Page 71 of Lessons in Love
New Year’s Eve is booming in the hospitality sector. Running a popular business during the second biggest holiday for a bar means we were booked six months ago for a private party.
All the guys are working tonight—Romeo has a small audience of ladies hanging on his every cock tale. Clive is tossing bottles into the air and entertaining the crowdCocktailstyle with flaming drinks. Leo has hit his stride and fits right in. He’s a solid tender, and has a regular clientele, including the fashion icon, Vittori, which brings the bar more press. Eddie has everything under control—the ladies, the liquor, and the party. I knew he was ready to take on the job.
As for me, that’s my name above the door, that one that shines on the glass. That means I get to cut out early and meet my girl just in time to kiss her under the midnight mistletoe.
I make my rounds and wish everyone a Happy New Year, including some of the ladies I used to spend private time with. Virginia has caused this goofy grin and I can’t seem to get it to go away. I don’t fight it too much. It kind of says everything about how I’m feeling these days, much to the ladies’ chagrin. But we always had an understanding, so even though I’m off the market, they wish me the best of luck. They also tell me to keep in contact, but I’ve already deleted that contact list from my phone.
I wasn’t even bothered by deleting the numbers. I rarely used them anyway, but when I looked my sweet girl in the eyes and we committed to this relationship, it needed to be fully. Virginia has a jealous streak. I don’t want to feed the beast when she has nothing to worry about.
I receive a few catcalls and compliments when I’m leaving. Stealing Barry’s move, I tip my imaginary hat and rush out to catch a cab. At this stage, karma even thinks I deserve some nookie. I’ve been a very good boy this year and plan on being extra naughty tonight.
Yep, karma’s on my side when I’m able to get a taxi right away on one of the craziest nights in New York. “The Waldorf-Astoria, please.”
“Traffic’s bad. Just letting you know ahead of time.”
I hand him a fifty. “If we can cut some time off, that would be great.”
“I know some detours.”
Leaning back, I check my phone. There’s a text from my mom:Your dad has been fondling his balls for days. Should I be worried?
Me:What?
Mom:I bought some silver balls last time I was in the city that came in a cute Asian fabric covered box. I was told they would help spice up our love life. So far, he plays with them all day, instead of me.
Me:No. Not having this conversation. Happy New Year.
Mom:Happy New Year, Hardy. Dinner this Sunday. You’re bringing Virginia.
Me:Yes, Ma’am.
Next message is a photo from my dad with the message:Your mother got me these hand massagers for Christmas. You manipulate them around your hands with your fingers. I think they’re helping my arthritis. If you need a Valentine’s Day gift for Virginia, you can find these cheap in New York.
I’d bang my head on the plastic shield dividing me from the driver, but I don’t want to catch some disease, so I reply to him instead:Dad, those aren’t hand massagers.
His reply:What do you mean?
I’m not in the right state of mind to explain what Ben Wa balls are tonight. It’s a Big Richard downer. I type:I can’t do this over text. Let’s have a drink later this week. Come by the bar. Happy New Year.
Dad:Sounds good. Have a good night, son. Happy New Year.
The driver pulls over, and announces, “The Waldorf-Astoria.”
I pay the cabbie, and work my way through the hotel. When I find the party, I search the ballroom for a red dress, but come up short. I step farther in, and let my eyes adjust to the low lighting. In the middle of a room of traditional black tuxes stands my beautiful girlfriend in a holy-shit-that’s-short-glittering-gold-dress with the red soled fuck me shoes, as if seeing her long legs wasn’t enough of a fantasy fulfiller.
Her dress might be shiny, but my smile far outshines it. That’s my girl. That’s my sexy as all get out woman. I make my way through the party and through the sea of suits. I reach through the pack, and ask, “May I have this dance?”
When she turns, her smile is kilowatt bright. Her long, dark hair is pinned back on one side with gentle waves rolling down the other. She might be a champagne cocktail tonight, but she’ll always be my Paloma. “Of course,” she replies, taking my hand. The suits part for her and she’s in my arms in an instant. My lips are on hers, a fiery passion ignited. My hands are on her ass, because why not stake the claim for her whole company to see. I swing her out and back again as a slow song begins to play. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lean in to whisper in her ear, “Nice dress. What there is of it.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
“Every guy in this room has noticed. There’s no mistaking it anymore, V. You may be the only woman in your department, but you most definitely are not one of the guys.” We spin slowly around and I look into the eyes I’ve fallen in love with. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Hardy. You look pretty damn delectable yourself.”
“Speaking of, how much longer did you want to stay?”
