#6: You Have My Word

I couldn’t even find it in myself to be annoyed with her flirtatious implications when the food was right in front of me. I bit eagerly into my hamburger, nearly inhaling it before I realized I was in public. It took some restraint, but I was able to slow down and make myself look like I had manners.

 Against my better judgment, I began to think more about what DeLuca had said earlier. He wasn’t old. In fact, he looked only a few years older than myself and Nole. If what he said was true, about his father owning a business and the constant security, then I could understand why he would want to be around someone he could unwind with. The man had been stiff and proper, almost cold and unfeeling at my parents’ dinner. Even if the man still appeared frosty, he seemed to have lightened up a bit with me.

 If I didn’t have Rhys, I wouldn’t know how I would have survived all these years.

 “Does it bother you?” I asked cautiously. “Being in your father’s business and having to be professional all the time?” I looked pointedly at his stiff and flashy suit.

 He considered the question before offering me a glance. “A few years ago, I would have said it bothered me, but I find myself enjoying my father’s business more every day. But with every stressful job comes the need for an escape.” DeLuca’s dark eyes concentrated on me. “I think you have a subconscious ability to make me forget about the chaotic world for just a few minutes. You are a very calming and non-judgmental individual.”

 Well. If I knew he was going to give me such a straight-forward answer like that, I wouldn’t have asked.

 Personally, I didn’t think I was laid back. Rhys had a tendency to call me a tight-wad. And I was definitely judgmental. I just didn’t verbally express my opinions very often. “I know all about escapes from reality.” I decided to play along, but made sure to avoid touching on his second admission. “My life certainly isn’t as hectic as your own, but I… er…I enjoy drawing to take my mind off things.”

 I avoided looking directly at him as I munched on a fry. Confessing my private interests to him seemed bizarre, especially when I was cursing him mentally not minutes prior.

 No one but Rhys knew I drew.

 I protected my hobby with overzealous selfishness.

 From the corner of my eye, I watched his eyebrows rise. “You draw?” He threw a lopsided smirk. “Are you any good?”

 Turning to him, I scoffed. “I’m the next Vincent Van Gogh.” I grinned when he was polite enough to chuckle at the lame joke. “Are you going to eat that?” I jerked my chin toward his untouched hamburger. Obviously, he had seen the grease staining the paper underneath it and wanted nothing to do with it. “I promise the grease will only burn your fingers for a second. You should worry more about Julie coming over to guilt trip you into clearing your plate.”

 For good measure, DeLuca glanced at Julie who prowled the tables behind us. He seemed hesitant to try the damn burger but ended up picking it up. Grease dripped down his fingers but he did a remarkable job holding it as far away from him as possible.

 I watched him, finding the whole thing amusing.

 His hesitant expression morphed into surprise as he chewed the burger. “It’s definitely passable.”

 “P-passable?” I stuttered, astonished. “You’ve tasted a better burger before?”

 If he had, I’d like to know the place he dined out.

 He placed the burger back in the basket before hurriedly wiping his hands with the napkin. An air of cool nonchalance played his face as he wiped between his fingers and abolished the grease. “No, I’m not too fond of American food.” Onyx caught my eyes and held them there. “I can honestly say I have never tasted a better hamburger. But once you’ve tried my Madre’s Italian food, you’ll have trouble finding anything else as delicious.”

 There had always been something off about his accent.

 He didn’t talk like a typical Rhode Island citizen and I had subconsciously noticed and wondered what it was. When he said “Madre”, it finally clicked. He was fluent in Italian, but the Italian accent was veiled under what seemed to be the accent of a New Yorker.

 “You’ll have to try her cooking,” DeLuca continued, playing it safe by eating his fries and bypassing the burger. Julie would be displeased. “She’d love to meet you.”

 Before I could respond, the restaurant door opened. The two men were most likely not customers with their slack expressions and their black suits. DeLuca turned to see what had caught my attention. He immediately transformed into the cold and impassive man I remembered from last week’s awkward, family dinner.

 “What is it?” DeLuca hissed quietly to the men as soon as they got within range. “I told you not to interrupt me tonight.”

 “Sorry, sir,” one man muttered gruffly, eyeing me. “But your father called. He needs you as soon as possible. Something’s come up.”

 DeLuca’s lips thinned before he turned to me.

 I waved my hand, refusing to look at him. Something’s come up was definitely a standard in my life. I seemed to hear it at least twice a day. “Go, I’m fine.” As much as I hated to admit it, I had been enjoying the man’s presence. But I was suddenly struck with the realization that he was just like the rest of them. He had a job and it consumed his life completely.

