Act IV
By Micki L. Bailey
The next day at the loft found Roger sitting around nursing his hangover and Maggie sitting around nursing her blues. Not many words were exchanged between them, and by mid-afternoon, she couldn’t bear the unpleasant atmosphere any longer.
"I’m going in to work," she stood up and declared.
Slowly, almost painfully, he looked up at her. "Why? You’re not scheduled."
"And what would I be missing around here, Roger? I need………some air or something."
He looked away again. "Fine. Go on. Maybe I’ll see ya later."
"No more surprises tonight, if you don’t mind, Roger. Spare me, okay?"
He didn’t answer, and she walked away to the bedroom. In the shower, she cried a little – about Roger and about Nick. About her maniacally difficult role in this script. And about worlds colliding.
At the restaurant, a surprise of another kind was waiting for her. One that would actually make her smile this time.
A massive array of flowers in a huge brick pot adorned the end of the bar when she walked through the front door. All kinds of fragrant blooms spilled out of the arrangement – shades of blue and violet and white. Vibrantly beautiful and very aromatic.
Only a few of the staff were around since the place wasn’t opened to the public yet. "They came for you, Maggie," one of the servers called out to her.
Smiling, she walked over and picked up the card. "Sorry I stood you up. Emergency called. Hope these help. – Nick"
Her smile became a grin, and she clutched the card to her chest. Yes, you are redeemed that simply, she said to herself. But how long must I wait now to be near you again?
Her spirits were lifted again for the remainder of the evening. She’d come dressed to "play owner" again, but assisted in the kitchen when she was needed. Near closing time and with very few customers still in the dining room, she sneaked upstairs and got a glass of wine from the bar there and sat down at one of the cocktail tables in the lounge area.
Dinner was not served upstairs since it was too much of a hassle for the servers to get it up there from the far-away kitchen. So Maggie had made the area into a quiet lounge where the lights were low and soft music played. She sat there alone now and relaxed with her feet up in a chair. A peaceful humming, combined with the alcohol, put her mind and body at ease. She closed her eyes and listened to Better Than Ezra on the stereo.
Then she heard that raspy, hardened voice she was becoming very familiar with. "The chick at the door said I could find ya up here."
Although electrified all over, she moved only her head to look up at him. When he smiled faintly with one side of his mouth, all the chaos currently funneling around in her little world dissipated.
"Hey, Nick. Have a seat." It came out much more calmly than she was feeling.
She watched as he sat down. He wore a dark silk suit tonight with a black tie that fit rather loosely around his neck. His rough-looking hands protruded from the cuffs of the crisp, white shirt. More elegantly attired, although he no doubt hadn’t tried to look elegant. She couldn’t immediately detect any cologne, but her senses filled up nicely with everything else that was him.
"You okay?" His face became stern, more wrinkled. A waitress approached the table, and he ordered a bourbon.
"I’m just chilling out. Do I look like I’m not okay?"
"I heard what happened here last night."
Maggie sat up. "Christ! Does word travel fast or what?"
Nick smiled. "I got my sources……….Anyway, sorry I couldn’t make it. Something came up."
"Don’t worry ‘bout it, Nick. Emergencies happen……….and thanks for the gorgeous flowers. You didn’t havta do that."
"You like ‘em?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah? I thought you might be feeling a little……blue…….You know……since he—"
"Don’t, Nick. I don’t wanna talk about him tonight."
He turned up his drink. "No problem……Fahget about it. Say, you got any food in this joint?"
Maggie laughed for the first time in days. Then she motioned the waitress back over. "Allison, can you get Mr. Santucci a dinner menu? One with the specials on it, please."
"Allison…….My aim is true," Nick muttered as the girl dutifully walked away from the table.
"What?" Maggie asked, her face wrinkled in confusion. She’d been distracted, daydreaming.
He let out what was almost a chuckle, effortlessly holding her gaze. "Vintage Elvis Costello. Great tune."
She sighed and seemed to relax. "You’re always surprising me, Mr. Santucci."
"Oh, I got lots of…….interests, madam," he told her quietly. And she felt the need to avert her eyes from his. Fear of drowning.
When Allison left again after bringing the menu, Maggie turned to him. "The lasagna’s good tonight."
He caught and returned her sarcastic smile. "Then lasagna it will be."
Suddenly feeling hungry after not eating all day, Maggie ordered too and had the dinners delivered upstairs to the seclusion of the lounge. "Owner’s privilege," she whispered across the tiny table to Nick.
"How lucky for me to know the owner," he whispered back.
"I think of you more as a coincidence, Nick. I’m not sure what luck has to do with any of it."
"Then how lucky for me that ya think ‘bout me at all."
