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"Do you love her?" he had asked while staring intently into his friends eyes. Rocco understood him the minute the words left Jeremy's mouth.
"You know I do" He replied anxiously
"Then don't wait any longer. Do what you have to do per amore (for love). Capisce?" A brilliant smile graced Rocco's face.
"You really are a bastard" Rocco laughed, shaking Jeremy from the memory. Rocco had long blonde hair that he wore in a pony tail. His skin a tad lighter than Jeremy's. His eyes were a light oceanic blue. When mad, Rocco was the epitome of anyone's worst nightmare. He was just as tall as Jeremy and the two had a similar strapping build. Before he met Rita he was the perfect womanizer. But Rita had tamed him. Jeremy remembered watching the change in Rocco. It used to be a different girl every night and that abruptly changed into just Rita. He would talk about the way her hair looked at night under the moonlight, or how when she was mad he wanted to rip off all her clothes and take her right there and then. He would talk about all the sweet faces she made and how beautiful their children would be. He was head over heels in love and it showed.
"Touché, my friend." Jeremy remarked cannily.
"Jeremy" Rocco said soberly
"What," he replied
"Who is Kayla Warner?" he asked as he drank his coffee. Jeremy was caught off guard by such a whimsical question.
"Girl I met" he replied nonchalantly, still looking out the window at the busy city street.
"She something to you?" he continued. Jeremy glanced at his friend.
"No, not really" It was true, he didn't know her. They hadn't even had a real conversation. But for some reason it felt wrong to say she didn't mean anything to him. Was it because she did? No, what a dim-witted thought. He didn't even know her!
"Well how comes you haven't said anything about her?" Rocco sniffed
"Just met her" was Jeremy's mild-mannered reply.
"How?" Rocco asked. Jeremy's eyes narrowed and Rocco's widened amusingly.
"You sure you not interested?" Rocco now teased
"Yes" Jeremy bit out "Why?"
"Oh I don't know maybe because you clocked her godfather" Jeremy stared at Rocco, deceivingly poised.
"Who told you that?"
"Ray and Leo." Great, Jeremy thought. That means Paul had told Ray. Which meant Paul was still on his case about her.
"Ray relayed faulty information. She was beaten. I saw her running from a couple of bastards on my way from Bianchi's party and told her to get in the car. I ended up taking her to the hospital. She mentioned some guy named Bruce, said he wouldn't want her in the hospital because of the bill she would procure. Figured that was the guy that messed her up. So I took some precautions." Rocco nodded intently and took another gulp of coffee.
"So answer me this," Rocco said solemnly "What you gonna do, if he starts acting up?
"You already know the answer to that" Jeremy retorted
"You gonna ice this guy (kill) for a broad you just met?" Rocco whispered in Italian.
"You assume, so. I have no wish to divert your thinking process." Jeremy said his gaze unflinching. Rocco nodded his head and smiled. Shit, Jeremy thought.
"Listen; don't make a big deal of it. She was distraught, you should have seen her. She wouldn't have lived much longer if I had let him go" Jeremy said in a rush. What the hell was wrong with him?
"Of course, but-"
"But what?" Jeremy asked, irritated.
"You took it upon yourself to clock him. And you don't seem to know what purpose that will serve. There is no rational explanation for that, is there?" Rocco said through a grin
"Go to hell" Jeremy muttered whilst picking up his cup of coffee. Rocco laughed.
"What did she look like?" Rocco asked. Jeremy peered out the window, remembering the flawless contours of her face.
"She had these clear hazel eyes. Her hair was long and black, really curly--" He said
"Typical Italian" Rocco commented
"She's not Italian." Jeremy replied
"Oh, Paul's gonna have a field day with this. What is she, then?"
"Black...she might be mixed with something." Jeremy said
"You've got yourself a black girl. I'm jealous." Rocco teased
"I haven't gotten myself anything. And watch your mouth before I call Rita."
"The worst she'll do, is ask you if you think she's fat" Rocco chuckled
"Low blow" Jeremy smirked
"She got a nice body? Thinking about gettin' a piece of that?" Great, he was back on the Kayla subject.
"Shut the fuck up"
Rocco's lips held a devilish smile. Sometimes Jeremy didn't know how Rita did it. This man was relentless.
"Don't push your luck. You're fortunate I'm even discussing this with you." Jeremy said. Rocco sighed. He didn't know what was holding Jeremy back from pursuing this girl. He knew his friend like the back of his hand. When Jeremy wanted something he went for it, and if it ran...which it never ever did...Jeremy would most likely chase it. So what was the problem?
