CUTTING ROOM -THE- (2 page)

Hannah winced. ‘I'm still trying to forget those all-nighters, Daisy. The hangovers were the only thing that stopped me from becoming a raging alcoholic.'

‘That and your Born Again mother would've killed you,' added Daisy as she finished her drink.

‘True.'

‘You gonna stay then?' Gabby asked Daisy anxiously, twisting her pin-straight honey-blonde hair around and around her index finger. The curl collapsed as soon as she pulled her finger away. Being around Daisy lately made her so self-conscious. It was like the girl never aged, or gained weight or had a bad hair day. At five foot four and 130 pounds, Gabby definitely wasn't fat; she just wasn't Daisy-thin. And her blonde hair and light eyes would normally attract some attention — until you sat next to a Spanish temptress who looked a lot like a young Sophia Loren. Gabriella hated herself for being so competitive, especially since Daisy obviously wasn't. She pushed aside the brewing jealousy and forced a smile. ‘Should I get another round then?'

Daisy sighed. ‘Nah. This is one of those moments when you have to do the right thing or pay later. I got a hot date tomorrow and I need to look fresh. He runs a hedge fund.' She fanned herself again and rubbed her fingers together. ‘Lots of cash. We're talking big money, girls.'

‘Which means lots of competition,' Hannah cautioned.

‘Precisely. I need at least five hours or I get circles.'

‘Circles probably look great on you,' Gabriella offered.

‘Circles look good on zombies, Gab, but thanks for the compliment,' Daisy replied.

‘All right then, guys,' Gabby said. ‘I'll be heading home in a little bit myself.'

‘Be good,' Hannah warned with a wag of her finger. ‘No weirdos. And no circus freaks,' she said, motioning to the still shirtless Ab Wonder. ‘Oh, and in case I don't see you, happy birthday!'

‘Yes! Happy birthday!' Daisy said, blowing an air kiss at Gabby as she and Hannah slipped into the crowd. ‘Call me Monday. Do anything I would do, including hot circus freaks. And text me if Ginger and his friends show up. Maybe I'll come back!'

Gabriella raised her martini in the direction of her two friends as they disappeared into the sea of writhing bodies. She saw Hannah wave and then the crowd swallowed them whole and they both were gone. The guilt pang disappeared as fast as it had come on, replaced by an exuberant feeling of freedom. Gabby wasn't a clubber, but here she was out in a club with a couple of drinks in her already to loosen her up and no competition to hold her back. She opened another button on her blouse and sipped her martini, moving to the music as the lights dimmed and the last of the tables in the center of the restaurant were cleared out, forming a makeshift dance floor that was quickly filling with bodies. It was getting crowded. Soon enough the bouncers would stop letting anyone in.

Although it was still early by club standards, hookups were already happening. Guys and girls. Girls and girls. The dirty dancing was definitely a lot sexier than Gabby remembered it being when she used to hit the clubs. And the clothes — or lack thereof — that the girls were wearing … damn! She could unbutton her blouse to her belly button and it would still be modest by some standards. Everyone was either here with their BFFs or they were busy making new ones. Gabby suddenly felt as if there was a spotlight shining down on her — the Old Maid All Alone With No One. And everyone looked so freaking young …

A herd of short skirts and stilettos pushed by, knocking into Gabby's chair and spilling her drink a little. She blew out a controlled breath. It probably was crazy of her to think he'd come back here tonight. Even crazier to think that, if he did, he'd be looking for her. Here she was, all by herself in a club, still dressed in her lame poly-blend suit from work, sitting by herself at a table for four, surrounded by people who didn't look close to worrying about turning thirty, or having babies, or meeting Mr Right. The exhilarating feeling of freedom was quickly sinking into a panicky depression that she didn't want to feel tonight. Gabby glanced at her watch and threw back the rest of her drink. That was it. She'd lasted a half-hour. It was time to go …

As she grabbed her purse and stood to leave, the waitress brought over a fresh lemon-drop martini. ‘Compliments of the gentleman at the bar,' she said, motioning behind her with a toss of her blonde curls.

Gabby looked around for her ginger-haired engineer.
Had her instincts been right?
Her heart started to pound. If so, this would be one helluva story to tell the grandchildren …

But there were no tall, lean redheads to be found. She dipped her finger in her drink and swirled it around as her eyes canvassed the crowd.

