Page 23 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“Saverio!” Billy calls out to the man, who I’m assuming is the maître d’. “What’s up, big guy?”
“Signore O’Sullivan! So nice to see you. Why we no see you in so long, huh? Did you call ahead? Nobody tell me.”
“Naw, I thought I’d take my chances on a table for two.” Billy scans the room and spots one free table in the back corner as he surreptitiously presses a hundo into Saverio’s palm.
“But of course, yes, I have a very special table for you and the lady, of course!”
“This beautiful lady is Donna,” Billy tells him with a flourish.
“Buonasera, bella signora,” Saverio says tome, holding out his hand.
“Buonasera, signore.” I hold out my hand, and he kisses it.
“Buonasera.Right this way, right this way.” He snaps his fingers at a couple of servers, signaling to them as he leads us toward the table in the back. Before we reach it, candles on the table have been lit, water has been poured, and a young gentleman is waiting to hand us menus. Saverio pulls the table out himself to allow us a little more room to slide into the curved plush velvet booth, just as two other servers remove the chairs on the other side.
It’s like they’re moving heaven and earth for this guy.
Like, seriously, who is he?
“Thank you so much, Saverio,” Billy says. “I owe ya.”
“It is my pleasure, Signore O’Sullivan. If there is anything you need, you ask me.”
And suddenly it’s just me andSignore O’Sullivanat this corner table, under an ornate hanging lamp, flanked by potted tropical plants. Across from us is a window with sweeping views of Back Bay. I don’t know that I’ll ever catch my breath enough to actually eat, but Billy seems completely unfazed.
“Nice place, right?” he says, pushing his menu aside. “I always order the special.”
“Come here a lot, do you?”
“I came here a lot a couple years ago, but I try to spread my money around, y’know?”
I cover my face, grinning and shaking my head. “Ahhh, you certainly do.”
“What? I like good food. This place serves good food.”
“No, I mean. The whole…” I wave my hand around and imitate him slapping money into guys’ hands. “Hey, Matteo, whaddya say!”
He honestly does not seem to know what I’m talking about. “There’s no one by the name of Matteo who works here.”
“No, I mean—it’s just a practice date. You can take it down, like, seven notches. You don’t have to put on a big show.”
“What big show?” He seems genuinely confused. “You mean in the elevator?”
“Nope. Never mind.” I guess this is just how Billy rolls. Either that or he’s a 1950s mob boss.
So, in the spirit of being a good date and showing him how it’s done—I roll with that. I let him order for me—something I’ve never let a guy do before, not even Trevor—and to my great relief, everything he orders for us is just great. From the appetizers and tonight’s special to the Chianti and dessert. If this is all an act, then he is an amazing actor.
If this is who he is when he’s notpretending to be someone else for my benefit, well…I think I like who he is.
The way he’s leaning back with his arms spread out in the booth, manspreading under the table. The way his knee keeps touching mine every so often and he just smiles and winks in acknowledgment. I don’t know. Any other guy and I’d probably find it obnoxious, but on Billy it’s just…right.
I polish off my second glass of Chianti, since he assured me he’d have someone drive us home in my car. I’m feeling all warm and nice and beautiful and attended to. And then I remember I’m supposed to be teaching this guy how to behave on a first date. That’s why we’re here. In all honesty, in my opinion, most guys could learn a thing or two from him. But as I watch him laugh and chat with the diners who’ve stopped by our table to pay their respects to him or something, I do have some advice for him.
When the couple finally leaves and Billy asks me if I’d like more wine, I shake my head, lean into him a little, and say, “You know, Sir William…”
“Oh, I’m being knighted now?”
“Yes, Sir William. As your tutor, I do have an observation to make, if I may.”
