Chapter 4 #2
Her energy and excitement help me forget Arthur.
I give her my full attention. “It’s the best I could do.
” I slowly spin in a circle. I’ve picked out a light-blue long-sleeved V-neck dress that ends just above my knees.
I’ve paired it with my favorite knee-high black boots and a black belt.
My hair is styled in a half-up, half-down look, my default.
It’s semi-casual, so I hope this will work for wherever our destination is for tonight.
“I love it.” Pulling out her mobile, she snaps a photo of me. Then Amanda’s gaze travels to Arthur. His stoic mask is firmly in place. She plasters a Cheshire cat grin on her face and waves. “Hi, I haven’t seen you before. I’m Amanda, Collins, or AC. Nice to meet ya.”
“Ma’am.” He nods.
“And I’m Clara.” My cousin’s wife, a petite woman with dark-brown hair, waves from inside the car. “Excuse me for not getting out.” She points to a walking boot on her foot. “My plantar fasciitis has flared again.”
“Your Grace.”
I let out a breath. He’s bordering on rude, making no effort to give his name. Bruce would never do that. Arthur can act how he likes with me, but not with my family. “This is Arthur. He’s my Bruce tonight.”
“Cool beans. We’re happy to have you with us. Our security guys are in the other car. They’ll be excited to have you join them,” Amanda says.
Arthur doesn’t reply. Frowning, he wordlessly makes his way to the lead vehicle.
“I’m sorry for him.”
“Don’t worry about it. He just needs to be broken in.” Amanda links her arm through mine. “More importantly, now that you’re here, Ali, let’s get this party started.” We slide into the car and shut the door.
“Clara, your poor foot,” I say sympathetically. Of all the rotten luck. As a ballerina, her feet are her livelihood. “How long are you going to be out for this time?”
“Don’t worry, it’s more precautionary than anything else. I can dance. I just need to cut back on my rehearsal time. The older I get, the more my body seems to break down.”
“I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.” I wonder if she’s hiding any other injuries.
Clara is as tough as they come. The week she met my cousin five years ago, she danced in a gala performance with a broken bone in her foot.
Any other person would’ve pulled out, but not her.
And secretly, I’m glad she didn’t, because that gutsy move is what eventually earned her a contract with the Westminster Ballet and brought her to London.
I can’t imagine her not being married to my cousin and in my life.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle. This isn’t any worse than a strained or pulled muscle. If it’ll make you feel any better, David’s been watching me like a mother hen. He’ll make sure I actually rest.”
We share a laugh. My cousin can definitely be a worrywart.
“Speaking of being protected, how are you getting along with your new protection team?” Clara asks. “Amanda mentioned on the way over that Bruce is retiring. It’s such a shame. I like him a lot.”
“Me too.” My heart still feels heavy when I think about it, but I’ve begun getting used to the idea of not having him around.
“The two newbies are a mixed bag. Arthur, you’ve met.
He’s professional to the point of being cold.
I don’t really have much to say about him.
Angela, on the other hand, is lovely. Just from our initial conversation, it seems like we have a lot in common.
She was so easy to talk to. I like her already. ”
“It sounds to me like Arthur is just doing his job. Give him some time to settle in. I’m sure he needs to adjust to the new situation too. It took a while for the lads on your cousin’s team to warm up to me,” Clara muses.
“That’s what Amanda said.”
“Great minds think alike.” She elbows Clara. “And shy or not, the new Bruce is handsome.”
“If you say so.” I can’t think of another decent thing to say about him. I pull a line out of Mr. Darcy’s book. “I guess he has nice eyes.” Not that I know what color they are. I haven’t looked that closely.
“Amanda, you shouldn’t encourage her. He’s the one guy who’s off-limits. You know the rules,” Clara says. “Protection officers aren’t allowed to date anyone they work for.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have zero interest in him. He’s not my type.” I wince at the thought of going on a date with someone like him.
Amanda twists her body to face me. “And what is your type?”
I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I don’t know. I mutter the first thought that pops into my head, “Um . . . somebody who likes horses?”
Taking out her phone she opens the note app. “Hold on.” Her nose wrinkles as she creates a list in the app. “Okay, what else?”
“Are we really doing this?”
“Come on, Ali, what else are you into? Beards? Tattoos? Piercings? Muscles? Eye color?”
“Er . . .” My palms grow sweaty and suddenly the car is too hot. I don’t know what type of guy I’m into. It’s never been a thing that’s high on my priority list.
Clara places a cool, calming hand on my elbow.
“Whatever you say stays between us girls. We promise none of it will leak out, especially to the boys. You can trust us.” She glances at Amanda, then back to me.
“Did you know that before I met David, I used to hang out at the bookshop near the Los Angeles Ballet Theatre during my breaks? I’d hoped to meet a guy there.
But I never did. They were always taken.
