| Disclaimers in The
Date - Prologue...
The Date - Part 2 Arlington Virginia Pungent white wine glistens on Lislita's supple lips before she swabs them with her tongue. She's never had such a superb vintage before; not too dry, not too sweet. Oh, just so right. A most agreeable complement to end off a special day. Langly dangles another crispy brown onion ring before her mouth, as though it's bait on a fishhook, and waits for her to nibble it out of his hand, the way she's done the past two times he's dangled. He'd always dreamed of having a woman eat out of his hand. Giggling, not from the effects of her second glass of chilled perfection, but largely from the stimulating company's she's keeping, she darts her tongue out to wrangle the greasy prize from his equally greasy forefinger and thumb. Just as she snags it, she allows Langly to press her further into the deep burgundy plushness of their parqueted booth. His aggressiveness born of a heady acceptance he's never known before; not a sordid desire to see what he can get away with, and disrespecting her. In bubbly exuberance, Lislita gives him another greasy smooch on the cheek, still chewing. His ingenuous grin blossoms at the precise moment the weekend warriors couple at the table across from their booth is being wished a very happy 10th wedding anniversary, above the sociable din. Seeing another oily ring she's left, on his cheek, in the gauzy sub-light of atmosphere, she snatches up his unused napkin with the words, 'Ryan's Pub' embossed on it, and gingerly, with interspersions of more giggling, removes the mess she's made. "Hey, it's cool, Leese. I like slick." "I like you..." She puffs a breath aimed at his forehead, and his baby-fine tendrils flutter in the wake of wine-scented zephyr. If there were more men like you, 'Langito' in the 'Televisa Novela' world," she meditates, studying the wisdom in his spectacled face, "I wouldn't have had to choose between giving up my acting for my principles and dignity. "You're such a nice man...not manipulative and diseased in the mind...like so many of the industry's producers and directors are..." Her shudder is involuntary. "Hey, are you okay?" He chews on his lower lip. "I'm sorry...I know I'm gettin' carried away. See...I'm not too good with beautiful chicks." Lislita giggles. "Snap, I, I...I'm; well, er, I'm not good with chicks in general. What I mean is...I'm not wildly popular with the ladies." He winces, hearing a Frohike-ish sentiment, if he ever heard one, having snuck in there. "...I kinda suck with chicks." Lislita taps the tip of his nose with hers. Weighing his chances, he brings her hand up to his lips, and kisses her velvety knuckles. She hiccups, giggling some more. "You suck chicks?" "NO--I suck *with* 'em. I'm a strike-out artist from way back." His tone turns cold. "'Capice?' I'm not a ladies' man..." "I apologize for making you feel sad." "Who said you're makin' me sad?" "I wish I didn't feel sad." "Sad? You're having the total opposite effect on me." Frowning, he coaxes, "Why d'ya feel sad? Did I do something before to upset ya?" "No--no--no!" She bites her lip, fearing she'd gotten too loud. "No," she says breathily. "I threw my acting career away." "Say what?" Following her leaden sigh, "I'm in Miami to make a fresh start. My acting opportunities in Mexico...ruined..." "Ruined? But, you're so talented. Unreal...how come?" "I'm thought of as uncooperative." Langly sits up straighter, and eyes her thoroughly. "Uncooperative? You? That's gotta be bogus." "Guilty, as charged. 'Ay, que mala onda'...I wouldn't--won't trade sex; I couldn't--can't sleep with all those men. Those influential users." As Langly continues to stare, a million impulses course through him. Comfortingly, "Kazaam--that's radical. Guess playin' ball like that makes the world work in most areas. I'm real sorry, Leese..." Huffily, "I am too, for things being the way they are. I'm not sorry I didn't do it. 'Popi'" Langly thought, then remembered....her dad.... "Has instilled within me his pride. When I give my body, it will be given in love, to that special man, because *I* have decided he will have it, because I love him, and want only him. I'll see if I can launch a singing career here, as I said." ....She's naive; but she's so beautiful.... Langly rubs his index finger against her neck, smiling, unable to suppress thinking that the music scene isn't much different. Even more impressed, however, he declares, "You're a total mindblower." "Mindblower? What means mindblower?" He squeezes her hand which is still locked in his grip. "You do. You buck the tide. Other chicks in your position might not have had the stamina to book in your shoes like that. That's nectar, man." "It's a hard decision. Acting is my first love, but I did what my heart knew was the right thing for me to do. I'll never regret my decision, but I still feel sad..." Gently, he kisses her forehead. "Yeah, it