Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

"Now shut up, you. It’s not funny. Bless his heart, Cancun is highly sensitive. Aren’t you, baby? Come to mama.” Caroline bent, rubbing her thumb and index finger together to entice the little Burberry-clad pooch toward her.

  The dog’s ears went back, and he stared straight at Charlie.

  “Don’t look at me, she’s your hoochie, I mean, poochie mama.”

  The dog looked back to Caroline then bolted down the spiral steps, nails skittering across the polished hardwood until finding his way to the plush carpet under Charlie and Jane’s bed. He instinctively knew it was safer there than receiving unsolicited attention from his mama. Once safely ensconced, Cancun released his inner animal aggression, making prompt work of chewing the black velvet trim off his six hundred dollar haymarket coat.

  Darcy tried hard to maintain some level of composure and not laugh at Caroline. “What kind of dog is Cancunt?”

  “He’s a cross between a Chihuahua and a Toy Fox Terrier. He’s called a Taco-Terrier. That’s why I gave him a Mexican name. Of course, back in the day, Cancun was the place to go. I just couldn’t imagine naming him Puerto Vallarta or Punta de Mita. Besides, he looks a little Aztec doesn’t he?”

  Elizabeth and Darcy’s eyes met, both simultaneously raising eggnog glasses to lips, trying to quell their mutual reaction to burst out laughing.

  Attempting to keep her first dinner party from falling apart before anyone had a chance to eat her chicken piccata, Jane, one of the only two not drunk at this point, asked in her perfect model actress voice, “A Taco-Terrier, how quaint. What are some other interesting combinations? I’m fascinated by all the different new types of dogs.”

  “Well since you asked, there are three hundred and twenty crossbreeds. Of course, everyone knows of the Cock-a-Poo one of the most requested doggies in Manhattan outside of the world famous Puggle, a boutique dog that even Sylvester Stallone owns, although I didn’t make that match. Then there’s the Pomsky at $2,500 for a puppy.”

  Elizabeth snorted. “And don’t forget the ever-popular Shih-Poo, for the owner whose poo doesn’t stink. Like that new air freshener ‘Poo-Pourri’ for women who don’t poop!”

  “I’ll have you know the Shih-Poo is a very classy dog. They may have some difficulty pooping on command, but they are highly sought after. They’re not a dog that suffers from Small Dog Syndrome.”

  “Is that anything like Short Man’s Syndrome or should I ask, Small Penis Syndrome? Does size matter?” goaded Elizabeth.

  “Very funny. Ha – Ha.”

  Darcy looked at Elizabeth and playfully grinned again. “Well, then on that note, we can’t forget the Silky Cocker, the most sought after breeding dog in NYC. He’s so good he gets the job done in one shot; a very proud dog.”

  Again, everyone but Caroline laughed raucously.

  Charlie jumped in, “Oo, oo, how about the Bulldog and the Shih Tzu, perfect for a bullshitting owner, like gossip columnists or some of those Wall Street dudes?”

  Jane couldn’t resist joining in the fun at Caroline’s expense. Charlie’s drunken excitement had always been her undoing. “How about that new Yorkie-Poo? For New Yorkers who love the smell of a subway platform!”

  Like a petulant child, Caroline sat with her arms crossed over her new breasts. She tried not to notice the brilliant smile of the woman she hoped to squash below her heel. Sadly, every time she looked over at Darcy grinning at the natural beauty sitting to his left, she became even angrier.

  Howling with laughter Elizabeth blurted, “Or, or … the Cocker Pei. Oh dear. ... Can you buy a Cocker Pei if you're incontinent?"

  Setting off a rapid-fire deluge of drunken inane quips and building to a crescendo of ridiculous tear-jerk laughter, one after the other contributed.

  "Do those Cockers come in different sizes?"

  "How exactly is that dog groomed? Are they shaven or circumcised?"

  "Hey Caroline, what happens when someone says, 'Whip out that puppy'?"

  Then Charlie offered, “Wait … what about the Blue Cocker, the perfect pup for the poor sod who can’t get it off!”

