Luck of Love

by Aleman, Tiffany

  A sad smile spreads across his face as he asks, “Can I talk to you, somewhere a little more private?” Peering out the corners of his eyes, I match his movements, and see people staring at us.

  Nodding my head in agreement, I say quietly, “Yeah, follow me.”

  I lead Derrick down the back hall where Frankie’s office is. Leaning up against the wall, I look up into his eyes and for once, there’s no fear, doubt or worry running through me. Finding myself not wanting to be indifferent for once I begin, “Thank you for that back there. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t pulled that jackass back when you did.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I was there to help. When I saw that asshole slam that glass down on the bar, I knew if I didn’t put a stop to it, no one would.” Stepping closer, he leans up against the wall next to me. With a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, he nudges my arm with his shoulder adding, “That was pretty badass how you yelled at him in front of everyone. I don’t think you noticed it, but everyone stopped what they were doing to take a look at the woman with a mouth like a sailor's.”

  A slight blush begins creeping onto my face. Grinning back, I look up to Derrick and say, “Well he pissed me off. I can’t believe he had the balls to talk to me like that.” Shrugging I continue, “I saw red. I couldn’t control what came out of mouth after that. Hell, I’m surprised I didn’t try jumping across the bar.”

  Looking me up and down he smiles a full-blown smile and says, “I think you might’ve had a problem with that seeing how you can barely see above the bar and all.”

  Playfully elbowing him in the ribs and laughing I say, “Ha-ha…I’m short. I get it.”

  Chuckling he says, “Yeah, you are.” With his laughter subsiding he says, “On a serious note, I’m just glad that I was able to help.”

  Nodding I respond, “Me too.”

  Pushing off the wall, he reaches into his pocket grabbing something and pulls out a white business card. He reaches for my hand, which tenses when he touches me. He dismisses it completely, looking into my eyes he says, “Blake, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Placing the card in my hand he adds, “I just want you to have this. It has every number you can reach me at, if you want to use it. I hope you do. The ball is in your court.” With that, he releases my hand and leaves. He doesn’t even look back—just leaves.

  Resting my head against the wall and looking at Derrick’s card, I’m at a loss of what to do with it. Lifting my head upright, I hold the card up and look at the numbers he left for me. Holy shit, he really did give me every number, even the direct line to his office.

  Not knowing what to do with everything that has just happened, I push off the wall and go to stick the card in my back pocket, jumping when I see Dean rushing towards me.

  Grabbing ahold of my shoulders, his eyes roam over me making sure that I walked away unharmed. Realizing that I’m fine, he crushes me to him in a fierce hug. Rubbing his hands over my hair in a soothing manner, he murmurs in my ear, “I just saw Derrick. He told me everything. I swear I didn’t know, Blake. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you. Are you okay?” The raw emotions of fear and sadness seep from his tone.

  Hugging him back, it takes everything in me to keep the tears welling up in my eyes from spilling over. Everything that has happened comes back full force. Swallowing the lump in my throat down I whisper back, “I’m fine now. Luckily, Derrick was there to stop that guy from making it across the bar. I was so scared.” My voice trembles as I say that last part.

  Hugging me tighter, I can feel the guilt he’s putting on himself from not being there for me. “I’m glad Derrick was there for you, but I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve been paying more attention to what was going on at the bar, especially with Mike coming in later than usual and Frankie having the night off.” The pain in his voice is evident.

  Pushing back from him, I lift my head to look up and say, “Dean, it’s okay, really. I love that you always want to be there for me, but you can’t. It’s just not possible. You were doing your job and I don’t hold that against you. Like I said, at least Derrick was there.”

  Hanging his head in disappointment, I patiently wait for him to process what I’ve just said. I know that he’ll eventually see the reasoning behind my words and come to grips with it. His head raises as his eyes search my face for reassurance. Reaching over I softly rub his arm and say, “It really is okay and I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” Raising an eyebrow at me he asks, “What was that you were putting in your pocket when I came rushing back here?”