stinks...it's so NOT fair! Women having' to put up with so much shi--crap!" For her genteel sake, he self-expurgated. He gets lost in her penetrating gaze for several contemplative moments, falling hard under her spell. His tongue decides to get operative again. "I know this is gonna sound so dumb...so heavily lame, but...I think..." He clears his throat until it's scratchy. "I think I'm...what I mean is...I'm..." Langly blinks himself back to this reality, having visited deep space in the wink of an eye, and decides to finish what he thought was so urgent a moment ago, regardless of the consequences. "I think I'm like...falling in love with you..." For a fragmented moment, following a profound gulp, the impulse to tear himself out of the booth and make a break for the door is powerful. However, summoning up courage he never knew he had, from somewhere, he stays rooted beside her, waiting for her to say he's the worst kind of head case. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm mental. Forget--" "No..." A waking smile basks on her glistening lips. "'Precioso.' That's what you are." "Nah, I'm the most pathetic loser on this third rock from the sun. That's what I am." He pulls his security blanket of sarcasm up to his eyeballs to peek above it at her. "MAN, what a total jerk!" She recalls the conversation with her cousin, and sighs, shaking the disagreeable recollection off. "You're cheeks are so red." His right hands flies up to his burning left cheek. Its descent halts only when it reaches his clavicle. Langly snorts, trying false bravado on for size. "How many guys have you been out with for the first time squeak out they love you already?" You'd be surprised, she thought, grinning. "Talk about major league lame--meet the MVP. Only a terminal nobody like me, who's had about one real girlfriend in his unnatural life would say something so pathetic--that's who!" "'Calmate...esta bien'...it's...you're...not--" "I need serious mental help. I'm an emotional wuss. I'm fatally hopeless, like Frohike says...a total waste case!" Lislita sighs in indulgence. When she senses that his rant has run its course, she lifts his chin with gentle fingers to assuage, "If you need, 'serious mental help'..." Langly begins assisting her fingers in lifting his ken level with her soulful eyes. "...Because of what you're feeling, and the need to tell me, then may I join you for counseling, when I tell you I'm feeling the same for you?" Her snickering is bubbly, and with a lopsided grin, she insists, "I don't allow just any man to feed me crunchy rings of onions." She squeezes his icy hand. "Maybe this is happening all too quickly, but I believe in your feelings. You're special..." "Yeah, *special* as in, 'oh grow up. I like you as a friend..." "Could I be your's? Your's...as in *your's*?" Langly does a double take. "If I'm not hearing you right," he chokes, "bop me." She kisses his cheek lightly. "How was that?" "Tempting." "Why do you think I went to the store with you in the first place?" He shrugs, but keeps his startled expression alive and well. "You had me stumped 'cos you said you wanted to. Then I figured maybe you needed gum or something." "Oh, you are priceless, 'precioso.' Being so close to you in the van the way we were...it was almost electric. Then...you saved my life..." "Wait, I got a pin. If I'm dreamin', stick me with it." "'Ay, Dios mio,' you are irresistible." She couldn't tell though if he was still being hard on himself, or expecting her to really stick him with a pin. He gathers the girl of sugar-spun fantasies into his arms; every inch of his body craving her. He kisses her strong and deep until she thinks she will explode. After a good two, closer to two and a half minutes, he lets her up for air. "Sorry, babe," Langly apologizes sheepishly, "I know. Dumb glasses always get in the way. Did I hurt your face? Man, my kissing sucks." "You use that suck word a lot..." "It means I kiss lousy." "If that's how you really feel, you have my unconditional permission to practice on me all you wish. My pleasure." Glee gushes all over his face. "Mine more." Poised to avail himself of her labial bounty, he starts making another move on her, when a boisterous, resonant female voice interrupts. "And who's this looker you're about to inflict oral assault on, Mister Starr?" When he shifts around to confront the familiar possessor of that intruding voice, she commends, "Awesome T-shirt, guy. You know something the rest of us don't?" Langly brushes his fingers over the ominous, 'Reboot: Y2K is Near!' slogan scrawled across his pects. "Nope, but at least if it all goes to hell on the stroke of midnight, can't say you weren't warned. Byers, 'Hike and me got our collective act together, though. We rigged all our systems with a dedicated, lockout worm fail-safe bundle two years ago. That way, if the stuff hits the fan--" "Spare me the gory details, please. Your techno-jive