  Darcy landed the final blow to Caroline's delicate sensibilities, "Well ... perhaps he needs Can-Cunt to get the job done!"

  The laughter had reached monumental proportions with tears flowing down both drunken Charlie's and sober Jane's cheeks.

  Caroline abruptly stood and smoothed her dress. “I don’t have to subject myself to this teasing. You’re like a bunch of adolescents with your poo and penis jokes. Next, you'll be taking out the dictionary and looking up crass juvenile words for clitoris and vagina. You’re not funny. What I do has a significant value to society. I’ll be downstairs with Cancun when you all decide to grow up. Fitzwilliam, dahlink, will you please escort me downstairs, I’m extremely taxed by this whole uncouth, childish exchange and with these heels and that staircase, I’m not sure I could make it down without your strong support.”

  Jane jumped up, reigning in her tears of laughter. “I’ll help you downstairs! I need to put dinner on the table anyway.”

  “But … Fitzwilliam can …”

  It was too late. Jane had already hooked her arm within Caroline’s and was escorting her toward the spiral staircase.

  Jane looked back to Charlie, making a face that even he knew meant, “Leave these two alone.”

  He stood suddenly – and wobbly, wiping his face with his hand. “Wine … need to uncork the wine … let it breathe … Gewur…ztra …miner … piccata.

  The intent was transparent, and Darcy seized the moment, shifting his body slightly to rest his knee on the sofa so he could face Elizabeth. They were silent for a few moments, exchanging surreptitious glances at each other, both tentative to begin the conversation. So much had transpired between them since their first meeting two weeks earlier, so many emotions and heated exchanges, verbal and physical.

  At the same time, they both began to speak nervously. “You look lovely …” Darcy blurted just as she said, “I want to thank you …”

  “Please, ladies first.”

  She timidly wrung her hands on her lap, the butterflies in her stomach almost making her queasy and her inebriation reminding her to formulate her words carefully. “I suppose an apology should be first. I’m … I’m sorry for my unwarranted accusations and for slapping you the other night. Charlotte explained to me what happened with Preston. I … um… appreciate your looking out for me … for protecting me. I'm embarrassed to say, I had no idea he was a drug user otherwise, I never would have gone out with him. I don’t do drugs and don’t condone them either. I'm really sorry and that brings me to what happened this past Sunday night. Thank you for the jacket. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a long time.”

  "You don't have to thank me for either, Liz. No man should ever treat you any way other than special and, to be honest, looking after you comes easy. It's something I want to do."

  She looked at him doubtfully. "Why?"

  "Because in case it's escaped your observation, I really like you, and I want to get to know you, even if you seem hell-bent on kicking in my front teeth."

  Joking seemed like an easier path at the moment than this unexpected conversation with the man she had formerly called Mr. Grinch. "For the record, I would never destroy that smile of yours."

  He smiled as if on command. "Maybe not my teeth, but you had no problem giving me a bruised eye."

  "Oh, it's hardly noticeable. Don't be such a baby. You asked for that when you showed up in the ring ready to take on The Black Widow. I thought you said you watched me fight before?"

  "I did and I was impressed. Mesmerized, you might say. You kicked butt."

  "And when was that?” She knew but wanted to hear what he would say.

  "The first time I saw you was on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Ponytail flying, powerful roundhouse kick and the most beautiful flush to your cheeks."

  She blushed and stammered. "I ... I didn't see you, ya' know. Charlotte did mention that you were
at the gym and that you thought I blew you off. I would have remembered you. So your thinking I was stuck up was completely inaccurate. I lost a contact lens in the ring while I was qualifying for my green belt."

  "I don’t think you’re stuck up, and you thinking I'm arrogant and conceited seems to be just another of our many misunderstandings."

  "Well, we'll just have to set the record straight and begin again."

  "I'd like that. Are you still interested in enjoying Christmastime in New York City on Thursday night with me? I promise not to take you to a sporting event or force you into participating in one."

  Pretending not to be interested, she looked at her fingernails. "No sporting event? Well then where are you taking me?"

  "How about I make it a surprise, but I guarantee you'll be very pleased.”

