Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack

3

Destiny

Barry clears my glass and napkin, setting down a clean napkin and freshly made s’mores martini.

“Okay,” Nicco says. “I will convince you.” Again, he’s expressionless. And again, it’s maddening. He turns my stool to face him. “You’re cold.”

I’m always cold. I rarely admit it because I’m usually the only one in the room who’s cold and I don’t like to complain about it. “No, I’m okay.”

Curling his index finger under my chin and lifting it, he locks his eyes on mine. “You’re cold,” he punctuates.

Instantly, I know my extremely sensitive nipples are greeting him through the silken white fabric, and adrenaline runs through me, making my nipples even harder. Where I would’ve expected some sleezy, flirtatious, sexual reference from him, instead I’m met with discreet and respectful candor as he stands up, takes off his suit jacket, and drapes it over my shoulders.

“Thank you.” I tug the lapels closer together across my chest as warmth flushes into my cheeks.

“This is your favorite drink?” he asks, sitting back down on his stool then pointing at the martini.

“Yes. I don’t drink often, but when I do, I like something sweet. I have a huge sweet-tooth.” I reach for my martini to take a drink and, in full Destiny-klutzery, I manage to graze the rim with the side of my hand, smearing chocolate syrup and graham cracker crumbs from below my pinky down to my wrist. Thank God I didn’t knock the whole thing over. That would’ve been a classic move and thoroughly embarrassing.

Holding onto his jacket so it doesn’t fall off my shoulders, I reach across the bar for a napkin to wipe off my hand. Nicco stops me mid-reach, takes my wrist in his hand and wraps his fingers firmly, yet gently, around it. He grabs a napkin, looking back at me with his smoldering eyes.

Lifting my wrist, he slowly wipes the chocolate syrup off the meat of my hand then moves down to my wrist. The seductive way he drags out the movement sends heat burning up my chest, through my neck, and scorching my face. The rooms spins and blurs around us. My increasing pulse thumps in my ears as he inspects his work.

“Tell me,” he says, releasing my wrist. “What is your soul mate like? I don’t see a ring on your finger. Maybe you haven’t found him yet? Or he hasn’t found you?”

“No, not yet. But I will.” I pause. “Someday.”

“Tell me about him. I want to know.”

Triggered by him, I lash out. “Well, he has a stable job, not uncertain jobs like you and I have. He’s loyal, and by that I mean he doesn’t sleep around. He definitely doesn’t smoke or have tattoos.” With my filters betraying me, it comes out more snide than I’d intended.

Nicco looks down into his drink, then lifts his gaze forward and chuckles. Ceasing his laugh, he turns his expressionless face towards me and follows with his body. With a devious smile, he leans forward, closing the gap between us before I can continue with my description. “So, someone the opposite of me.”

“Yes.” My throat thickens. “The exact opposite of you.”

He chuckles again and nods.

“Well, what about you? Have you found your soul mate?”

“No. I don’t believe in such things. Besides, I’m finally building the career I want. I wouldn’t have time for that even if I did. You can’t have everything.” Instead of the sips he’d been taking, he tosses a gulp of whiskey down his throat.

“You can if you want it. You have to want it. You can’t expect to find your soul mate when you sleep around with all kinds of different women. With your physical appearance, you’re going to be swarmed by beautiful women forever. Do you plan to just have meaningless sex for the rest of your life?” Filters, FILTERS.

“What do you know about my love life?”

I cock my head to the side. “I told you, Nicco, you have a reputation.”

“And I told you, you can’t always believe what you hear.” He pauses. “So, you like the way I look?” He stares straight into my eyes. I’m not sure he knows.

“Women across the world are hot for you. You don’t need me to validate that for you.”

“Then you don’t like the way I look?” Now I can’t tell if he’s messing with me or if I seriously hurt his feelings.

“No. That’s not what I said. You…you’re twisting my words around. I didn’t say that.”

“Maybe you like pretty-boys. Like Brad Pitt. Is he your type?” He air-quotes, ‘type.’

I bat down his hands. “No, I don’t have a type.”

“So, when you make up the hero for your next book, what’s he like in your fantasy?”

I draw back my head, shaking it. “I’m not telling you that.”