  Groaning because I was hoping he wouldn’t have caught that, I reach back into my pocket, pull out the card and hand it over to him. His eyes go wide when he realizes what it is. Astounded he says, “He left you a business card with every number he has on it.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, I take a deep breath as I feel a headache starting to come on. “Yeah,” I whisper as my reply.

  “What are you going to do? Did he say anything when he handed you this?” he asks.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that,” I say pointing at the card still in Dean’s hand, “but he did say that he hopes I use it and that the ball is in my court.” Handing the card over to me, I safely tuck it back into my back pocket, “But right now I’m going back to work because I’m sure that Mike needs some help behind the bar, and you need to get back to the door.”

  He hooks his arm around my neck as we walk out of the hallway and says, “All right, let’s go and get this night over with.”

  Propped up against the kitchen counter with my coffee in one hand and Derrick’s card in the other, I mindlessly flip it back and forth, arguing with myself on whether or not I should give him a call. Part of me thinks that I shouldn’t even contemplate calling him. Hell, last night was the first night that I actually worked on trying to be more personable, and trying to smile more. After last night though, I felt the dynamic between us shift marginally. He didn’t have to pull that guy back last night to keep him from jumping across the bar. He doesn’t know me, but he did it anyhow. Then giving me his number, what the hell was that about?

  “What are you doing?” Dean asks.

  Surprised by his words because I didn’t even hear him come into the kitchen, I jump. I don’t mean hand-on-my-chest-oh-you-scared-me kind of jump, no, I mean jumped. My heart is racing with the sound of its thudding in my ears. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, leaving my limbs slightly trembling. The coffee I was drinking sloshes over the rim, burning my hand in the process and trickling down my arm. Dropping the card on the counter and trading the coffee from one hand to the other, I rush over to the sink, quickly turning on the faucet to cool my now scorching flesh. Looking over to Dean I say with narrowed eyes, “Damn, Dean what the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry. I thought you would have seen me come around the corner. Are you all right?” He asks taking in my hand running under the cold water.

  Shaking my head, with a sigh I say, “Yeah, I’ll be in a few.”

  Coming further into the kitchen, he reaches for a mug of his own and pours himself some coffee. Taking a sip and pointing at the card he says, “What were you doing with that?”

  Lifting a shoulder, I turn off the water. Grabbing a towel and drying off my hand I say, “Just looking at it.”

  Picking it up off the counter and flipping it between his fingers he says, “I think you should call him.”

  “What! Are you crazy? What the hell happened to ‘baby steps’?” I can’t believe he just said that.

  “Hey, calm down all right. It was just a suggestion. Obviously he wants you to call him, so think about it.”

  Rolling my eyes and throwing the towel at him I say, “Whatever.”

  I grab my now half-empty cup of coffee and take a sip. Dean says, “Hey how about we go to the city today? Just hop on a train, get something to eat and do Chinatown.”


  “You do know I have to work tonight, right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but not until nine. Come on let’s go.”

  “All right, just let me get ready.” Draining the remainder of my coffee, I put the mug in the sink and rush off to the shower.

  On the train, Dean and I sit in comfortable silence. We only speak when he asks if I would mind if Landon meets us at Vinnie’s for lunch. I say no because I honestly don’t mind Landon. He’s nice and funny and a friend of Dean’s.

  Stepping off the train and into the station, the enormity of Penn Station never ceases to amaze me. Captivated with its high steel arches and glass ceilings, I could sit perched on one of the benches in the station and never tire of its beauty.

  Leaving the station and entering the streets of New York City seems as if we have traveled to another time. Surrounded by modern time skyscrapers stretching up miles high into the sky, I’m in awe. Fascinated by the twisting and bending of the steel that makes up the magnificent buildings, I don’t realize that Dean is pulling me by the arm in the direction of the cabs.

  As we get into the cab, the driver looks back at us in his rearview mirror and asks, “Where to?”

  Since I’ve only been to the city a handful of times with Dean for photo-shoots, family visits and Chinatown, I let Dean answer.

