Page 15 of For Your Eyes Only
“I’m dancing at the Rhino, but I don’t take off my clothes. I just sort-of, almost take them off, one by one, and at the end, I turn my back… if that makes sense.”
His eyebrows rise, and a sly grin curls his lips. “I bet you're killing it. I’ve seen you dance.”
Nodding, I lift my coffee. “I’m doing okay.”
“And you’re paying for our meal with cash? Can I order another Bloody Mary?”
“If you want one.” I’m distracted, and he crosses his arms.
“Shit, Gia.” He shakes his head, and sitting here across from him, knowing our past, I’m not sure how to take his response.
“Are you judging me?”
“No!” He holds up both hands. “No way. You’re beautiful, and you have sex appeal in spades. Just look at those tits.”
I immediately cross my arms over my chest, embarrassment rushing to my face again.
“Remember, no more apologies.” He gives me a wink. “You’re not doing anything wrong. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Don’t be embarrassed of your success.”
I glance side to side, moving closer to the table and whispering. “We canneverlet this get back to anyone in Santa Croce.”
His dark head wobbles side to side like I’m being an old nag, but I move a little closer when I catch a glimpse of foundation at the corner of his jawline. Reaching across, I slide my finger over his neck.
“Are you wearing makeup?” I’m not surprised—when we were in productions, we had to wear stage makeup all the time, but if he got a job without me… “Are you performing?”
His chin jerks back, and he almost seems embarrassed. “What are you talking about?”
“What is this?” I hold up my finger. “What are you hiding from me?”
Inhaling slowly, he releases my hand and puts his elbows on the table. “I suppose it’s time to confess my truth.”
“You havemoretruth to confess?” I can’t imagine what else he’s hiding.
“I have a new job.” Jealousy tightens my throat, and I want to cry. How can he get a legitimate job when I can’t? “Meet Dickie Normous. I’m at the Palm Club every Thursday at nine. You should check out my show.”
“Dickie Normous?”
“Say it again.” His eyes twinkle, and I comply.
“I’m not getting it.”
“Good lord, Gia, did you actually grow up in a convent? It’s wordplay, a double entendre. Dickenormous.”
It clicks, and a laugh hits me so hard, I cover my mouth. Then I pinch my nose when I snort. “Why is that your stage name?”
“Everyone has a cheeky stage name in drag. It’s part of my persona.”
My eyes are saucers, and I lean forward again, whispering. “You’re doing drag? Who do you impersonate?”
The waiter appears with our food, putting a platter of Oysters Rockefeller in front of me and a large plate of fried calamari with crispy potatoes and olives in front of him. I make him split the shrimp ceviche with me. It’s too delicious.
Michele orders another Bloody Mary, and when the waiter leaves, I dive into the steaming shellfish grilled to perfection with parmesan cream and breadcrumbs.
Sliding the oyster into my mouth, I groan loudly. “It’s so good!”
“Don’t look now, but you’re giving the old men boners.”
I almost choke and kick him under the table. “Shut up!”