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As he turned into the next aisle, his cutesy thoughts of Lucy dissipated as the red-hot redhead from the Metro made her way toward him. She reminded him of a perfectly carved Irish siren on the helm of a boat. A man did not have to hear one note to be captivated by her charms.

“Still in town?” she said with a sly smile. She reached out and touched the end of his shopping cart. “I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination.”

“No, I’m still here. In the flesh.” Antonio chuckled.

“I can see that.” Her eyes began to sparkle. “My name is Monica, by the way. Monica Bingham.”

“Antonio De Soto,” he said in a low voice.

“So who do you belong to in town?” Monica purred.

“Sadly no one. Can’t find anybody who will take me in.” He grinned.

“I doubt that.”

One minute he was looking for corkscrew pasta, the next minute he was calculating how long it would take to screw Monica. The flow of sexual energy between them was so easy Antonio almost forgot his own name. It would take most people three, maybe four dates to work up to this kind of prelude banter, but Monica apparently knew what she wanted. When did he stop wanting to talk to women? Was it because he had so many micromanaging his life? Or was it because if one talked long enough they could convince themselves there was something between them that wasn’t?

Monica made her way around the cart and pulled out a pen and paper. “Here’s my number. Call me if you want to have drinks, or dinner, or me.”

Before he could answer, she sauntered down the aisle and turned. He stood there for a moment, thinking he couldn’t believe his luck. The red-haired aberration had a name. Monica was OK, although he would have been delighted if her name was Simone. For once he’d like to match a name with a face. Funny, he didn’t recall seeing a basket in her hand. He was too busy watching her hips sway as she moved down the aisle and invaded his space with expensive perfume and subliminal indecent proposals. He knew he would call her; he just didn’t know when.

* * *

Whenever Felix set foot in Lucy’s shop, Accidental Wonderland, a feeling of warmth always engulfed him. Creativity hung in the air like an old heirloom chandelier. Lucy flitted about working on her latest project, a mosaic mirror for a customer, while listening to “Take Five” by John Coltrane.

“How is my favorite butterfly today?” Felix gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Just ducky.” Lucy giggled.

“I love that mirror.”

“You like? I could make you one.”

“You know I only like one of a kind originals, darling.”

She smiled. “I know…I was thinking we could smash that vase Ephram chipped at your last party, and that platter that cracked when you had casino night and Mariam dropped it.”

“I need friends with better coordination apparently.” Felix sniffed.

“Nonsense. They just give me the materials I need to create masterpieces.” She grinned. “And I was thinking of cutting your mirror into a zigzag pattern, splitting it in half and putting the mosaic pieces in between.”

Felix’s eyes sparkled. “You never let me down, Luce.”

“You are my muse, Felix. I was thinking about Pop-Tarts before you came in here.”

Felix couldn’t help himself and let out a hearty laugh.

“So going stir-crazy yet?” she said.

“Stir-crazy?”

“You’re not one for houseguests.”

“I know. But Antonio is special.”

“Tell me about it,” she mumbled.

“Careful. Don’t talk badly about your new friend.”

Lucy sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that.”

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” Felix chided.

“Nothing. I think the offer of friendship defused any diabolical plans Antonio had to aggravate me.”

“Would it be so bad to be nice to him and mean it?”

“Felix, surely you didn’t come here to play peacemaker between me and the man-whore who is visiting you.”

“Actually, I came with a dinner invitation.”

“I accept, of course. When?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Cool. What should I bring?”

“Just your lovely disposition. And a promise of civility to my houseguest.”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “Only for you.”

Felix wandered around the store while Lucy went back to her mirror. A gilded birdcage sitting on a credenza caught his eye. “Where did you get this from?”

“Acquired it at an estate sale. Doesn’t it have tons of character?” She scrunched her nose.

“Yes it does.” Felix continued to look it over then declared, “I’ll take it.”

“Honey, you don’t own a bird.” Lucy giggled.

“When has that ever stopped me? I plan to use it for…metaphoric purposes.”

“Sold to the gentleman who likes metaphors.”

* * *

Lucy brought a couple of bottles of wine with her even though Felix said it wasn’t necessary. When she arrived she did her best to make polite conversation with Antonio while Felix flitted around the kitchen. He was dressed casually in a dress shirt and jeans and hadn’t bothered to put shoes on. Antonio looked like a model who’d just finished a shoot in Milan and she felt like she’d picked the wrong night to dine with two metrosexual men. She’d skipped the overalls for a sundress and sweater and actually ran a comb through her hair.

During dinner she was treated to stories of Felix and Antonio’s college years and how they constantly seemed to be bumping into each other around the globe. They both agreed that they were fated to be friends.

Felix disappeared into the kitchen to get dessert and left the two of them to make conversation. Like always, one of her big, clunky bags was on the floor next to her chair.

“What do you carry around? That’s got to be the biggest purse I’ve ever seen,” Antonio drawled as he picked up her bag.

“I have everything I need in there.”

“Like what?” He reached in and began to rifle through the bag.

“Excuse me? Why do you have your hands in my bag?”

“I don’t intend to rob you. Just curious.” Antonio continued to look through the bag, finding the usual items: a wallet, hairbrush, some cosmetics. Upon further inspection, he discovered the bag’s side pockets filled with little treasures. He found a tape measure, a pocket watch, old movie stubs, a calculator, a crochet needle, a candy bar that had seen better days, and a bottle opener.

Folded up into an itty-bitty square was a scrap of paper. Lucy reached for it as Antonio began to unfold it.

“Give me that.” She huffed.

Antonio moved it out of her grasp and opened it. “Aha. The perfect man.”

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment in embarrassment. A friend of hers had told her to write down all the things she wanted in a man and carry it around with her. That way if she met someone she would know immediately if she was settling for something other than her ideal man.