  “East 35th Street please.”

  Nodding, the driver puts the gearshift down into drive and we’re off. Making our way through the city, we pass by Tiffany and Co., Bloomingdales and Barneys. Endless amounts of stores span across this amazing city. Street cart vendors selling New York’s famous hot dogs are a dime a dozen.

  Graduation can’t come soon enough so I can move here. All of this will be at my disposal.

  Pulling onto 35th Street, the cab comes to a gradual stop and Dean pays the driver. Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of the crowded sidewalks of New York City, we move quickly to avoid the crush of the trampling crowd. Stopping in front of Vinnie’s, a local Italian restaurant, Dean opens the door letting me in first.

  Standing in front of the hostess station, a woman dressed in a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and black heels greets us. Smiling she says, “Hello, welcome to Vinnie’s. My name is Vanessa. How many are in your party?”

  “Three,” I answer. Looking back to Dean I ask, “Have you heard from Landon since earlier?”

  Pulling out his phone, he scrolls through it and says, “He texted me while we were in the cab and said he would meet us here.”

  Looking back at the hostess I say, “I don’t think he’s here yet, but can we go ahead and get a table if you don’t mind.”

  Picking up three menus, she turns back to us and says with a smile, “Not at all. If you’ll just follow me.”

  Smiling back, Dean and I follow her through the dining area to the center where she seated us. The restaurant’s décor is picturesque with authentic Italian artwork scattered throughout. Images of the Italian countryside, vineyards and couples drifting in gondolas through the Venice canals scatter about in paintings and prints. The space is vast and filled with ample seating. Black wrought iron tables and chairs enhance the restaurant’s authentic feel of being in the Italian countryside. White linen covers the tops of the tables as white lights sparkle above creating an ambiance of dining under the stars.

  Pulling out my chair for me, Dean waits for me to sit. After he helps me scoot my chair in, I pick up my menu and glance over the options. The aromas of fresh baked bread and roasted vegetables penetrates my senses causing my stomach to grumble in response. Grabbing my stomach, I flush with embarrassment as I try to stifle a laugh. “Daniel, your waiter, will be with you shortly.”

  As Vanessa leaves us, I say to Dean, “This place is beautiful.”

  With his menu in hand, he glances at me and then looks around the spacious restaurant. He says, “Yeah it is. When I was younger, my grandparents and I came to this place every Sunday after Mass.” I smile a sad smile at him because I know how hard it is for him to talk about them. Nodding my head, I look back down at my menu.

  It was not long after we had moved in together that his mom had called to tell him his grandparents died in a house fire. I watched as pure shock washed over his features at the news. Dean is not an emotional man, but when his grandparents passed away, he slipped into a depression that I’m still surprised he came back from. He barely ate and stayed in bed all the time and even took a family medical leave of absence from school. Hell, he barely took a shower. Dark circles formed around his eyes and I could hear him crying at night. That’s when it was my turn to comfort him. I would make my way to his bed at night, holding him, being there for him, letting him cry.

  I hear him before I see him. “Sorry I’m late. I had to take care of some paperwork at the office real quick.”

  Pulling out a chair at the table, I sit next to Blake instead of Dean. The look he shoots my way says he’s watching me. Sure, he’s already warned me about Blake and to not go there, but I’m a grown man and I’ll do what I damn well please. Leaning back in my chair, I drape an arm across the back of Blake’s. Watching her back stiffen with tension, I know the proximity in which I’m sitting next to her is affecting her on some level. At the wing joint, she made sure to sit next to Dean, forcing me to sit by myself. She didn’t get off that easy because I had sat right across from her.

  Looking over at her, I smirk as I lean in closer and say in a hushed tone, “You look nice today.” And she does. She sits next to me in light colored pre-washed jeans, a black V-neck sweater that shows off a smidge of cleavage, and a pair of black UGGS. Her wavy hair cascades down stopping in the middle of her back.

