London Harmony: Doghouse (7 page)

I crinkled my nose and offered my hand, “Sorry, where are my manners?  My name is Eliza Montrose.  I just needed to ask Fran about a friend of hers, Scratch.  He has something of mine.”

She almost smirked when I said Scratch's name as she accepted my hand and shook.  I had a wild urge to kiss the back of her hand.  Not now Liza, get your libido under control, you need your passport.        She said, “Jennifer.  Scratch huh?”

I nodded and asked, “Will Fran be working tomorrow?  It is really important.”

She shook her head and grinned almost in a tease as she tapped the lettering on the door that read 'Meetings by appointment only', and said, “Sorry, it's the golden rule, that's why it is written in gold.”

I was about to explode into cartoonish sputtering of nonsense noises.  This was so frustrating and these women all seemed to be having fun tormenting me.  She came to my rescue.  “I suppose you could convince me to give her a message.”  I could see her fighting a smile.

I exhaled and grinned, “You Jennifer, are an evil woman.”  She tittered at that and I handed her my card.  “Could you please give this to her?  I would really appreciate it.”

She looked at my card, flipped it front to back then nodded once and slipped it into her purse.  “I will make sure she gets it, but no promises whether she calls you or not.”  Then she tilted her head in curiosity. “What is it that Scratch has of yours?”

I looked at her and blushed, I didn't want to tell her, but I have a weakness for a pretty face.  I mumbled, “My passport.”

She tilted her head back and laughed, it was musical.  Then she shook her head like it happened every day.  She teased, “You really shouldn't go giving your passport out to people, Eliza.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that insight Jen.  You're the second person today to tell me that.”  Then I added facetiously, “It has been a... pleasure.  Have a great evening.”

She sashayed off with a crooked grin on her face, calling back over her shoulder, “It was nice meeting you, Eliza.”

I called back to her, “Liza!”  She just raised a hand in the air without looking back and gave a royal wave of acknowledgment as she turned the corner.  I hate myself for the silly grin on my face.  I actually liked the woman even though she stonewalled me like that evil little, overly cute, pixie did.  Amy was so damn frustrating, but my mind kept circling back to her and the way her messy ponytail hung off center.

I squished my lips off to the side and exhaled heavily out my nose then walked back toward the bus stop.  This has been an interesting day for sure.

The next day, I got a call from Amy before noon, saying she had a message from Fran for me.  When I pressed her on what it was, she said, “Buy me lunch if you want the message.”

Grrr.  “Fine.”

She gave me directions to a little American style roadside diner, Cavendish's Cafe.  I don't have much, but I dressed in my best for some reason I could not fathom and headed out.  Before long I arrived at the little diner.  It was done up in nineteen fifties style.

I stepped in and Amy was waiting just inside the door.  I grinned at her as she looked off to my left and returned my grin.  I inclined my head and said, “Amarissa.”

She inclined her head in turn and said in a royal voice, “Eliza.”

Then I asked, “What is Fran's message?”

She shook her head and looped an arm in mine and dragged me forward into the diner.  “That's not the deal, lunch first woman.”  She was strong.  I don't think I could have stopped her if I tried, but to be completely honest, I wasn't trying very hard at all.

I muttered, “Okay, okay, you little pipsqueak.”  This got a giggle from her.

A waitress that walked up with menus.  “Two, Amy?”  She noted Amy's arm looped in mine and she went a little doe-eyed.  Oh dear lord, another romantic.

Amy nodded and chirped like a chipmunk, “Yes, please.”

The woman led us to a back booth where we could have some privacy, the lunch crowd was starting to fill the place, it must be popular.  I looked at the menu and was pleasantly surprised my butt didn't pucker at the prices.  Usually, these theme diners charge an arm and a leg, but these prices were acceptable.

I said over the menu, “You going to tell me?  Now that you are getting your extortion meal?”

She grinned over her menu and shook her head.  “Eat first, business later.”

Then she squinted at the menu and started digging in her purse and patting her pockets.  I grinned and tapped the top of my head.  She looked at me then felt the top of her head where her glasses were.  She gave a toothy grin, bit her tongue, and slid them down then started looking at the menu.  I had to restrain a laugh at her antics.

I have to admit, I had a blast with the woman.  She was so different than anyone I had ever met. So quirky yet intelligent, and frustrating as hell.  I wanted to scream at points and laugh at others.  I started looking at her differently.  I would never have gone out with someone as overbearing as her, but I could actually see the allure near the end of our meal.

I don't think she realized it, but she had this cute little quirk when she ate.  Each time she gathered food on her fork, she would tap it once on the edge of the plate before eating it.  I wondered if it was some sort of OCD thing or just a unique, quirky eccentricity of the evil pixie.

