Blind Date. Cheryl Anne Porter
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thought fast. “I just meant it’s your town, Meg. I thought I’d be ready for anything you might want to do. That’s why I dressed like this.” He indicated his casual attire—jeans, neatly belted, and maroon knit shirt.
That seemed to satisfy her. “Okay. I was going to suggest dinner and then I’d show you the city…but tomorrow night, so I’m kind of disappointed.”
“I still don’t understand why we can’t do it tonight.”
“Because the free concert at Centro Ybor isn’t until tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that makes it hard.” Joe’s frown was for the unfamiliar term. “What’s Centro Ee-bore? Where’s that?”
Her expression brightened. “Oh, it’s fun. All kinds of stores, restaurants and clubs, and even a movie complex. It’s close by, just the other side of the Cross-town Expressway in Y-B-O-R City. Anyway, it’s the Latin Quarter of Tampa. Really historic. All about Cuban cigars. You’d like it.”
“Sounds like I would. We could still go tomorrow night…if you want. If we still like each other.”
“If we still do? So you think we like each other now?” Flirtatious best described her crooked grin.
It had an immediate—and elevating—effect on Joe. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets to keep from grabbing her and kissing the hell out of her. Man, he just kept digging this hole of attraction deeper and deeper, didn’t he. Sure, he’d come here to visit his favorite relative, but also to take time away to think about his relationship with Linda, a really fine woman he’d been with now for about six months. She wanted things to get more serious…but he didn’t. So these ten days in Florida—three of which had already passed—were his chance to decide what he should do.
“You’re awfully quiet, cowboy. I mean, if you have to think about it that long, then—”
“Sorry.” Snapped back to the moment, Joe pulled his hands out of his pants pockets. Cowboy? Gazing at Meg Kendall’s pretty face, he decided he liked her teasing reference to his home state. This woman was going to keep him on his toes, he could just tell. “Yeah, we do. We like each other.”
Her attractive grin widened considerably. “Cool.”
Feeling way too warm, even for Tampa’s temperate evening air, Joe searched for something neutral to say. “We’ll be taking Uncle Maury’s car. You still want to go?”
She made a face. “Yes, but we can take my car, if you want.”
Smiling, Joe said, “So you’ve experienced the black and chrome monster. Personally, I would love to take your car, but we’d better take his. Evidently, he spent a whole week before I got here cleaning and polishing it. He’s pretty proud of it, and I’d hate to hurt his feelings.”
“Aren’t you a good nephew.”
Embarrassed, Joe feigned immediate insult. “Now, don’t go around saying things like that. If you ruin my reputation as the tough guy, cowboy type, I’d have to beat someone up all over again.”
“Really? Because there’s a guy named Carl I’d like to nominate for that honor. He’s kind of big, but I think you could take him.”
“Ah, yes…Carl. What did he do, exactly?” Joe couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed just standing here talking to her. Who cared if they went anywhere?
“Carl was a jerk, that’s what,” Meg said.
“Well, then, we don’t like him.” He gestured toward the door. “So, are you ready? Uncle Maury is bringing his car around from the parking garage. Once we’re on our way—with everyone in Tampa staring at us—we’ll go find this Carl and I’ll take care of him for you. How’s that sound for a start to a nice evening?”
Meg grinned. “I’ll go get my purse.”
“And the dress.”
“Right. And the dress.”
2
“SO, HOW ABOUT this little beauty, huh, Joey? It’s part of my legacy. When I die, it’s all yours.”
“You’re not going to die, Uncle Maury. The way things are going, you’ll be around longer than I am. You and this…car.” Standing in the apartment complex’s parking lot with Meg at his side, Joe looked over the black and chrome behemoth that could have been a prop in a James Cagney gangster movie. But his great-uncle was so proud of the car that Joe had no choice but to voice excitement. “Still looks like it’s in mint condition.”
“It’s better than that. Got a new engine. And I put new tires on it and installed seat belts. It’s gassed up, street-legal and ready to go.” Wearing striped and rumpled shorts, a loud Hawaiian shirt and scuffed deck shoes, the short, stocky, cigar-smoking and toupee-topped octogenarian indulgently patted the car’s fender. “This baby saw me through many a scrape up in Jersey in the old days. What a machine. It’s not the same now—the cars and the gangsters today. They don’t have anything on us old guys. We were the real deal—you know, kid?”
“Yes, I do, Uncle Maury.” As an aside to Meg, Joe whispered, “He was never in the Mafia. Not really. I’ll tell you more later.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, “but I didn’t really think he was.”
“Before I got out of the mob,” Maury continued, “we were really something. But these goons today, all dressed in black, so slick and educated? Hooey! A bunch of empty suits. Got no morals. No respect.” He wagged a stubby index finger at Joe. “A man who don’t respect his family is no kind of man at all. You remember that, Joey. And you take good care of my little Meggie here. She’s a gem, ain’t she?”
Maury cupped her chin in his hand and grinned proudly. “Beautiful, like I told you, huh? She teaches little kids. Tells them what they need to know about life—don’t you, Meggie?”
“I try, Maury.” Her voice sounded funny since she had to speak with her cheeks pooched between his big thumb and thick fingers.
Maury released her, leaving red marks on her face. Joe didn’t know what to do or say as she worked her jaw, but she she acted like this was an everyday occurrence that didn’t upset her.
“That’s my girl.” Maury dug through his pockets, obviously searching for something. “You need any money, Joey, to show this lady a good time? She deserves some fun.”
“I’ve got plenty, Uncle Maury. Keep your money.” But Maury pressed a big wad of bills into Joe’s hand anyway. “Well, in that case, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” He tucked the money into his pocket. It was just easier. Tomorrow he’d find a way to put it back on his uncle’s dresser. The top of it was such a mess he’d never notice a few loose dollars added back to the mix.
“Hey,” Meg said suddenly. “Why don’t you come with us, Maury?”
That surprised Joe. Sure it was nice that she’d want to include the old guy. But did she offer because she didn’t want to be alone with him?
Uncle Maury, God love him, came through. With broad gestures and an adamant shake of his head that left his toupee slightly askew, he waved Meg’s suggestion away. “No, you two go. You don’t want an old man tagging along. Go enjoy a little adventure. Maybe tomorrow when I’m not so tired, we can do something, the three of us. How does that sound?”
With the words no more than said, Maury was suddenly seized with an episode of coughing and wheezing that had him clutching at his chest.
Concerned, Joe took up position beside his uncle. At the same time, Meg took his elbow at the other side. Really liking this woman for her warmth and caring, Joe turned his attention to Maury. “You’re tired? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he groused, shaking off their hands.