8. Alex
Just before four p.m., Alex and Antonio walk into a restaurant with brick walls decked in pictures of celebrity patrons and their autographs. Empty bottles score a high shelf with warm, sparkling lights, and an acoustic guitar soothes the dining area. Alex curves to the left to stand behind a line of seven people, while Antonio cruises ahead towards the podium.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti,” a young woman, probably only twenty, says. She smiles until her eyes land on Alex, at which point she promptly retracts her enthusiasm.
“What’s up, Jessica?” Antonio responds, without stopping.
Alex follows him and only sees suits, sweatpants, and shorts, mainly because she can’t bring herself to look at the faces of the customers they pass. “So, we didn’t need to…?”
“Would you wait to be seated at a place your brother owns?” Antonio seems to be heading towards the last in a row of chocolate-colored booths, but before he sits, he rests his eyes on her. “Never mind. I know you would.”
“You said that with such…displeasure.”
“Because doing that would be displeasurable.”
Against all good judgment, only the “pleasure” reaches Alex’s ears. Antonio says it in the smoothest voice and behind such a concentrated gaze. Alex imagines he spends the majority of his days closing deals, so those are merely assets that have become second-nature.
“Huh,” is all she offers back, scooting into the middle of the booth. “Is Frankie here?”
Antonio raises his eyebrows.
Oops. But also… Oh, well. “Is it really that surprising I looked into you a little bit?” Her finger grazes her earlobe.
“A little bit, huh?” He passes her a menu. “That’s not what your ear says.”
“My ear?
“Yes. You torture the shit out of your ear when you’re in your head for whatever reason.”
So he’s observant as well. Another quality Alex chooses to file away as a honed skill and not because he’s…what, exactly? Interested in getting to know her more? Highly unlikely, yet…they are about to have a meal together.
“See?” Antonio asks.
Sure enough, Alex’s hand had made its way to her ear again, leisurely pinching and twisting away. That is the kind of thing that’s become her second-nature. Along with spewing word-vomit. She moves her hand and begins browsing the menu; the depiction of a juicy burger with mushrooms and bacon and greasy goodness practically makes her salivate.
“How about this?” Antonio continues. “For however long we’re here, you can say or ask whatever’s swirling around in that nerdy brain of yours. But I go first.”
That sounds like an interview, which induces a sense of dread within Alex. She’ll have to do her best to be as concise as possible with her responses, lest it turn into some sort of ‘woe-is-me’ session.
“Okie dokie. Fire away.”
Antonio folds his arms over the table. “Alright. So, your real name is Charlotte Fox.”
She avoids his eyes. “Is that a question?”
“You said you found out when you were sixteen?”
“Yep. And the names of my biological mother and father.”
“Which are?”
Things already start to feel more like an interrogation, but Alex did agree to answer all the man’s questions. Luckily, a server sets down glasses of water and mentions the daily specials, giving Alex a moment to breathe.
“Tracy Daily and Charlie Fox.”
“And the Agneaus…did they know them?”
Alex frowns.
“What?”
“That’s where it starts to get less…straightforward.”
“How so?”
Alex looks behind her; the restaurant has filled up considerably, although for some reason it does feel like she and Antonio have their own little bubble here in the back. She lets out a breath. “My parents adopted me fair and square. But it wasn’t totally random. According to my mother, she and Tracy met at a pregnancy loss support group. I won’t get into all the details, but basically…they got somewhat close. Close enough that Tracy told my mom when she was pregnant again, and that she wanted to keep in contact, but she didn’t feel right continuing with the meetings with what she hoped would turn into a growing belly. So they kept in touch. Fast forward a while later, Tracy seemingly vanished off the face of the planet. Not before she made it very clear that she wanted the Agneaus to adopt me. So they did.”
“Wait…so what happened in between all that?”
Alex stares straight at Antonio. “Exactly. I guess you could call that part one. Part two, is—”
“Komarov?”
Another reprieve as the server returns to take their orders.
“He’s…part two-point-five. Finding out the names of my parents is what led me to him. And the letter. Or note, I guess.”
“A note?” Antonio looks…slightly worried? “What”d it say?”
