The Merchant of Venice Beach (24 page)

Who does he think he’s kidding? Mannequins don’t sweat.

Suzanna took a deep breath and entered the restaurant. Walking into Monsoon, she tried to adjust to the confusing mood lighting . . . were they going for a combo English fog/Malaysian nights thing? The interior resembled an upscale Tiki Room with a dash of India thrown in. She couldn’t decide if the architect was being serious or playful. Monsoon was split into many mysterious rooms, with the bar being the first space you saw as you came in from the street.

Once she adjusted to the low light and could make out the features of the room, she noted that the bar, thankfully, was hospitable looking.

She sat, starting her nonchalant wait for her non-date. The bartender, tall and slim with rosy cheeks, barely looked old enough to be in a bar, let alone behind one serving drinks. He had jet-black hair that stood up in an alarming imitation of a tidal wave. He gave Suzanna a welcoming smile. She ordered a glass of shiraz, which seemed to pass for wine sophistication in Los Angeles, and he gave her a sly smile.

“No mojito for you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You have the look of a lady who would drink a mojito.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know what that is . . . but I guess I’ll have one,” she said in her most friendly, flirtiest tone, which she hoped signaled, “Oh, yeah, I’m just a breezy kind of barfly.”

“It’s a Cuban drink . . . rum, sugar, club soda, and lots of fresh mint, we make a good one.”

She watched him pull components for her drink from every corner of the bar . . . glass from here, ice from there, rum from a top shelf, green stuff—which turned out to be mint—from a little mystery compartment near the cash register. She couldn’t help but notice how gracefully he moved. The energy of bartending must be so different from running a teashop, she thought. The bartender must have realized that he was being scrutinized, because he turned around and gave Suzanna a big smile as he finished preparing her drink.

She peeked around the bar, trying not to look toward the door. She wasn’t really sure if she wanted Andy to show up at this very moment or not. After all, she was in the midst of a mild flirtation with the bartender, was she not? This is one of those occasions when she knew Fernando would be egging her on and giving her great lines to toss around, but, she had to admit, it was exhilarating to be navigating these hormone-laced waters on her own.

The bartender put the Cuban concoction in front of her.

“It was Hemingway’s favorite drink when he lived in Cuba,” he said, still smiling.

Those choppers can’t be real. Porcelain or BriteSmile?

You had to love a bartender—especially in greater Los Angeles—who knew anything about Hemingway, including his drink and country of choice.

I sound like my sister! Again!

Suzanna concentrated. Erinn was the last person she wanted in her head right now.

“Besides,” he continued, history lesson closed, “most of the ladies who come in for salsa order a mojito.”

“Is it that obvious I’m here for salsa?” she asked, her voice registering somewhere in the vast expanse between flirtation and panic.

“Well, you’re dressed up, which is usually a sign,” he said as he cast a quick glance over the bar at her legs. “And you look like a dancer.”

Wow! This guy is good!

Suzanna casually shot a look at her legs and noticed that she did indeed have a good deal more muscle tone in her calves that she’d had a few months ago. Her confidence took a huge leap forward.

“It’s my birthday.”

“Well, then, it’s on the house,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel and offering his hand. “My name’s Big Daddy.”

She burst out laughing. His smile died. Suzanna tried to recover, but feared the damage was done.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You just seem awfully . . . uh . . . young to be calling yourself Big Daddy.”

“All the girls call me Big Daddy,” he said. The brilliant smile returned and Big Daddy leaned toward her. “I’m bigger than I look.”

He beamed and headed off to the other end of the bar to serve another customer.

Suzanna tried to remain casual and sipped her drink while she pondered this rather unashamed penis reference.

Maybe that’s the new bar talk.

Her analysis of the situation came to an abrupt end as Andy entered the bar. He blinked in the semidarkness, and Suzanna waited patiently for his eyes to adjust—no sense hailing a blind man—and then gave him a tiny wave.

Andy gave her a sheepish smile and settled into the chair next to her. He looked decidedly out of place in this trendy watering hole—he was dressed more for country line dancing than for a restaurant that was soon to unfold into a smoldering salsa club. Suzanna reminded herself that this was not a date and that she shouldn’t care how he looked.

But she did.

Big Daddy returned before she and Andy had even said a word.

“Hey there, buddy,” Big Daddy said, “What can I get ya?”

“This is really good,” Suzanna said, offering her drink to him. “It’s a mojito. Try it.”

Andy took a small sip, but shook his head.

“Uhmmm . . . I’ll have a beer. What have you got on tap?”

The ubiquitous beer-on-tap conversation ensued, with Andy settling on a Portuguese import recommended by Big Daddy. Again, Suzanna was struck by the uncommon grace of the bartender . . . maybe it was because she had dancing on the brain, but every move he made seemed choreographed.

All was revealed when the restaurant turned into the dance club. Before the dance floor opened, there was an introductory salsa lesson—and Big Daddy was the instructor. There were maybe fifteen people in the class—young, not so young, gorgeous, and not so gorgeous. Suzanna felt that she and Andy fit in just fine. They started with the basic footwork and Andy smiled at her in obvious relief—they actually knew what they were doing!

Big Daddy grabbed Suzanna’s hand and pulled her to the front of the class.

“Come here, birthday girl,” he said, twirling her around. “I see we have an expert here.”

Suzanna could tell she was blushing. She didn’t know if he was making fun of her or not. But it appeared he was serious, as he demonstrated some couples’ steps to the class. Miraculously, she didn’t screw up and she was pretty sure it really did look as if she had been on a dance floor more than once.

Everyone was watching them as Big Daddy said, “When you put the steps together . . . it looks like this.”