  "I like surprises ... sort of like the surprise of the Ranger jacket and your being here tonight. Oh, and your eyeglasses. Tell me, are those for show, hoping to impress me or do you truly need them?"

  "Both. My vision is terrible but I’m also trying to show you that I have no objection to women who wear glasses."

  "It would seem, Fitzwilliam Darcy, you're trying to woo me."

  "Well, Elizabeth Bennet it seems you're right, and it’s my hope you’ll let me."

  She held out her hand with her palm up, "Hand me your phone."

  Darcy stood and walked to the sofa table behind them, picking up his smart phone and the yellow rose. Sitting back down beside her, he placed the phone in her hand and the rose upon her lap as she programmed her cell number into it his.

  He was so close, his body touched hers and his masculine, woodsy aftershave tickled her senses. She picked up the rose and smelled the bloom. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t any fragrance; his scent was much more of an aphrodisiac.

  “For me? Thank you. Yellow roses are my favorite. How did you know?”

  Of course, he lied. Now was not the time to tell her he was “Caveman” and had been reading her blog over and over. “I didn’t know. I liked the significance of joy and friendship that the rose embodies. Like the moon tonight, I think it’s a lucky beginning.”

  “You should know, I’m not very lucky … I’m pretty unlucky, actually.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to try hard to change your luck.”

  Three hours later, Caroline begrudgingly was forced to leave Darcy’s presence. It was getting late and the night, from her perspective, had been a total bust. In fact, apparently he even failed to notice those. She vowed to step up her game and visit the firehouse as soon as possible.

  Charlie and Jane stood in the foyer making their good-byes, but Cancun was nowhere in sight.

  “Cancunny baby, come to mama!” Caroline called out, holding his little plaid hat and boots in her hand. “Taco Waco! Time to go. I’ve got your Burberry boots all ready for you.”

  Still no appearance.

  “I’ll go find him. He seems to have taken a liking to me,” Charlie said.

  Darcy and Elizabeth were also ready to leave and passed Charlie as they entered the foyer.

  “Dahlink Fitzwilliam will you share a taxi with me uptown?”

  It would have been rude to say no. Their residences were in fact, not far from each other. “Sure, Caroline.”

  She smoothed her hand down his sweater, running over his muscular pec. Elizabeth bit the corner of her bottom lip to keep from giggling as Darcy, for the sixth time that night, removed the offending hand.

  “I would so love to stop in and see your baby sister. We hardly had a chance to talk of her tonight.” Caroline looked around him to Elizabeth. “You were terribly preoccupied with other things. How is that dahlink girl?”

  “Busy. She’s been volunteering at Presbyterian this week, helping with the children’s holiday gift drive at the Burn Center.”

  “Oh … that again. How quaint. One would think all you do is focus on your firefighting hobby and now you’ve roped her into it as well. Surely, the Foundation doesn’t need both of you.”

  “The Foundation doesn’t but the hospital does and so do the patients.”

  Elizabeth knew Darcy was eager to help the Foundation, but she was curious about the hospital and the children. She was intrigued that his sister, who he had yet to mention, would also become involved in a Fire Department charity, but then she assumed his aunt might have had influence. She was, after all, the founder of the FD Burn Foundation. Before Elizabeth could inquire further, Charlie re-entered the foyer, tentatively taking Jane’s hand in his.

  His buzz still lingered but his fear of what was about to happen was palpable. “Um … baby … we seem to have a teeny, tiny, minuscule, easily resolved problem – which I did not have any part in.” He led her to their bedroom with each guest, one following the other, curiously on their heels.

  Darcy watched his good friend in astonishment. That man is pussy whipped and chuckled in the realization that if Elizabeth fell in love with him, he would be just as whipped.

  “What is it, Charlie? Did you find the dog?” Jane inquired, already tired and worn out from fending off Caroline’s barrage of insults directed at her sister, on top of her unrequited maneuvering all night, and the effort to tame the unrelenting teasing back and forth, all at her very first dinner party.

  Entering the master suite, Charlie slid off his shoes for the second time in the last five minutes. It was a room requirement given the pure white carpeting. He walked to the side of the bed and lifted the linen dust ruffle. In unison, everyone in the doorway bent down to peer under, followed by a three-person gasp.