  Darting her eyes in Dean’s direction, I can see they’re having some silent conversation to which I’m not privy. Taking a deep breath, she exhales slowly before turning to me. Smiling she says, “Thanks, you do too.” Her face looks flushed and pained all at the same time.

  Pulling my arm back, I reach for my menu, and open it to scan its options. A tall man approaches our table and says, “Welcome, I’m Daniel. I’ll be your server this afternoon. What can I start you all off with to drink?”

  Before Dean and Blake have a chance to speak I say, “We’ll take a bottle of the white pinot grigio, please.”

  Bowing his head, Daniel says, “Yes sir,” and leaves quickly to retrieve our wine.

  Aware of the scowl on Dean’s face, I peer over at him and ask, “What?”

  Opening his mouth to answer, I hear Blake first. “Don’t you think that was kind of rude? I mean, what if we didn’t want wine to drink,” she says motioning between her and Dean. The edge in her tone warns me not to argue with her.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Do you guys want any wine?” I reply sarcastically.

  With an eyebrow arched and a blank expression on her face, I can tell she doesn’t appreciate my sarcasm, but answers me anyway. “No, I want a Coke. What about you, Dean, what would you like to drink?” Smirking at Dean. I know it’s a dare, a dare to see if he’ll agree with her or me.

  Looking between the two of us he answers, “Uh…I guess I’ll have a tea.”

  I place my arm across the back of her chair again. She turns in her seat, lifts my arm up and off the back of her chair, placing it in my lap as she says, “See Landon, I’m a big girl who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone ordering for me. I know how to do that myself.”

  “Blake,” Dean hisses, “What did we talk about the other day? What did you say you wanted to do?”

  Completely confused by what Dean just said, I watch her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. She says nonchalantly, “I know what we talked about, but it was rude.” Turning, she looks at me, but only speaks to Dean as she continues, “I know how to order my own drinks. I don’t need someone else doing it for me.”

  Holding my hands up in surrender, “You’re right. Obviously, you know how to order your own drinks. It won’t happen again.”

  She narrows her eyes as if she’s t
rying to gauge whether I’m being sincere or not. Conceding, she says, “Thanks.”

  I’m half-tempted to rest my arm on the back of her chair again, but decide against it. Daniel returns with our bottle of wine. He sets three glasses on the table and uncorks the bottle. Right as he’s about to begin pouring, I stop him. “Daniel, we won’t need the whole bottle, but I’ll still take a glass of wine, please.”

  I look to Blake and arch a brow, meaning that I won’t order for her. Rolling her eyes at me, she looks up to the waiter and says, “I’d like a Coke, please.”

  Nodding he says, “Yes, of course, Miss.” He looks in Dean’s direction and says, “And for you, Sir? Will you be having something different or will you be having the wine as well?”

  “I’ll have a glass of tea, please,” Dean replies.

  With a slight nod Daniel says, “Yes sir. I’ll be back in a moment then.”

  As soon as Daniel leaves, I decide to change the topic. “So, Dean, when’s your next photo shoot?”

  “In a couple of weeks, on a Saturday. Why?”

  “I wanted to know when you’ll be in the city again. Do you want to do something later that night?” I ask.

  Nodding, he says, “Yeah, sounds good. But nothing too crazy, all right? Blake’s coming with me and I thought I’d stop in and see my family.”

  A chuckle escapes Blake, and I know that she’s remembering my story about Dean and Jake. Leaning back in his chair Dean rolls his eyes and says, “Oh shut up, Blake. I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  As Daniel returns, Blake and I both say in unison, “No!” Looking at each other, we begin laughing harder as Daniel sets our drinks in front of us. Seeing the scowl now on Dean’s face sends us into hysterics.

  While we try to catch our breath, Dean says, “If you two are done, I’d like to order my food.”

  Once Dean begins placing his order, I take a deep breath in, hold it a couple of seconds and then release it. Daniel turns to Blake and me, and we each recite what we would like. Picking up her glass to take a drink, Blake hesitates before the rim touches her lips and says to Dean, “I’m sorry.”