Yeah, I was feeling the same way ‘bout you, she thought as she watched him eat. Obviously, he loved the food. He ate everything that was presented to him. Exactly the way she loved her diners to relish their food. She grinned to herself.
After he finished, he sighed heavily and patted his stomach. "Damn good, Maggie. They weren’t lying ‘bout you and your skills."
"As good as back east?" she pushed.
"Hmmm……..To have a Southern Belle cook it in the northwest corner of the country……….Yeah, I gotta say it was as good as back east."
"What a compliment, Mr. Santucci. Would ya like some coffee or dessert?"
"No, thank you, ma’am." He held up his glass of bourbon. "My highest compliments to the chef………And now if I could only persuade her to dance with me."
Maggie stared across at him. "Are you serious? You wanna dance?"
"Something wrong with that? I hear music. Whatsa matter? You don’t dance?"
"Oh, I dance, mister. And I gotta admit……..I’d REALLY like to dance with you……….Maybe that’s ‘whatsa matter.’ It kinda scares me."
"Eh, I’m not that scary. C’mon. We got the whole damn floor." Nick stood up and held out his hand to her.
As if hypnotized, she stood up too and took it. That worn, oversized hand of his that she’d fantasized about swallowed hers and pulled her to him. Instantly, she was closer to him than she ever dreamed she’d be, enveloped in his essence. Careful not to hold her "inappropriately" tight, he slid both his arms around her waist; and her arms seemed to instinctively wrapped themselves over his broad shoulders and around his neck as their cheeks came together.
Maggie held her breath as they began to move together slowly to the faint music coming from nowhere. Feeling both of his warm hands on her back, she became pliant instantly and let him lead her wherever he wanted to go. Since she was almost as tall as he was, their cheeks brushed tenderly, and she felt tingling in her stomach at the touch of his smooth skin. Like in high school.
"You smell fantastic," he said in a scratchy whisper, and it sounded lyrical in her ears.
With probably far too much breath, she answered, "This is nice, Nick."
"I ain’t Baryshnikov, but I do my best."
She intentionally let her face graze his again. "Roger said you’d show up with a pretty stripper."
"Shows ya how much HE knows, right?" His tone, his accent, everything about him was so different for her.
"I’m just glad you show up at all." As soon as it was out in her soft voice, Maggie regretted saying it. But only for a second.
"Me too, baby."
Baby. How lovely it sounded coming from his mouth. How different.
Not bothering to stop herself, she wet her lips and lightly touched them to his neck. A gentle, sweet, tiny kiss. In a flash, she felt his hands move slightly on her back and then gasped when his own mouth swept across her soft neck. The warm moisture on her flesh ignited her, and she wasn’t sure her feet remained on the hardwood floor. Was the room spinning too? He slid his hands up the sides of her body to just below her breasts, halting there momentarily, and then returned them to her back.
Until the song ended, they glided slowly along with their cheeks pressed together, contentedly and silently, as if they’d always danced together this way. When they mutually pulled away from each other, Nick held her arms and gazed into her face. Yes, he’d seen and felt the sparks too.
Maggie wasn’t sure if he’d kiss her or not. She had determined to let him and even reciprocate if he did. But he didn’t. Instead, he continued to stare into her with those outstanding eyes and sucked in his bottom lip.
"Thank you, madam chef. I enjoyed the hell outta that."
In her head, Maggie was hearing the words to an old song from A Star Is Born: "Lost in the music and lost in your eyes…….I could spend all my time."
"What happens now, Nick?"
He smiled with one side of his mouth, and she felt school-girl jitters in her stomach. "It’s your call, baby."
"How long will you be around?"
"I got no plans. I’ll stick ‘round for a few days…………See what kinda trouble I can get into." He winked at her, and she felt weak and unsure of the situation.
"Well, maybe I’ll run into you again."
He chuckled. "Oh, I’ll be seeing YOU again, Maggie. You can count on that."
"I was counting on that, Nick."
"Good. You wanna go and get a drink somewhere? I mean if you feel uncomfortable here."
"God, I’d love to, but it’s getting late. And there’s a slim possibility that my roommate might be worried." She was beginning to feel sad. He was leaving. And what had been unspoken was now in the open, but now it was tearing at her from inside and out.
He understood. "You sure? It’s not that late."
"Not tonight, Nick. Okay?"
Still, he understood. "Okay. I hear ya……..So I’ll shove off."
Maggie walked him downstairs to the front door, her heart weighing four or five tons. He turned to her and smiled again.
"Thanks for a lovely evening." His raspy, soft voice was so very musical to her.
She swallowed down a huge lump in her throat. "I’m sorry it’s over."
"I’ll be in touch." With those words, he leaned over and barely kissed her cheek.
