ways than one – who hides behind mousy glasses and an uptight, prudish appearance. Tell me is the fashion statement I saw the other night meant to scare men off or lure them into your trap?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Harrumph.”
His hand motioned toward her in small circles from across the small table. “Yet here you are tonight dressed to kill or certainly dressed to entice, just like a devouring black widow man-killer.”
Indignant, she replied, “What are you talking about – trap? I’ll have you know I never dress like this, and how do you know about The Black Widow?”
“It’s a shame. You should dress like this more often.”
Darcy could see the blush travel from her face to her chest almost instantly. “Because if it wasn’t for your acerbic tongue, I might be tempted to invite you to dinner. Of course, I’d be taking a chance on whether you’ll decide to devour me alive.”
