to dance one time before I finally convinced everyone that it was time for this Tenness ee girl to get her beauty rest.
When I returned to the hotel I opened my computer and immediately downloaded “Wanting Her.” I needed to hear it again, this time armed with the knowledge that it actually wasn’t about a hot alien from the Planet Boobjob. The more I heard it, the more it fit with the Vanni I had seen behind closed doors. This was the one who wrote me naughty limericks and sang to me over the phone. This is the one who whispered how he had dreamed about me and had wanted to kiss me from the moment we met.
“ Someday I’ll wake from this dream and hold my angel in my arms. And she’ll know all along I’ve wanted her .”
I trembled in spite of myself. I touched one of the silky petals of a rose tucked deep in the huge floral display on my desk. On impulse I pulled out the card. I sucked in a breath when I read, “ Still dreaming of you. V .”
I decided to wear one of Iris’s contributions to my wardrobe for lunch the next day. It was casual but sexy, in keeping with the blue theme. It was a snug navy knit top that plunged low in front but was respectable for an afternoon lunch at a casual restaurant. I pulled on some well-worn jeans and sandals and hailed a cab for Brooklyn.
The brick building for Vanni’s favorite pizza joint looked like it was built in the early 20 th century, with the decor inside to match. It felt more like you were going to visit your Italian aunt, the one who had actually immigrated from the Old World, rather than a commercial restaurant. The walls were brick and covered with old family photos different decades and generations. There were tables and intimate booths with tiny votive candles burning on each one. The smell of pepperoni and marinara filled the air. It was spicy, familiar, warm and inviting. I instantly fell in love with the place.
If I believed in past lives, I’d have easily believed I had been there before.
Vanni told me to just give them my name and they’d take care of me, and of course they did. They set me up in a booth in the back, brought out some wine and breadsticks, and even had his favorite pizza cooking in the oven for us to share.
When Vanni walked in he greeted everyone he encountered like an old friend. This was the side of him I hadn’t yet been able to see, the one that was casual, his performance mode “off,” comfortable in being just another kid from the neighborhood. He was dressed in black jeans and an old black concert T-shirt from a classic rock band. He wore his famous locks pulled back in a ponytail, and for the first time since I met him he wasn’t wearing heavy eyeliner. He was still anonymous enough to pull this off as a disguise for now, but those days were going to come quickly to an end.
He looked so happy, so serene, I was almost sad for him.
He smiled when he saw me, and wound his way through the crowded restaurant to our table. These were hearty regulars who didn’t give a rat’s ass if he was semi-famous or not. They had other things to discuss than who was on the top of the music charts that week.
He reached down to kiss my cheek as he sat. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said as he moved the napkin off the plate and into his lap. He referenced the restaurant. “What do you think? Pretty great, right?”
I nodded. If I lived in New York I’d be at this place at least twice a week. “Thanks for inviting me.”
The waiter brought our pizza as if on cue, which was dripping with ooey, gooey melted mozzarella. We laughed as we pulled the huge pieces to our mouths and had to wind up the never-ending strings just to tear them off. It tasted as heavenly as it smelled.
This was so my kinda place.
Two pieces in and we were able to lean back and actually talk, which was something I don’t think we had ever done. It had always been so flirty, with the purpose of ending up in bed. Here, now, it was like we were just two
When I returned to the hotel I opened my computer and immediately downloaded “Wanting Her.” I needed to hear it again, this time armed with the knowledge that it actually wasn’t about a hot alien from the Planet Boobjob. The more I heard it, the more it fit with the Vanni I had seen behind closed doors. This was the one who wrote me naughty limericks and sang to me over the phone. This is the one who whispered how he had dreamed about me and had wanted to kiss me from the moment we met.
“ Someday I’ll wake from this dream and hold my angel in my arms. And she’ll know all along I’ve wanted her .”
I trembled in spite of myself. I touched one of the silky petals of a rose tucked deep in the huge floral display on my desk. On impulse I pulled out the card. I sucked in a breath when I read, “ Still dreaming of you. V .”
I decided to wear one of Iris’s contributions to my wardrobe for lunch the next day. It was casual but sexy, in keeping with the blue theme. It was a snug navy knit top that plunged low in front but was respectable for an afternoon lunch at a casual restaurant. I pulled on some well-worn jeans and sandals and hailed a cab for Brooklyn.
The brick building for Vanni’s favorite pizza joint looked like it was built in the early 20 th century, with the decor inside to match. It felt more like you were going to visit your Italian aunt, the one who had actually immigrated from the Old World, rather than a commercial restaurant. The walls were brick and covered with old family photos different decades and generations. There were tables and intimate booths with tiny votive candles burning on each one. The smell of pepperoni and marinara filled the air. It was spicy, familiar, warm and inviting. I instantly fell in love with the place.
If I believed in past lives, I’d have easily believed I had been there before.
Vanni told me to just give them my name and they’d take care of me, and of course they did. They set me up in a booth in the back, brought out some wine and breadsticks, and even had his favorite pizza cooking in the oven for us to share.
When Vanni walked in he greeted everyone he encountered like an old friend. This was the side of him I hadn’t yet been able to see, the one that was casual, his performance mode “off,” comfortable in being just another kid from the neighborhood. He was dressed in black jeans and an old black concert T-shirt from a classic rock band. He wore his famous locks pulled back in a ponytail, and for the first time since I met him he wasn’t wearing heavy eyeliner. He was still anonymous enough to pull this off as a disguise for now, but those days were going to come quickly to an end.
He looked so happy, so serene, I was almost sad for him.
He smiled when he saw me, and wound his way through the crowded restaurant to our table. These were hearty regulars who didn’t give a rat’s ass if he was semi-famous or not. They had other things to discuss than who was on the top of the music charts that week.
He reached down to kiss my cheek as he sat. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said as he moved the napkin off the plate and into his lap. He referenced the restaurant. “What do you think? Pretty great, right?”
I nodded. If I lived in New York I’d be at this place at least twice a week. “Thanks for inviting me.”
The waiter brought our pizza as if on cue, which was dripping with ooey, gooey melted mozzarella. We laughed as we pulled the huge pieces to our mouths and had to wind up the never-ending strings just to tear them off. It tasted as heavenly as it smelled.
This was so my kinda place.
Two pieces in and we were able to lean back and actually talk, which was something I don’t think we had ever done. It had always been so flirty, with the purpose of ending up in bed. Here, now, it was like we were just two
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