She waved her fork around and asked, “So, what brings a lone American girl to London?”  She scooped up some mashed potatoes and gravy, tapped her plate and took a bite.

I shrugged and spoke around the food I was inhaling.  “I'm finishing up a European walking tour, playing my bass as I go.”

This piqued her curiosity. “Ibanez?  Jackson?”

I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. “No, not electric... a string bass.  My doghouse and I have been all over Europe.”

She paused and her smile grew. “Jazz then!  Swing?”

I waffled my hand.  “Some, but mostly classic jazz, and my own rock and jazz fusion.”

I swear she almost hopped up and ran around the table.  She was buzzing with excitement.  She closed her eyes and swayed.  “Louie Armstrong, Duke Ellington.  The smooth bow of Paul Chambers.  Diggity bump.”

It was my turn to be impressed.  She knew her jazz, and to name one of the all time great bassists like Paul Chambers meant she knew her stuff.  He died young at thirty-three.  The man could make his bow sing on the strings, most jazz bassists keep away from the bow.  I use it from time to time but prefer plucking the strings.  I'm more of a hybrid since I can play symphony too.

She opened her eyes, focused to my left and grinned.  “I can forgive you for not wearing cowboy boots if you play for me sometime.”  She fluttered her eyelashes playfully.

What was her obsession with cowboys?  I inclined my head and said, “If I see you again before I head back to the States, then deal.”  Then I added, “You're an odd duck, you know that right?”

She actually said, “Quack.”  Then ate her last bite.

Then I asked because it was killing me.  “Why do you do that?”

She screwed up her face.  “Do what?  Quack?  You said I was an odd duck.  You just said it.  Like, a few seconds ago.  I know because I was there.  Sitting right here.  You were right there.”  She shot me a toothy grin.

Argh!  Half the time I was so frustrated by the woman, and the other half I was starting to find her very intriguing and entertaining.  I took a calming breath so I didn't dive over the table and strangle her.  Oh come off it, I was smiling back.  “No goose. Why do you tap your plate with each bite?”

Like a goose she said, “Honk..”  Then she looked at her fork. “You have some odd fascination with waterfowl Liza.” She hesitated a moment then looked up at me intently, I knew she was most likely locking eyes with me judging by the intensity of her stare. “Sorry, just a bloody old habit.”

I looked directly into her eyes. Then chided myself for thinking they were damn pretty, I can't possibly like someone as annoying and contrary as Amy, could I?  But damn, I'm only human and they were glittering.

I cocked my head slightly, engaging her to proceed.  She took a sip of coffee, not moving her gaze as she said, “Your eyes.  They're the same color as your hair, is that your natural hair color?  If so, it’s quite a coincidence.”

I blushed and she seemed to pull back off her tangent and back on topic.  She pursed her lips and said, “When I was just a tot, Mum's boyfriend, my bio-da had a mean streak, I don't know what mum had ever seen in him.  She swears he changed after she got pregnant with me.  He called me goofy eyes, and swore every day that mum had slept with someone else because 'the freak' wasn't his.”

She continued in a hard tone, “I couldn't focus well back then and didn't have my glasses yet...”  She seemed to panic a moment as she brought her hand up to her face to make sure her glasses were there.  It suddenly wasn't quite as humorous and endearing anymore, she seemed genuinely terrified of losing them.  “He would spank me whenever food would fall off my fork and make a mess on the counter.  He'd say because I was a slob, that mum had more work to do cleaning up after me.”

She gave me a defiant stare. “So mum taught me to tap my fork on the plate, then any loose food would fall off there and not when I went to eat it.”  Then she sat up straighter.  “Da left with some bint and mum brought me in to get my eyes checked.  Once I got my first pair of glasses, I could see what I was doing when I ate better.  But I never lost the habit of tap testing each bite.”

She shrugged and said, “Sorry.”

I shook my head and found my hand on hers. “No I thought it was an endearing quirk, but now that I understand it, I need to apologize for dredging up a sour memory for you.”

She shrugged.  “It's the past.”  She bit her lower lip and looked down at my hand.  Oh.  I pulled my hand away.  I had to double take the look.  The imp seemed more flushed than embarrassed.  Which side of the street did she roll on?  Grrr.  Why do I care?  Focus Liza!

Then she added, “Now you owe me two songs.”

I rolled my eyes at her cheesy grin.  “Done.”  Then I looked at her expectantly as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.  “So are you going to give me Fran's message now or what?”

She nodded and said, “No.”

Oh dear lord, please stop me from strangling the woman.  I asked incredulously, “No?  You aren't going to tell me?  We had a deal, a meal for the message.”

She shook her head. “You misunderstand you silly Yank.  Her message was just that... No.”

Before I could respond, the waitress came up to us with a slice of apple pie with two forks and said, “On the house for the lovebirds.”

