up good.”
“Thank you.” She ran one finger under the lapel of his suit jacket. “And you look much better in a suit. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. Oh, one more rule for tonight, along with the hundred-dollar limit. No shop talk. We’re not allowed to talk about work.”
“Why not?”
“Because if we do that we won’t really get to know each other. People are very different away from the office.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Okay, we won’t even say what we do for a living.”
He opened the car door and gestured inside. “Right, off we go.”
She got in and looked up at him. “So where are we going?”
“A wedding.”
“Huh?”
“Trust me. It’s not just any wedding.”
“So who’s getting married?”
“Actually, no one.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“All will become clear shortly, young lady.”
Lexi smiled as she saw the marquee above the dinner theater. Angelo and Antoinette’s Wedding. “Oh, I read about this. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Me too. Dinner theater that’s an Italian wedding beats the hell out of some depressing Ibsen play on Broadway.”
“No kidding.” They crossed the street and headed toward the box office. Lexi noted the price on the little sign in the window. “Hey, it’s fifty-nine bucks each. Do the math. You’re already over the limit. Gotta stay under a hundred bucks, remember?”
He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and held it up. “Not a problem. Two-for-one coupon.”
She nodded. “Ah. Pretty slick.”
“I’ve got one of those books with all sorts of two-fers in New York. Really pays for itself in no time.”
“I admire a man who knows how to save a buck. Since I have to do it every day.”
“I admire a woman who doesn’t get pissed off that I use coupons.” He paid for the tickets and led her inside, looking at the slip of paper the ticket seller had given him. “Hey, assigned seats.”
“Yeah, I read they do that because they have actors at each table who are part of the show.”
They found their table already occupied by a couple, who looked right out of Mafia central casting. A burly guy with slick black hair, wearing a black pinstripe suit with a white tie, and a woman with raven hair teased out to eighties standards wearing a ridiculous amount of cheap jewelry while smacking a wad of gum. The guy stood up and greeted them with a wicked Noo Yawk accent. “How youse guys doin’? I’m Carmine and dis is my ball and chain, Carmella.”
The woman glared at him. “Real nice first impression, Carmine.” She turned to them. “Youse friends of da bride or groom?”
“Uh, both,” said Lexi. “We’re Kasey and Alexandra.”
“Nice to meetcha,” said Carmine as he sat down. “Still don’t believe these two are gettin’ married. Madonne, tawk about a couple with nuthin’ in common.”
Carmella rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like we’re a match made in heaven.” She turned to Lexi. “We’re like Bill and Hillary without the money or the politics.”
Lexi sat down next to her date and lightly took his arm. “This is gonna be a hoot.”
“No kidding.”
The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on the door as the bandleader on stage moved to the microphone. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome for the very first time… Mister and Mrs. Angelo Goombatz!”
Lexi patted her belly after her last bite of chocolate wedding cake. The food was actually excellent, unlike many dinner theater meals. She leaned back and watched the newlyweds finish their first dance together with a hilarious argument on the dance floor.
“Didn’t take long,” said Carmine.
His “wife” slapped the back of his head, mussing up his hair. “Ah, shaddup, Carmine. At least let them get to the honeymoon.”
“Yeah, it’ll be the undercard on the next pay-per-view heavyweight fight.”
The song finished and the lead singer watched the newlyweds storm off the dance floor toward the kitchen, continuing their argument along the way. “Uh-oh, I think we need some damage control here. Why don’t the rest of you dance while we put away all the breakables?” The sound of plates breaking filled the room. “Too late. Anyway, please enjoy the music. Ladies, please drag your dates to the dance floor since you know damn well they’re not going to make the first move. Let’s go back to the seventies with some classic disco!”
Carmella got up, grabbed Carmine by the ear and yanked him out of his seat. “Let’s go, Fred Astaire.”
Lexi laughed, then held out her hand toward her date. “This girl wants to dance. I mean, if you know how.”
He stood up and took her hand. “I can do a box step.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh geez.”
“Personally, I’m just hoping you’ll let me lead.”
“Very funny.”
He led her to the dance floor and staked out an open space as the band played a Bee Gees’ tune. He took her hands. “Relax your arms.”
“Huh?”
“Let your arms go limp.”
“Okay.” She relaxed and within seconds he was whisking her around the floor like someone from Dancing with the Stars. The guy was incredible, even managing to twirl her despite the five-inch platforms that made him get on his toes and stretch. The other people on the floor backed up to give them more room and they suddenly found themselves bathed in a spotlight. He expertly led her through a series of slick moves, then dipped her as the song ended. The crowd cheered and applauded as he helped her up.
She was out of breath but amazed. “Sonofabitch! How the hell did you learn to dance like that?”
“My older sister. Prom queen who insisted on practicing every day after school before the big night.”
Lexi nodded. “Well, I’m impressed. Box step, ha!”
The music started again, this time a slow dance. He gave her a look that seemed to be asking permission. “Care to go again?”
She smiled. “Absolutely. I wanna see what else you’ve got in your repertoire.”
“Then