To me, there was nothing more attractive than a man who reads. ”
Luckily for Clara, she met the perfect partner. David, like Papa, adores reading military history books. If you were to give them the name of a major battle, the two of them could go on for hours on end discussing how one decision made by a general or colonel impacted the outcome of said event.
“What about you, A? We know you’ve always had a thing for Eddie, but before you were an engaged woman, what types of profiles attracted you on dating apps?” Clara asks.
“Mainly guys who were open to going to Disneyland with me.” She presses her lips together.
“You’d think it wouldn’t be asking much, but it was.
Nine times out of ten, I’d exhaust them running from ride to ride and they’d strand me two hours into the date.
It’s their loss. They missed one of the world’s best fireworks shows. ”
The embarrassment from a few moments ago flees the car. Clara and I giggle. These two are family. I can trust them. They’d never hurt me—unlike my former classmates. I take a deep breath. “What else are you attracted to? Tattoos?” I ask, needing a few more moments to compose myself.
“Yup, tattoos are cool by me. They just didn’t rank as highly on my list of top attributes. Eddie has three, you know.”
“Huh, I never knew that.”
“They’re in places that don’t show much.” She winks.
I cover my ears. “La la la. I don’t need to hear that. I’ll be scarred for life.”
“They’re on his shoulder blade, lower back, and his biceps.” She rolls her eyes. “Places the press won’t photograph. Anyway, quit stalling. What qualities or physical traits in a guy are important to you?”
That’s the million-pound question. My eyes flutter and my voice grows quiet. “Besides horses, and being someone I can trust . . . er, I guess if I were looking, I’d like to find a guy who is motivated to go after his goals.”
“Those are great, Ali! Keep them coming.”
Putting their heads together, Amanda and Clara help me create a shortlist. My confidence is beginning to grow. It turns out that I do have things to look for in a man.
Must Haves:
-Enjoys horses, traveling, reading
-Trustworthy
-Confident and self-motivated
-Emotionally mature
-Open to DIY projects and working with his hands
-Pet friendly
Deal Breakers:
-Looks down on women in STEM fields
-Complainer
-A man with a large ego who sees himself as the center of the universe
-Has a long beard
-Has facial tattoos
“This is perfect. Now you have a standard to help you determine if you’ll click with one of the guys tonight.” Amanda turns the screen off on her phone.
“You seem so hopeful I’ll be able to talk to more than one bloke.” I bite the inside of my lip. “What do you have planned?”
“You’ll see.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
The car comes to a stop. Glancing out the window, I realize we’ve arrived at a dock.
I see the murky water of the Thames lapping against the stern of a sixty-foot-long yacht.
The soft glow of a string of fairy lights casts a shimmering halo around a black-and-white polka-dot banner with a red heart at the entrance that reads “Club Babalou” in swirly letters.
The door opens, and Amanda, Clara, and I slide out.
I stand and stare in awe for several moments.
Goosebumps materialize on the back of my neck.
There’s a lingering scent of salt in the air and the sound of sea birds.
Couples are walking up a red carpet, dressed to impress in tuxes and vintage-inspired gowns.
A photographer stops them at the entrance and asks them to pose for photos using a vintage camera.
The theme song to I Love Lucy plays in the background.
“What is this place?” I whisper.
“Tonight, it’s Club Babalou, an I Love Lucy-themed dinner cruise.” Amanda opens her purse and slips on a pair of white kid gloves. “Other nights, it’s the yacht owned by the members’ club, Charlie’s.”
“Leave it to you, A, to find something like this at the last minute,” Clara jokes.
“Well, if we’re being honest, I did most of the planning for tonight.
” Amanda’s cheeks flush, but with the dim lighting, it looks more like she’s applied blush.
“This is their semi-annual fundraiser. Eddie had to cancel on me last minute to attend an event in Canterbury. I was going to stay home, but when you called and chose the mystery location, it seemed like we were meant to be here after all.”
I subconsciously glance down at my dress, tugging at the skirt. “I wish I’d picked out something more formal, like an evening gown.”
“Nope, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you what the plan was.
I wanted you to be the real you tonight.
Not the princess. Trust me when I say the people here won’t care about what you’re wearing.
They’ll care about you being able to move on the dance floor.
” Amanda links her arms through mine and Clara’s, and we walk up the ramp to the boat. “All right, ladies, let’s go.”
A photographer stops us. “Ladies, would you care for a photo?”
My gut reaction is to freeze, but Amanda pulls us in tighter to her. “You betcha!” she says.
The flashbulb goes off, and the photographer hands us a plastic card with a QR code. “You can download them after the event tonight. Have a swell time, ladies.”
I exhale. This is a private event. There isn’t a need to worry about any press being here. Or people at the dinner staring at me. My family has a long-standing relationship with Charlie’s. Most of the members have seen us before and or are family friends. I can get through tonight.