I opened the vault for the deposit and then locked it back up. I was overdue for rounds of all the areas of the club, so that was up next.
I was about to head back to the kitchen when I saw Rosie. He was standing off to the side of the main floor, just watching.
“What’s goin’ on in here tonight, Rosie?” I asked, standing against the wall next to him.
“Pretty quiet, boss.”
I nodded. Rosie was often a man of few words. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.
“So, uh . . .” I cleared my throat and considered how to approach my question. “I’ve got a customer asking about a good spot to take a woman on a date, and you know I don’t know shit about that stuff. What should I tell him?”
Rosie pressed his lips together as he thought about it. “That steakhouse on the Upper West side’s supposed to be good. It’s on 70th, I think. Or I know of some good French places.”
I scowled. “I don’t think this guy’s into French food. And the steakhouse . . . he could wear regular clothes there, right?”
“If he’s goin’ on a date, dude needs to at least wear a shirt with a collar and nice pants.”
“It’s so damn hard to find dress shirts that fit,” I said, groaning. “He’s big, like us.”
“Tell him to have some made. I know a real good tailor.”
I grunted my agreement. “And what about after dinner? Is that it? Does he take her home after that?”
“If she’s a ho.”
My eyes widened in horror. “No. No, she’s not a ho.”
“Then he should take her out dancing or for a carriage ride or for a walk. Maybe to a movie.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks, man.”
My gaze was drawn to the stairway, where Viv and her friend were walking down arm in arm. Viv turned to the blond with a wide, dazzling smile and my pulse sped up. I felt a sudden, burning desire for her to smile that way at me, which probably made me an epic *.
I had shit to do to get ready for this date, and I wanted to get everything right. I had to go to the tailor for a shirt, get my short beard trimmed up by a barber and make a reservation at the steakhouse Rosie had recommended.
Viv’s gaze washed over the crowd as she neared the door. Was she looking for me? I hoped like hell she was. She’d soon realize she was way out of my league, but until then, I’d soak up the feeling of a woman like her looking at me like I was something besides a thug. Like I was better than I really was. It felt damned good.
I was sitting down to eat dinner in my office Tuesday night when I figured I’d get my phone call to Viv out of the way so I could stop worrying do damn much about it. I’d turned into a pimply kid with a crush, but thank fuck no one but me knew it.
“Hello?” she said, her tone all-business.
“Viv. Hey, it’s Kane.”
“Hi,” she said, her voice warm and silky now. “How are you?”
“Not bad. How bout you?”
She sighed lightly. “I’m good. Just got home from the gym. I’m making ramen noodles.”
“Ramen noodles?” I wrinkled my face in disgust. “That shit’s not even edible.”
“Old habits die hard,” she said, a smile in her tone. “I was so broke through college and law school that I actually started to like this stuff.”
“Well, I’m planning something better for this weekend. Is Friday night good for you?”
“Perfect. Should I meet you somewhere?”
“No, I’ll pick you up . . . if that’s okay.”
I’d realized halfway through my sentence that she might not want me to know where she lived.
“That’d be great,” she said. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Okay. Dinner reservation’s at seven, so pick you up at six-thirty?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before she spoke. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy, you know. I’m good with pizza or burgers if you’d rather.”
Aggravation flared inside me. Did she assume I only liked to eat at dives that matched my rough appearance?
“I already booked us at Emerson’s,” I said gruffly.