Cold Fingers

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

Two Years Before

I pushed through the door of Bel Poisson and instantly regretted my agreement to the entire evening.

I could see Lee standing at the far end of the restaurant, glass of wine in hand, entertaining everyone at the table with what was sure to be one of his theatre stories. Weren’t they always?

The table broke into laughter, and I knew I had been correct.

I slowed my approach, fiddling with the sleeves of my sweater, too large now after my hospital stay. I hadn’t wanted to come out at all, but Lee had been insistent that out was exactly where I needed to be. Of course, Lee wasn’t the one turning thirty, newly out of the hospital and looking like death warmed over.

“The birthday boy has arrived!”

I forced a smile when the table erupted in applause at Lee’s announcement, and he grabbed my hand to pull me to the seat to his right.

Lee was nearing seventy, but still handsome in an old Hollywood sort of way. He had worked on Broadway, off Broadway and, in more recent years, off-off Broadway. There had even been a time that Lee, in what he referred to as his rebellious period, had left the stage to star in a number of sleazy horror flicks. t**s and Gore films, Lee called them.

One of those old movies had been the only reason the two of us had met. We hadn’t exactly run in the same circles. I had made an impromptu stop at a little, run-down theater on the North end that showed long-forgotten horror films, late night on weekends. I’d slipped into a chair after the lights had gone down, only to find myself seated a few chairs over from a gray-haired, old gentleman who loudly heckled the film throughout the entire eighty-nine minutes.

It had been Lee, the star of Doctor Horror’s School for Girls, himself.

“He fought me, but I insisted that we just had to celebrate his special day.”

I dropped into the chair, waving to the congregation. I seemed to know nearly everyone, which was a relief. There were only a handful of plus-ones—girlfriends, boyfriends and a number of spouses—I had never met, and still most of them I recognized from photos.

The only person I couldn’t account for was the man right across from me, dark-haired and seemingly unattached to anyone at the table. Lee’s date? I couldn’t quite imagine it. He had his moments but had really never been much of a manther.

“Christopher?” I turned to Lee. “I want you to meet my godson, Binky.”

I fought a snort of laughter. Not well enough judging by the look on the guy’s face.

“Yeah, only Lee calls me that.” He extended a hand across to me. “Everyone else calls me Vic.”

“He’s called me worse,” I joked, taking the offered hand, and Vic smiled. It was one of those big, wide, white smiles that made a person look like they had too many teeth, and that I happened to have a weakness for, when accompanied by a handsome face. Vic’s was a handsome face—wide mouth, a s***h of dark brows over very dark eyes, and a well-shaped nose. It was too large to be delicate and yet not quite prominent.

“Well, thanks for coming,” I said, when I realized I had been staring.

Vic smiled, a look in his eyes and a curve to his lips that told me my evaluation hadn’t gone unnoticed and, joy of joys, hadn’t been unwelcome.

“Well then,” I said, smiling again, before turning my attention to Lee.

He asked for more wine for the table, and everyone placed their order. I chose a blackened salmon and Caesar salad with anchovies. It sounded divine after more than three weeks of hospital food and almost that many of fast-food burgers.

“That kind of salt will kill you,” Lee chided before turning to answer a question from one of the plus-ones to his left. I rolled my eyes and glanced around the table at everyone already busy in their own conversations.

“Lee tells me you’re an antiques dealer?”

I turned at Vic’s voice to find him smiling at me.

“Yes. Glass and furniture, mainly, though I dabble a little in a lot of things. I have a small shop on High.”

“Sounds interesting.”

I laughed at that. “No it doesn’t.”

Vic’s smile grew wider. “Well, maybe not the glass and furniture so much, but dabbling always has potential.”

“And what do you do?”

“Vic is a surgeon, Christopher,” Lee turned to interject, giving me a wink.

“So, what kind of surgeon?” I was seriously afraid he’d say cosmetic. I had no doubt Lee had at least two on speed dial, and I would have been lying if I said it wouldn’t have lessened my attraction to the guy.

“Trauma.”

“Oh.” Well, that was different. “I’m sure that actually is interesting.”

“Stressful is probably a more apt description.”

He gave me another one of those smiles that looked anything but stressed, and I smiled back.

By the end of the evening, I was happy Lee had talked me into the night out. So much so, that I didn’t even mind when a cake arrived at the table topped by enough candles to light a midnight Mass.

Well, I didn’t mind too terribly.

***