Chapter 16
Everything was going perfectly until she started flaunting the Devils’ blood money in my face. I’m sure they have lots of it and I’m sure they give her lots of it too. Money gotten by killing folks like my parents. Folks who didn’t deserve to die any more than my parents did. But me fuming about it in this golden sunset light of what was supposed to be a perfect date with Eden isn’t gonna change any of that. Nothing’s gonna change any of that, not even killing them, to be honest. But what I have planned for Eden will hopefully at least make it more bearable.
She’s trotting along behind me, letting me lead her down the sidewalk like she’s already mine. And sneaking peeks into the bag of books she so graciously let me buy for her. On a promise of paying me back… man, how is she able to get under my skin so bad? Never happened with any other woman. But that’s probably because I was never this focused on any other woman.
I nearly stride right past the small Italian restaurant I’m taking her to. It’s on one of the side streets and looks like we just left Cali and walked into Italy as we enter it. All the tables are covered with identical red and white checkered tablecloths, and an unlit candle in a wine bottle is standing on each. The place is about half-full and all the street-facing windows are open, letting in the fresh air and offering a great view of the town park that surrounds their church. But all the fresh air in the world can’t chase away the smell of garlic hanging over everything like it always does in Italian restaurant.
“This place is so nice,” she says as the grinning waiter seats us at a table for two by one of the windows and pours each of us a glass of water.
“The Osso Buco is especially tender today,” the waiter says as he hands us our menus. “But everything else on the menu is delicious too. Let me know when you’re ready.”
I grunt and nod, and she thanks him in her crystal clear, birdsong-y voice, which makes him grin even wider.
“Now if only I knew if Osso Buco being tender is a good thing or not, the decision would be easier,” I mumble as I scan the menu.
Her laugh sounds like wind chimes moved by a warm summer wind, I swear. “It some kind of meat dish. But this place looks exactly like that scene in the Lady and the Tramp cartoon, so we have to get a plate of Spaghetti Pomodoro. To share.”
She closes her menu and slams it against the table, looking very satisfied with herself.
Her reference threw me for a moment. “You’re talking about the cartoon with the dogs?”
“That’s the one,” she says. “With the pretty lady dog and the mutt.”
“And I suppose I’m the mutt,” I say, locking eyes with her. She sighs then actually shudders as she holds my gaze.
“Well, you’re no lady.”
She’s trying to keep a straight face, but the edges of her mouth are curling up and her lips are shivering from the strain.
“Oh, come on,” she finally says. “Why are you in such a bad mood now?”
Anything I could say would come out pouty and childish.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve just let you gift me the books,” she says. “I’m so used to everyone always complaining that I already have too many books, so it was just a knee jerk reaction. I really appreciate your gift. And it was really thoughtful of you to bring me here.”
She talks a lot when she’s nervous. Which I think my silence and piercing look is making her. I should lighten up. But between getting so vividly reminded of who she really is and the failed attempt at giving her what she loves the most—books—I’m not in a good place. It’s also more than a little unnerving how well she can read me.
“I figured you’d get a kick out of that old bookstore,” I say. “But I wanted to keep it a surprise.”
“By letting me stumble on it,” she says. “Clever.”
“That part went according to plan, at least,” I say and finally manage to grin. “But what I really wanted was to get you the Alice in Wonderland book in the window. You don’t have that one yet, right?”
She shakes her head, her eyes softening. “No, I don’t. And that’s incredibly thoughtful…”
The waiter coming back interrupts whatever else she was gonna say and I could punch him because of that.
We end up getting spaghetti like she suggested, just not to share. He also lights the candle on the table for us and brings a basket of garlic bread. Good thing we’re sitting next to an open window.
“So you’re an expert on books and cartoons,” I say once he’s gone again.
She laughs that wind chime laugh of hers. “Hardly. I just seem to have a very good memory for visual images.”
Yeah, me too. Like sitting in the back of that packed-to-the-brim car watching my parents die. The shot that killed my mom sounds loud and clear in my mind. No idea why. I’m not in danger here and it only happens when I am.
“What does that mean?” I say, hoping it didn’t come out too harshly. After the mental image I just saw, it was hard forcing the words out like everything’s normal.
“Oh, you know, just scenes from movies and cartoons, and even books if they’re described vividly enough,” she says. “I just sort of see them. I’m not making any sense, am I?”
I shrug. “I didn’t watch a whole lot of cartoons growing up.”
There I go again. Getting too personal. Why?
“What, no pies and no cartoons?” she asked, her tone somewhere between pity and something even sadder. “I’m sorry.”
“That my childhood sucked?” I ask. “Not your fault.”
Although, you will be paying for it.
For some reason, that thought doesn’t bring me the same kind of dark joy it used to before I actually met her.
“I fixed the pie issue and I’m gonna fix this too,” she says determinedly. “For our next date, we’re watching cartoons. Starting with The Lady and the Tramp.”
I cringe and she laughs again. “I saw that one. Or maybe just the picture book.”
“All right then, something else.”
“How about Beauty and the Beast?” I ask.
She grins. “One of my favorites. You know, for a guy who didn’t watch cartoons growing up, you sure know a lot about them.”
“Maybe I just wasn’t the cartoon watching type,” I say and sit back as the waiter brings our food.
Thing is, some of the foster homes I was in were better than others. At some we actually did get to watch cartoons. At others, we were too busy always watching the doors.
None of which is something I want to be remembering right now, because it makes it hard to play this part with Eden. To do this song and dance.
“Plus, you’re just assuming we’re going on another date,” I say.
She was just bringing a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth but froze and is now looking at me with her full lips shaped into a perfect circle. Cock-sucking lips. I bet they’ll feel divine wrapped around mine. She actually looks disappointed, poor thing. If she knew what was waiting for her, she’d run so fast the other way I’d have trouble catching her.
“You don’t want to?” she asks. “Was it all the talk about books? Did I turn you off with that?”
She sounds like it’s not the first time something like that has happened.
I let her stew for a bit longer. Her fork is still suspended in mid-air, spaghetti starting to unravel from it, her pretty green eyes looking kind of lost. I don’t like the voice in my head telling me to break it off with her now, before it gets any worse. I don’t recognize that voice. Planning this revenge with her as the main attraction has been my focus for years.
“I’m just messing with you,” I finally say. “Of course there’ll be another date and you’re free to plan it however you want.”
She smiles and suddenly everything on her face and around her seems to sparkle. She really is a very beautiful woman. Especially when she’s happy. If things were different, I’d probably enjoy just making her happy all the time.
“Cartoons it is, then,” she says and sticks her fork back into her plate to fix the falling spaghetti. “Or maybe just some Netflix and chill.”
She winks at me as she brings the fork to her mouth and for the next couple of seconds I’m mesmerized by her lips moving as she chews. I’m surprised she knows about the real meaning of the phrase Netflix and chill, which is basically an open invitation to fucking.
“Why not both?” I say. “And maybe some pie to go with it.”
She finds that very funny. And the sound of her laugh is like chimes moving in the wind again.
I really couldn’t have picked a better target to exact my revenge through. She’s so innocent. So pure and clueless. She’ll break so nicely. Just shatter into a million pieces that no one will be able to put back together. Not even me.
Thankfully the voice telling me that’d be the wrong thing to do is staying dead silent now. As it should.