“It said…”
Alex envisions the twenty-six-year-old piece of paper. Within its folds was a gorgeous, emerald pendant dangling off a silver chain. Beyond that, Tracy only afforded her daughter four written words. A sentiment that bore affection, grief, remorse, and although Tracy might not have predicted as much—a lifetime of uncertainty. Both the letter and the jewelry have sat in the same glass box it was given to her when Alex turned sixteen. She couldn’t bring herself to ever wear it.
“It said, ‘know you are loved’. If she loved me… If they loved me, then…”
Antonio trades his worry for a look of pity, but he remains silent.
“After that, I was obsessed with finding any information I could get my hands on. At first, I was just some kid playing detective. But I met…I met this guy.” Alex taps the table and tries to recoup the strength talking about James takes. Her bottom lip quivers. “Long story short, he taught me pretty much everything I know. And it was only because of him I was able to find what I did on Tracy and Charlie.”
“What’d you find?”
“Not much—there was a missing persons report, my adoption records… But I didn’t find any death certificates, or anything to suggest they fled to another state, or anything. It was like they both vanished. I didn’t give up right away, but eventually James convinced me I should start using what I’d learned in other ways. So, I…helped him out with minor jobs here and there.”
Antonio nods and his gaze is pensive, as if he’s putting the pieces together, and Alex wonders if he remembers her outburst when he’d cornered her in her bedroom.
She decides to leave those dots unconnected for now. “One of these jobs ended up being not so minor. It involved stealing an insane amount of money from some guy James thought would never miss it. Well, not only did Ivan miss it, he came to collect.” Alex sniffs and chews her lip. “On paper he’s just rich. But underneath…”
Antonio grunts in agreement.
“Being confined like that was so… I can’t think of anything I’ve wanted more in the last eight years than to no longer be some genie in a lamp.”
Antonio’s phone flashes and buzzes, and as much as Alex tries to appear uninterested, she notices it’s a call from someone saved ‘Margo-Vet’. Antonio squeezes the sides of the phone and makes the screen go black, then returns to that same, thoughtful look.
“What about James, then?”
Alex winces. “I never saw him again. He went off the grid somewhere, I imagine. And I tried to do something with my life to balance out my mistakes and cope with the underhanded work I did for Ivan.”
“As C. Harley?”
“Yup. But as we saw, sometimes those avenues in my life overlap.”
“Hm. You make a lot more sense now,” Antonio says. “I wish…things had turned out differently for you.”
His sincerity leaves her slightly taken aback. “Me too. But it doesn’t really help to dwell on the past. It’s been tough, but I try to be happy. Most days, it’s as simple as making a choice.” Some days.
“You think we can choose what days we’re happy?”
Alex shrugs, ogling the approaching beef patty packed between lettuce leaves. “It’s not a flawless outlook, but it just helps to tackle one thing at a time. Tomorrow’s problems are tomorrow’s problems.”
Neither of them says anything else; the food provides the perfect intermission.
Alex’s burger is as delicious as the menu described, but she ordered a Caesar salad as her side. She didn’t regret her choice at the time, but each glance at Antonio’s fries makes each bite of her greens that much more overwhelmingly bland. Plus, they’re crinkle-cut, which is her favorite. She stares longingly at the crispy, golden potatoes, averting her eyes each time Antonio’s shifts her way. Her furtiveness doesn’t last long.
Antonio slides his plate over and asks, “Why didn’t you just get your own, Alex?”
“If I had known they looked like that, I would have!” She cheeses. “You didn’t strike me as the sharing type.”
“I’m not gonna eat them all. But it’s a one-time thing, trust me.”
Alex overlooks the pang of disappointment she feels. Of course, it’s a one-time thing, because so is having dinner with Antonio. After this, they’ll part ways, and she’ll figure out what her life looks like without Ivan holding her back.
Right now though, she’s going to work on these fries. They polish off almost everything they ordered, and once the sole item on the table is the check, Antonio takes out his wallet. When Alex does the same, he gives her a bizarre look.
“What?” she asks.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? I’m not letting you pay for me.” Alex pushes the excess bills aside and sets a card on the table.
