Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (8 page)

"Good for you." He laughed. "Welcome to my life. I'm searching for new loft space to keep the prying eyes away."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, but tonight, we need a plan. I'll get a decoy into your building. She can parade out, greet the slobbering mob, hop in a car, and have them chase her all night."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not. I want a dinner with you, without interruption."

"How nice."

"Get ready, and I'll call with further instructions."

"Having a logistical date is so romantic. Ten white limos line up at the curb and ten blondes parade out of my building. You flash your headlights three times and park. I'll be at the corner, wearing an orchid and smoking a cigarette," I said.

"I'll keep your suggestion in mind and call back in an hour."

I liked a man of intrigue, but this was ridiculous.

I dried off and cleaned up the puddle I made on the bedroom floor. Redoing my makeup and re-pinning my hair took up the time. I slipped into the three hundred dollar dress and one hundred and fifty dollar shoes.

I wondered if I looked as good as I felt. He went to a lot of trouble just for dinner. Unless he had ulterior motives. I could only hope. My fingers and toes were crossed.

Ben called back with detailed instructions.

I didn't dare glance out the window. The slightest movement would let the vultures know they had me in their sights. I had to be at the back door of the building at six-fifteen sharp. My double would be waiting to hustle through to the front door.

He had explained the paparazzi couldn't loiter in the alley because they would block emergency vehicles. One of the neighbors must have called the police, complaining about subversives taking pictures. The cops came and told them to move. The stalkers crossed the street and adjusted their lenses.

At six-thirteen, I left my apartment and tiptoed down the stairs. I reached the back door, knocked twice, and received a double knock in reply. I opened the door, and my almost twin stood before me.

"Lucky girl," the woman said as she marched by me.

I watched as the front door opened, and the flashes came in rapid succession. Just like incoming cannon fire. I rushed down the path in the backyard. A black luxury sedan flashed its lights at me. I unlocked the gate, and the car rolled toward me. The back passenger door swung out, and I hopped in.

"If I ever need to escape from prison, I'll know who to call." I closed the door.

"You're a vision of beauty, Alexia." Ben said as he moved closer. "Mark Burns is our driver this evening."

He smiled at me, tipped his imaginary cap, and rolled the car to the street.

Ben leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Was it too late to forget dinner and sneak back upstairs? I never should have tipped off Eleanor. If there was a next time, I wouldn't give preemptive destination details to relatives.

"I'm glad you're here, safe and sound. The photographers value their freedom of expression and assembly above all others. I hope all this covert activity made you hungry," Ben said.

"Famished."

"The Reign Bar has an eclectic menu, but the house hot sauce is the best" he said with a wink.

I smiled. "So I've heard."

"This is our do-over dinner. We met under unique circumstances. We never introduced ourselves properly. I'm Ben Cobb. I draw, drink in moderation, and live off my inheritance. I've never been gainfully employed in my life. My father thinks I'm a disgrace because I paint nude women. I try to explain its miserable work, but someone has to do it. What do you do to make ends meet?"

"I'm Alexia Hale. I'm unemployed due to new management ordered layoffs, but I believe inappropriate behavior without obtaining video proof may have played a role."

"If it had been appropriate, would you still be employed?"

"I didn't stick around to ask."

We arrived, and the line for the restaurant snaked around the block. I beamed with pride for all Irene had accomplished.

"We'll probably be here for two hours. Leave your phone on. If you're going to take Jenny, Alexia's double for this evening, for a ride, remember to clean up when you're done," Ben said to Mark as he helped me out.

"Yes, bwana."

"Jenny's your girlfriend?" I asked Mark.

"Yes and a makeup artist."

"Thank her for me," I said.

"She loves the glamour and this is the first time the cameras are on her. She texted she's loving the chase and taking everyone for a ride down Lake Shore Drive." Mark stood at the passenger's side door and faced me. "If you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, call me Alexia. I know being seen with an old man can be embarrassing. If things go south, I know of a couple all night parties."

Mark handed me his card.

"Thank you, Mark, I've always wanted a big brother," I replied straight-faced.