“Can I have that back, please?” she squeaked.

“My. My. Lucia. You certainly have a lengthy criteria.” He smirked.

“Everyone should be picky about the person they want to spend their life with,” she said in an annoyed tone.

“I suppose they should,” he said softly. “But your list is quite long.”

“I know what I want.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man with all of these qualities. Although, I think I match the list quite well.” He smiled.

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m handsome. Charming.” His gaze perused the list. “I have a great smile.”

“And you are conceited and have no humility. Humility is number seven.”

“Why don’t you get rid of that list and enjoy life more?” he drawled.

“Why don’t you make a list and stop being a serial dater,” she snapped.

“Are my friends getting along?” Felix said in a clipped tone as he came back into the dining room with coffee cups.

“Like peaches and cream,” Lucy cooed.

“Dinner was lovely, Felix. You outdid yourself tonight,” Antonio said casually.

Felix had grilled three filet mignons perfectly, and served a nice crab salad and gourmet mashed potatoes.

“Can I have my bag and my list back?” she said impatiently to Antonio.

“Felix, did you check out this list?” Antonio handed the list to his friend.

“The lady knows what she wants and in great detail.” Felix smiled.

“So what are you saying? I’ll never meet someone who has all the qualities on the list?”

“Yeah, if you build him from scratch in a basement. You have fifty-seven bullet points. No man is all those things.” Antonio huffed.

“Well, the man I want will have to be,” she said snidely. “I don’t want to be one of those women who are with someone because they were tired of being alone and decided to hitch their wagon to Mr. Close Enough. You ever look one of those happy couples in the eyes? They look dead inside all the while trying to make you feel inadequate because you don’t have what they have. And they are right. I have a sense of inner peace and happiness that isn’t dampened by regret in choosing the wrong person.”

“There is no such thing as the right person,” Antonio challenged.

“How long have you believed that?” she said. “You showed me a picture of your brother and his wife. That is happiness. You can see the contentment in both their eyes, even in a photograph. I would think you would have learned something from them.”

Antonio wanted to argue the point, but Lucy threw salt in his eyes. She brought up the one thing he still wasn’t all too comfortable talking about: Lauren and Alejandro.

“That’s different,” was all he could mutter.

“What are you trying to be? A counterbalance to your brother’s life?”

“For a person who goes to so many lengths to keep herself hidden from the world, you sure have a mighty long list of what you want in a man. A man wants a woman to be sexy and attractive. What are you going to bring to the table?”

“I am smart, funny, and creative. I read and like to travel. I have a brain but I guess that counts for nothing. All you want to see is tits and ass.”

“When I take a woman to bed it’s not because of how creative she is.” He grinned.

“Most of the women you sleep with probably still use crayons.”

“And what does that mean?” Antonio bellowed.

“I think the term ‘young and dumb’ is a good fit here. You, pseudo intellectual photographer!” She turned to Felix and said, “Why are you even friends with this man?”

“Believe it or not, with the exception of this current conversation, he’s a pretty decent guy. He’s my best friend, in fact,” Felix said thoughtfully and went back to the kitchen.

“If you shed some of that weight you carry around with you and lighten up, maybe you could find someone to fit some of the criteria on that precious list of yours. You dress like a clown and create a list for a person no man could ever be.”

“I didn’t say he had to fulfill all the qualities but he would at least want to be most of those things. For me. Because it would make me happy.”

“You’re gonna get your heart broken if you continue to think that way. If the man does those things to make you happy but it’s not who he is deep down inside, he’s going to disappoint you and be miserable about it.”

“And you, on the other hand, give no expectations and women just love that about you.” She seethed.

“I am up-front about who I am.”

“Yeah, you are. But when I called you a whore the day I met you, it upset you. Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to hear that coming from someone like you,” he said.

“And who is someone like me?”

“You are the kind of woman a man has to strategize about how to keep you in his arms when you look like you want to run away. I suppose the man of your dreams wouldn’t have to try so hard,” he snapped at her.

“You know,” she said in a calm voice, “I may do all my hiding on the outside, but you do all of yours on the inside.”

Lucy and Antonio both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Neither of them had intended to argue so passionately about what was now both their worst nightmares revealed. But there it was, lingering in the air so much so that Felix was in the kitchen an awful long time plating the dessert.

* * *

When Lucy got ready to leave, she kissed Felix and told him she would see him the following day at the theater. Antonio offered to walk her home and she didn’t protest. As they walked the avenue, they talked about the weather, the trees, anything except what happened in Felix’s apartment.

“It was nice of you to walk me home. Thanks,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to imply someone would overlook you. That’s not possible.” He moved a piece of her hair away from her eye.

“Why do you suppose the two of us were judging each other?” she said quietly.

“Perhaps we see something familiar in each other.” He smiled slightly.

Lucy turned to go into the building, then looked back and said, “Do you like action movies?”

“I’m always ready for some action.” He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Movies, that is.”

“Maybe we can have a movie night or something.”

“I’d like that.”

With a satisfied sigh and a small noise of agreement, Lucy went into her building and didn’t look back. Antonio strolled the main street, taking his sweet time, trying to compose his thoughts before he went back to Felix’s place. He would undoubtedly be there, waiting to grill him on this evening’s events.

What started out as a trio dinner party somehow turned into a free therapy session for both him and Lucy. He didn’t want to talk about feelings and all those emotional trappings that feelings led to; he wanted to be free to be the kind of man he was: a camera-wielding lothario with the attention span of a kindergartener.

He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but he also didn’t intend to argue so passionately about what kind of man she was looking for. Surely it was none of his business.

Chapter Four

“You’re early.” She grinned.

Antonio watched how ferociously Lucy clutched the door handle. She looked like she wanted to flee out of her own apartment.