“And I’m not waiting for her to bring that back.” Antonio stands up and directly places a wad of green into the server’s hands before walking off.
“I’m sorry, are you in a rush? I haven’t asked my question, yet.” Alex hurries after him.
“Tick-tock,” he says, holding the door for her.
“I hope you’re not this quick with everything else,” she blurts. An innocent enough comment on Alex’s end, but she looks at Antonio, and both his brows are sky-high.
He smirks, and they start walking. “Was that a question?”
Oh my God. “No.” She rubs her hands together and sighs. “Antonio Moretti. CEO of Morex, a hospitality company with ‘We Set The Bar At Excellence’ as its tagline.”
“Sounds like you’re introducing me for a speech.”
“Heh. No, I’m saying that because anyone who looks you up could find that.”
Antonio does some sort of weird box-step move and swaps positions with Alex so he’s on the street-side of the sidewalk. “And for the person who’s not just anyone?”
“That person found some things. Things it looked like someone else tried to…erase? An email here or there, some security footage, potentially incriminating paper trails…”
“Are you saying I need to fire Nathan?”
“Are you deflecting?”
“No need. There wasn’t a question in there.”
True. “Fuck!” The toe of Alex’s sneaker gets caught in a crack in the pavement. In a flash, she sees a passerby reach out, but as is apparently becoming a thing, Antonio Moretti prevents her fall by catching her arm. “Th-Thank you.”
Antonio simply nods as if he’s already that used to her clumsiness.
After Alex catches her breath, she goes back to their conversation. “Working under Ivan has made me jaded, sure. But I feel like there’s something about you I’m missing. So…I want to know who the real Antonio Moretti is. The one I can’t read about on the internet.”
Antonio sucks in air and walks away from her.
“Wha—hey!” Alex yells, taking four steps to his one. “Yo!”
The sole reason she doesn’t protest what ends being a fifteen-minute walk to a nearby park is that she’s too out of breath.
Youthful-looking faces carry backpacks and briefcases alike along a gravel walkway. Yellow reflective rope blocks off colorful hammocks and closed umbrellas. Some squirrels chase each other around the perimeter of a man-made pond.
“Why are we here? It’s not even open yet.”
“Come on,” is all Antonio says.
They continue walking to a secluded, grassy, tree-topped area with a single hammock overlooking the river. Antonio pulls ahead of Alex again to stand closer to the bank.
“Well, if you wanted to kill me, this isn’t a bad spot to do it,” she says.
“If I wanted to kill you, why would I be standing in front of you?”
“So, you’ve thought about it?”
“Oh my God.”
“Well, shit, Antonio. We’re like miles away from civilization. What do you expect me to think?”
“Miles away from ci—” Antonio huffs and shakes his head.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you brought me here?”
He doesn’t respond, giving Alex a chance to understand for herself. Once she stops moving, she hears an orchestra of birds chirp and sing around them, while the water steadily whooshes along.
Oh…wow.
Alex nestles into the hammock, and Antonio joins her shortly after. His added weight causes the suspended threads to rock backward, and the momentum swings them gently.
Alex can’t remember the last time she’s felt this unburdened. She’s five seconds from falling asleep on Antonio’s shoulder when she hears—
“Antonio Leonardo Moretti.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry—that’s it?” she asks, turning towards him. “That’s all you’re gonna say? The name on your ID?”
He pokes his thumbs out of his coat pockets. “You asked me who I am. I am Antonio Leonardo Moretti.”
Alex drags her toes along the grass, scuffing her high-top sneakers. The hammock propels forward anyway, but she feels Antonio grab the back of her coat and secure her. His hand slides down to her hip, but it doesn’t stay long, much to her relief, and her disappointment. Mostly relief.
“I inherited prism from my father, Donny Moretti. Back then, it was called Pinnacle. I used the profits to help Frankie open up Sogno. I saw that I was good at the shit, and I decided to branch out. That’s how Morex came around. I’ve had to get creative along the way, but for the most part, I am a legitimate business owner.”
“See…it’s the ‘creative’ and ‘for the most part’ bits I’m stuck on. What does that mean?”
“You wearing a wire or something? Why’re you digging?”
