The Love Triangle. Nic Tatano
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FIVE
Kyle was determined to make a good impression on the little redhead, as he was decked out in a dark blue windowpane three-piece suit. A haircut this morning, an old-fashioned shoe shine from a sidewalk guy. His red silk tie had a perfect dimple in the knot after three tries, and a matching pocket square. He looked at his watch as he leaned against his car. Ten till six.
He’d actually been there since five-thirty, having left extra time in case there was traffic. This was one date he didn’t want to miss, and he sensed she wasn’t kidding when she said she’d be gone if he was late.
Still, as he waited for his date, his mind wandered to the girl on the phone. Lexi Harlow was an amazing conversationalist, incredibly in tune with him, even though they’d never met. And with his crazy travel schedule he wondered when that would be possible.
The sight of the little redhead walking toward him knocked him back to reality.
The sweaty girl in a tee-shirt and shorts with her hair up didn’t remotely resemble the vision heading in his direction. Red tangles dusting the shoulders of her knee-length turquoise dress, her hair bouncing from the energy in her walk. Spectacular eyes done up like an Egyptian princess.
And a pair of platform heels that had to be at least five inches high. He wouldn’t be calling her Little Red.
The woman wasn’t kidding about wanting to be the dominant one in the relationship. He stood up to greet her, stretching as much as possible to his full height. Don’t say a word about her being taller.
She smiled as she moved toward him. “You’re off to a good start. I like a guy who’s on time. I really like a guy who’s early.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m here to pick up a sweaty girl from the gym.”
“Very funny. Though I thought I was glowing, not sweaty.”
“Sorry. But right now you look terrific. As my friend from the South would say, you clean up good.”
“Thank you.” She ran one finger under the lapel of his suit jacket. “And you look much better in a suit. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. Oh, one more rule for tonight, along with the hundred-dollar limit. No shop talk. We’re not allowed to talk about work.”
“Why not?”
“Because if we do that we won’t really get to know each other. People are very different away from the office.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Okay, we won’t even say what we do for a living.”
He opened the car door and gestured inside. “Right, off we go.”
She got in and looked up at him. “So where are we going?”
“A wedding.”
“Huh?”
“Trust me. It’s not just any wedding.”
“So who’s getting married?”
“Actually, no one.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“All will become clear shortly, young lady.”
Lexi smiled as she saw the marquee above the dinner theater. Angelo and Antoinette’s Wedding. “Oh, I read about this. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Me too. Dinner theater that’s an Italian wedding beats the hell out of some depressing Ibsen play on Broadway.”
“No kidding.” They crossed the street and headed toward the box office. Lexi noted the price on the little sign in the window. “Hey, it’s fifty-nine bucks each. Do the math. You’re already over the limit. Gotta stay under a hundred bucks, remember?”
He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and held it up. “Not a problem. Two-for-one coupon.”
She nodded. “Ah. Pretty slick.”
“I’ve got one of those books with all sorts of two-fers in New York. Really pays for itself in no time.”
“I admire a man who knows how to save a buck. Since I have to do it every day.”
“I admire a woman who doesn’t get pissed off that I use coupons.” He paid for the tickets and led her inside, looking at the slip of paper the ticket seller had given him. “Hey, assigned seats.”
“Yeah, I read they do that because they have actors at each table who are part of the show.”
They found their table already occupied by a couple, who looked right out of Mafia central casting. A burly guy with slick black hair, wearing a black pinstripe suit with a white tie, and a woman with raven hair teased out to eighties standards wearing a ridiculous amount of cheap jewelry while smacking a wad of gum. The guy stood up and greeted them with a wicked Noo Yawk accent. “How youse guys doin’? I’m Carmine and dis is my ball and chain, Carmella.”
The woman glared at him. “Real nice first impression, Carmine.” She turned to them. “Youse friends of da bride or groom?”
“Uh, both,” said Lexi. “We’re Kasey and Alexandra.”
“Nice to meetcha,” said Carmine as he sat down. “Still don’t believe these two are gettin’ married. Madonne, tawk about a couple with nuthin’ in common.”
Carmella rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like we’re a match made in heaven.” She turned to Lexi. “We’re like Bill and Hillary without the money or the politics.”
Lexi sat down next to her date and lightly took his arm. “This is gonna be a hoot.”
“No kidding.”
The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on the door as the bandleader on stage moved to the microphone. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome for the very first time… Mister and Mrs. Angelo Goombatz!”
Lexi patted her belly after her last bite of chocolate wedding cake. The food was actually excellent, unlike many dinner theater meals. She leaned back and watched the newlyweds finish their first dance together with a hilarious argument on the dance floor.
“Didn’t take long,” said Carmine.
His “wife” slapped the back of his head, mussing up his hair. “Ah, shaddup, Carmine. At least let them get to the honeymoon.”
“Yeah, it’ll be the undercard on the next pay-per-view heavyweight fight.”
The song finished and the lead singer watched the newlyweds storm off the dance floor toward the kitchen, continuing their argument along the way. “Uh-oh, I think we need some damage control here. Why don’t the rest of you dance while we put away all the breakables?” The sound of plates breaking filled the room. “Too late. Anyway, please enjoy the music. Ladies, please drag your dates to the dance floor since you know damn well they’re not going to make the first move. Let’s go back to the seventies with some classic disco!”
Carmella got up, grabbed Carmine by the ear and yanked him out of his seat. “Let’s go, Fred Astaire.”
Lexi laughed, then held out her hand toward her date. “This girl wants to dance. I mean, if you know how.”
He stood up and took her hand. “I can do a box step.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh geez.”
“Personally, I’m just hoping you’ll let me lead.”
“Very funny.”
He led her to the dance floor and staked out an open space as the band played a Bee Gees’ tune. He took her hands. “Relax your arms.”
“Huh?”
“Let your arms go limp.”
“Okay.” She relaxed