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“Yeah, the six inches is the problem, not the sixty years,” Hazel deadpans. “I bet Riley could do the look! We’d have to cut that hair, though. And that would be a spit-fire crime!”
I know the look they’re talking about and play along, twisting my blonde curls up and holding them on the back of my head out of sight. I hollow my cheeks and do my best don’t-mess-with-me RBF. “Oh, come on,” I joke. “I could pull it off. I’d just need one of those suits she rocked the hell out of. What do you think?” I intone coldly.
It doesn’t work in the slightest, and they all laugh at my piss-poor attempt to be stone-faced and frigid. “Riley, dear, that’s just not your strong suit,” Hazel says kindly.
“And how do you know those moldy oldies?” Mabel asks before waving an arthritic finger.
“Because they’re classics!” Viktor interrupts, coming over with his cane. “Beautiful women, men being men without a single bit of shame . . . about the only thing better was Predator. ‘Get to da choppa!’ ”
“Viktor, the only chopper you’re getting to is the Life Flight to the hospital,” Hazel teases, and everyone laughs. I guess Viktor isn’t the beau whose eye she wants to catch.
But Viktor chuckles good-naturedly and gives Hazel a sparkle-eyed look of approval at the zinger.
Wait. Are they . . . flirting? They might be. And the fact that I’m not sure is probably why I need an app to find a date and why even with some magical compatibility calculations, I end up with someone who is so obviously not right for me.
He felt right. He felt very right.
“What brings you over? Would you like Arielle to shellac those wisps on top of your head?”
“Can’t a man just be drawn to beauty?” Viktor replies, mock hurt. He holds his hand over his heart like Hazel’s barb pains him. If he keeps doing that, no one is going to believe him if he has an actual heart attack. He’ll be the boy who cried wolf . . . or the man who cried heart attack, at least. “Why, Mabel looks just like a princess.” He turns his gaze from Hazel to take Mabel’s hand, laying a dry kiss to the back of it and telling her, “May you kiss a frog, dear princess, and I’d bet he’d turn right into Prince Charming for you!”
Viktor ribbits, and everyone laughs, Mabel blushing a little. “Viktor, you old flatterer. And you’re no frog. You look quite handsome today.”
“Those pool exercise sessions must be helping,” Viktor says, flexing a skinny, wrinkled arm with no shame. In fact, he leans his cane up against the table and squeezes his own bicep. “Rock hard and ready, I am,” he asserts, though he grabs his cane back pretty quickly.
“Viktor, about the only way you’ll be rock hard is if you get another Viagra,” Arielle warns, “which I’m still on the lookout for!” She points a threatening finger his way, but he throws back a charming smile, first to Arielle and then to all the ladies around the table who are watching him with rapt attention.
“That one’s a little sour about the ‘no fraternizing with patients’ rule. Thinks if she can’t have me, no one can. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right, ladies?” His grin is full of devilry and delight at poking at Arielle while charming the table full of women. “But for now, the patio’s calling me. The sun’s great for my gout. Which of you ladies would like to join me in getting a little Vitamin D?”
No one stands, and he shrugs. “Can’t blame an old man for trying. You know where to find me if any of you change your mind.”
With that, he shuffles off slowly, whistling a tune.
I shake my head, chuckling lightly. “He is something else.”
“Pish posh,” Hazel says, waving her hand at me. “You and Arielle here would be pretty lucky to get yourselves a good man like Viktor.”
“A good man?” Arielle asks incredulously. “Viktor’s a scoundrel who’s only interested in trying to get in your granny panties!”
“Oh, he puts up a good front like that,” Hazel retorts with a knowing nod, “but we know the type, young lady. Underneath that scruffy surface is a heart of gold.”
“And besides, if he’s only in it for the sex, what’s the problem?” Mabel adds. “Honey, sometimes a little touching and petting’s all I need. I’m an old woman. I don’t want to play nurse to anyone or pick up dirty socks. I did that for fifty years with my Roger, and I loved every single day of it. And yes, when I found his last dirty sock on the floor, I cried my eyes out over it. But after he was gone and I moved in here, I’ll be honest in saying picking up his dirty drawers is one of the things I miss least. Now, if I want to have a little happiness, I’m durn well going to do it.”