That's when Gabby spotted the stranger with the dark, wavy hair and piercing eyes who was standing next to the bar across the dance floor, sipping a bottle of Bud and staring at her. He smiled softly and tipped his beer in her direction.

And so, with a coy smile and a quick wave, Gabriella Vechio welcomed over the stranger who would soon change her life for ever.

‘Thanks for the drink,' Gabby began when he sat down beside her.

‘How'd you know it was from me?'

‘I … well, I just assumed,' she stuttered.

He grinned. ‘You're welcome.'

‘I'm Gabriella.'

‘I'm Reid. Nice to meet you, Gabriella.'

‘God, that sounds so formal. Only my mom and my boss call me Gabriella. My friends call me Gabby.'

‘Gabby. Okay,' he replied, nodding. ‘I like Gabriella, though. That's a beautiful name. So, are you from around here, Gabby?'

‘I live in Forest Hills. I just came here after work.' She fidgeted with the collar of her blazer. ‘In case you couldn't tell.'

‘What do you do?'

‘I'm out of high school, for starters,' Gabby answered with a short laugh.

‘Yeah. This is a bit of a younger crowd, huh?' Reid said, looking around. ‘But they have great wings.'

‘Yup. And quesadillas. We — me and my friends — we've been here a couple of times before. They have a good happy hour. That crowd is a little more … let's say, mature. You know, with everyone getting off work and all.'

He nodded and looked around. ‘Where are they? Your friends?'

‘Oh. They're gone,' Gabby replied quickly. ‘They left a half-hour or so ago. They had to get up in the morning. I decided to stay and finish my drink. I was gonna head out right before you sent this over.'

‘Well I'm glad you stayed. And I have to say, I think I like the crowd in here.' He didn't look around when he said it — his dark chocolate brown eyes never left hers. Mesmerizing, bright flecks of amber and gold lit his pupils.

Gabriella blushed. He was handsome — Reid. Not in an obvious way, like Ab Man. He had a bit of a big chin, but a nice smile that took over his whole face when he flashed it, and that's what she really noticed. His teeth were straight and super white, like a toothpaste model's. No gums in sight. Some girls were attracted to abs or curly hair or eyes or big muscles, but Gabby went for the smile every time. She used to think she'd marry a dentist until she realized a lot of them actually had terrible teeth. What was that proverb? Physician heal thyself? Dentist fix thy overbite. As Gabby studied Reid's rugged, fair face, set against the backdrop of a raucous Spring Break-aged crowd, she thought perhaps his very best feature right now was the fact that he
wasn't
twenty-one. She guessed late twenties, but didn't want to ask, because she didn't want to be asked that very same question and then watch for the disappointment on his face. Demi Moore might've broken ground with Ashton Kutcher, but for most female earthlings who didn't have movie-star looks and a celebrity-sized bank book, it wasn't so easy to bridge even a small age gap with a handsome guy. And definitely not in a place like this. Most men heard ‘twenty-eight', swore the woman said ‘thirty', and pictured the thought-bubble above her smiling, anxious head that read, ‘Looking for marriage, a house and a baby!' That's when they excused themselves to use the bathroom and you never saw them again. Maybe she was being silly and down on herself, but tonight she didn't want to take any risks with having fun. She just wanted to have it. ‘I'm an accountant with Morgan and Tipley,' Gabby replied. ‘It's a really small firm in Midtown. Lex and Forty-third. You've never heard of it, trust me. I've been there a couple of years now. I like it.'

‘Accounting … ooh. Sooo not what I pegged you for and sooo not my strong suit. I'm good with my money — not so sure I'd be good handling other people's. I might get jealous.'

‘You don't actually get to touch it, which takes away some of the temptation.' Gabby sipped her drink. ‘Interesting. What did you peg me for?'

‘Oh, I don't know … an astronaut? A rocket scientist? A nuclear physicist?'

‘Do I look that smart? It's the suit, I tell ya.'

‘Nah. I really thought that you might be a lawyer or a paralegal. Something with the law. Maybe an FBI agent or a cop or maybe a spy. Just a wild guess. You look too fun to be an accountant.'

‘Accountants can be a lively bunch. The life of the party. Especially on April sixteenth.'