He spun Suzanna around and she executed a perfect double turn. She snuck a peek at Andy and he was grinning from ear to ear. Big Daddy released her and the class gave her a round of applause. Big Daddy announced that class was over and that the band would be starting in a few minutes. He thanked her for dancing with him and said he hoped he’d get a chance to dance with her during the evening. The fact that he did this in an incredibly theatrical manner for all the class to enjoy and not in an intimate whisper did not dilute the absolute thrill she was feeling.

This was the stuff of salsa dreams!

I wish Fernando and Eric could have seen that!

Suzanna was surprised by her thoughts. Wasn’t the whole point of salsa to get away from Eric and Fernando?

Uh, no . . . Rio was the whole point of salsa.

Andy noticed a small table that was open. He took Suzanna’s hand and they grabbed it while the band set up. They ordered another round of drinks and the uncomfortable silence of first non-dates set in.

“The renovation is sure going well,” he said.

Suzanna was about to say she didn’t want to talk about business tonight, but then she realized that she really didn’t have much else to say.

“Yeah . . . I love what you’re doing with the place,” she said.

Suzanna looked around the room, as much to avoid stilted conversation as to see what action was taking place. She knew it was too early to start hoping Rio would show—the great dancers didn’t arrive until late in the evening. She was relieved to see that the eclectic mix of people who took the dance class had not miraculously been replaced by amazing-looking dancers, although there were some of those, too. Basically, Andy and she could still fit right in—if they decided to actually dance.

Big Daddy was tearing up the dance floor, spinning and twirling a woman in a filmy 1940s style dress. She had updated her look with a really tiny pair of thong underwear, which was on full display every time she spun. One would have to assume this was for effect—and God knows, it was effective! Every man in the room had his eyes glued to her skirt.

“Aren’t those girls in our class?” Andy yelled over the music. He indicated Sandy and Alexia, the La Femme Nikita sisters.

Suzanna nodded affirmatively, and she was suddenly aware at how out of place she was. She stared at Sandy and Alexia as they effortlessly fit into the scene. While she was worrying about every move she might make, Sandy and Alexia were drinking mojitos with casual abandon. They were in conversation with two guys and the sisters laughed coyly, their impossibly Los-Angeles-white teeth glowing as they tossed their perfect manes of hair over their shoulders to indicate their pleasure.

“What are their names again?” Andy asked.

“Oh, I don’t remember.”

Suzanna wasn’t exactly sure why she lied to him. But if he didn’t remember the names of those two gorgeous girls, it would seem a little odd that she did.

“You should ask one of them to dance,” she said, before she could stop herself.

Why, why, why? Why have I said this? I don’t mean it, I don’t want him to, but there it is—I said it.

Suzanna hoped maybe he hadn’t heard her, but he took an uncharacteristically large pull on his beer and stood up. She tried to arrange her features so that she looked happy that he was going to leave her to her own devices, but he suddenly put his hand out—just like in dance class.

“May I have this dance?”

Suzanna looked into his eyes and could see he was just as nervous as she was—which, in some weird way, made her feel a little better. She put her hand in his, and he led her to the floor.

While they were not the best on the floor, they weren’t the worst, either, and frankly, that was about the best Suzanna had ever hoped for. “Not being the worst” was her yardstick. She willed herself to get over the competition factor—nobody cared how she was doing but her. Nobody was looking at her, nobody was judging her. And besides that, thong-salsa-girl pretty much had everyone’s attention anyway. Suzanna finally relaxed and started to really have fun. She and Andy went from “practicing” what they’d learned in class to actually dancing! Suzanna was breathless with victory and dance moves. She even waved happily to Sandy and Alexia.

“Let’s sit this next one out,” Andy said, breathless.

Suzanna nodded vigorously. They went back to their table and ordered another round of drinks. Suzanna was so happy she could barely contain herself. She was so thirsty that she downed her mojito in a few quick gulps and ordered another one.

“Careful there,” Andy laughed, while he sipped his beer.

The evening progressed magnificently. Dancing, drinking, more dancing.

While on the dance floor, Suzanna suddenly lost her timing as she spotted Rio and Lauren entering the club. Andy saw them, too, and he gave her one of his thumbs-up. Suzanna was galvanized by the sight of them: Rio was dressed to kill in all black and Lauren looked nine feet tall (in a good way) in a low-cut taupe wrap-around top and a skirt that looked like it had been made from running water.

Suzanna had no time to freak herself out, because Big Daddy was suddenly tapping Andy on the shoulder, asking to cut in. Big Daddy offered his hand to Suzanna, who looked at it as if she didn’t know what a hand was.

“I think he wants to dance with you,” Andy said, as he left the dance floor.

Suzanna snapped out of her bunny-in-the-headlights mode. She noticed that Rio had looked at her. She started to dance as if her soul depended on it.

CHAPTER 20

“We’ve got a birthday girl in the house,” Big Daddy announced.

And the crowd went wild.

Suzanna was a little tipsy, but she knew better than to drink too much. She was not a fun drunk, and if she let alcohol get the better of her, she’d have absolutely no control over her panic swells. The last thing she wanted to do was float above the dance floor in front of all these people. Even if they couldn’t tell she was floating, she could—and that was all that mattered.

A hand reached out for her as the music started to pulse. It was Rio, guiding her to the floor. She couldn’t believe it. She was in a club, dancing with Rio—and she wasn’t even paying him. She took a deep breath and focused. She wanted to remember every second of the dance.

The song was called “La Ruñidera”—it was one he played in class all the time, so Suzanna was familiar with it and knew she could keep up. Her feet seemed to have a life of their own. She felt so light, this could have been the beginning of a swell, but she knew she was not going anywhere. She was here—in the moment—living out a dream. She caught a glimpse of Andy, who was dancing with one of the twins. He pointed to his watch. Suzanna almost stumbled, but Rio caught her.