Finding Opa! (5 page)

As Clive was explaining, the doors to the elevator opened, and Hunter emerged with a huge bouquet of red roses. He stopped in his tracks with a what-the-hell look on his face as he saw Clive with his date.

Stacey waved him over with a smile. “Oh, there he is,” Stacey said, feeling her chest tighten at the very sight of him. He looked even better than the first couple of times. Dressed in black, sleek and sexy, he approached with a wicked grin.

Hunter walked past Clive and turned with a curious smile. “How you doing?” Hunter asked, nodding at the oddly dressed man.

“Treat her nice,” Clive ordered sternly as he turned awkwardly and headed to the next door with his bag of CDs.

Hunter didn’t reply. Instead, he strode over to the door where Stacey stood and looked her up and down. “Wow,” he said, lost for words. In his mind, he had never imagined that she would have worn a dress just for him. She was totally a jeans and t-shirt type of girl. And while he didn’t mind her normal style, he was incredibly thankful for a glimpse at the most perfect body that he’d ever seen.

“I take it that you like the duds?” Stacey said, rubbing her hand over her dress playfully.

“What straight man wouldn’t?” he answered, finally offering the flowers. “These are for you, though they are dramatically diminished by your beauty.”

Stacey was caught off guard by his gracious compliment. She took them and smelled their aroma. “They’re beautiful,” she said, stepping to the side. “Won’t you come in?” She fluttered her eyelashes lightheartedly. “I’m playing the debutante thing up tonight.”

“Absolutely,” he said, walking past her.

Stacey’s home was as eclectic as she was, which was a relief to Hunter. He believed that the home should match the soul. Usually, where there was conflict in the two, there was often a person in the middle of an identity crisis. Hers was a sprawling, open loft with exposed brick walls, hanging designer lights, rich colors and culturally meaningful art. He stopped at a painting of Miles Davis and smiled.

“I definitely like the Miles,” he said, noting that the piece was an original.

Putting the flowers into a crystal vase, Stacey looked up a nodded. “My father was a saxophonist in Harlem. I grew up listening to Miles Davis and Coltrane. It’s in my blood.”

Hunter noticed the photos on the wall facing the street. Each was in a black frame, each a black and white photo of Harlem. Some were from the present, others from various decades. All were of musicians at various clubs or congregating together on various corners. He marveled at the paintings, feeling as though they all told a secret story about Stacey that he would never had known if he hadn’t bothered to look.

“So you grew up in Harlem?” he asked, turning to steal another glance of her.

Stacey walked to over him. “Yes. New York was my home for many years,” she said nostalgically. She looked up at the photos and smiled.

“Do you ever miss it?” Secretly, he inhaled a whiff of her cologne, while keeping his eyes on the wall. It was hard to do with her standing beside him. He wanted to turn and hold her in his arms.

“Sometimes,” she answered.

“So, why won’t you go back?”

She bit her lip. What was this, twenty questions? “I don’t travel,” she said, frowning. “I haven’t traveled since Drew died.”

Normally, her divulging that information would have made another person uncomfortable, but Hunter seemed to understand. He looked at his watch. “Well, should we get on with our date?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I
Googled
the area and found a great little Greek restaurant not far from here. It’s walking distance.”

“I’ve eaten at nearly every restaurant within a ten-mile radius,” she said, walking towards the door. “Is it
Mediterranean Nights
?”

He closed the door behind them. “Yes, do you like it?”

Stacey locked the door and looked up at him. “I love Mediterranean food. I know the owners there too - Mr. and Mrs. Santorini.”

“Okay. We’ll,
I don’t know them
, but if you say it’s nice, I’m sure that it is. Plus, that is an awesome last name. Santorini, Greece is home to one of the deadliest volcano eruptions in history.”

“Outside of being a drink hustler and a doctor, are you also a historian?” she asked amused.

Hunter laughed. “No, but I love Greek history, Greek culture, Greek everything.” His face lit up.

“But not Greek girls?” Stacey asked curiously. Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Oh, I never said that. It’s just that I’m not exclusive to any particular type of woman. I just want a good one.”

“I like that,” Stacey said, adding one more note about him to her mental rolodex. “Proud of who you are but not ethnocentric.”

Hunter chuckled.

“Are you sure that you don’t mind walking?” Stacey asked reluctantly. Her eyes told on her. She wanted him to be happy. “I would normally ride my bike, but I’m sure that with this dress on it would only be more uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind walking at all. I missed hitting the gym today. I could use a little cardio.”

“So you’re a
glass half full
kind of guy, huh?” she asked curiously. Their feet echoed as they walked through the lobby.

Hunter opened the door for her and watched her move pass him. “You’re saying this to a man who hasn’t been on a date since he wife died. I totally think it is half-empty.”

She laughed again. “You’ve got a point.”

Hunter was intrigued by how different Stacey was tonight – like she was open to the possibility of them. Yesterday, she was nearly impervious, but now, she was graceful and kind. It was as if he was getting a glimpse of a different person, maybe the person she used to be before her husband’s accident.

