Page 42 of Arrogant Arrival

“Where are we going? I thought we were going to eat.”

“I could tell you, but it’s one of those places you just have toexperience. Come on, koritsi mou.”

I plant my feet in the ground and pull back on his hand. “Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“You keep calling me that –kor-itsy mou.What does it mean?”

His tongue slides out and wets his lips. It’s dark out here, but there’s enough light from the arena and moon to make out his features.He’s nervous.But why? I’ve gathered thatmoumeans my. Oh gosh, what has he been calling me?

Jimmy starts to speak but then clears his throat. His eyes bore into mine as he says, “Koritsi moumeans ‘my girl.’ It’s not necessarily a romantic term in Greek, but…you’re the only one…” He bites his bottom lip and slowly releases it. “I’ve never used that term on anyone but you. It feels right calling you that.”

The smile that spreads across my face actually hurts. Heat pools in my belly. The term is so simple but I can tell it means a lot to him. Jim begins to fidget and appear visibly antsy.

“This is getting awkward. Let’s go have fun.” I hate that he downplayed our moment. I saw something in his eyes. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but there was vulnerability and something else…love?No. I’m being foolish again.

Jimmy

We enter the gates ofOloi Nychta.Two guys check our I.D. and then we move forward to a building with little wooden shutters. The ticket window also has shutters on either side. I give the lady at the counter my credit card and tell them I want the VIP seating with a bottle of wine, an extra basket of flower petals, and two entrees. The woman nods and says, “Bravo.” She hands me back my card along with our tickets. I place my hand on the small of Jolene’s back and guide her to an archway that leads to a small entryway that’s somewhat like a tunnel. When we exit, we’re in an open venue surrounded by what looks like houses from little villages, all with different color window shutters and balconies. There’s a curved stage on the far right, and on the far left is what looks to be a huge balcony with a white grand piano. There are steps for each house, and tables and chairs cover the rest in between. People are already filling the seats, and some who didn’t purchase tickets for dining sit on the steps and stoops, or stand around.

“We’re down here,” I indicate to the nicer tables closer to the stage. They’re not as crowded together, and there’s no stoops nearby. We take our seat right as a spotlight shines on a balcony above us. A woman in a dazzling red dress steps out holding a microphone. When she begins singing, Jolene turns to me with a bright smile.

“This is amazing! What’s this place called?”

“All night. Oloi Nychta. It opens at eight and stays open until five in the morning.”

“Wow. Are people going to pop out of every balcony?”

“Not all. Or they might, I’m not sure. Every show is different. They only have these on certain nights each week. We just got lucky. Most performers will be on the stage. We’ll get baskets of rose petals to throw as they sing and dance.”

“No money?” Jolene raises an eyebrow.

“Not this time. But I can take you to one of those shows next time…” What am I saying? Will there be a next time? Jolene doesn’t seem to miss my slip up.

She giggles and cuts her eyes to me. “The night’s young. Who knows?”

They bring our drinks, along with a shot of ouzo. “I can drink to that.” I hold up my shot glass and tip it toward her. “The night is young, kortisi mou.”

“The night is definitely young.”

We clink glasses and down our shots. Jolene makes a face as she forces herself to swallow the ouzo.

“That stuff tastes like liquorish and lighter fluid.” She slams the glass down.

“Here’s something a little sweeter and will go down much easier.” I pour her a glass of wine. Our fingers touch as she accepts the glass, and I’m amazed at how every time I touch her, I get a rush. Even the slightest touches. She doesn’t move her hand away, and I don’t let go of the glass. I stare into her big, honey-colored eyes. The light changes in the arena then, and the spotlight shines on the stage next to us. Jolene takes her glass to redirect her attention to the stage that’s filled with a full band, and now a man in tight pants and a blue shirt.

Most of the women cheer and begin to clap as he sings. Jolene cheers and sways to the music. He begins to sing the chorus of the song, and then I recognize who he is, Kostas Dalaras. He’s an up-and-coming big Greek singer. He just had two big songs come out and most of the women are starstruck watching him.

Kostas is younger than me, and a huge success with his women fans of all ages. He has messy black hair, bright blue eyes, the classic Greek nose, and keeps himself very fit. Actually, there’s not much difference between us, but for some reason women are going crazy over this guy. Unfortunately, it seems he just gained another new fan.

“He’s amazing! I don’t know what he’s saying, but I don’t want him to stop. I love this music.”

“His name is Kostas. He’s new, but becoming increasingly popular around the country.”

“Well, now he has an American fan. So he can officially say he’s famous worldwide.”

I hand her the basket of pink and white flower petals. “Throw these at him then.”

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