I blinked at that and sputtered out, “We're not together.”

She looked between us, visibly deflated.  “Your body language was screaming something else dear.  I'm sorry.”

Then Amy asked with a crooked smile, “You think I'd be attracted to Liza here, Olive?”  Then she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tattered romance novel.  “Here's a new one for you.  It's dreamy.  Really a hot one.”

The woman virtually snatched the book from Amy's grasp with a childlike grin.  Great, they were trading sappy romances.  People really read that stuff?

She said, “Thank you, Amy.”  Then she regarded me.  “Yes, I could actually Aimes.  She's a bloody ten.”

My evil pixie squinted an eye at me and shook her head.  “I was thinking more a seven.  And she gets more deducted for not being a cowboy.  I mean, mmm, a man in cowboy boots, tipping his hat to you.  Callin' you ma'am.”  She shuddered in a far off fantasy.

I blurted against my own will, “Hey!  A seven?”

She nodded. “Weren't you listening?  With points taken off for not being a cowboy.  So a six.  That's a respectable number.  Slap some cowboy boots on you and you might hit an eight.  Ten if you play me three songs.”  She wiggled her eyebrows.

I mumbled, “You're trying to extort an entire concert from me?”

I realized that she was playing with me and my vanity, and I walked right into it.  I reached across the table and gave her shoulder a playful shove.  Oh damn it, now I wanted to impress her.  I asked Olive, “What about Amarissa here?   A six or seven?” I lied.  I was seeing her in a different light and she scored much higher on my scale.

Olive shook her head thoughtfully. “Again, your body language says eight or nine.  But she keeps me supplied with yummy book boyfriends, so Aimeroo here is a ten in my book.”

Amy shot me a “so there” look.

And I growled, I wasn't going to win.  But a six?  I gruffed out, “Gimme the damn pie.”

She chuckled and put it down.

I handed Amy a fork and muttered, “I'll show you a six.” And took the most seductive bite of the pie I could muster.

Amy blushed and swallowed visibly.  Olive started fanning herself and walking away saying, “Oh my.”  She opening the romance book and started reading as she trundled away.

I smiled victoriously then warmed up in all the best places when Amy bashfully matched my seductive bite.  Dear Lord.  That was a ten all right.

The people seated near us turned to watch our seduce-off as we tried to top each other.  This frustratingly annoying shrimp really had my motor purring.  I shook myself mentally and berated myself because I wanted to take my enemy right there on the table.  Did I find her sexy?  The heat in my core told me yes.  And her indifference to my attempts to beguile her, made her that much more interesting.  I know that I'm a little vain, I freely admit it, but I could normally wrap someone around my finger if I really pour on the charm.  She seemed immune for the most part.

I realized, as we finished the last of the pie that I had been sidelined again.  I tried to get us back on track.  “What so you mean her message is 'No'?  What does that mean?”

She shrugged cutely and pushed her glasses up on her nose.  “Dunno, she didn't explain.  You want me to ask her what it means?”

I exhaled in frustration. “Yes!”

She nodded. “Okay, for you.”

I actually blushed at that as Olive put the ticket on the table.  I absently grabbed it and pulled out my cash and left a generous tip.

Amy was chuckling.  I looked around a little embarrassed, why was she laughing?  “What?”

She crinkled her nose.  “Oh nothing, that was just the most action I've had all year after my last attempt at having a boyfriend dumped me.”  Then she added with a smile up to Olive who was clearing our plates away, “It was nice.”

I didn't understand the woman, but she took my arm again as we stood and said our goodbyes to Olive.  She looked like she was going to melt as she looked at us.  I'd lay dollars to donuts that she watched musicals every night as she read those silly romance books.

When we stepped outside, Amy looked down and said, “Oh, my lucky day.”

She released me and squatted down to pick up a coin.  I glanced at it, blanched  and laid my hand on her shoulder.  I blurted, “Don't!”  Causing her to pause just before she touched the coin.

I squatted beside her.  “Don't pick it up, it is face down.  That's bad luck.  Here.”  I turned the coin face up and stood us up, leaving it there.  I hooked her arm and dragged her down the walk.

She studied me a moment then said, “Bad luck?”

I nodded, it was common sense.  “Of course.  If you pick up a coin that is face down, you'll have bad luck all day, if it is face up, then you get good luck.  The next person to pick that coin up will get good luck then.”

She squinted, I think she was trying to determine if I was messing with her or not.  “That's just superstition you silly bird.  Why can't we pick it up now that you turned it over?”

I stared at her like she was insane.  “Ar you crazy?  You can't pick it up if you were there when it was flipped over.  That's bad juju.  Karma would slap you down in a second.  You'd get a double helping of bad luck.”