The woman was either going to attract someone crazy in love with Donna Reed or a child molester.
"Do you like it?" Molly asked, grinning. "I wasn't sure if it was too over-the-top for fifties night, but then I figured, what the hell, why not?"
"I feel dowdy by comparison," Lisa replied, reaching for the Fuzzy Navel the waitress had just delivered and taking a sip. Lisa matched her drinks to her mood, and since she was hot-wired tonight, a Navel was just the ticket to get things going.
"How's the action?"
"Same as always," Molly raised her voice in an effort to be heard above the din as Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" blared from the jukebox. "I've seen a few new faces, and I thought I recognized one that was familiar. Don't turn around too quickly, but isn't that your soon-to-be ex-husband sitting at the end of the bar?"
"Shit, I hope not!" Sucking in her breath, Lisa turned her head slowly. "I was looking forward to having some fun tonight." But that didn't seem possible now. The sight of Alex, head lowered over his drink, looking as forlorn as an abandoned puppy, made her heart twitch.
Damn! Why did he have to show up tonight?
"He's been sitting there since before you came in. By the looks of him, he's not feeling any pain."
"Alex's specialty is inflicting pain, not feeling any himself." That wasn't quite true. She'd seen pain reflected in his eyes on those occasions when his father was overly critical of his work performance.
"Just thought I'd warn you, in case you want to change your mind and go somewhere else," Molly said. "I understand if you do."
Despite her disclaimer, Lisa could see that Molly would be disappointed. "Why should I leave? Alex and I have been separated for five weeks, and I've told him how it's going to be from here on out. And besides, this is a free country. I'm not going to be chased away from my favorite hangout because he's decided to come here, too."
Her friend smiled in relief. "That's good. Because Alan Parker is heading in your direction and it looks like he's going to ask you to dance."
"I thought Alan was still in jail for driving with a suspended license."
"Yeah, well, you know Alan. That man could talk his way out of a death sentence, he's that good of a salesman."
Alan Parker embodied the three Ps: persistent, pretentious and problematic. He wasn't Lisa's type, at all. But since she wasn't looking for anything even remotely smacking of a relationship, and Alan did have a decent sense of humor, he fit the bill for a fun, no-strings-attached evening.
And Lisa had heard from a few of her friends that he was pretty good in bed—not that she was interested. Even though she was horny, Alan just didn't do it for her. Plus, she suspected that Molly had a crush on him.
"Hey, Lisa! You're looking good tonight. You, too, Molly. I like the getup. But isn't it a little early for Halloween?"
"Nice seeing you, too, Alan. I'm outta here," the annoyed woman said to Lisa, shaking her head. "I'll be at the bar. Let me know when you get rid of the Fonz."
Molly's jibe didn't fool Lisa, and it didn't faze Alan in the least. "Shall we dance? It's fifties night and I'm eager to rock and roll." Danny and the Juniors "At The Hop" started playing.
"I'm not very good at the bop, Alan. I think I'll pass." It was a lie. Lisa was an excellent dancer, but she wasn't in the mood tonight. Alex's unexpected appearance had ruined that.
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. I promise not to show you up too badly."
Like that was even a remote possibility, Lisa thought, knowing she could not refuse the challenge.
Watching Lisa out on the dance floor, twisting and shouting with some guy dressed up to look like Elvis, Alex's heart sank somewhere to the vicinity of his knees as memories of their unorthodox wedding day flooded over him.
Her dance partner was wearing a black-leather jacket and tight blue jeans. His dark hair was slicked back and long sideburns flanked his cheeks.
Alex wondered if this was the kind of man Lisa was attracted to, because she sure as hell didn't seem attracted to him anymore.
Of course, Alex wasn't the blue-jeans type. Never had been. He was conservative in his dress and manner, which apparently didn't suit the women of today, who wanted wild not Wall Street.
Lisa looked incredibly hot in the short black dress she wore. Her legs were long and shapely, and damn sexy in those mile-high heels. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that fact didn't sit well with Alex, not at all.
