Chasing Vivi(52)

"This is the best time I've had in ages," she admits. "I don't know why I was so nervous."

"After a few of my special twirls, you'll be so dizzy, you won't remember your name either."

"Mr. Fancy Feet too?"

"Not like Weston. But I can hold my own."

When the song ends, she says emphatically, "You really can dance. I'm so impressed."         

     



 

"Told ya." I'm feeling rather proud of myself, until I hit a patch of  spilled something or other on the floor and almost fall flat on my ass.  My arms windmill for a second and Vivi has to save me.

"Was that one of your new moves, Prancer?"

"Ha-ha, no. But this is." I grab her, spin her around, then dip her, and slowly bring her up to a standing position.

The people surrounding us break into applause.

Vivi smiles a bit shyly, not caring to be the center of attention  apparently. Then she holds on to my hand and asks if we can escape from  here.

"I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position."

"No, it's not that. I have to use the restroom."

"And we need to eat," I add.

"Why don't you score us a table while I find the bathrooms, and then when I get back we can eat?"

Sounds great to me, so I watch her leave the room and as soon as she's  gone, a group of women practically attack me. As soon as I get rid of  them, another group takes its place. I'll never get us a seat at this  rate. And where is Grand when I need her? One woman tries to drag me to  the dance floor, while another tries to drag me to the bar.

I jerk my arms out of their hands, saying, "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. I have a date tonight."

Dragging myself away, they follow me like gnats. I finally locate a  table with two empty seats and grab them, but the vultures keep trying  to sit at the empty one. "Didn't you hear what I said? This is saved for  someone."

Grand shows up and swats them all away. "Will you women learn some  manners and see when a man is clearly not interested in you?" She sits  in the empty chair and becomes my hero.

"Jeez, I've never been so inundated before."

"You've never been so bold with a woman at a company event before. But,  Prescott, you seem to be having a nice time with Vivienne. She's really a  very lovely girl."

"She's very special to me, Grand."

"I can tell."

"Where is she?"

"The restroom. I wonder what's taking her so long."

"Women take longer than men. Be patient."

Grand must think I haven't spent much time around the opposite sex. I  won't try to change her opinion. It's important to keep my reputation  sparkly in her eyes.

"Prescott, I wasn't born yesterday. I know you've had your way with lots  of women. This one is different and I don't need to explain myself. You  already know that."

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I'm a woman. Women are smart. They think with their brains and not what's inside of their pants."

I don't know if I should be offended or not. This is my grandmother speaking to me like this.

"Get over it already. I have more stories than you can shake a stick at.  I want you to listen to me, Prescott. You came to me for advice on  Vivienne. You've never done that before. I knew then this girl meant  more to you than any other. Seeing the two of you together confirms my  suspicions. You're in love with her. So, take my advice on something.  Don't wait too long to ask her to marry you. You've known her for years.  Don't let this one slip away. The good ones aren't a dime a dozen and  there aren't a million fish in the sea. Well, there are, but not many of  them are worth a damn. When you find one like Vivienne, you grab her  and run. Now that I've said my peace, I'm going to find your  grandfather. He owes me a Samba, or something close." She sails away and  the sea parts for the queen. She's exactly right and her words ring  through my head. Vivi made me work for it, but damn, it was worth the  wait.





Chapter 32





Vivi





My bladder's about to burst when I find the bathroom and make a run for  it. Thank God there isn't a line like you usually find in the Women's  Room. They are never big enough. Why can't the architects who design  buildings, including the bathrooms, figure this out for once?

When I'm done, I stand at the sink washing my hands as a group of four  women enter. They stare daggers at me and I wonder who they are. So I  boldly ask them.

"Do I know you?"

"Don't think so," one of them says. But they don't move.

"Is there something you want?"

"You might say that. We want to know what you've done with Beckham to make him fall for you."

"What?" Did she seriously just ask me that? This is crazy.

"You heard us," one of them says. "We've done everything we know to grab  his attention, to get him to notice us for a couple of years, and  nothing. Now suddenly, here you are and bam, he's all over you like  fudge on a sundae."         

     



 

Shrugging, I say, "Guess he likes me." I smile and go to move past them,  but one grabs my arm with the splint. Digging her fingers into it, she  squeezes hard until it hurts. Snatching it away, I say, "Get your hands  off me."

My voice is filled with fire and they notice it.

"Just what are you going to do about it? It's four against one."

I sneer. "Are you going to beat me up or something? What is this? Junior high? How old did you say you were?"

"We didn't," one snarls at me.

"No, you didn't have to. Seems to me you're about thirteen by the way  you're acting. Oh." I click my fingers. "Now I know why Prescott didn't  care too much for you. He likes his women to act a little more mature."

That was a mistake because one of them slaps me right across the face.  But I'm not taken down so easily. "I wouldn't have done that if I were  you," I say. Balling up my fist, I strike back without thinking, landing  a decent jab on her cheek.

The only other times I've hit someone was when Joe Delvecchio attacked  me. Maybe it taught me not to let myself be bullied anymore. She whines  and starts yelling that I hit her. No shit.

"Of course I hit you, you whiny bitch. You slapped me first. Anybody  else care to step in line?" Then I hear Prescott calling my name from  beyond the door.

"In here. Come in and give me a hand with this pack of animals, will you?"

He runs inside and sees me surrounded by the herd of nastiness.

"What the hell's going on?" he yells.

"I'll be happy to explain." In the meantime, the other women are  shouting that I'm a liar. My arm is already bruising where the one  grabbed me, and my face has a palm imprint on it.

"Did you hit her?" he asks, pointing to the one I hit.

"Damn straight I did. And I threatened to punch the rest of them."

"My Little Wolf is fierce."

I hold up my fist to show him how much so. He covers it with his hand  and then raises it to his mouth for a kiss. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

One of the other women says, "She punched me first." The other three join in, claiming it's the truth.

Prescott gives me a look that conveys he knows they're lying. But now it's four against one. There's not a damn thing he can do.

Turning to the women, he says, "Get the hell out of here. Whatever it is  you wanted from her, you can forget about it. And by the way, I'm  officially off the market, if that wasn't obvious."

He looks at me and says loud and clear, "I'm yours, no one else's. Are you okay?"

"I think so, but is my face swollen?"

He takes my chin and tips it up toward the light.

"Nah, only a little pink. That pisses me off. I need their names."

"Eh, who cares?" I say.

"I do. They bullied you in the bathroom at a company event. Jesus. That sounds even crazier when I say it out loud."

"Let's go have fun and worry about it later."

He eventually agrees but wheedles a promise out of me. I'm to tell him  if I recognize any of them when we get back there. I agree, but I tell  him I'm positive they've already scooted out of here. They probably  realized what they had done and how foolish it was.

The rest of the night is sort of spoiled, because he keeps asking me if I  see them, making me continually search. I finally say, "You have to  stop. I'm fine and it was only a speed bump. They were nasty women who  got in my face and it's over."

"But-"

I put my hands on his cheeks. "No buts, babe. It's done. Don't ruin our night over it."

"You called me babe."

"Is there something else you'd prefer, because I can call you Stud Monster if you'd like."

"Stud Monster?"

"Yeah, you know." I use my hands to show him. He laughs.

"It's kind of a brutish name, don't you think?"

"That was my intention. StudBubba then?"

"Um, that's the southern version. It sounds like a prison term."

"Exactly, and I'm your prisoner."