"Go," Ben said to Mark.

"I'll be back, fair Alexia."

Mark rounded the car and blew me a kiss before he got in the driver's side door. He pulled away from the curb and back into traffic..

"I hope you're paying Jenny for her time."

"I am and you're a beautiful woman. I should have brought a baseball bat with me. Your dress is hugging every sweet curve. I'm sure I'm not the only one who will notice," Ben said as he took my hand.

"Thank you for mentioning it. Shall we go in?" I asked.

We strolled past the crowd and up to the desk to the hostess.

"Hi, I have a reservation for two for Cobb," Ben said.

"Hi Janice. Where's the boss?" I asked.

"Hi Alexia. Irene is hovering in the kitchen and reserved a booth in the back for you."

"Has Eleanor arrived?"

"She does know how to make an entrance. Search for a group of bedazzled young men. In the middle, you will find your sister." She guided us through the bar. "Here's your table," Janice said as she set the menus down.

"Welcome to my humble establishment," Irene said, pushing into the booth, next to me.

"I've been here before, the food is excellent," he said.

"I have a silent partner with major culinary talent," she said as she winked at me. "I didn't know you were coming until Queen Bee Eleanor arrived and told me."

"Ben suggested the Reign Bar, and here we are. Small world." I moistened the corner of my mouth with my tongue.

"You rhyme when you're nervous," Irene said.

"And lick your lips." Eleanor squeezed in next to Ben. "I'm Eleanor Hale, the smart sister. You've met Irene, the family muscle. Alexia's the sweet one. You chose well."

"Ladies, may I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"I'm on duty, and this table is on the house." Irene stood. "Don't forget your curfew, sweetie."

She waved and left.

"Irene's trying to be the warm fuzzy one. I have a drink over there." Eleanor pointed to a group of eager guys. "Probably been drugged by now. Young men are so predictable. I prefer a mature man, established in his career, and comfortable in his own skin. How old are you, Ben?"

"Eleanor," I warned.

"Our Alexia isn't bold. She doesn't ask questions. She absorbed all the ladylike behavior from our mother."

"I'm thirty-five. What did
you
take away from Mom?" he asked.

"Her feminine wiles. She could get men to do anything for her." She put her hand on his arm. "You're strong. You must work out. Did you feel his bicep, Alexia?"

"No and neither should you," I said.

"Territorial. Good sign, Ben. You kids enjoy, and don't wait up."

She stood, blew me a kiss, and swiveled back to her followers. Eleanor passed Irene and pulled her close.

"Excuse me," I said to Ben.

I snuck through the crowd until I stood on the other side of the pillar from my sisters. Leaning forward, I began to watch them and eavesdrop.

"He's gorgeous," Eleanor whispered.

"I told you. I planned to get all angry in his face about Alexia, but he's smitten. I'm getting the vapors just from being in the same room with him," Irene said.

"He's way too much male for Alexia," Eleanor said.

"Should we each ask for a third?" Irene asked as she used her hand to make the divisions. By her slicing techniques, I would get the bottoms of his feet.

"I'll take the middle with a cherry on top," Eleanor said with an all-knowing smile.

"I could find one hundred and one uses for his mouth," Irene said.

"We are crass, sizing up our sister's date," Eleanor said as she turned to me.

"To put it lightly," I said, stepping around to them.

"Alexia, you brought him to us. Don't complain about the assessment. You're thinking the same thing. We're a tad jealous," Irene said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

"Sweetie, the way he's scanning you, he's practically drooling on the dress," Eleanor said.

"He did say I looked nice," I said.

"Good, let him tear it a little, and I'll sell it on the Internet," Eleanor said as she sauntered away.

Irene laughed and hiked back to the hostess stand. Eleanor resumed her perch on the barstool and ordered a fresh drink.

I returned to the table. "I'm sorry, but I knew they were dissecting us. I love them, but they're not subtle. We can leave, if you want."

"I would like a drink. Having the attention of three gorgeous women is every man's dream. I'm not offended, but a warning would have been appreciated," he said.

