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Twenty minutes later, we’re at the Just for Laughs comedy club in midtown Manhattan. The doorman waves us to the front of the line and makes a big show of waving us in, which is one of the admitted advantages of being on a date with Paxton Saul. “You were robbed, man,” he says to Paxton.
“Thanks,” Paxton says, with a wry smile. Yep, nobody’s ever going to let him forget that he lost the Stanley Cup.
The club is crowded tonight, because it’s one of the most popular in town.
Inside the club, we find our table, which is right up front. That’s a dangerous place to be at a comedy club, because it’s just about guaranteed they’re going to pick on you. That’s why I selected it. Well, Rowan selected it. That girl has connections everywhere, and I don’t usually abuse it, but tonight needs to be special.
“I’ve got to hit the head. Keep cooking up those evil schemes, won’t you, sweetness?” He leans down as if going for a kiss.
I smile up at him. “I will lay you out.”
“We’ve got to make nice for the public, Ruby Dooby Doo. People are already taking pictures of us.” And he brushes his lips over my cheek. I feel an electric jolt of arousal at the contact, and it’s all I can do not to jerk away.
“All right, you’re done. That’s it for the night.” I keep my fake smile screwed on tightly.
“Oh, I’m so sad.” He pretends to dab tears from his eyes, and then strolls off with a cheerful grin, hands shoved in his pockets.
As soon as he’s gone, I hurry over to the bar and order us each a drink. “Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the first comic who’s going on tonight?” I ask him.
“That’s Dick Oliver.” He inclines his head to a scruffy-looking guy sitting at the end of the bar.
I make my way over to him. “I am sitting in the front with Paxton Saul, and I will pay you one hundred dollars to roast him viciously,” I tell him. I hesitate. “Everything is on the table except yo mama jokes.” His mother seems nice, and even though I’m planning on torturing Paxton all summer long, there are certain places that I won’t go.
He grabs the bill, grins, and stuffs it in his pocket. “The guy who lost the Stanley Cup? Oh, there’s plenty of material there, believe me.”
A couple of minutes later, I’m sitting at the table nursing my drinks, and Paxton sits down next to me. I slide his Macallan whisky over to him.
He takes a sip. “Aww, you remembered.”
I give him a scornful look. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late. You love me, you want to marry me...” He grins and drains half the glass. Then he gives me a suspicious look and sets his drink down. “Why do you look smug?”
“Do I?” I take a delicate sip of my Gin Rickey.
He glances down at his glass and gives me a suspicious frown. “Did you poison my drink?”
I give him a big innocent eye blink. “Did I?”
“Hey. I thought we agreed that prison orange is not a good look for you.”
“I would not stoop to violence or trying to cause you physical harm.” I shake my head at him. “And I am deeply wounded that you would even think such a thing.”
“So why are you smirking?”
“I could tell you, but that would deprive me of the joy of driving you crazy all night long.”
Before he can quiz me further, the comedian comes on the stage, and I smile to myself and take a long swallow of my drink.
The first few minutes are the setup, of course. He’s good, he’s vicious, he gets the crowd laughing with delight.
Then, as Dick is pacing the stage, he pretends to suddenly spot Paxton Saul for the first time and then does a huge double take.
“Paxton Saul? The Rovers center? The Paxton Saul? Hey, everyone, give it up for Paxton Saul!”
The audience bursts into applause and cheers.
Paxton shakes his head at me. “So terrible. Much pain. Bad evening,” he sighs. He stands up and takes a bow, and then waves at the audience, which generates more applause. He bows, then sits back down at the table. “Please never hurt me like this again, Ruby.” His grin is so wide it looks like it must hurt.
