I admired myself one more time in the mirror before I stepped out with Lance’s bodyguard, Martin.

I couldn’t believe the reflection that stared back at me. It was a reflection of sophistication, of etiquette, of splendor. I was tickled by this new image of me. Was this I? A year ago, I could have killed to look this way, and now here I was, more beautiful and elegant. Lance was right after all the pampering at the beauty salon and the dressers, I felt happier almost like a new person. I looked like a new person. It was definitely the opposite of what I saw yesterday afternoon.

My wild fiery hair was toned down a few notches; it was still red, but had a more auburn tint to it. The girl at the salon-- after much persuasion-- had succeeded in convincing me to tone it down. She had said I should trust her and that my boyfriend would love it. (I don’t know how she assumed I had a boyfriend.) In the end, she had swept it up into a neat bun, a style that gave me a couple of years. The dress I picked out was a nice long black dress with a halter neck that dipped to your lower back, basically made for those with a back they could dare to bear---the words of the nice lady at the boutique. It was held up behind my neck by a single silver brooch, which I wished inside of me was made of diamonds instead----and it had no generous slits.

The boisterous male asked, “Miss, are you ready?”
I smiled back at my reflection and answered, “Yeah, sure I am.” I gave him my hand and he led me to the car, guarding me suspiciously.

The limousine took me to a restaurant and the big male helped me into it. The restaurant was called, “La Scala,” an Italian shindig not too far from the hotel.

He left me at the door, and I stood there until Lance appeared from inside the restaurant, glowing. He was wearing a light blue Giorgio Armani suit, his shock of blonde hair slicked back, and a smile that could melt an assassin.
He stood for a while just looking at me; it made me nervous.
“The lady…at the store… thought this dress would be a good idea.” I smiled nervously, adjusting the dress with shaky hands.

“It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful,” he complimented, his eyes smoldering. I blushed back at him. “Common,” he gave me his elbow to escort him inside.
The restaurant was empty, the tables and chairs were there but nobody was sitting on them. Every table was lit with an hourglass shaped candle, with red satin tablecloths on them, and soft Tony Bennett music playing in the background.
“Lance,” I whispered, “Where is everyone?”
“They’re around. Hiding I guess.” He led me to the first floor, to the balcony lounge. I saw 3 waiters standing by ready to wait on us. A young one with a funny moustache, a skinny one and a short rotund one with an apron that signified that he might have been the chef.

Lance pulled out my chair opposite his, but I declined to sit there, I wanted the one right next to his, so I could look into those smoldering eyes all evening. So we sat next to each other feeling the breeze from the others’ mouths.
As soon as we were seated, the first waiter, the one with the moustache, corked open a bottle of champagne into the night air, splashing some casually on the floor.
“Mademoiselle,” he handed me a glass while the champagne was still bubbling. I took it and giggled at Lance, which amused him greatly.

We took up our wine glasses, and he started to make a toast. “To…I don’t know tonight.”
“Yeah,” I giggled.
The other waiter, the skinny one, came forward and took our orders for dinner. I let Lance place the orders.  He went on to relay it to the chef who whisked off his rotund self.

After dinner and a bottle of champagne I was still on a high.

“What is on your mind? He asked, cutting through the silence that had built within us, except for Tony’s voice serenading the night.

“Nothing, I feel like I’m floating kinda.” I adjusted the straps of my dress, still trying to believe that someone would actually reserve an entire restaurant just to have dinner with me.
“Floating is good.”
“Is it?” I laughed. “I don’t deserve all this, after being so mean to you?”
“You were mean?…you just didn’t know me well, that’s all.” He took a sip from his glass. He probably was pretending not to have noticed how mean I was the first day we hooked up.
“I did a bad thing yesterday?” I bent my head in shame. I had remembered where I was last night, chasing after AJ, (who didn’t really want me back), altercating with that horrid girl Vikki, (who let me see myself clearer) and then it culminated by seducing Nick, (who was really my best friend in the world). I had been a bad, bad girl. Then, there was Lance, my pawn in my heartless game of revenge, who had gone to great lengths to please me tonight.
“Oher…you bad girl,” he teased. “What have you done now?”
“You don’t want to know…” I brushed off. This was not the time to talk about it with him; it would only ruin a perfectly planned evening.
“Whatever it is...I’m here if you want to confess…” He rubbed on my bareback gently, causing shivers to pass through it.

I took a sip from my glass watching him intently. He did not seem to have a clue about me, and somehow I felt he wasn’t about to force it out of me. He just looked so innocuous and courteous that my stomach was gradually filled with remorse just thinking about it. “What did you have in mind when you planned this date tonight Lance? What were you expecting to happen?” I asked Lance, interrupting the quiet.

“I don’t know. The thought just came to my mind on impulse, I guess. I was hoping you would tell me something that could let me into your heart, just something even if it’s stupid,” he hinted, with a nudge on my back again.