"You gonna contact her, Jeremy?" He asked in a more serious tone. Jeremy looked as if he was prepared to speak but at the brink of the moment he hesitated. Jeremy never hesitated. He was a calculating thinker; such mishaps never braced his disposition. Rocco frowned.
"No"
"Why not?"
"This isn't necessary. I don't need to contact her because I don't need to talk to her. I don't need her at all. I can't afford to waste my time." Jeremy straightened his business coat, with unnecessary vigor.
"But what do you want?" Rocco implored.
"Rocco she isn't Rita and I'm not you. She's just this girl I met who I found attractive; she's barely old enough to drive. Nothing to chase and nothing to hide. Stop reading into it. You're acting like a pussy." What a satirical thing to say. In all her beauty and pretentious glory, Angela had never affected him the way this Kayla girl did. She had bruises that covered her features (they were probably healing by now) yet he found her captivating. Her skin, her body, those legs, her lips...Jesus, her eyes. She was no seductress like Angela. She was innocent and broken and he was more shaken by her than he should be. The feeling was unnerving and irrational he wanted to end the constant thought of her...the dreams. It was all insane.
"I'm the pussy?" Rocco asked sardonically. "You don't have the balls to go talk to this girl because you're scared of what it'll turn into. For what reason...I have no idea, cause' you've got a different girl on that arm every night. What's another fuck?" Rocco would know if this girl was just a physical interest. If she was, Jeremy would not have personally clocked Bruce torch, if she was, they wouldn't be discussing her at all, if she was, Jeremy would have contacted her whenever the hell he wanted...especially since he was interested. But he didn't. Jeremy pounded the table with his fist at Rocco's question, losing his cool. He glanced around to intimidate anyone who dare stare. He pointed a finger at Rocco roughly.
"Enough" he said lividly but calmly. Rocco narrowed his eyes. Jeremy had snapped at his last statement. She wasn't just another broad, then.
"Alright, Jeremy" he drawled, ignoring his friend's erratic behavior.
***
"Table four, table six, table seventeen and table three. Listen kid, don't mess up orders. Don't stare either. Get used to the jewelry and the clothing. Be polite but don't intrude. You see your customers having what looks like a meaningful conversation you fall back for a few moments but keep an eye on em'." Mr. Linden directed. Kayla listened intently as she wrote the table numbers down on her little note pad. She stood in front of the older gentleman in total anxiety. This could be heaven or this could be hell. She wore black slacks and a black button-down blouse that Mr. Linden had provided. Her hair was tightly wound in a bun at the top of her head. Cheap make-up clung to the smooth skin of her dainty features covering the last bruise on her face and heavy mascara weighed down her long eyelashes. She felt out of place...a small fish in a sea full of sharks. She looked down to take a steadying breath and noticed her crooked name tag. She quickly straightened the tiny rectangular piece of metal with trembling hands.
"Kid, you'll do just fine." Mr. Linden awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder. Kayla looked at Mr. Linden. The corner of his eyes held laughing lines and she wondered if she'd ever see him smile. He was a serious man, she could tell that much. Every employee respected him, spoke to him with clear diction and always gave purposeful eye contact. She saw his lips slightly stretch across his face, pushing his cheeks up into the preexisting lines at the corners of his eyes she had noticed before, and wondered if he was trying to smile. Yes, that was a smile. It was pleasant.
"Th-Thank you" she said. Her hands felt cold yet her palms were as sweaty as ever. "Here. I'm giving you table eleven too. I think you'll do a good job. I'm leaving some pretty important customers in your hands. Prove to me you deserve this." Mr. Linden handed her a tiny card. On it were several names next to the table numbers. She looked up at him, confused.
"Address them by their names." He clarified. She nodded.
"Hit table eleven first. I just brought them coffee, myself. They're close friends of mine." Mr. Linden winked and walked away. Kayla smiled. He was a nice man; nicer than Ricky.
Kayla approached table eleven cautiously. Two men sat across from each other, sipping on coffee intermittently. The man facing her hand long blonde hair that was pulled together in a loose pony tail; it lay lazily atop his suite-covered shoulder. His eyes caught hers as she neared his table. Kayla smiled as Mr. Linden had told her to. The man had pretty cerulean eyes. He smiled back and Kayla felt her hands start to shake once more. Everything started to come crashing down. She was in a five star high-class restaurant amongst the most successful, pompous, beautiful people she'd ever probably come in contact with. The interior of the restaurant was breathtaking as were the dresses the women wore...or the rings that braced their fingers. She kept reminding herself not to stare. The man she was approaching kept smiling, so she kept her smile as well, praying to god he couldn't see the tremble of her lower lip or the quivers of her cold hands.