“I already know you fantasize. I’m sure you have a vibrant imagination.” He pauses, studying my eyes. “So tell me, what’s he like?”

I break his gaze and spin my stool away from him and toward the bar, clearing my throat. “He’s…” I hesitate. How did I get myself into this conversation? Thank goodness for those drinks or I’d be shaking from nerves right now. Will he put two and two together? “Taller than me with dark hair and brown eyes. Broad shoulders.” Envisioning the man I’m describing, I let my eyes drift upward. Will he know who it is? “He’s muscular yet gentle. Confident, passionate, and knows how to please a woman. He appreciates and revels in the anticipation and sensuality of foreplay.”

“So.” His voice breaks my reverie, bringing me back. “Someone like me.”

I turn my face toward him. His gaze freezes me. “No,” I say firmly. “He desires me.”

He spins my stool to face him and drags it toward him with my legs between his, locking his eyes on mine. “Someone exactly like me.”

A blaze of heat lights up my body and I suck in a breath. Yes, it’s him. I’ve just described him to him and now he knows I fantasize about him. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Nothing.

“Are you two going to sit here and talk all night?” Giovanna’s voice extinguishes the flames combusting between us.

I’d been holding my breath and finally exhale.

“Maybe we will,” Nicco says with an edge.

“Nicco, come dance with me,” she whines, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m not in the mood for dancing, Gigi.” He looks at me. “Please excuse me.” Pushing his stool back from mine, he goes to the in-suite restroom.

Bouncing up and down to the beat of the music, Giovanna orders another drink and doesn’t say a word to me. Barry whips up her drink and she goes back to join the others who are still huddled together and dancing.

I’ve got to get my head on straight so I ask Barry for a glass of water which he promptly gets for me.

Nicco comes back from the restroom, sits on his stool, and sips his whiskey. “Where do you get your inspiration from? Also other books and movies? Sitting in a park?”

I nod. “Those, sometimes. For me, I often get visions that come to me. I don’t really sit down and make up what I want to write and then write. A vision pops into my head and I have to write the story of the vision. Usually I get them after I watch a movie. I know, it sounds strange. We writers have crazy things that go on inside our heads.” I chuckle at my admission.

“No, not strange. Sometimes that’s how my songs come to me. So, what are you writing now? What’s the story?”

I pull my lips into a grimace. “Well, I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately.”

“Ah. I can’t stand when my brain is stuck like that. What do you do when that happens?”

“I used to take walks on the beach and that usually helps. But it hasn’t lately.”

“No?’

“No. But I did start writing something tonight while you guys were shooting.”

“Really? That’s good. Can I see it?”

“No.” The word flies out of my mouth. “I mean, it’s really very, very rough.” No, no, no. I’m not letting him get his hands on these pages. Talk about complete mortification. I’d die if he read them. My fantasies about him splayed out on paper. Oh no. Not happening.

Okay, it’s time to break the seal. Although I know that I’ll have to pee every ten minutes after the first one, I just can’t hold it. The door to the in-suite restroom is closed and I can see light shining from underneath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” I stand up, remove his jacket from my shoulders and lay it over the back of the bar stool.

“Yes, of course. I’ll have a cigarette. Meet you back here?”

“Oh, um, feel free to mingle. Maybe you can find tonight’s conquest.” I wink at him. Hah! Look at me, winking at Niccolo Mancini. Who am I?

“Or not. Remember, I’m on a mission to convince you I’m someone other than what my reputation has you believing about me.” He winks back at me.

“Ah, right.” I waggle my finger at him and head to Candi.

“Hey, I need to pee and I think Giovanna’s in this bathroom so I’m going to scoot downstairs. Can you keep an eye on my purse for me?”

“Sure you don’t want to wait?”

I shake my head and give her the universal sign of “I can’t hold it” by squeezing my legs together and bouncing. She laughs and I scurry to the elevator.

When it opens on the lower level, I’m met with a sea of dancing bodies and maneuver through them as quickly as I can. As I’m about to pass a group of men, I swear one of them purposefully steps into my path and I bump into him.

“Well, hey there,” he slurs.

“Oh excuse me. I’m so sorry.” I tuck my head down and continue on to the restroom.