***

Mediterranean Nights was packed. All tables were full with the exception of one near the window facing the street, reserved just for them. Hunter had made sure to ask for that particular seating arrangement to pay homage to their date the day before.

After ordering an exceptional bottle of wine, the two sat at the candlelit table getting to know each other. However, Hunter quietly had to remind himself to focus not on the shape of her lips or the cut of her dress but on her words.

“I have to admit that this feels…strange,” Stacey said, putting her black napkin on her lap. “I don’t even know how to behave on a date.” Her chuckle further expressed her nervousness. “What about you?” She looked up into his green eyes. He seemed distant. “Are you alright?”

Hunter snapped out of his daze. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “I just…well…I guess that this is sort of weird for me too. I just…” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing that he was making a fool of himself. “Let me start over,” Hunter said, sipping his wine. “I go to the gym, go to the office, go shopping…do the boring stuff. But I don’t date. It’s too difficult still.”

“Yeah, me too.” Stacey smiled. “I guess my idea of a good night has changed since I’ve been alone.” She looked across the aisle at a couple, who leaned in to kiss each other.
Get a room
, she thought to herself as she turned back to Hunter.

“What is your idea of a good night?” he asked, interested to know what she truly liked.

“I don’t know. I spend so much time by myself until when I think of a relaxing evening it involves a hot dog on the pier and a beer. It’s not this.” She fidgeted with her napkin and tried to seem up beat.

Hunter chuckled under his breath. They were so in-tune with each other until it was almost scary. “My sentiments exactly. I mean, if I could choose the perfect date it would include jeans, relaxation and just being away from people. I see
people
all day. That’s all I do, in fact. It’s how I pay my bills.”

“So what are we doing here?” she asked in a whisper.

Hunter pushed his glass away from him and sat back in his seat. He looked around at all the couples, who seemed to be just fine in the restaurant, and realized that this was not where they should be. “Do you wanna leave…wanna go?” He motioned towards the door.

Stacey leaned into him with bright eyes. “Would it be rude?”

“Rude? No.” He shook his head. He watched her lips for a moment then he smiled. “This is our date, right? We can do want we want to do.”

“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Four

After a quick change of clothes into jeans that fit snuggly around her curved hips and a t-shirt that felt nice against her skin, Stacey hurried out into the night air with Hunter, who only took off his tie and rolled up the sleeves to his oxford.

They headed out on foot towards the pier with one thing in mind. A great late evening snack and cold beer on the Puget Sound. Walking close together down Alki Beach, food-in-hand, they enjoyed the quietness of their temporary existence together.

The wind beat against their bodies as they took in the smell of fresh, moist air and Spuds, the fish and chips diner across the way. Cars past by blasting music and couples walked past them as they slowly strolled.

However, Stacey didn’t mind their slowness. She enjoyed watching Hunter and talking to him. Maybe it was because she had been secluded for so long, or maybe it was because he was genuinely a good guy, but she was drawn to him like a moth to a fire.

Even if it was just temporary, Hunter illuminated her world with warmth.
Though he had no idea of the fact.
It was his calm and collective nature and his ability not to take himself too seriously that she admired. Far too many people took themselves too seriously, and it blocked them from their ability to appreciate life. She knew. She was one of them for many years.

Hunter shoved the last of his hotdog into his mouth and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Now, this is my idea of a date,” he said, nodding his head with a mouth full of food. “How about you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, looking up at him. “Simplicity.” She exhaled a breath.

“Absolute simplicity,” he answered, understanding exactly how she felt. He looked down into her brown eyes and felt lost again. “I don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?” she asked.

“Why you’re single? I mean,” he shrugged, “you’re beautiful and smart and successful.
Love Knocks
obviously rocks.”

“So you read up on me?” Stacey was honored though she had learned long ago to cloak all compliments with humility.

“Of course, I read up on you.” He cracked a smile. “You’ve done quite well for yourself. You’re the most sought after author out there- mostly because of your desire to stay away from the very people who keep you wealthy.”

“I wouldn’t call it wealthy,” she said in a huff. “I’m well off. I mean, I don’t worry about bills.” Stacey knew before she said the words that it was a lie. She was a millionaire several times over.

Normally even the discussion of money would have put her off. However, she knew Hunter had his own. So, it wasn’t such a big deal.

“Is that why you keep this up?” he asked, completely oblivious to her concern.

Stacey paused. “Keep what up?”

“The whole
not driving, not traveling outside of Seattle, not allowing certain interviews
thing?” He kicked a rock in their path.

Stacey rolled her eyes in defiance. This wasn’t the first time that she had been accused of such a thing. “No. It’s no charade, Hunter. I’m really fucked up.”

Hunter stopped walking.
Fucked up
was a bit harsh. Traumatized may have been a better explanation for her actions. He looked down at her and grabbed her small hand. There was the sincerest look in her eyes, as if what she was saying was the gospel in some sick, twisted way. Suddenly, he wanted to protect her, but how could he protect her from herself?

Stacey looked away from him. Having been alone so long, she had learned to accept what she had become. A hermit. A pessimist in some ways. A fragment. A fraction of what she used to be.