talkin' was Mory's thing, God rest his soul. Never mine. Don't have the head for it. I'd much rather know who your lovely lady friend is, Foureyes." The fiftish proprietess, who'd been keeping a bead on the pair throughtout most of the evening from her lair behind the bar, winks meaningfuly. "That's Ida's nickname for me, Leese," Langly fills in the blank when she asks what the buxom woman just called him. "Ida Ryan, this is...uh, Lee, would you mind saying your name? I don't say it right, and it's way too pretty for me to mess up like you've heard me do already." "Lislita..." and leaving out the intervening nomenclature for brevity's sake, she cheerily pads, "Marti. I'm visiting from Miami. I'm happy to meet you, 'senora.'" She profers her hand. It's heartily shaken. "My, but you're a pretty thing, honey. How'd you ever come to meet up with the likes of Langly?" "Ha, ha, thanks, Eye." Muttering, "Thanks a heap..." "Don't mention it, Foureyes. You haven't been in here with someone of the female persuasion for ages. I was begining to think you'd switched preferences." While Langly rolls his eyes, the merry widow laughs resoundingly. Lislita waits till she's done unburdening herself. "Langly and I have a mutual acquaintance in common. Dana Scully. Believe it or not, she's my cousin. Do you know her?" "Scully! Do I know Scully?" Ida fairly bellows. "Oh, yes indeedy, dearie. Nigh on for seven years, now. Kindred spirits, we are. I'm thrilled to meet a relative. She and that Mulder of hers, not to mention Langly and his partners in crime are regulars here. And, speaking of here, the ol' joint hasn't been this jumpin' in a long time. And, guess what?" "What?" Langly asks, feeding some unknown need to be mindful. "Lacy up an' quit on me day
before yesterday. Went to L.A. to see if she could break into movies." Ida
wags her head back and forth demonstratively. "I wished her all the luck in the world, but,
personally, I don't think her chances are all that great for breaking into a real tough business.
Aside from which she's a powderpuff, and I don't think her acting's all that. She once invited me to see "I'm a singer," Lislita says in a small, wispy voice, clearing her throat. Ida looks as if she's just come down with a severe case of the 'gimmies'. "Get out!" Lislita glances sidelong at Langly and he supplies, "She can't believe what you just said. Stay where you are." The young women reseats herself. "Are you any good, honey?" "Is she any good?" To his friend, towering over them, Langly confirms with twinklin eyes, "I've heard her. She's savory. Let her sing. She'll prove it." Ida nods. "Hey, I'm game. Would you wanna get up and sing for the crowd tonight, hon? You'd be doing me a mega favor, love...if you're what he says you are." Langly takes her hand, and follows it up by whispering something in her ear which makes her smile. Still looking a tad hesitant, though, Lislita distantly agrees. "'Si.' I'll do it..." It might be a useful preliminary before my cruise engagements, she figures. "Does your band know--" "The band knows practically anything you ask 'em to play, honey," Ida guarantees. Langly gives her a fortifying hug to give her confidence, then steps out of the booth to let her out. Ida takes Lislita under her ample sleeveless wing as the women head off in the direction of the animated stage with the three-man, and one woman band cranking away. Langly looks on in effluent approbation, a good deal of pride having welled up. "Knock 'em dead, Leese,"
he roots, "just like you did me...last night..." xXx "How do you think I was?" Lislita directs to Langly, back at their booth. He has his arm slung around her damp shoulders. He's drawing little, light circles on the moist skin of her upper arm; then, gives her some light pats. Hearing the hoarseness in her voice, she takes up the glass of sparkling water he'd had the forethought to order for her and quenchs her rampant thirst. So many requests, from all the audience's quadrants, there'd been. "Since I'm already an avid fan, you're only gonna get bias from me, But, I gotta say that for beltin' em out for close to two solid hours, you were smokin'!" "Smokin'? That's a good thing? Yes?" she asks, sounding not very sure of anything. Seconds before he gets to answer, a youngish, salt and pepper-pated well-wisher interrupts, sounding all revved up, "Miss, you were wonderful." Her tall, auburn-haired male companion corroborates, with a bit of a brogue, "Exceptional. I've never heard, 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling' sung quite so poignantly in my entire forty years. It's no wonder that rendition was the showstopper. You're brilliant, to be sure." Langly casts them looks of gratitude, and kisses Lislita's temple. "Hear that? You're a hit, kid. No doubt." "As long as you liked me," she whispers into his ear. Roisterously, Ida is
working her way to the ruck of patrons clustered at their lively booth.