  There lay Cancun, Burberry in tatters and tossed aside, surrounded by at least a half dozen, half-eaten chocolate bars and assorted shredded paper and foiled wrappers. Melted chocolate was smeared on his snout, paws, ears, and body, and he looked more than a bit crazy-eyed.

  Jane’s box of goodies was tossed on its side, chewed, open and violated. Both her secret stash and her secret habit lay fully exposed.

  Fine European chocolate mixed with Alurra Red Dye Number 40 from her Twizzlers hoard swirled together, staining the once snow-colored carpet in a four-foot circumference around the dog. Cancun held between his paws a peanut covered Pay Day bar, diligently chomping away at it on the side of his mouth, then smacking his tiny jaws to chew on the nougat.

  “Oh MY GOD! Get him out of there Charlie! The carpet! My candy!”

  Darcy whistled. "He sure did throw himself one hell of a party."

  “The chocolate! Get him away from the chocolate it could kill him!” Elizabeth yelled.

  Caroline knelt on the floor, holding out her hand to the dog. “Come to mama, baby.”

  Cancun snapped viciously at her painted nails and growled, refusing to go anywhere – especially with his hoochie mama.

  “Caroline get your dog out of my bedroom!” Jane demanded.

  “He won’t come! Oh My God! The Burberry!”

  Charlie sighed. He knew he was screwed already. “I’ll do it.” He sat cross-legged beside the bed. “Come here Cancun or you can’t stay the night.”

  Within seconds, the dog crawled out from under the bed, trailing melted chocolate candy tracks behind him, and hopped into Charlie’s lap. Both looked up at Jane with equally sad, puppy dog eyes.

  “Well, Jane it looks like Cancun is now yours, and what’s with all the chocolate?” Elizabeth teased.

  “The chocolate is none of your business! And he’s not staying.”

  Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand in his and slipping out of the bedroom, leading her away from the commotion. It felt so good to feel her fingers entwined with his and it felt even better that she wasn’t arguing about it. He led her to the large window beside the Christmas tree in the media room, out of sight from anyone other than the Man in the Full Moon.

  The view of the shimmering water of the Hudson River looked as beautiful as the sparkle in her green eyes. The city had quieted below them, anticipating a magical winter's night about to snow. The dimly lit ro
om added to the romantic ambiance with the twinkling lights of the tree, doubly reflected in the glass window.

  Darcy questioned himself, wondering if his heartbeat had ever been so profound before, whether his knees might go weak, and, more fearfully, would she slap him as she did before?

  The look in his eyes was nearly Elizabeth’s undoing. She waited with baited breath for either an action or a word. With every passing second, she heard the pounding of her heart while she waited for his kiss goodnight. This time it would be welcomed. This time she would reciprocate. She was coming to learn that he was everything a man should be.

  “I had a wonderful time tonight.” he said.

  “Me too. I’m glad I came.”

  “You look so beautiful.” The back of his index finger traced along the curve of her cheek.

  “Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself.”

  “Can I call you tomorrow to make arrangements for our date? You know … what time to pick you up and what to wear. I’d hate for you to have an experience like you did on Sunday.”

  “That’ll be great. I’d appreciate that.”

  It was awkward, neither knowing what to do or how to proceed with their good-bye. Elizabeth waited, looking up at his handsome face, thinking a kiss was imminent.

  Darcy reached into his pocket, giving her a hopeful smile. “May I give you a kiss?”

  She bit her lower lip, holding back her smile, and nodded, feeling like a schoolgirl about to receive her first taste of passion.

  Bending to her ear, instead of her lips, he whispered, “As much as I’d love to kiss you now, here beside the Christmas tree, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop and that could be embarrassing. May I have your rain check for Thursday and offer this as my I.O.U?”

  He held his hand out, exposing in his palm a red Hershey’s kiss, which he stole from the bowl at the front door.

  “You’re quite the romantic, Mr. Darcy.”

  The emerald facets of her eyes sparkled with so many emotions – none of which were confusing. She took the offered chocolate, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.

  “Is that a yes?”