I heaved. “I have this vague images in my mind of my sister Stef. She was always the crazy one you see---the first groupie in the family. She left the house one night when I was just 13 to attend this New Kids on The Block concert, and when she came back for weeks that was all she could talk about: the girls at the concert, the cute hunky boys in the band, the energy. She came back with all these posters, and their records, she blasted their music so much, that it cracked.  She just fell in love with that whole show business lifestyle right away. That was all she wanted to be--- in the limelight or around people in the limelight---and to have people yelling her name. Just so amazing. She got me into it.” My eyes lit up as I remembered Stef’s escapade with boy bands, her endearing love of the hard rock life, and her dream to be a groupie of their music, just like I was now.

Lance’s face held many thoughts at that moment, so he kept it grim.
“You asked for a stupid story.” I laughed.
He took my hand and clasped his fingers in mine fondly. “It’s not a stupid story. It’s just so surprising when you’re the one on the other end of that lifestyle, you know. I’ve never thought much of it.” He kissed my fingers, one after the other.

“But are you happy, is it what makes you happy?” I asked peering into his green eyes.
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
“What makes you really happy then?”
He drew a sharp breath. “Here, being with you. Having fun, laughing with my friends, love of my family. Not knowing what you are going to do next…” to that one I laughed.

We kept silent for a little while, and the mustached waiter asked if we wanted more wine. But I declined and so did Lance.
He was staring at me nervously, like an accused awaiting some sort of verdict.
“It would make me happy if I could just forget my past, where I’ve been, the people I’ve hurt.” I said solemn, choked with emotion. I felt teary just thinking about everything. Visions of mama wailing endlessly, Stef leaving hurriedly that morning, and him, wanting me endlessly, and hurting my vision of him, and all men alike, filled my head. It all seemed so much to bear.

Lance pulled me closer and kissed me softly on the mouth; a soft sensual kiss that wiped my hurt away for a second. When we pulled away he used his forefinger to wipe the tears from my face. I forced a small smile that set his concerned eyes at ease.
“I want you to meet my friends in Los Angeles in a couple of days. The guys are there, we are having some sort of party.”

“No way,” I objected politely. “I’m not ready for external visits, not yet anyway.” I stared down at the red tablecloth. He accepted my refusal without commenting on it. What a gentleman. “Why are you so nice to me, Lance. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

He scratched at his sparse beard; I could see faint traces of a blushed cheek. “I’ve always had this fascination with helping people, someone is hurt I run to the rescue, someone needs a shoulder, I’m there.”
“You can’t save me Lance. I’m past saving,” I cut in, cutting his mission short.
“Yeah, but, I’d like to try.” His eyes were searching through my thoughts now. “Please let me.”
I smiled whilst remarking how sweet it was of him to offer.
“Would you come to meet my friends now?” he asked again, just as courteous as he had the first time.

“No…” I laughed beating him playfully. “By the way I don’t think your friends would like me much. The red hair and all.”

His eyes made for my hairdo and he snickered, “I’m getting used to the hair. I think I actually like it now,” he teased.

“Yeah, right, admit it you were shocked the first time.” I covered up his eyes playfully and he took it in his.
“Think about it, okay. We leave in a couple of days.”
I heaved and adjusted my dress. It felt tighter by the waistline from all the food I had just gulped down in less than an hour.
“Please, Nikki. Okay,” he questioned again, his eyes whimpering like a hurt dog’s.
This time it was my turn for a kiss. “You smell so sweet,” I said, with my eyes shut. “I could spend all day with just the smell of you.”
“I could too.” His voice so soft, it melted into the air.
And for the first time since I had met Lance I realized that this young man was not like the rest, he was different. He cared without knowing why he did. He wanted to impress me when I was the one more impressed by him. And he was the sweetest smelling man I had ever been with. Most of all, he amused me greatly by being pristine. I was now accustomed to the wholesome rocker image and it didn’t feel as bland as I had expected it to be, he did have one or two surprises that made him unique in a subtle sort of way.

The restaurant put on the disc I was listening to, and by magic (or call it sheer coincidence) my favorite song came on. I gave Lance a suspicious glare and he pretended like he had no idea how it had happened and I shook my head in disbelief; this was his plan all the way. He probably handed them the disc before I got here. He asked me to dance and I, without hesitation, accepted his waiting arms.

He placed his hands tenderly around the small of my back, a sensation I would always hold dear, and I found my head cradled on his welcoming shoulders, slowly drifting into a trance. And as we swayed and glided gently to the beat of my favorite songs, I knew inside me that out of all the men that I had played that song to, he was the only one who could come close to a fraction of those lyrics.
“I want you to make love to me?” I moaned, nibbling at his right ear.
We called it a night soon after, and went home, to make love more intense and romantically than before. That was the best night of my life.