"Hi, Alexia, what can I get you from the bar?" the waiter asked.

"Tim, this is Ben." The men shook hands. "I'll have a watermelon martini."

"Since Irene is paying, I'll have your best scotch," Ben said.

Tim bowed and left.

"I had an interview at
Single Chicago
."

"How did it go?" He opened the menu.

"They were very interested in us, and all we could bring to the magazine. Our picture was attached to my resume." I rearranged my silverware to keep my hands busy and off him.

"I'm sorry, Alexia." He closed the menu and shook his head.

"You are permeating my life, Benjamin Nance Cobb."

"I wish it was in a positive way. I've cost you two jobs. The press is sleeping on your front lawn. Your sisters won't give you a moment's peace." He moved closer and rested his arm over the back of the booth.

"You have nothing to do with my sisters' interference. Its white noise to me because it's a constant."

Tim brought our drinks.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked.

"I bow to your expertise," Ben said to me.

"We'll have stuffed mushrooms, encrusted tilapia, and house salads," I said.

"Excellent choices." Tim took the menus and left.

"Do you cook or write or model or fend off interviewers for a living?" Ben asked as his fingers filtered through my hair.

A hum vibrated down my spine as I tried to concentrate on his words and not his mouth. Before the fog hit my brain, he asked about my profession choices. I pretended men always caressed me in public.

"Don't forget escape artist and stealth woman. Unfortunately, I do all of the above and none very well. I never graduated from culinary school. I can cook but can't be graded. After a dishwasher overflow and an accidental food poisoning, I left to pursue journalism, but don't have a degree in it either. I covered parades, village board meetings, oldest lady in the nursing home, award-winning tomatoes, and all the fluff fit to print. I entered a cake contest on a whim. One of the judges worked at
Chicago News.
She needed an assistant who could bake. I didn't win, but I got the job. I haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up."

"Me neither. Maybe we're both stuck in Neverland, Wendy," he said, continuing to twirl a lock of my hair.

"Yeah, but your trip pays better, Peter."

Our salads arrived, and mine included an extra plate of chopped jalapeños and orange habañero chilis.

Ben spied the hot peppers.

"You could eat a plate of peppers by yourself?" he asked as he released my tress.

"Yeah, they add so much to the crisp greens and offset the sugar from the carrots. Mixed with the balsamic vinaigrette, the flavor stings the back of your tongue."

"And sets fire to your nasal passages. Mind if I try a few?"

"Please."

He scooped some off the plate with his fork, then speared a couple and put them in his mouth.

"My sisters used to call me Peter Piper because I ate so many pickled peppers."

Ben didn't respond as his eyes teared up. He drank a full glass of water.

"Would you like some milk? It helps to soften the burn," I said. He shook his head as he picked up my water glass, draining it. "I'm sorry, they are pretty strong."

"They're delicious, but not by the mouthful. I'll pace myself," he said as he signaled for Tim who returned to fill the water glasses. "Please bring the lady a fresh one. I gulped hers down too."

We finished our salads, and I ate the remaining peppers. The main courses arrived, and my usual bottle of hot sauce was included.

"More spice? Your insides must be lined with fire extinguisher foam," he said.

"Maybe I like it hot." I meant the sauce, but I was flexible about connotations.

He stared at me, took the bottle, and shook it.

"I like to make sure all the flavors are properly blended before I indulge," he said with a challenging smile.

Note to self: stick to food and leave sex out.

"This is my recipe and brings out the richness of flavor in the fish," I said, pouring the sauce on the tilapia.

Ben placed a dot of it on his plate, cut a piece of fish, and dipped it. He put it in his mouth as his hand went for the full water glass. My nerves were on edge as I awaited his verdict.

"Outstanding, forget writing about food, design it," he said as he poured more sauce on his plate.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled. We continued to eat, and eventually, the conversation led back to my jobless state.

"I made you a legitimate offer of employment. It would be a good place to work before you decide on your next move," he said, cutting into a mushroom.

"I've never worked with anyone who has seen me in the buff."