 DeLuca stood, appearing grim. He waved his bodyguards away, leaning toward me. “I’ll make it up to you, little Harlow.”

 “Oh?” I offered a bittersweet smile. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. DeLuca. You’re busy. It is a sentiment I am very familiar with.”

 He didn’t look very happy at my dismissal reassurances. “I’m sure you are used to it, Jude, and I apologize. I assure you, the next time we’re together, it won’t happen again.”

 I don’t know why he thought there would be a next time.

 Looking at his sincere expression, I simply nodded once. “Alright,” I responded lightly, as if yielding to him.

 Rather suddenly, DeLuca leaned forward and caged me against the counter. His arms were on either side of my torso as he leaned closer. “And there will be a next time, Jude.” He was a mind reader. I was sure of it. “Please, give me your phone number.” He leaned away from me, pulling out his cell phone.

 I paused, staring at the sleek phone. The latest model, obviously. Looking back up at DeLuca, I gave him a number. Little did the man know that I was giving him Rhys’s number. It was the only number beside my own that I knew by heart.

 Once he stored the number in his phone, he tucked the cell back in his inner breast pocket and studied me critically. “This had better be your phone number, Jude. If it isn’t, rest assured I will hunt you down as soon as I find out otherwise.”

 I wasn’t easily intimidated.

 But DeLuca did a job well-done by pitching his voice threateningly. For a second, I almost considered giving him my real number, but thought against it. He was hardly going to “hunt me down”. Instead, I nodded numbly, watching as he placed a fifty-dollar bill on the counter and turned to the exit.

 As I turned back to the counter, I slumped forward and played with a fry.

 I don’t understand why I was so upset with him for leaving. After all, he was Nole’s boss for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even know the man. Roman DeLuca had turned out to be a decent man to get along with when he had relaxed a bit, but I couldn’t see him again. He intrigued me, drew me in, but I couldn’t be second to career again.

 That night, I was in my bedroom abandoning my homework in favor of drawing.

 My parents were at a business meeting tonight, leaving me home alone. I pigged out on a carton of ice cream, not touching the vegetables and pre-cooked chicken in the refrigerator.

 As I examined the drawing, my cell phone began to ring. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the vibrating device. DeLuca couldn’t have gotten my number already, unless he had called Rhys and had demanded my number from him. Somehow, I could see DeLuca being threatening enough that Rhys would easily give out my number.

 Earlier that night, when I had left the diner, I noticed the car trailing me all the way home. I wasn’t flattered or impressed knowing that DeLuca felt the need to send one of his bodyguards after me to make sure I arrived home safely. Instead of security detail making me feel secure, it had made me feel vulnerable.

 As I leaned over to look at the caller, I sighed in relief when I realized who it was.

 “Nole,” I greeted darkly as I put it on speaker and continued to draw.

 “Jude,” Nole sighed over the other end, relieved to hear me pick up. “How are you doing? How was… dinner?”

 I paused, wondering if this was the start of Nole apologizing for not being there. “Beside your boss trying to eat me for dessert, it went well.” I rolled my eyes at both the lame joke and the heavy silence coming from my brother. “Really, Nole, it went fine. The only reason I went was because I was starving. And because you had other plans.”

 “Sorry, I’ll make it up to you,” he replied distractedly. “Jude, did…did he want to see you again? Did he say anything about seeing you after tonight?” He was nervous and his voice was almost too quiet to hear properly.

 Squinting at the far wall in bemusement, I wondered at my brother’s odd behavior. “He mentioned something like that, yeah. Why do you ask? You don’t need to worry, I don’t plan on seeing him again. I—”

 But Nole cut me off as he inhaled sharply, cursing colorfully underneath his breath. “Listen Jude, I have to go, but I wanted to warn you. Just stay far away from Roman if you can, alright?”

 I dropped my pencil, frowning. “Are we talking about the same man here? The very same one you, mom, and dad worship? I thought you would be giddy over the fact that we were getting along so well.”

 He grunted. “He’s obviously taken a special interest in you, Jude. His attention isn’t…exactly the best. Just…” he sounded preoccupied. “Please, give me your word you’ll try your best to avoid him, alright? For me? For…your own safety?” It was only a second of silence, but Nole was impatient. “Jude!” Nole yelled into the phone. “Give me your word.”

 “Alright, alright, you have my word. Fuck.”

 The line went dead.

 Blinking, I stared at my cell phone before tossing it a bit further away. I decided not to think on what just transpired. Instead, I continued on my drawing, mentally counting down the days until I left for Boston.