‘Really? Mine's named Sy, he works for H&R Block, and I don't think he's been to a party in a few decades. So tell me, what do you like about it, Gabby? Accounting?'

‘Hmmm … good question. Let me think. Well, for starters it's not subjective, like a lot of careers are. My friend's a writer and I could never do what she does, because she never knows if it's good. I mean, there's always someone telling her what she wrote sucked, even if a hundred other people tell her she's the bomb. It makes no sense. She ends up banging her head against the wall. Same for my friend who's a publicist. Someone always second-guesses what she did. Claims they could have done it better. And that they would've had a better result: more people at a premiere, a better photo from a better model, whatever. But accounting, you know, is predictable. It always works out, if you do it right. And if you
really
do it right, you can make people very happy. Numbers don't lie and they don't care what other people think of them.'

‘Interesting …'

Gabby had never had to explain why she liked accounting to a guy before. She wondered if she'd given the ‘right' answer. No matter how you phrased it, accounting never sounded thrilling. ‘What do you do, Reid?' she asked.

‘I'm a filmmaker.'

Gabby's heartbeat sped up a bit. Filmmaker was up there with surgeon in both the excitement and good-catch departments. ‘That's really cool,' she said.

‘Well, I'm working at it. It's not an easy profession to crack. Lots of competition. You have to be real original to stand out.'

‘What kind of films do you make?'

‘Okay, now don't get too excited, because you're not talking up the next James Cameron. I, well … I make documentaries.'

‘I still think that's exciting.'

He smiled. ‘I do, too. I think real life is much more interesting than make-believe, actually. Real people having real reactions, expressing real emotions. It's capturing those moments on film that can be difficult. But … well, it doesn't bring in much money, unless your name's Michael Moore.'

‘I still think it's exciting. Money isn't everything, you know.'

‘Hmmm … didn't you say you were an accountant?'

Gabby laughed. ‘I've done taxes for a lot of people that make a lot of money, but their lives are still a mess and they're not happy. No, money isn't everything.'

‘I agree. There's a lot more to life.'

Gabby gestured to her ear. It was getting really loud.

Reid leaned in closer, placed his hand firmly on her back and whispered in her ear. She felt his warm breath on her neck and it gave her a shiver, as his strong hand massaged her lower spine. ‘So tell me more about yourself, Gabriella. I wanna know more about you.'

She smiled coquettishly. To think she had almost walked out and gone home all alone again to her cat and a bad movie on Lifetime. Her luck was definitely changing; she could feel it. And so over two lemon-drop martinis, as he stroked her back and played with the ends of her hair, she told him everything he wanted to know.

God, she liked the way he said her name.
Gabriella.
And she liked that after a few drinks, a lot of meaningless conversation and, perhaps most importantly, after a few more short-skirted, long-legged stiletto packs had wandered by en route to the Ladies' room, that he still remembered it.

Reid moved a strand of hair off her face and leaned in close. ‘Listen,' he whispered, his mouth on her ear. ‘I don't normally ask girls back to my place. I don't, but …'

She nodded. ‘Yes.' The room was spinning.

‘Yes?'

‘Yes, I'd like to go home with you. You don't normally ask, and I don't normally say yes, but here we are. Yes.'

He smiled. ‘Great. I don't live too far.'

‘Great.' Gabby reached for her purse under the table and the world went belly-up. She put her hands on her head to get it to stop spinning. And she said a prayer that her stomach would settle back down. She definitely shouldn't have had that fourth martini. That was what put her over the edge. And that's why she was making such an impetuous, crazy-ass decision to go home with a total stranger. It was the alcohol; it had definitely made her horny and her overactive pheromones weren't helping the decision-making process. What was worse was that she was still sober enough to recognize what she was doing was stupid but she was gonna do it anyway.
Damn …
She was definitely missing sex, no doubt about it; it'd been almost a year since she'd been with anyone. And it had been three years since she'd had anyone serious in her life. It wasn't like she was thinking Reid was ‘the one' or anything, or even that this relationship might go someplace past tonight — no, that would require lucid thinking. On the other hand, he did have a great smile and he made freaking movies for a living, which was a total turn-on. Plus, when his hand had traveled up her skirt underneath the table it had given her tingles in all the right places. Perhaps saying yes was a much easier decision than it should've been, but, as Daisy would say if she were here, ‘You only live once …'