Page 59 of Floored (Frenched 3)
Charlie did well with the rules at first, but after a while he started to lean over and whisper at particular moments. When the Prince appeared, he said, “Where can I get a pair of tight pants like that? I think they’d look good on me.”
When the female dancer performing the Arabian Coffee dance exhibited her supple back and gorgeous extension, he said, “So are you that flexible? Because that move could be useful.”
During the Waltz of the Flowers, he said, “Don’t they feed girls in Russia? Why are they all so skinny?”
But he never once yawned, took out his phone, or asked how much longer, and when my favorite piece of music came on and I sat up taller in my seat, Charlie glanced over at me and took my hand.
“So?” I asked as he followed me up the aisle after the curtain call. “Was it torture?”
“Not at all. Thank you for taking me. Actually, it was very entertaining.”
“I’m so glad. Because Swan Lake is coming this spring, you know.”
He put his hand on my hip and squeezed. “I can hardly wait. I hope you’re just as excited by the Wings game we’re going to next week.”
I giggled. “Ballet and hockey. Our non-dates are so eclectic.”
“They are indeed. So what do you think? Want to grab a drink?”
We entered the soaring, ornate lobby where the crowd milled more slowly. “Sure. I have an idea. Have you ever been to Cliff Bell’s? It’s right nearby here, and—”
“Hold on one sec. Is that girl lost?” Charlie was looking over my shoulder, and when I turned I saw a little girl, maybe five or six, looking tearful and worried over by the wall.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can go ask.”
But Charlie was already moving toward her. When he reached her side, he bent down to speak at her eye level. “Hi there. My name is Charlie, and I’m a police officer. Are you lost?”
She nodded, perhaps too frightened to speak.
I leaned over Charlie’s shoulder and noticed her meticulously formed bun and the little ballerina charm necklace she wore. “I bet you take ballet.” She nodded again, her huge blue eyes shiny. “Are you here with your mom?”
She shook her head. “My dad.” Her voice was as tiny as the hands she’d curled into a ball at her tummy. “I had to go to the bathroom and he said he’d wait by the wall, but I can’t find him.”
“Which wall, honey? This one?” Charlie gestured behind her.
“No, the one by the bathroom. But he wasn’t there, so I went looking. Then I got lost.” A fresh wave of tears spilled over.
“Hmmm.” Charlie stood up. “What does he look like? Sometimes dads get confused. Let’
s see if we can find him closer to where the bathroom is.”
I reached for her hand, and she gave it to me, and to my surprise, she reached for Charlie’s too. He took it, and the sight of that little hand in his big one squeezed my heart. “I think Charlie is right,” I said. “I bet he meant the wall over there where the ladies room is. You’re a big girl, using the ladies room all by yourself.”
We led her across the lobby and as soon as we got close to the opposite side, a voice rang out. “Ruby!”
“Daddy!” The little girl dropped our hands and took off running.
A harried-looking man in maybe his early forties rushed over and scooped her up. “Oh my God, there you are.” She clung to his neck, her small feet dangling. Over her shoulder, he said, “Thank you so much. She went into the bathroom and I realized she didn’t have her coat. I ran back to the seats to grab it and she must have come out before I got back.” He set her down and held up a little pink dress coat. “Here, honey.” Ruby slipped her arms into the sleeves.
“No problem. It’s crowded here tonight.” I smiled at the relieved dad. “Good thing Charlie noticed her over there.”
He straightened and offered his hand to Charlie, who shook it firmly. “Thank you so much. This single dad stuff is new to me. I’m still learning.”
“No problem. Glad to help.”
“Do you have kids?” The guy looked from me to Charlie.
“No, no. We’re just friends,” Charlie said quickly.
