3. Chapter Three
M y date with Spencer was two days ago. Other than a text here and there, I haven't been able to talk to him much. Between my work schedule and the family business, there has been little time to do much else. As Sean the fuckwad would say, that's why I'm too emotionally unavailable. I should surprise him with lunch. That's not too fast, right?
“Where's ya head, Sis?” Marc asks, leaning against the meat freezer door.
I blink a few times and place the cleaver I was white-knuckling onto the cutting board. Where is my head? On Sean the fuckwad and Spencer. That's where.
“Not here and also not your business,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“So it's a boy, huh? Tell me it's not ole’ little dick syndrome with his stupid truck?” Marc says, turning up his nose.
He never liked Sean. I should have listened to him on that one.
“No, Marc. That was Sean. He's long gone.”
“So I was right,” Marc grins and stands up straight. “It is a boy. Who is he?”
“You know Spencer over at the animal shelter?” I ask, looking over at him.
“Spencer Calderone?” Marc asks.
Weird he knows his last name.
“Yep.”
“His grandma's a nice lady. Is he good to you?”
And that explains why he knows his last name. I wonder what else he knows?
“So far, yes.”
“I'll cut off his dick if he's not.”
He's serious. I believe he would actually take this meat cleaver and cut it off. Not that it will come to that, I hope.
“You're hilarious,” I flip him off. “Leave Spencer alone. I was just thinking about what to get us for a surprise lunch.”
“Just grab something from the deli. Mami and Papi made goulash today as the house special,” Marc suggests.
“You know what, you have a point. That sounds good to me. I'm taking my lunch hour,” I say, taking off my apron and hanging it on the hook.
Walking to the front, I dodge Josh. He'll just ask me all the same questions Marc did, and I'm in a bit of a time crunch. The deli is on the opposite side of the store. Mami wanted to keep it separate from the butcher side of the business. Something about cross-contamination and her not wanting to smell the meat all day.
Walking up to the glass counter of the deli, Mami turns around and smiles at me. She's in her purple apron with her hair pulled up in a bun.
“Yes, Schnuckelchen?” Mami smiles at me.
“Can I get two servings of the goulash to go, please, Mami?”
“Of course you can. Who is the second for?” She asks as she hands me a plastic bag with two plastic containers and plastic silverware.
“Ask Marc,” I laugh. “The whole store will know by the time I get back anyway. Thank you, Mami.”
I get out of there as quickly as I possibly can and walk to my black Mercedes. Getting in, I start my drive through town. An apron in the window of one of the boutiques catches my eye. It's a frilly white apron that says kiss the cook.
Everyone in the family has an apron. It's like an unofficial tradition to gift someone special to you an apron. Whether it's for cooking, butchering, or other things, aprons are always the perfect gift.
I'd like to see Spencer in nothing but that frilly apron. Pulling into a parking space, I buy it quickly before driving over to the shelter. The more I think about Spencer and what I want to do to that man, the more uncomfortable it gets to drive. Gracious.
As I pull Into the driveway, I can't help but notice the place in the gravel where some asshole peeled out of here. Weird. Maybe they were upset that they couldn't adopt. Why else would you get pissy like that at an animal shelter? No. Something about this doesn't sit right with me.
Grabbing the goulash, I get out of my car and lock the door. It's only been two days since I've seen him, but it feels like that's been too long. I need to keep my eye on the prize here.
Pushing the door open, a little bell rings as it closes behind me. I can see the top of Spencer's head from over the counter. He's leaning down to grab something.
“Oh! Miss Blum!” a woman says to my left. The same woman from before at the farmer’s market. What was her name? Christine?
“Hello,” I say with a smile.
“Here for Spencer?” She grins and nods over in his direction.
“I am. Is it that obvious?” I laugh.
“Just to me. Considering you're all he's been talking about for days now,” Christine laughs. “I'll go get his attention. He has his headphones in to deep clean.”
I watch as Christine rounds the corner to get Spencer's attention. He stands up with his back still towards me and takes out his headphones. As soon as he turns around my eye is drawn to the blue and purple bruise spanning across both eyes and the bridge of his nose. It's definitely broken.
What the fuck happened? I know he wasn't like this when I last saw him two days ago. And this isn't an accident from falling. Someone did this to him. And I will find out who it was and make them pay.
“It's really not as bad as it looks like. I promise.”
Spencer's words do nothing to comfort me. In fact, they piss me off that much more.
“What do you mean it's not as bad as it looks? It looks like you went and got your nose broken. What happened?” I ask, walking over to him.
He offers me a weak smile. I sit the goulash on the counter and lean over it to brush his hair out of his face.
“It's nothing you need to worry about. Just some business about the shelter.”
