Chapter 6 #2
“Will do.” Javier washed his hands as he said, “I want to hear all about the wedding next time I see you. Kit looked so happy in the photo you sent. I was showing it to everyone.”
“For sure.”
He crossed the kitchen and pulled his denim jacket from a hook beside the back door. “Want me to open tomorrow, so you can get some rest?”
“No. It’s your day off, and you already had to cover for me today. Thanks again for that, by the way, and for stepping up this entire weekend.”
“Happy to help. It was fun getting to run things on my own.”
“Want to do it again next Saturday?”
His face lit up with a big smile. “Of course! I hope that means you’re actually going to start taking days off for a change. Nobody should work seven days a week, especially with the kind of hours you put in every day.”
I really hoped seeing Salvatore on the weekends was going to turn into a regular thing, so I said, “Yeah, maybe.”
Which reminded me. As soon as Javier left, I sent Tory a text, which said: Told you the truck would make it back home.
While waiting for a reply, I went into the dining room, locked the front door, and flipped the sign from open to closed. A moment later, a message popped up: I need proof. Send me a photo.
That made me grin. I held my phone at arm’s length and snapped a picture. Right after I sent it, a video call popped up on my screen. When I answered it, he said, “You’re not home, you’re at a restaurant. How far did you make it before breaking down, San Jose?”
“I’m basically home, and the truck made the trip just fine. This is my diner, which is close to my apartment here in San Diego.”
“When did you get in?”
“A few minutes ago.”
He raised a brow and asked, “Why did you go to work, instead of your apartment?”
“So my assistant manager could go home to his family.”
Tory gestured in a circular motion and said, “Pan the camera around so I can see your diner—even though as we both know, you’re actually an indispensable part of a highly trained F1 crew, and this is just your side hustle.” That made both of us smile.
I felt a sense of pride as I flipped the camera and walked around the dining room.
“It was built in the 1920s,” I said, “and I’m its third owner.
My son-in-law became my business partner a few months back, and thanks to his investment I’ve finally been able to fix it up.
The paint and flooring is new, and so are these gorgeous, dark red booths.
I’ve refinished the counter, but I still need to refurbish the stools, upgrade the light fixtures, and do some other stuff.
I’ve been working on it bit by bit, because a lot of my regulars are seniors who rely on this place.
They’d have a hard time if we were shut down for an extended period of time, and—shit, sorry.
I’m supposed to be coming up with colorful stories for you, not boring you with my real life. ”
As I turned the camera to face me again, he said, “I don’t think this is boring at all. I have a thing for classic American diners, and yours is a thing of beauty.”
I beamed at him and started to make my way through the building, shutting off lights along the way. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve been working here since my son was tiny, and it means so much to me to finally be able to give it the love and attention it deserves with this remodel.”
“You’re doing a great job. The new stuff blends seamlessly with the vintage look and feel.”
“Thanks.” I shifted the phone to my other hand and said, “You’ve gotten to see my surroundings, so can I see where you are? It’s only fair.”
He said, “There’s not much to see,” but he panned the camera around anyway.
Tory was sitting on a dark gray sofa in a gray-on-gray living room. It was nice, but it also felt impersonal somehow, which made me ask, “Are you in a hotel?”
“No. It’s one of those furnished flats that are mostly used by businessmen on extended stays in the US. My cousin found it for me, and I moved in today.”
“The same cousin that got you the private jet?” He nodded, and I said, “That reminds me, how was your flight?”
“Quick and uneventful. I was glad I had some company, but you would have been much more fun.” With that, he angled the phone so I could see the stuffed eggplant. It was right beside him on an end table, propped up against the base of a lamp.
I grinned and said, “Aw, you kept him.”
“Of course I did. He’s the only interesting thing in this place.”
I’d reached my office, and as I curled up on the couch, Tory asked, “Aren’t you going home?”
“There’s not much point. Five a.m. will be here before I know it, so I might as well sleep here.”
He sighed and said, “I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re planning to spend the night on an uncomfortable-looking couch without so much as a blanket or pillow, instead of taking yourself home to your bed.”
“It’s not that bad.” My stomach rumbled loudly just then, and I muttered, “Wow, embarrassing.”
Tory’s brow instantly creased with concern. “Did you eat dinner tonight?”
“I had a sandwich and a Coke while I was driving.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Six hours, maybe.”
Now he looked frustrated. “You’re in a restaurant. There must be food there, so go find something to eat.”
“There are ingredients in the walk-in, but the kitchen’s spotless and everything’s shut down for the night.”