Alex scoffs. “Are you serious? After I gave you enough to start my biography? You’re welcome to do a pat-down if you’d like, though.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Antonio mumbles.
Did he just say that?“What?”
“What, what?”
“What did you say, Antonio?”
“I said I sell weed. And do a bit of laundering for my silent partners. Like Simon. Somebody buys a shot, a drink, or a bottle. We mark it up, mix the dirty money with the clean, and nobody’s the wiser.”
“I see.” Alex shivers, and she swears Antonio moves closer.
“That’s it? No side-eye? No smart-ass remark?”
“No, Mr. Moretti. None of what you said surprises me. But, if it will make you feel better, tell me again. I’ll pretend to be shocked, and you just have to let me actually fall off the hammock this time.”
“There it is.”
Alex chuckles, enjoying the levity. “So…Antonio Moretti, the drug lord.”
“Uh…I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Sorry. Drug Businessman,” she clarifies with a prim accent. “I know that can’t be all there is to you, though.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Unfortunately for you, we’re no longer at the restaurant, little lamb. So, our QA is over.”
“How convenient. Wait—little lamb?”
“Agneau means lamb in French. And considering I get a crick in my neck every time I look down at you, I’d say that makes you little. Hence, little lamb,” Antonio says, tilting his body nearer and then away with the last word.
“That was so unnecessarily mean. The average height of the American woman is five-four. I’m five-three.”
“Which means you fall on the little side. Every pair of pants I have is longer than your entire body.”
“Bullshit!” Alex wheezes, amused by his dig. “You aren’t that much taller than me.”
Antonio presses his lips together. “Well, I’m not five-foot-anything, so—”
“You know what they say about us short people? That it took less time for us to become perfect. Meanwhile, you…you…jerk of a giraffe, you took forever. By the way, you speak French?”
“Nah. Just one of the things I found out when I looked you up. By the way, so you are saying I’m perfect?” His eyes flash with a hint of playfulness, and Alex feels her insides somersault.
“I was only saying you’re done growing,” she delivers quickly. “Back to the animal thing. Of all your references for me, lamb never would have crossed my mind.”
Antonio smirks before looking out at the river. “Mine either. I think my final answer would be hyena.”
Such a freaking jerk. “I’d say koala for you.”
“Oh yeah, ‘cuz of how cute you and Ben think I am?”
Alex puts on her most serious face. “No, Antonio. They’re one of the dumbest animals on the planet.” Her cheeks fill with air until she bursts with laughter at the sight of his offended, confused features.
As her laughter dies down, his face goes back to normal. It’s not just cute. It’s handsome. Very stare-at-able.
Ugh. He’ll forget about me by tomorrow, I bet.
Alex doesn’t want to tempt sleep again, so she suggests they head back. The walk this time around feels quicker, even with her expending extra energy giving him suggestions for names of new cocktails.
The first thing she does once they get into Antonio’s car is tune the radio to something besides static. She finds a station that makes her feel like whoever’s in charge of the music drew directly from her personal playlist, as she knows every single song from the time Antonio pulls off to when he parks.
Alex still hums as he walks her to her car after arriving at prism’s parking lot. A mound of dirt trips her halfway through.
She wasn’t really at risk of a fall this time, but Antonio is right there anyway, holding on to her backpack.
“What happens when I’m not around? Do you just…?” His voice aims for the hairs on her neck.
“You know…I wasn’t this inept before the last twenty-four hours. I think it’s you.”
Antonio yawns, opening her door after she unlocks it with her key fob. “Go home, Alex. I’ve had enough of your shit today.”
“Really? ‘Cuz yesterday you said you’d had enough for a lifetime. I must be doing something right.” She tries to tempt him with a smile, flirtatious enough to throw out a line, but innocent enough where she’s not embarrassed if he doesn’t take the bait.
The result is the latter, as he yawns again. “Put it this way—it’s my turn to drink, now.”
Disappointed, but not ashamed, she rolls with it. “Just admit it, Mr. Koala! I made your day ten times less boring than usual, and you can’t convince me otherwise. How many people know about your super secret spot? Nobody but me, I bet!” Alex draws her window up and pulls off before Antonio gets a word in.