Taking a sip of Glenmorangie, his eyes widened as yet another man dragged his wife across the dance floor. This one had on skintight black pants, no shirt and a clerical collar fastened around his neck. Someone had called him "The Preacher," but he didn't look like any clergyman Alex had ever seen.
Apparently Lisa liked him; she was laughing, singing and planting kisses on his cheeks, and the sight filled Alex with jealous anger.
Jealousy had been an alien emotion before now—before he had fallen in love with Lisa.
Like should seek like, his mother had always professed. And there was some truth to that, because the differences between someone as carefree and wild as Lisa and as conservative and levelheaded as Alex drove him to the brink of insanity.
Eyes narrowed, he cursed loudly before downing his scotch. Slipping off the bar stool, Alex decided that he'd had just about enough of his wife's antics and intended to confront the aggravating woman.
"Lisa!" he shouted, weaving his way through the crowded dance floor on unsteady feet. Reaching her, he clasped her arm, which she tried to pull back.
"Come on. We're leaving. I've seen enough. It's time we went home and got this straightened out."
Her eyes widened, but not in fear. If anything, she looked pissed beyond belief. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Alex. Now let go of my arm."
The Preacher stepped between them and pushed Alex back. "The lady said no. Now why don't you take the hint and get lost, or I'm going to have to perform last rites."
"She's my wife!"
"According to Lisa that's a mere technicality. Now beat it. We're dancing here."
Before he knew what was happening, two massively built bouncers grabbed Alex by the arms, lifted him off the ground and escorted him out the door, depositing him none-too-gently onto the sidewalk.
"Go sober up before you get yourself into real trouble, buddy," one of them said before shutting the door behind him.
Having never before been ejected from an establishment of any type, Alex felt totally humiliated, not to mention completely asinine as his butt warmed the cold pavement.
If this is what loving someone does to you, then maybe I should just rethink the whole damn thing!.
Lisa hurried out the door of the nightclub into the chilly night air to find her husband sprawled on the sidewalk.
Worried that he might be hurt, she bent over to help him to his feet. "What are you doing here, Alex? I hope you haven't been following me again."
"I'm sweeping you off your feet. Didn't you notice?" He brushed the dirt off his pants. "Apparently, I'm not doing a very good job of it."
"Your first mistake was listening to my mother, the second was not listening to me. Now go home and sleep it off. You've obviously had too much to drink. Things will be clearer in the morning."
"I haven't had too much to drink. Two scotches, that's it."
She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Did you have dinner beforehand?"
Alex shook his head. "No. Come to think of it, I didn't. I haven't had much of an appetite lately."
"Well, no wonder then. Where's your car? You're in no shape to drive."
He pointed to a blue Dodge Intrepid. "It's a rental."
Lisa held out her hand. "Give me the keys. I'll drive you to your friend's apartment."
"You don't have to do that, Lisa. I can manage. I'm perfectly fine." He swayed a bit, and she reached out to steady him. When she did, Alex grabbed Lisa and drew her to his chest, planting his lips firmly over hers in a mind-melting kiss that seemed to go on fo
rever.
Lisa forgot to breathe. She'd forgotten how wonderfully narcotic Alex's kisses were. She'd forgotten how the mere feel of his lips next to hers made her knees grow weak and her mind go numb.
She'd forgotten what a bastard he was.
Pulling back, she ordered, "Stop it, Alex! Stop trying to woo me back. It's not going to work."
"I'm not sorry for kissing you. And I'm not drunk, if that's what you think."
"Get real. And get in. Because you're not driving home in your condition. I'll not have your death on my conscience."
"That's nice of you," he said with no small amount of sarcasm.
"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do since my mother probably put you up to this foolishness."
"She didn't. Well, not exactly."
Pulling away from the curb, Lisa asked, "How did you know I'd be at the club tonight? I don't remember telling anyone, except Molly, my plans."
"I've been at the club every night this week, waiting for you to show. I figured I'd get lucky at some point."
