Another Saturday Night and I Ain't Got No Body (A Page Turners Novel) (5 page)

Blaine opened the driver’s door, slid into his seat (sans any peculiar fart noises), and started the car with practiced efficiency. He pulled into the street and headed toward the highway.

“Hope you like Italian. I thought we would try Maggio’s, if it’s all right with you.” He named an upscale Italian restaurant centered in the downtown area.

“Great. I love pasta,” Sunny replied, and thought, for a moment, she saw a smirk sneak across his face.

He shifted gears as they merged onto the highway, and she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of leather and his expensive aftershave. It was a mix of woodsy musk and…and…poo
?
She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and wondered if maybe he had a spastic colon, or had Mexican food for lunch. She snuck a glance at his face, and saw he wore the same expression, and he looked at her with poorly disguised disgust on his face.

He thought that smell was her! It must have been that dang squeak when she got in the car. She shifted in her seat, and the smell of poo again wafted in her direction. Sunny looked down and
oh
,
no
!
Her left heel had a big glob of dog poop stuck to it
!
When she crossed the lawn, she must have stepped in a fresh pile of Beau-B-Doo.

“Dang it. I’m really sorry, but I seemed to have stepped in a little dog poo on my way to your car,” she said, her face crimson with embarrassment.

Sunny hit the button for the car window as she slipped her shoe off and proceeded to hold it out the window. “I’ll keep my shoe out here until we get to the restaurant, and I can clean it off.”

His look of horror as he glanced to the floorboard of his car then to her shoe as it dangled out the window was almost comical until he began gliding into the neighboring lane
.
 

“Watch out!” she cried.

As he swerved back into his lane, Sunny’s elbow bumped into the window frame which knocked the shoe loose and sent it careening into the oncoming traffic.

“Oh no
!
My shoe!” she cried. “We have to go back!”

Blaine pulled to the side of the road and flicked the lever to start his hazards flashing. “I’ll get it,” he said, with a sigh.

Sunny watched him retreat into the blinking hazard lights as she scrunched down into her seat in humiliation.

Within moments, he was back and dropped what was left of the shoe into her lap. “I think it may have been run-over.”  

A small whimper escaped her as Sunny regarded her beautiful black pump. The sides were smashed in, it was covered in dust, and the heel was completely missing. Since the heel was the source of the offensive doggie doo, at least that problem was now solved.

“Um, I’m sorry about your shoe.” Blaine eased back into traffic as Sunny rummaged a tissue from the depths of her purse and began to wipe at the mess her shoe had become.

Not really knowing what else to do, they proceeded to the restaurant. Though humiliated and bummed about ruining her best black pumps, Sunny was also starving, and she couldn’t very well back out now. She thought about what the book club gals would want her to do. She put her shoe back on as well as she could, so when Blaine opened the door of the car, Sunny stepped out and held her head high as she walked lopsided up the steps of Maggio’s.

All thoughts of the shoe incident left her head as Sunny stepped through the doors and was engulfed in the heavenly scent of garlic and simmering tomato sauce. Maggio’s was fabulous, and the sights and smells of the restaurant renewed her faith that there was hope to salvage the rest of their date. Blaine did have good taste.

“Reservations for Bishop,” Blaine informed the Maitre D’, who took one subtle glance at Sunny’s feet before he turned and issued a “Follow me, please”.

He showed them to their table, discreetly setting Sunny in the back corner chair so her feet would be hidden from the other patrons. She flashed a thankful smile at him as he passed her a menu and gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Sunny loved Italian food and ordered the Tuscany Trio of lasagna, ravioli, and a portion of fettuccine alfredo.

“You certainly have a healthy appetite,” her date commented, as he ordered a spinach salad with crumbled gorgonzola cheese. The waiter took their menus and turned toward the kitchen, but not before Sunny caught the small smirk on his stupid, twenty-something face.

She flushed.
Note to self. Next time, find out what your date is getting
before
you order
.
Not knowing how to respond, she let it go and changed the subject. “So, tell me about being a stockbroker.” Sunny smiled and tried to look interested.

That comment led to a forty-five minute litany of high finance, the stock market, and the world economy. Sunny was lost in his dialogue of numbers, and terms of annual percentage rates, and front and rear-load yields.

Frankly, it all sounds like a bunch of rear-load to me.
She listened half-heartedly as she plowed through her dinner and several glasses of wine.

Sunny didn’t realize how many glasses until it was time to leave, and she stood up and began a one-heeled sway toward the door.

Blaine drove her home as he continued his diatribe of today’s market value, interest rates, and blah, blah, blah. She tried to focus on the panel of the glove compartment, but the passing lights of traffic made her head spin and her stomach lurch.

They pulled up to her house, and again Blaine opened her door, and assisted her out of the car.

“You’re a real gentleman, ya know that?” she slurred. “I had a really nice time tonight. Except for the dog poop, and my best black pump getting crushed, and all the boring finance talk.” 

Sometimes I open my mouth and words pour forth before my brain has time to catch up and stop them.

“Yes, well, we’ll have to do this again some time.” Blaine leaned forward to kiss her goodnight.

“Thanks for dinner,” she replied as a small hiccup-belch escaped from her lips.

His kiss diverted to a gently pressed peck on the cheek, and he hurriedly made his escape back down the driveway.

Sunny noticed he avoided walking through the front lawn, and as she thought over the night, she burst into a fit of drunken giggles as she inserted her key into the lock. She shut the door, slid to the floor, and gasped for breath as her giggles continued.

Sunny’s laughter died as she grasped the missing element of her entrance into the house. Where was her eighty-pound welcome wagon?

