Page 48 of The Alibi Club

“Two weeks from now.”

“’Fraid not, Lorn. I’ll be in Cabo with a hot nurse from the neonatal unit.” Dan gave a can’t-be-helped shrug and backed away. “Always great to see you. Reach out again. We’ll get drinks.” Dan rushed down the hall to nowhere in particular.

Lorna sighed, turned on her heel, and nearly tumbled over a man in a wheelchair who was parked right behind her, within eavesdropping distance.

The man gave her a furtive, guilty glance but then recovered and offered a smile. “I couldn’t help overhear that you were looking for an eligible, successful, charismatic, single man?”

Lorna slowly turned her gaze toward him. She tilted her head and sized him up from his slipper-socked feet to the wavy dark hair on his head, which had been shaved and bandaged on one side. “And you are?”

“Rick. Rick Montague. I’m partner and CCO at the Angelo Montague Agency.”

“Lorna Gray,” she said and extended her hand. “I’m sorry, where?”

“It’s only the biggest advertising agency on the West Coast. Sneaker brands. Automotive accounts. Insurance is our bread and butter, though. Maybe you’ve seen the insurance ads with the flying pig? That’s me.” He smiled broadly, beaming with self-pride.

A nurse walked by and Rick tracked her ass with his eyes. Lorna noticed he couldn’t even help himself. He looked up and tried to recover, but Lorna was staring him down, her shrewd eyes narrowed, assessing him. “Can’t say I have,” she said.

“In short, I am an advertising god.” Rick immediately brightened, clearly shameless and borderline narcissistic, much like her wayward orthopedist, and went into hard sell mode. “I overheard you say you were looking for a date and well, here’s my pitch.” He held up his hands to make a frame, like a Hollywood director. “I’d pick you up in my vintage Porsche a half hour before sunset, take you to a secluded spot on the coast to watch our big yellow fireball drop into the Pacific, then whisk you off to Pearl’s for a private chef’s dinner on their oceanside terrace. Some live jazz at a little exclusive downtown lounge I know. See how the night unfolds. Maybe a hot tub back at my place.” He looked up, pleased with himself.

“Wow,” was all Lorna had to say.

He looked stumped for a moment, his expression showing just how unaccustomed he was to handling rejection. He started again, both hands out, “Okay, how about—”

She cut him off. “Listen, this isn’t a date with me. It’s a group blind date I’m setting up for a very selective assemblage of people.”

Rick seemed to mull this over. “I would be perfect for that group,” he stated confidently.

“You don’t even know what kind of group it is.”

“Matters not. I’m perfect in any group,” he said.

Lorna looked more closely at him, and when her gaze fell to his bald spot where his injury was, he said, “I have a full head of glorious hair, they just had to shave it.”

“Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.” Rick cracked his knuckles.

“Scarlett Johansson doesn’t call you back, what is your first thought.”

“Broken phone.”

“Trick question!” She shook her head, exasperated. “Why would Scarlett Johansson ever call you back?”

“You never know! Maybe she just broke it off with that posturing dope on SNL and is looking for a real man.” Rick pointed his two thumbs at himself.

Whew! The ego was staggering. She pursed her lips and massaged her jaw, contemplating the idea, and asked, “What happened?” She motioned to his injury.

“Oh, yeah. I was walking out of my office—gorgeous office, really—to go for a circuit training workout wearing my new Woolrich sherpa pants, have you tried them? Nothing softer. Plus, they make you feel both rich and sporty. Perfect vibe. Anyway, I walked out onto the sidewalk and apparently collapsed.”

The man could spin a yarn, and sell product.

He continued, “Couldn’t fathom what happened to me until I woke up here and the cute but rather unfriendly nurse informed me that my new blood pressure meds were the culprit. Hence, I passed out and hit my head on the railing of a seafood restaurant. That’s why the stitches.”

As if on cue, his nurse walked up with his release papers to sign and a small plastic bag with his phone and wallet. “Here are your personal effects.” She unceremoniously laid the bag in his lap. “You’re being released today. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

Rick smirked and shook his head in Lorna’s direction. “Of course I have someone to pick me up. Ugh, I probably have a thousand texts. If I’m gone one damn day, the whole world falls apart.”

The nurse gave him a polite smile. Lorna remained impassive.