She found his admission oddly touching, not to mention, disconcerting. "So you weren't following me?"
Alex shook his head and a lopsided grin escaped. "Not this time, love."
"I'm not your love. Don't call me that."
"Now, Lisa, be reasonable. I love you, you're my love, and I know deep down that you love me, too. You just aren't willing to admit it right now."
Damn you, Josephine Morelli!
"You shouldn't listen to anything my mother has to say. She's demented, a serial busybody." She gripped the steering wheel harder. "By the way, where am I taking you?"
Alex issued directions to Bill Connor's apartment, and then said, "Bill's out of town. Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee? I promise to behave."
After that kiss—that wonderfully, wild, erotic kiss he had given her, Lisa was tempted, but knew full well where it would lead. When it came to Alex, her willpower just wasn't what it should be.
"That's not a good idea." She pulled the car to a halt in front of the brick apartment complex he indicated. "Besides, Molly and Alan are waiting for me. It would be rude not to return." Though Molly, who she knew would relish the chance to be alone with Alan, would be grateful for her absence.
"Please stay! I want to talk to you."
There was no way Lisa was going to put herself into such a compromising situation. A cup of coffee would lead to another kiss, then an embrace and finally, to bed.
The sex would be fabulous, but Lisa wasn't playing that game. Not anymore.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think we have anything left to talk about. Go upstairs to bed, Alex. I'll park your car outside the club. You can take a cab and pick it up tomorrow. I'll leave the keys with the bartender and explain the situation."
"Fine. But I'm not giving up, Lisa. I love you. How long is it going to take for me to convince you of that?"
"Longer than you have, I'm afraid. Goodbye, Alex."
"Not goodbye," he insisted. "Just good night. In the immortal words of Arnold, 'I'll be back'."
Swallowing her smile at his stupid impersonation, Lisa was surprised that Alex had ever seen a Terminator movie.
"I think this is the scene where you dissolve, Alex. See ya."
Josephine had had quite enough of her daughter's stubborn refusal to patch things up with her husband.
No good would come of Lisa's decision to divorce Alex, she was positive of that. And Josephine prided herself on rarely being wrong.
Didn't her daughter realize that marriage was hard work and, more importantly, that a baby might have resulted from her union with Alexander Mackenzie?
Josephine's heart fluttered at the very idea of becoming a grandmother. It was something she had longed for over the years. But her daughters had not been eager to marry and settle down, and she had no bambinos to show for their stubbornness.
What was wrong with these young women of today?
"Disposable society," her husband, John, always said, and he was right. Everything was just too easy to toss away, including marriage.
"I'm going to call Lisa's mother-in-law and ask her to help me get Alex and Lisa back together," Josephine told her mother, who was seated at the kitchen table, busy shoving sausage and peppers into her mouth.
Loretta Abrizzi was somewhere between the ages of eighty and ninety years old. No one was really positive of her actual birth date, including her two daughters, Josephine and Florence. She was still a feisty old girl, though she was losing a bit of her mental facilities as the weeks and months went by.
Looking up from her lunch, the old woman paused and crossed herself. "This is not a good idea, Josephine," she said. "Your daughter will not appreciate your interference. Lisa is all grown-up now and knows her own mind."
"That's rich coming from you, Ma. All you've done your entire life is interfere in mine. And now I'm not supposed to get involved when my daughter is in trouble?"
"Times have changed. Women are different now."
"I don't care. I'm not going to sit by and allow Lisa to ruin her life. She loves Alex, and he loves her. And he asked for my help. It's my duty to do something."
Lisa's grandmother swallowed her wine, wiped her lips with a napkin, and then said, "You cannot live their lives for them, Josie. As much as you want to help, you will cause trouble in the family if you do. You may even lose your daughter. You know how much she hates those people. You said yourself Alex's parents reminded you of Mussolini." Not a fan of the dictator, Grandma pretended to spit on the floor.
"Maybe so. But Miriam Mackenzie is responsible for breaking my Lisa's heart, not to mention breaking up her marriage. And by all that is holy, she will be the one to help put it back together, or I will have you put the evil eye on her."