Two hot tears fell down her face as he left through the door, and she quickly wiped them away. Then she turned and walked back to the kitchen, wishing for unconsciousness.
* * *
Roger wasn’t home when she finally returned to the loft shortly after 1 a.m. But Maggie wasn’t surprised. Not that she had expected him to be out, but more like she simply hadn’t been thinking of him at all. Her thoughts had been elsewhere – in a dimly-lit upstairs room, with soft music playing in the background, feeling the touch of a different person.
She was undressing when Roger came in, and she couldn’t help but notice that he looked sensational. Black jeans; black T-shirt; black boots; and black leather jacket, of course. Only his eyes held any color, and they were mostly red.
"Hey, sweetheart. How’s your night?" Slightly slurred speech.
Maggie cringed when she realized that for the first time ever she couldn’t really tell him how her night had been. "Okay, I guess."
He misread her short answer and assumed she was angry. "I was just down at the Piranha Bar, Maggie."
With her current preoccupation, it hadn’t yet occurred to her to inquire where he’d been. But she understood now. "Lemme guess. Entertaining Shannon and her brother again?"
Languidly, Roger removed his jacket and threw it down on the bed. He groaned a little. "Yep. Just tossing back a few. She wanted to show him the city at night."
"Oh, and you’re the expert on Portland’s nightlife now, Roger?"
He rolled his eyes, as usual. "Now’s when you make a scene. Right, Maggie?"
"I’m not making a scene………Did you and Shannon find her brother somebody to round out the little double date?" She stared at him without smiling, carefully watching him unbutton his shirt.
"He met some girl, if that’s what you’re asking, Maggie."
"You know what I’m asking, Roger. But I don’t wanna fight with you tonight. I don’t really care. Okay?"
"Sweetheart, Shannon is—"
"I know. Just somebody to spend time with. And you’re spending a awful lotta time with her too, I might add…….But like I said, I’m over it. I’m not gonna worry ‘bout it anymore."
"There’s nothing to worry about, sweets."
"Not even the fact that the room smells like her perfume now that you’ve undressed?" She’d just noticed this olfactory phenomenon, but amazingly didn’t feel the urge to throw something at him.
He looked shocked, discovered. "Maggie—"
"Please, Roger. I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Okay? Maybe you danced with her or sat close to her all night……Or maybe you fucked her……..I don’t want to deal with it tonight."
"I didn’t fuck her, Maggie……..You’re the only woman I wanna fuck."
She got into bed. "Whatever you say, honey. Good-night."
As she tried to sink into the oblivion of sleep, the thing that stuck out most prominently in her head was this: Thank the heavens he didn’t call me "baby." That would have broken me down completely.
* * *
After tossing and turning all night and sleeping very little, Maggie stayed in bed most of the day Sunday. Warring sets of thoughts in her mind gave her no peace at all. First, there was the beautiful memory of dancing with Nick – the electric embrace and the sweet, tender brushes of lips on skin. Then, there was the strong aroma from another woman on Roger’s clothes and his increasing time spent in this woman’s company.
How did things get to this? Who wrote this damn script? Who/what was responsible for all this mess? And was it spiraling out of control? Was she having lustful thoughts about Nick because she believed Roger was having them about Shannon? Was Nick just a survival mechanism for her? A means of coping? How was this whole thing going to end?
Roger entered the room and attempted to talk to her once that afternoon while she was still lying in bed. She knew that he’d showered and washed the clothes he’d worn the night before. He sat down on his side of the bed and looked at her.
"You feeling all right?"
"I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well…….kinda tired."
"Me too……didn’t sleep at all……….Maggie, I’m not screwing Shannon."
She felt all of her nerves bristle. Why was he always so blunt? "But maybe screwing her wouldn’t be the worse thing you could do to her, Roger. Don’t you understand that?"
He bowed his head, and she suddenly wanted to touch him. "And I don’t care ‘bout her the way I care ‘bout you, baby………Not even close."
She shuddered, but he missed it. "You care about her, though. Right?"
Roger looked up slowly with eyes that had captured her soul a thousand times. "I love you, Maggie."
She felt hot tears in her eyes again, but fought them this time. "Answer the question, Roger."
"Shannon’s just a diversion……..someone who’s not you……..Yeah, I’m fond of her………but it doesn’t come close to you." He spoke softly.
Somehow, she was winning the battle with the tears. "Well, I’ll try to be a big girl and let you have friends." She tried to smile at him. "As long as you play nice. Okay?"
He slid over and scooped her up in a tight hug then. They didn’t speak, just held each other as if it had been years since they’d done so. Maggie shut her eyes to keep the wetness in. Then Roger kissed her mouth and left.
When he was safely in the den, she cried and cried, unleashing all the looming, torrential sadness inside her.
* * *