Chasing Stanley (29 page)

“There was never any question of that. And don't call me ‘boss.' You know I don't think of myself that way.”

“Any new clients?” Marcus asked, mindlessly scratching Belle beneath the chin.

“A female poodle named Puddles on West Eighty-second.”

Marcus stopped scratching. “Please tell me the name isn't in any way related to canine incontinence.”

“It's not. Apparently, the dog likes to walk in puddles.”

“Not on my time, she's not.” Marcus scowled.

Delilah patted his arm. “Don't worry. She's on my route, not yours.”

Marcus sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me no one could ever replace me. I need for my life to have
some
meaning.”

“I did miss you, and no one could ever replace you. I told you: my dad's fiancée helped out for two days. The minute she found out she had to scoop poop, she was out of here. Jason even helped out one day, though that was more to teach him a lesson and show him the job wasn't as easy as he thought.”

Marcus lifted his head. “How are things going? You've been tight-lipped about him, sweet pea.”

“Things are fine,” Delilah murmured.

“Just
fine
?” Marcus prodded. “Not fantastic, magnificent, crazy ass in love with one another?”

Was that how love was supposed to be? Delilah knew she was falling in love with Jason, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way about her, though neither of them had spoken the actual words yet. Yet Marcus's description made her uneasy. What if the quiet romance unfolding between her and Jason was fundamentally flawed? What if she was “doing” love the wrong way?

“What's wrong with plain old
fine
?” Delilah made herself ask.

“Nothing. I just thought, since you wanted this guy so bad and were even willing to buy special panties to delight him, that you might be more enthused about being his girlfriend.”

Delilah found herself frowning and reached for her tea. “We've got some things to work out.”

“Like—?”

“We're opposites.” She hated admitting it to herself, never mind someone else.

“Not completely,” Marcus replied. “Didn't you tell me he can be impulsive? That he bought himself a bike before he even stocked his fridge?” Delilah nodded. “Well, there's something you share. You're verbally impulsive, and he's physically impulsive.”

Delilah wasn't buying it. “We're opposites, Marcus,” she repeated.

“So?” Marcus was nonplussed. “Everyone knows opposites attract.”

“Yes, but once they've acted on that attraction, can they make things work?” Delilah asked plaintively.

“That depends on the two people involved. I'm no
Dr. Phil
”—Marcus spat the words like a curse—“but it seems to me that a little compromise on both sides is all you need.”

“We're trying. But it's hard.” She hesitated. “He doesn't get that hanging out in a group makes me nervous.”

Marcus was painfully frank. “You've got to get over that. Seriously. You cannot expect this guy to hang out here all the time with you and the dogs.”

“I know that,” Delilah countered heatedly. “But he needs to understand that I run my own business, and that takes precedence over—”

“Making the relationship work?” Marcus cut in, lifting an eyebrow. “Look, now that I'm back, you've got way more flexibility. And God knows Mr. Right ain't anywhere on my radar screen. Anytime you need me to do nighttime pooch patrol, I'm your man.”

“Are you sure? Because I don't want you to feel I'm taking advantage of you.”

“I would never feel that way.”

“Hmmm.” Delilah took a sip of her tea. “One of his teammates is having a birthday party Friday night. I told him I probably couldn't go.”

“Well, now you can.”

But I don't want to!
Delilah thought. Just imagining herself at a party made her feel nauseous.

“I have an idea,” Marcus continued, his old enthusiasm returning. “Why don't you surprise him? Think of the look on his face when you walk in and he realizes you made the effort just for him?”

Delilah felt her eyes bug out of her head. “You want me to walk into a party alone?!”

“I'll give you a Xanax. You'll be fine.”

“You might have to give me one now.”

Surprise Jason; it was a thought. He'd liked it when he came home to find her in his apartment. And it would show that she'd made a special effort to spend time. Still . . .
a party
. . .

“I don't know where it's being held,” Delilah pointed out.

Marcus's gaze was withering. “Nice try. You'll be seeing him before that, right?”

“Probably.”

“Then casually ask him about it. Or find out from the brother. Aren't they thick as thieves?”

“I would describe it as more of a love/hate relationship.”

“Well, appeal to the love side of him and get the details.” Marcus turned up his palms, mimicking the two sides of a scale. “Think about it, Delilah: Relationship with Jason”—he lifted his left hand—“or winding up the crazy old dog woman of the Upper West Side.” He raised his right hand. “You decide.”

“When am I
gonna get to meet your girlfriend?”

Jason looked up from his plate of spaghetti to see Michael Dante standing beside him. Like all Blades affairs, the surprise party for David Hewson was being held at Dante's. Michael, who had organized the party as part of an ongoing effort to build team camaraderie, had been making the rounds since the festivities began, making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink. It was obvious he was very proud of the restaurant, even though his brother Anthony looked like he wanted to kill him every time he emerged from the kitchen with new dishes for the banquet table.

Jason blotted his mouth with a napkin. “She's working.”

He started to rise, but Michael patted his shoulder, urging him to remain in his seat. “Sit, eat.” Michael grabbed an empty chair from another table and sat down. “What does she do?”

“She has her own business. She's a dog trainer. She walks them and boards them, too.”

“Yeah? Can she train little kids? I'll pay her beaucoup bucks to whip little Anthony into shape. Four years old, and already he's busting my horns.”

Jason smiled. “I'll find out.” He figured since Michael asked something personal about him, maybe he should do the same. “Your wife should be giving birth any day now, right?”

“Any
minute
now,” Michael amended with a chuckle. “That's why she's not here. She's bone tired.”

Jason nodded sympathetically as if he understood the way it was with pregnant women, though he hadn't a clue.