The evil eye was used only in rare circumstances, and then only against Josephine's most hated enemy. Evoking the curse had been known to render virile men impotent, fertile women barren, and occasionally could cause warts to appear for no reason.
"I haven't used the evil eye in years," Grandma Abrizzi admitted. "I'm not sure I can still do it."
Clutching her chest, she moaned. "Quick! Get the antacid. You're giving me heartburn."
Reaching into one of the cupboards, Josephine placed the Mylanta in front of her mother. "That's from the sausage and peppers. I told you if you ate them you'd be sorry. But would you listen? You're as stubborn as your granddaughter. And you can't lose the ability to give the evil eye—it's an inherited gift."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"Because I wasn't born with the ability, though there have been times when I wished—" She shook her head.
"Sometimes I wonder why that husband of yours puts up with you. You're a bossy woman who talks too much."
"Which means I'm just like you, Ma, so don't be insulting me. You're only insulting yourself."
"Bah! One day your daughters will turn on you, as you have turned on me, and you'll know what it's like to grow old."
"I already know. You and the girls are driving me to an early grave. First, Francie with those four weddings, which cost me a pretty penny, I can tell you, and now Lisa, who runs off and marries a man she hardly knows, in Las Vegas of all places. How can a marriage be blessed in a sinful place like that?"
"I liked Elvis. Sure, he had a few problems, and a big fat belly, but he was a good guy, gave lotsa money to charity. And I hear he was a fan of Sinatra. So Frank was connected to the Mob, nobody's perfect."
"Where's the gratitude I deserve?" Josephine went on, ignoring her mother. Most old Italian ladies liked Mario Lanza or, God forbid, Eddie Fisher, but not Loretta Abrizzi. She was an Elvis and Sinatra fan from way back.
"I should be doting on my grandchildren right now, not worrying about my daughters and their marriages." Francie seemed distracted of late, and her behavior also worried Josephine.
"It's a mother's job to worry. You don't think I worry about you getting too fat and dropping dead before I
do? A mother shouldn't outlive her children. It's not the way God intended."
Josephine's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "You think I'm fat? I only ate half of what you did for lunch."
"I'm an old woman. I have no husband to keep interested. I'm just saying you should watch it."
"John loves me just the way I am. He's told me so many times."
"What a man says and what a man does are two different things. And if that's so, why is he always going off to be with his goombahs? Or maybe he's got a chippie on the side, and you don't know about her. A man his age gets the wandering eye. Your father had it." Loretta crossed herself, in memory of her dead husband.
Josephine's mouth fell open. "Are you nuts? Papa never cheated on you. He was the salt of the earth."
"No, but he thought about it. Once in his sleep he called out the name Lucia. Our next-door neighbor was Lucia Mozarelli. She was a puttana, but her breasts were large and the men liked her."
It finally dawned on Josephine that the conversation she was having with her mother made absolutely no sense. "Why are you telling me all this? What's it got to do with Lisa's problem? Alex is not cheating on her, I'm certain of that."
Loretta thought for a moment, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Who's Lisa? I don't know any Alex."
Letting loose a string of curses, Josephine shook her hand at the Almighty and went in search of Miriam Mackenzie's phone number.
One crackpot was all she could handle in a day, and now she'd be saddled with two.
8
"What's wrong, Lisa? You've been down in the mouth this entire week. Is it because of that run-in you had with your husband at the nightclub last Saturday night?"
Lisa shrugged, handing her sister the swatches of material she'd requested for a new customer who was due in later that morning. "It's true. I can't stop thinking about Alex. But I don't think it's just that." She heaved a sigh.
Francie's face filled with concern. "Then what is it? You can tell me."
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Francie, but I don't think I'm really happy doing this job. I don't find it challenging, and I'm not sure working at Designing Women is what I want to spend the rest of my life doing." She shut her eyes, afraid to see the disappointment in her sister's.
Suddenly Single Page 8
