Mick loved to hear that. “Keep it that way,” he said. “And if your father ever wishes to meet the man you came to spend time with, just say the word and I will make myself available.”
Roz was pleased to hear that. “Thank you, Mick,” she said, heartfelt. He really was a good guy, she felt. Every time she was around him she felt nothing but positive energy. But why would a sweet guy like Deuce McCurry be so afraid of him? Which reminded her of something she read about Mick that bothered her royally. But in time, she thought, they would discuss it.
After placing their dinner orders, they settled down to elevator music in surround sound and the sound of very light, very polite chatter. Roz was used to Brooklyn eateries. She was used to noise and lots of it. But this was a welcomed change.
“Is this one of your favorite restaurants?” she asked him.
“I’ve only been here once. But I heard it was among the best in town. Since you deserve the best, I made a reservation. Excuse me.” Mick pulled out his buzzing cell phone and read a text message.
Roz watched him as he read. The idea that he would say she deserved the best was sweetness to her ears. Of course, he could be just saying that to have his way with her. But she agreed to come to Philadelphia. It seemed to her that alone meant he was already having his way with her. That was no longer an issue. And the fact that even his house manager acknowledged that he never allowed other females to stay inside his home, let alone in his bedroom, was another point in his favor. Although the trip started off rocky: she was a little pissed when he was too busy to meet her plane. But it was recovering nicely. It was now going the way she had hoped it would before she came.
“Sorry about that,” Mick said, putting his phone in his suit coat pocket without bothering to respond to the text. “Where were we?”
“We were speaking of reservations. Which reminds me. I reserved a hotel room.”
Mick frowned. “What the devil for? I made arrangements for you to stay with me.”
“But since you failed to share those arrangements with me, I had to cover my ass. Or head as it were.”
He smiled. “My error.” Then his look changed. “Cancel it,” he ordered.
Roz didn’t particularly like the fact that he made it sound like an order, but since she’d already canceled it, it wasn’t an issue. “I did,” she said.
Mick was relieved. “Good.”
And then their dinner orders arrived ahead of people who had been sitting far longer, and had ordered far sooner, than they had. Roz even heard a few of them point that fact out to the wait staff. But since she had nothing to do with that, she ate. They both were hungry and ate vigorously.
The Look of Love, a Burt Bacharach/Hal David tune, was heard as they ate. And Roz felt some kind of happy way. Because it was a song from her youth. It was the kind of music her father used to play in clubs and smoke-filled dives when she was a kid, and he’d sneak her in backstage. Her mother used to hate him for it, but he didn’t care. He did it anyway. Over and over. She loved him for that.
The look of love
Is in your eye
The look your smile can’t disguise.
Mick felt some kind of happy too as he ate and listened to the melodic sound. And Roz ate as vigorously as he was eating. Not as if she was some bird, the way his previous dates would handle it. She even belched, which made him laugh out loud.
Roz covered her mouth. She was mortified. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, heartfelt. “You’re a piece of work and I like it.”
Roz smiled too, her dimples on full display. “You aren’t exactly a masterpiece yourself, buddy,” she said, and they both laughed.
After dinner, after their plates had been taken away and their fellow diners’ plates were just arriving, they continued to chill and listen to the music. Mick especially seemed mellow. It seemed like the perfect time, Roz thought, to talk.
“So you had another long day,” she said.
He nodded. “Always.”
“I know right? It’s like every time you phone me it’s ‘hey. How you doing. Gotta go. Bye.’ Not that I’m complaining. I’m not.” Then she looked at him. “At least you phoned.”
Mick considered her. She was a woman who demanded respect. And when she didn’t get it, she felt it. He realized in that moment that she probably felt slighted. “I apologize for not meeting your plane,” he said.
She looked at him. “It was a bit of a shock, I have to be honest. You invite me to come, and I leave my own busy life and come to spend time with you, but you aren’t at the airport?”
“Were you pissed?”
She couldn’t lie to him. “A little,” she admitted.
He smiled. “Thank you for being honest. And yes, I had every intention of being there. But business, you know, keeps me jumping about.”
Roz laughed. “Jumping about, hun? Like a grasshopper. But I don’t know. Mick the Grasshopper just doesn’t have that ring, you hear what I’m saying?”
Mick laughed. “Good.”