Chapter Thirty-Nine
thirty-nine
Ridley
■ 26-JAN ■ Trans-Continental Airways ■ Flight: 6491 ■
LHR-London, Heathrow ? JFK-John F. Kennedy Int’l Airport
Seat Assignment: 5A
Since Christmas, Ridley had found the time he could scrounge together to spend with Lanie to be in short supply. So, he was thrilled when the opportunity to spend a weekend with her in January surfaced. He’d been forced to push his flight home to London back to conduct an on-site interview with a rather elusive candidate for their newly vacated co-PI position in New York. But the delay also gave him the free time he’d yearned for. So, he moved his reservation an additional two days to make sure that happened.
And though when she’d asked him to meet her, he’d had something else in mind entirely—like a lazy afternoon spent in bed—a trip to the New York Botanical Gardens was acceptable too. Still, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little surprised later on to be walking around her neighborhood in the South Bronx.
“I don’t think your cousin appreciates how lucky she is to have you,” Ridley said, knowing it was true but also wishing Lanie would acknowledge how far above and beyond she was going. Every story involving her cousin made the woman sound more and more demanding and ridiculous and Lanie more biddable. “Five months of this is superhuman.”
“Whatever.” Lanie sighed.
“No, really. Your dedication to her happiness has been commendable.”
She snorted. “No more than you always coming back and forth.”
“I really don’t have any choice,” he said in the same exasperated tone he used with Bea at her most obstreperous about this.
“Not to be a jerk but you could’ve hired someone.”
“I did hire someone. And yet here we are.” Ridley still occasionally wanted to throttle Dash for recommending an old school chum who had clearly padded his résumé, to Ridley’s unending chagrin and regret.
“And how lucky we are!” Lanie said, cheerily.
“Oscar Wilde said, ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.’” Ridley’s droll delivery made Lanie laugh.
“Everyone butchers that quote. It goes, ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit... but the highest form of intelligence .’ And FYI, I wasn’t being sarcastic. We would never have met without it. Plus, you and me, we love traveling, and we get to travel to two of the best cities in the world. We’re lucky.”
She was right, but thinking of Bea he couldn’t help grousing, “You did hear the part where I’m traveling back and forth doing the work of someone I hired to do it for me?”
Lanie flinched visibly. “That was insensitive of me.”
“A bit,” Ridley said with a sharper edge than he intended. The back-and-forth was starting to get to him. Doesn’t she feel fatigued with this too?
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. If I’m honest, your enthusiasm can be infectious, and sometimes I think it’s the only thing that keeps me going,” he admitted, taking her by the arm, pulling her closer. “And,” he whispered into the side of her face, “and if I didn’t have a teenager waiting for me at home, I’d agree with you.”
The small frown that had begun to furrow her brow eased. “I truly believe the reason you don’t like NYC is because you haven’t seen the best parts. I guarantee if you saw more of the whole city, you wouldn’t feel this way.”
Ridley stared at her knowing he’d already identified the best part of it for him. “I never actually said I didn’t like New York. It’s just not London. It’s not home.” Which is where I need to be , he thought but did not say. Although from Lanie’s crestfallen face, he surmised she’d heard it anyway.
“Look at that!” Lanie pointedly changed the subject.
Ridley turned, following her finger across the wide boulevard then, to an old theater sitting like a stately relic on a busy thoroughfare, dwarfing the businesses to either side: a furniture store and a place that sold something called “cuchifritos.” Which, whatever they are, smell delicious.
Ridley couldn’t tell if the building was in use or not. There was a new banner advertising an upcoming event hanging across the exterior but the rest of it recalled a bygone era. Ridley was admittedly amazed by the magnificent old-school movie theater vibe, with its Italian baroque style: terra-cotta fa?ade, washed pale with age, and stone curlicues framing the blue, red and yellow neon sunrise on the marquee.
“C’mon, then.” Lanie gave him a peck on the cheek then pulled him across the wide street at the crosswalk for a closer look.
He checked his watch. “Weren’t we trying to catch the Metro-North?”
“Relax,” she said as she moved to the box office. “There’ll be another train. And it’s only one stop anyway.”
“Okay, then I’m with you, I guess.”
Ridley was from a not particularly nice part of Worcester. He’d seen his fair share of mistreated, dilapidated and forgotten buildings past their prime. He wasn’t that interested in seeing another one in a different city. No matter how infectious he continually found Lanie’s enthusiasm.
“Look, you have to see more of New York if you want to know your way around. And as a Black woman and native, it would be wrong of me to let you to do the ‘tourist’ thing of thinking New York City is merely Manhattan island.” She leaned forward at the ticket box and gave the disinterested woman inside an ingratiating smile. “My friend is from England. Could I just show him the lobby real quick?”
She turned to him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a chin nod. Catching her drift and assuming it was his cue, he gave the woman his most affected cockney accent. “I am and blimey! Would you ’ave a look at this place!”
Lanie stifled a snort before resuming her plaintive look at the box office clerk.
The woman sighed. “Sure, honey. We have a concert tonight so the last door on the left is open.”
“Thanks.” Lanie grinned, taking Ridley’s hand again. She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed with palpable excitement.
“When I was a kid, they retrofitted this to be a four-screen movie theater. After my dad left and my grandma moved back to England, it was just me and my mom. Sometimes it was scary. Like, just her and I against the whole world. Back then, we spent so many hours here. So many of my happiest memories are from here. Then they just abandoned it for the longest time. Recently, they restored the original single-screen setup but it’s also a performance space now.”
Ridley followed her through a low ornate entryway into a foyer that opened up to massive arched vaulted ceilings with heavily gilded baroque murals and elaborate cornices leading to Corinthian columns. Ridley felt like he’d left The Bronx and the New World completely behind for a European movie palace.
“Wow,” he said, looking around agape.
“I know, right?” Lanie was similarly awestruck, as if it was her first time too. “Only architecture buffs and Bronx residents even remember this is still here.”
The lobby was almost gaudy in its excess. Impressive gilded chandeliers hung above a dark, round wood-paneled concession stand and ornate balustrades on a plush red velveteen-lined grand staircase. Peeking their heads inside the theater space, it too had walls awash with columns, scrolls, urns and caryatids standing tall along the stage.
“There are only five of these left. They were called Loew’s Five Wonders. Technically, only four of them are in the city, one’s in Jersey.” Her lips curled upward. “This one is the Paradise.”
“Very apropos.” Ridley lifted an eye to the ceilings again. “I really think you missed your calling on the tourist board. ’Cuz wandering around The Bronx was not on my bingo card for today.”
“Oh really? So, what was?”
Ridley gazed at her adoringly before pulling her into his arms. In the empty theater, he tried to keep the kiss he gave her PG but it quickly became a hard R.
“I’m gonna walk you around until you love it,” she said when they came up for air.
I already do.