She parts several bodies to congratulate, "Honey, if you're Lislita doesn't say a thing, fidgeting, and gives Langly a look of, 'now what?' He picks up on it, and makes amends for her. "Yo, Eye, she'll have to get back to you on the job offer. She's singing for Carnival--" "Hey, she'd be better off singing for me, than singing in some stale carnival, Foureyes," Ida remonstrates. "She's a quality act." "Not *that* kind of carnival," Langly asserts. His eyeballs look as if they're rolling over. "Carnival, as in the cruise line. She's doing their shows till February." He looks to Lislita and she confirms that he got it right, nodding. "Oh, well, hey. That's nice, honey, but tell you what...if you'll be needin' a job when you finish with them, come back. Okay? I'll put you on weekends even if I've hired somebody in the interim." Ida, having put the offer on the table, and wholly satisfied with herself, and with Langly to a degree, for having had the presence of mind to have brought such talent to her doorstep, beams. "Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Ryan..." "It's Ida, hon, and you're quite welcome." She extracts herself from the congestion, whose constituents are still bestowing accolades. As she goes through the motions of returning to the bar to oversee the final preparations for closing, she tosses over her shoulder, "But, think it over, okay?" Lislita raptly nods, her infectious grin in tandem, indicating she might consider it. Seeing by the old Portsmouth clock on the far wall that it's quarter past midnight, Langly judges that if he gets Lislita back any later than one o'clock, Scully'll have his head. "Think it's time we blow this place," he nudges into her ear. "Cool?" "Whatever you say." Once standing in the balmy night air, and breathing freer, shy of the establishment's cloying closeness, it takes Langly a few moments to remember where he parked the Saturn. Nodding in certainty then, after some embarrassing hesitation, he starts them off then, but not before he asks, "Had a good time?" "Had a great time. I especially liked those large black walls with the names you took me to. There were so many names..." "Paying homage to Frohike and his long lost 'Nam buddies, and yeah. There are. Way too many. Some fiasco they were the victims of. He heaves a sigh. "Man, am I feeling raggedy right now. Not enough sleep last night, I guess..." He grins at her, then glances down at his Converses, and purses his lips. "I couldn't get you outta my head." Lislita nods, knowing exactly what he means. "Thank you for making everything so perfect...so magical. Exactly what you are..." He purses his lips harder, and mutters, with his eyes still scraping the pavement, "We'll haveta to it again sometime..." "We will." "Promise?" She nods as he lifts his head and he drifts closer to her. As though she were made of porcelain this time, he kisses her, They ease apart, and her hands frame his face; he sighs. She traces the outline of his cheeks with her thumbs. He closes his eyes, trembling between them. After some additional magical moments, they disengage their lips. Langly takes her hand, and they head due east for the silvery six-cylinder chariot. xXx "Oh, CRAP..." Langly looks around, his heart pounding through savage beats. "I'd swear this is where we left it! Near the southwest corner of this street." But, maybe not. He had no problem with algorithmic relationships. Spatial and geographical ones, however, were another story, altogether. "What the fu--" "But it's true, we *did* leave it here." Lislita clutches his arm, and hears his whimper. "Right here. I remember these large black satchels by the curb where we left it." Langly uses the curse he was going to use a second ago. He lowers his eyes then, hearing his failure at striving to keep his mouth clean, at least for this evening, ring in his ears. "It's called garbage, which is how I'm feelin' right now!" "Whatever's happened, it's *not* your fault. Please?" She strokes his arm determinedly, while he refuses to quit grumbling. "Where do you suppose it is?" Langly looks paralyzed. The cooler breeze zips right through his denim jacket, and he shudders. "You're guess is as good as mine, if I know. If you're sure we left it here, then the car's been ripped! Why in all hell did I park here???" "Ripped?" "Ripped-off. Stolen, by professional thieves, or just kids with nothing better to do, even, goin' for a freakin' joy ride." He kicks the pavement; the ball of his foot smarts in response. "By the time I get you home, and Scully gets hit with the word, it'll only be by a miracle the dimensions of Godzilla, she doesn't string me up by my ba..." He smiles a sicky smile of painful mockery, opting for a less graphic word, although the one he was going to use sticks stubbornly in mind. "Craptacular!!!" He takes in his date's lost look wordlessly. "C'mon, let's go before we get mugged..." xXx End Part 2 |
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