Christopher Smith - Fifth Avenue

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I hate your father. He’s fortunate enough to have had two beautiful daughters and stupid enough to have treated only one of them fairly. My father used to treat me the same way your father treats you. My brother was the star-not me. When Harold came last night and told me your story, I decided I wanted to help.”

“If you want to help me so badly, then why did you put me through that?”

“Because I needed to see if you had it in you to stand up to me-which you did.” He looked toward the picture of a woman that rested on his desk. “If I didn’t think you had guts, Leana, I could never offer you the position I’m about to offer you.”

“And what position is that?”

“The new hotel I’m building?” Louis said. “I want you to run it for me.”

Like the waiters who worked there, the restaurant on 56th Street was chic, charming and Italian. When Leana arrived, she checked her watch, saw that she was a few minutes early for her dinner date with Mario and went to the crowded oak bar that was to the right of the lobby.

The buzz of conversation was noticeably louder there and it surrounded her. Leana sat on a wooden stool, ordered a glass of white wine and amused herself by watching the people. She was feeling very, very giddy. I just agreed to run the largest hotel in Manhattan-and I know zip about the hotel business. So, I’m crazy. And so what if I am?

The restaurant was filled with couples. Leana turned and saw people of all ages talking and laughing and smiling. At one of the corner tables, she noticed a young woman speaking to an older man. They resembled each other. The woman was talking quickly and her features were animated.

Leana wondered if they were father and daughter. She wondered what news the woman was sharing and couldn’t help feeling a stab of envy. Although she knew her father loathed Louis Ryan, Leana decided there was nothing more in the world she would like right now than to share with her father her own exciting news.

She looked away from the couple, knowing that day wouldn’t come. While her sister shared a life with her father, Leana had shared only his house.

It was getting late. Mario usually was punctual. She wondered where he was. She had just ordered her second glass of wine when a man in a dark blue suit placed a hand on the stool beside her.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

Leana was about to say it was when she noticed it was Michael Archer. She felt an initial start, but stilled it. “Now, this,” she said coolly, “is a surprise.”

Michael smiled. “I could say the same.”

“It’s good to see you,” Leana said. “What brings you here?”

“Good food and a beautiful woman.” She glanced behind him and he added, “Who ultimately stood me up.”

“Oh, please. Who stands you up?”

“It’s true,” he said. “And it always happens with models. Care to offer me some insight?”

“Just let me be clear on this,” she said. “You date models?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Maybe a drink will make you feel better?”

Leana lifted her full glass of wine. “Too late,” she said. “But let me buy you one. It will help cheer you up from your model malaise. What would you like? Something without calories?”

He laughed. “Anything cold,” he said. “The heat is murder today.”

He caught the barman’s attention and ordered a beer. When it arrived, he took a long swallow and thanked Leana.

“My pleasure.”

“What brings you here?” he asked. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“You’re not interrupting a thing. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner, but he’s late. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been stood up, too.”

“How late is late?”

“Thirty minutes late.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve got that kind of patience? I was leaving after waiting only twenty minutes.”

“Oh, you novelists,” she said. “Oh, you movie stars. So busy. So little time.”

He couldn’t help a smile. “Have you given him a call?”

“No,” Leana said. “But that isn’t a bad idea.”

She excused herself to use her cell phone at a quiet area of the restaurant. She was reaching into her purse for it when a waiter tapped her on the shoulder. “Leana Redman?”

Leana looked at the man. “Yes?”

“Message for you.” He handed her a slip of paper and left.

Leana knew the note was from Mario before she opened it.

Leana:

I tried calling you at Harold’s but you were out. I’m not going to be able to make dinner tonight. I forgot it’s Lucia’s birthday and I need to spend it with her and the kids. Especially because of the kids. I swear I’ll make this up to you. Try not to be angry. I’ll explain everything when I get in touch with you.

— Mario

Leana crumpled the note and dropped it in an ashtray. So, now he was lying to her. She knew Lucia’s birthday was only a week after her own-and that wasn’t for another five months.

She tried to still a twinge of anger, but couldn’t. She should have known that he would let her down. Sooner or later, most men did. She wondered why she thought she could trust him in the first place. He’s married, she thought. When am I going to get it? Married men and Leana Redman equals poison. Time to move on.

When she returned to the bar, Michael was signing the back of a cocktail napkin for one of the waitresses. Leana watched him. He seemed comfortable with his celebrity, at ease and unaffected by it. She knew he was attracted to her. She sensed that the night of the party. But she was attracted to him, too.

She waited for the waitress to leave before approaching him.

“Can I also have your autograph?” she asked. “It would mean the world to me, Mr. Archer. I’d do anything to get it.”

“Where do you want it.”

She waved a hand, sat down and reached for her glass of wine. “Since my ass obviously is a target tonight, you could put it there.”

“What does that mean.”

“Apparently, I’ve been stood up, too, which is a shame because I’m starving. So, how about me buying you dinner?”

“You already bought me a drink. My turn.”

“No,” she said as they slid off their barstools. “I asked first. But please, do me a favor and order off the children’s menu.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Money got a little tight today.”

Vincent Spocatti waited for them to be seated before leaving his table in the corner of the restaurant. They were now at the opposite end of the crowded room. He moved so she couldn't see him, slipped outside and phoned Louis Ryan, who answered on the second ring. “This is Ryan.”

“They’re ordering dinner.”

“Good,” Louis said. “And I assume Mr. De Cicco won’t be bothering them during their meal?”

“I doubt it,” Spocatti said. “Not after the package I sent his wife.”

Spocatti was full of surprises. “What was in it?”

“Three dozen black roses and a note saying if she’d like to join her mother in hell, please feel free to step out of her home. Obviously, Mario is keeping an eye on his wife as we speak.”

“How did Leana react?”

“How do you think she reacted? She is having dinner with Michael, Louis.”

“Let’s hope sparks fly,” Louis said. “Because if they don’t and if I don’t hear wedding bells soon, I’m not paying Santiago a dime and my son can go to hell.”

While Leana was having dinner with Michael, Celina was phoning George and asking him to meet her for a drink. “I don’t care if you’re busy. I need to talk to you. Be at Houlihan’s on 56th and Lex in an hour. It’s important.”