Michael grabbed a piece of foccacia from the basket on the table and popped it into his mouth. “Everything okay between you and O'Malley?”

“Fine.” Jason pushed his plate away. “Look, I meant to thank you—”

Michael made a zipping motion across his lips. “Over. Finished. No need.”

Jason flushed. “Okay.”

“Good.” Michael rose, patting him again on the back. “Give me a shout when you're ready to leave. I'll have Anthony fix up a plate to bring home to your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” said Jason, impressed by Michael's generosity.

Michael took his leave, leaving Jason to finish his appetizer. Some people were eating, others standing in small groups, talking. Jason had arrived at the party ravenous, having forgotten once again to grocery shop. He could hear Delilah's voice in his head, teasing him about impulsively buying a second digital camera when he didn't even have any food in the house. She was right, of course.

Jason turned to talk to Barry Fontaine, sitting on his right, then refrained: Barry was having what sounded like an argument with his wife over her excessive spending. It embarrassed Jason to be able to hear them. Still, at least Barry had someone to argue
with.

“Hey, look who I found.”

Jason turned. Birthday boy David Hewson stood behind Jason's chair, beaming. Beside him was Delilah.

In the split second it took her to register Jason's delighted smile, Delilah knew the anxious buildup to this moment had all been worth it: worth her hands trembling on the steering wheel as she drove to Bensonhurst; worth the nausea that almost kept her pinned to the driver's seat as she turned a little too sharply into Dante's parking lot; worth it all.

“Hey, you.” Jason jumped up to give her a kiss. “This is the best surprise I've had in a long time! I'm really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” David chimed in, giving Delilah a quick peck on the cheek. “Unfortunately, our esteemed captain is motioning for me to join him. I'll catch you guys later.”

“Bye,” said Delilah.

“This is really, really great,” Jason marveled in amazement. That she was the one responsible for his happiness made Delilah feel terrific. She still felt a little anxious, but if Jason kept looking at her the way he was now, as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world, then she was sure it was only a matter of time before her nervousness disappeared altogether.

Delilah smiled up at him. “I'm glad you're happy.” Jason looked fantastic; he was a man born to wear tight, faded jeans. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed strong, muscled forearms, and there was something about the way the soft light of the restaurant bathed his face that made him look especially striking. Delilah let her gaze linger appreciatively on her boyfriend's body, then remembered she was in public.

“Are you hungry?” Jason asked solicitously.

“Not really.” Delilah pointed to the half-eaten plate of pasta before him. “Finish your food.”

“In a minute.”

Jason put his arms around her, drawing her close. Instantly there was heat, along with a pleasant jolt of shock: Delilah had never had a boyfriend embrace her so lovingly in public. Perhaps her mother had been right when she'd characterized all Delilah's previous boyfriends as “losers.”

“I'm sorry about the other night,” Jason murmured, looking contrite. “It was wrong of me to try to get you to leave your friend's play early.”

“It's okay. The play sucked.”

Jason winced but looked mildly vindicated. “It really did, didn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Is Marcus okay?”

“He's upset, but he's a trooper,” said Delilah, touched by Jason's concern.

“Is he staying with your dogs tonight?” Jason asked tentatively.

Delilah could tell he was nervous of sending the conversation in a direction he didn't want it to go. She nodded.

“I'll have to thank him.”

“He would like that, I think.”

“Consider it done.” Jason's lips pressed against her forehead. “You okay? With being here?”

“I'm fine,” Delilah assured him. She'd come up with a little mantra to help her cope:
Think before you speak.
She'd chanted it to herself in the car all the way over to the restaurant, and was, in fact, repeating it even now in the back of her mind. She would not embarrass herself or Jason.

Jason's lips brushed the tip of her ear. “It means a lot to me that you're here.”

Think before you speak.
“It means a lot to me that you want me here.”

Jason broke their embrace to take her hand. “C'mon, let's get you something to drink.”

Hand in his, Delilah followed where Jason led. Maybe her insecurity was insisting on reasserting itself, but it seemed to Delilah as if Jason's teammates were turning to look at them. At her. She supposed it made sense; most of them didn't know her, so of course they'd be curious. Normally, her impulse would be to try to shrink somehow or pray to blend in with scenery, but she held her head high and even smiled. Before she knew it, they had reached the bar.

“What can I get you?” Jason asked.

“A Diet Coke would be fine.” Delilah didn't want to drink. Drink loosened her tongue.

“Hello, Delilah!” The voice of David's Hewson's girlfriend Tierney felt like a ray of sunshine beaming down directly on Delilah. It was friendly and warm. Delilah smiled in greeting.

“Hi, Tierney. How are you?”

“Great! It's so nice to see you here. Jason said you were working.”

“I was. I mean I should be. Someone else is. I mean—”
Think before you speak!
“My coworker managed to fill in for me tonight,” Delilah managed to finish smoothly.

“Well, I'm still working on David about getting a puppy. If we do, I promise we'll give you a call to talk about training him. Or her.”

“My pleasure,” said Delilah.

Tierney rolled her eyes heavenward as she gave the wrapped present in her hand a small shake. “More treasures for the birthday boy. Can you guys excuse me a minute? This thing, whatever it is, weighs a ton.”

“Go ahead,” said Jason.

“She's really nice,” Delilah observed as Tierney headed toward a table piled high with gifts.

“She is,” Jason agreed, handing her a Coke.

“Did you get David anything?” Delilah asked delicately.

Jason looked insulted. “What do you think I am?”

“Someone who ran out to buy a Bowflex before he even had a bed?” Delilah teased.

“Hey, I'm getting better.” He stole a sip of Delilah's drink. “I got him a couple of DVDs he wanted.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but a sudden frown overtook him instead.
“Fuck.”