He shrugs. He fucking shrugs like the people who put their hands on him are no big deal.
“Business about the shelter got your nose broken?” I ask once again.
“Something like that. What brings you in today?” He asks, trying to change the subject.
I see what he's doing, but I just got enough information out of him. I'll find out what happened to him myself. And those who did this are going to pay.
“I brought lunch,” I say gesturing to the bag.
“Thank you,” he says, smiling.
His eyes are still so swollen that he can't smile as broadly as usual. It doesn't escape my notice. The rage in my belly boils up.
“Let's go to the break room. Will you watch the front for a bit, Christine?” Spencer asks.
“My pleasure,” she nods.
Spencer grabs the goulash with one hand and my hand with the other. He leads me to the room Christine was walking out of when I first arrived. It's a simple room. A nice table in the center. A small kitchenette with a fridge on the far wall. A bathroom. Some lockers and a coat rack, too.
Spencer walks to the table and pulls out a chair for me. I sit down and divvy out the plates and silverware. The goulash is still warm. Good, I was hoping it would be.
“This smells amazing,” Spencer says as he takes his seat across from me.
“It's Mami's specialty. Goulash. But, really, it was my excuse to see you today.”
“You don't need an excuse to see me, Lila.”
Don't I? I can see him blushing even with the bruising.
“Well, still.”
I'm trying my best not to stare at his bruises. The more I see them, the more pissed off I get. Spencer reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine.
“What's on your mind, my Little Masterpiece?”
“Just you,” I answer with a smile.
It's not technically a lie. I'm thinking about what to do to the rat bastards who dared to lay their hands on my man.
“Would it be too forward to say we're dating?” He asks.
I blink a few times and look up at him. Dating? Are we?
“I wouldn't mind,” I smile at him.
“That settles it then.”
He takes a bite of his goulash and squeezes my hand. We eat the goulash and don't really talk about anything in particular. It was general small talk at best before my phone started going off. My lunch break is over.
Groaning, I pull it from my back pocket and hit dismiss on the alarm. Groaning, I put it on the table.
“I gotta go. Lunch breaks over and I have a whole cow to finish up before my day is over.”
“Thanks for having lunch with me, Lila. Next time, I'll come to you,” Spencer smiles.
“You don't have to do that. My family would have a field day.”
“With what?”
“With you. I've never brought a man to meet them before.”
“Then I definitely want to. I'm great with families,” Spencer winks at me.
I stand up, shaking my head, and walk over to him. He looks up at me and I gently kiss his lips. Then I gently kiss his forehead.
“I'll have to introduce you since you seem so confident,” I laugh.
Spencer stands up and escorts me to the front door. “I'll clean up. It's the least I can do since you brought it.”
He leans forward and kisses my bottom lip. I can't help but smile into the kiss. Christine clears her throat after a minute and I pull back. I forgot she was standing there.
I wave to her and wink at Spencer before walking to my car. He stands by the front door and watches until I'm in my car with the door closed. I don't know if it's because he's being a gentleman or if he's being protective. Either way, it's cute.
The second my phone connects to the Bluetooth on my car, Marc calls me.
“What do you want?”
“Your lunch was over ten minutes ago, Sis. Where are you?”
“I was with my boyfriend, Mami.”
I buckle up and back out of my parking space.
“Ouch,” he starts. “Josh was asking about you. I'll tell him you were sucking face and will be back in a bit.”
“Don't you dare , Marc!” I groan.
If Josh finds out about Spencer too soon, he's going to go all over-protective of me. That's the last thing I want. I really like Spencer.
“So…?” Marc's voice trails off.
“So what?” I ask as I pull onto the main road.
“How'd it go?” He asks almost too enthusiastically.
Other than the fact my boyfriend was beaten in the last few days, it went well. I have to take care of that.
“I need your help with a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” He laughs.
I throw on my turn signal and make a left onto Court Street. The shop isn't far now.
“A business problem.”
“I see. What do you need?”
His tone flips from teasing to serious. I need to find the fuckers who did this. And I need to make them pay.
“Within the last two days, Spencer was accosted at the shelter. From how he was walking and breathing, I assume they beat him worse than what they did to his face. I need names.”
“Do you have any other information?” Marc asks.
I pull into the parking lot of the shop and slide into my space by the corner.
“I have a photo of the tread marks they left in the gravel. Sending it to you now.”
I park my car and send the picture I took at the shelter to Marc before parking. I kill the engine and grab my wallet.
“Got it. Let me do what I do.”
“Okay. I'm here. Love ya, bye.” I hang up.
Marc will have all I need by the end of the night if it takes him that long.
Oh, Spencer. I don't think you understand what kind of precarious situation you're in.