“Beau. Here boy,” she called into the silent house.

She opened the front door, ran out into the yard, and yelled again for the dog.

“Did you lose this?” A voice called from the neighboring yard as Jake opened his door, and Beau raced out to greet her.

“How did you…?”

“He was in my front yard when I came home tonight.”  Jake crossed the yard to where Sunny now sat in the grass, hugging Beau to her chest in relief.

“Oh Beau, you naughty dog,” she scolded. Sunny tried to get to her feet and swayed slightly.

“Are you okay?”  Jake took her elbow and put his arm around her shoulder to support her. She leaned into his chest and felt her body melt into the safe cocoon of his arms.

He began to walk her toward the front door when it suddenly hit. The gut-wrenching, oh-my-gosh feeling of ‘I’m going to be sick–now!’  She took two steps forward, fell to her knees, and heaved several glasses of wine and a large portion of Tuscany Trio into the azalea bushes in front of her house.

* * *

Half an hour later, after she had taken a warm shower and brushed her teeth, Sunny found herself sitting opposite Jake on the couch in her living room. He had made her a cup of tea with a side of aspirin, and then dimmed the lights to spare her aching head.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.”  Neither of them were going to bring up the part of the evening where he had graciously lifted her from the azalea bush and discreetly pulled her dress back down over her bare bum cheeks she had been flashing him as she
ralphed
a hundred and sixty dollar meal onto her shrubbery.

He had actually been very considerate as he helped her inside, got her upstairs, and deposited her into the bathroom.

Now, Sunny sat facing him, her legs tucked under her as she curled into the corner of the sofa. The shower helped, but she was still a tad bit drunk, and the dimly lit atmosphere had her feeling safe and a little chatty. With her dog on the floor beside her, and a warm cup of tea in her hands, Sunny may have found herself sharing too many details of her life to a man she had only known a short time.

She told him about her college boyfriend, Mitch, and how he had dumped her after two years of being together, with her financing the majority of his schooling. She told him of her struggles with fad diets, and trying to always lose that extra fifteen pounds. She talked about her friends, and spilled the whole sordid story of the six blind dates and the hunt for a ‘suitable match for Sunny’. She even ended up telling him every rotten detail of her date with Blaine. He stared at her incredulously when she got to the dog poo part, then he burst out laughing. By the end of the story, they were both busting-up.

“You are something, Sunny,” he said, when she had finally wound down.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered, as they each realized how close they now sat. Her pulse quickened as she looked into his blue eyes. He reached up and gently touched her face. Tracing his fingers along the line of her jaw, his thumb came to rest on the edge of her lip, and he softly ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

Sunny drew in a quick breath, and a delicious warmth spread through her body. She tried to think rationally about what she was doing, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Her body betrayed her mind as she leaned closer, her lips yearning for the feel of his.

Slowly, he leaned in, his hand still cupping her face, and pressed his mouth to hers in a tender kiss. He kissed her once more softly, then the kiss turned more urgent as his lips parted, and his hand moved up to tangle in her hair.

Sunny’s arms went around his shoulders, and she plastered herself to his body. He gently laid her back, his other hand splayed across her lower back, guiding her down as his lips continued to caress hers. His touch was whisper soft as he ran his hand through her hair, down her arm, and across her stomach, his thumb barely grazing the underside of her breast. Her body arched up to press closer against his as he trailed soft kisses along her throat and then…

The sun poured through her living room window as Sunny woke to find herself sprawled across her sofa, covered with the afghan that usually lay folded along the back of the couch. Her last memory had been of kissing Jake, then…
oh crud. I must have passed out as we were kissing. He must think I’m an idiot. Or a lush. Or an idiotic lush.

A horrible thought crossed her mind. How far had they gone? She raised the afghan and sighed in relief to find she was still fully dressed.

How can I face him again
?
Sunny groaned at her own stupidity as Beau padded over and began to lick her face.

4

“I can’t believe you ruined your Jimmy Choo!” wailed Cassie. “Those were great shoes.”

“I can’t believe you wasted that meal by hucking it into your bushes,” Maggie exclaimed. “I noticed when I pulled up that your azaleas looked lovely. Barf must be a good fertilizer.”

It was Wednesday night, and the book club gathered around Edna’s kitchen table. She had made a marvelous chocolate cake, and they were indulging in cups of coffee and luscious chocolate icing as Sunny filled the group in on her date with Blaine.

Mortified, she had described the dog poo incident, and the girls had all screamed with laughter. When she had gotten to the part about puking into the azaleas, Sunny thought Maggie would wet her pants, she laughed so hard.

Maggie wiped the tears from her eyes with a napkin. “Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the best match for you. I didn’t really know him that well, but he was rich
and
gorgeous!”

“I think he was looking for someone a little more gorgeous than me,” Sunny told her, “and classier and thinner.”

“And with less poo adorning her outfit,” Edna said, which set the girls off on another round of shrieking giggles.

The book club loved their weekly Wednesday night meeting. They were lenient about finishing the book on time, but tried to read a different book each week. Usually their discussions veered from the books they were reading to happenings in their various lives. They listened to and supported each other through the day-to-day stuff, such as Maggie’s divorce, and Cassie’s recent acquisition of Piper. They rotated between Starbucks and their different houses, sometimes bringing brown bag suppers, while other times just having coffee and dessert. If a great chick flick was in town, like the week before, the Page Turners would venture out to the theatre, then go eat together. It was a loose routine of a tight group of women, and they all counted on their Wednesday night get-togethers.