“How far is your apartment from the diner?”
“About three miles.”
“Please go home, eat something, and sleep in an actual bed.”
I asked, “Why does this matter to you?”
“Because I like you, Armando, and I want to know you’re taking care of yourself.”
That was actually very sweet. “Fine, I’m going.” I sat up and asked, “Want me to text you when I get there?”
“I’d like it if you video called me.”
“To prove I didn’t just stay on the couch in my office?”
He grinned and said, “Maybe.”
I grinned too and told him, “I’ll talk to you soon.”
It didn’t take long to drive to my apartment.
I brought my things inside and found the second stuffed eggplant in the tote bag.
Then I changed into pajama pants and a clean T-shirt and looked in my refrigerator.
It was pretty empty, but I found the end of a block of cheese and brought it with me to the bedroom.
After I got in bed, I placed a video call to Tory and pointed the phone at the eggplant, which I’d tucked in beside me. He chuckled when he answered the call, and I turned the screen toward me and said, “I’m home and in bed. Happy?”
“Yes. Did you find something to eat?” I held up the plastic bag, and he asked, “What is that?”
“A half-inch-thick slab of pepper jack.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s a piece of cheese, and the best I could do.” I propped up the phone with a fold of the blanket and unwrapped my makeshift dinner. “Since you’re here, tell me a bedtime story.”
I’d been joking, but he said, “Okay. What kind of story would you like?”
“Tell me about growing up in Italy. It can be real or a lie, either way.”
“I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” He took a sip of red wine before saying, “My mom grew up in a small town in Sicily, but then she fell in love with my father, who was an artist and a musician. Against the objections of her family, they got married and moved to Rome. He was hoping for his big break, but he ended up playing the piano in tiny supper clubs, and selling his paintings to tourists for a fraction of what they were worth.”
Tory shifted around and continued, “I was born two years into their marriage. They were so young, just twenty-two and twenty-four, but they were wonderful parents. There was always music in our home, and love, and laughter. We lived in a tiny, decaying apartment in Monti. Back then, it was a fairly run-down neighborhood. Now, it’s become posh and trendy.
But it was always crowded with tourists, because it’s a stone’s throw from the Colosseum. ”
“Wow,” I said, “it must have been so cool to live someplace like that.”
“I took it for granted as a kid. But in my early teens, I started to appreciate the city’s uniqueness—the way the modern world and the ancient wove together to make up the fabric of Rome.
I also learned to like the tourists, believe it or not.
Sure, they could be loud, entitled, and obnoxious.
But I enjoyed sitting in front of the Colosseum when the guided tours would come through. ”
He took another sip of wine and continued, “I loved listening to the tour guides, because I desperately wanted to travel back then. I thought I wanted that more than anything. Since I grew up poor, getting to see the world seemed like an impossible dream. But I could close my eyes and daydream as I listened to the guides reciting the same facts, over and over again in French, German, English, Japanese. I loved hearing all those languages being spoken. I thought that might be the closest I’d ever get to traveling. ”
I finished my piece of cheese and smiled at him. “But you did it! You ended up getting to travel all over the world.”
I didn’t expect him to suddenly look devastated. He murmured, “It came at too high a price. My parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen. I got to travel because my uncle took me abroad after that. If I could…”
His voice wavered. He closed his eyes and took a breath before starting again. “If I could have one wish, I’d choose more time with my parents—staying in that tiny apartment with them and never going anywhere. I’d choose that a million times over.”
I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Tory.”
He opened his eyes and tried to smile. “Next time you ask for a story, I’m going with a lie. The truth is much too hard sometimes.”
“It really is,” I said softly.
“It’s getting late. I know you’re tired, so I should let you go.”
“Okay.” I tried to smile too, even though my heart was aching after what he’d told me. “Thanks for convincing me to come home and sleep in my own bed.”
“Thank you for actually listening to me and taking care of yourself.” He kissed two fingertips and touched them to his screen. “Good night, Arie.”
“Good night, Tory.”
After we ended the call, I curled up under the covers and hugged a pillow to my chest. The comforting scent of his cologne lingered faintly on my wrist. I breathed it in and closed my eyes.
Even though I was tired, I started to replay the events of the last few days. So many huge, important things had happened this weekend, between my son getting married and meeting Tory. Even leaving my diner in someone else’s hands for the first time had been a big deal.
It felt like everything was changing. While that was definitely unsettling, I had a reason to be excited, too. I had no idea where this thing with Tory was going to end up, but I was looking forward to finding out.