Kayla reached the table after an everlasting two seconds. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. A man with black hair was staring down at the table, tracing the pattern embedded within the tablecloth before him. Only the blonde beamed at her. God could this man smile. If she was to ever come upon a real angel...it would probably look like him.
"Hello, my name is Kayla and I will be serving you tod- tonight." Shit, she forgot to look at the card, for their names. She hadn't even taken any orders and she was already falling apart. Pull yourself together, Kayla! Before she could glance at the card the blonde's eyes had narrowed on hers and the one with the black hair had stopped tracing the patterns on the tablecloth. She stared at the blonde with puzzlement in her scrunched brows. He turned in his seat towards her, only to gawk. He stared at, not into, her eyes and then glanced at what she guessed was the thick bun near the crown of her head. A quick movement in her peripheral vision had her turning her gaze to look at the other man. His head shot up in lightening speed and familiar green eyes pierced hers. Mercy from the unknown, kept her heart beating.
***
"Hello, my name is Kayla and I will be-" Those were the only words Jeremy heard before he had stopped listening...and began a frantic ponder. The voice was familiar but clearer. She had said Kayla. She had said Kayla just like Kayla had said Kayla. Jeremy closed his eyes at the newfound lunacy in his every thought. There was no way-
Rocco's chair screeched against the wooden floor. Before Jeremy knew it he was looking into incredulous hazel eyes. He felt his nose flare at the familiar facial features, but the swelling was gone and her lips were healed. She wore make-up, he could tell because it clashed with her skin-tone. Her skin was too radiant to be hidden beneath banal make-up. On an impulse his eyes caressed the rest of her body, clad in black. Rocco cleared his throat.
*** Jeremy stared at the droplet of water beside his finger, a droplet of water that had fallen from Kayla's eye. He hated himself in that seemingly unending moment. He hated every last cell in his body as he stared at that tiny morsel of liquid. He hated his lifestyle and the luxuries that came with it, he hated his innate glibness and he hated Rocco for not being okay with what he had just done. He hated the way she had stared at him when they had looked at each other for the first time since that night. He hated the way he couldn't breathe when he had realized she was crying.
When he had looked up from the napkin and into her eyes all he could see was her and all he could feel was the shy bliss coursing through his body. But then as she stared back with the same amount of zeal, he saw something else. He saw her lying on the cold tile of the entranceway to his house. He saw himself near her lifeless body and then he saw one lonesome bullet-hole in the left side of her chest and watched as blood raced from her body to cover first, the crevices between the tiles and then the complete floor. As the vision died so did the passion in his eyes. He was wrong for showing the desire that he had. He was wrong to even consider jeopardizing her life by inviting her into his. He was wrong to be so selfish...to be so...hopeful.
She had something he could never have; something he could never take from such a tortured soul. She had freedom; so he had purposefully been aloof towards her; asking for another cup of coffee instead of how she was healing, or whether or not she was okay. When he had asked for the coffee she had stared at him as if he had gone crazy, but as soon as that expression infiltrated itself into her pretty features it had disappeared and she appeared to be inwardly scolding herself for expecting anything more...that expression had hurt him the most. She had murmured an 'okay' with trembling lips as small tears fell from her eyes; by the look on her face he could tell she was fighting her tears with a fiery will. He rested his thumb against her tear that now lay on the restaurant table-turning cold- eventually wiping it from the table as he recalled the previous dreadful moments over and over again.
"You did the right thing." Rocco said, finally understanding. If anyone knew what was going through Jeremy's mind at that moment it would be Rocco and Rocco only. Jeremy slowly nodded as he reached inside his coat to retrieve his gold-plated pen. On a napkin he left her a note...a note that would provide some sort of redemption for his tarnished self-conscious. At the exit of the restaurant Jeremy stopped Koen Linden, his close friend. He slipped him a note with a thousand-dollar bill within it. Only her name was written in the tiny piece of paper. Koen asked no questions.
12:00 am
"I have to see him again" The girl Kayla came to know as Jessica said wantonly to another girl sitting across from her. Kayla sat at the employee lunch table completely drained. After recovering in the bathroom she had went to deliver Jeremy's coffee. But he wasn't there when she had reached his table; a tiny note sat on the table. She picked it up tentatively, reluctantly opening it to glimpse its purpose.
I am glad to see you've recovered for the most part. I would like you to contact me if you need anything, anytime. I would be more than glad to help.
__JA
His number rested temptingly under the immaculate initials. His handwriting was neat and in cursive. She shamelessly folded the note and slipped it into her pocket. Kayla had continued the rest of her shift in a detached state as she thought of just how confusing Jeremy Alessi was. Why would he leave her note after so blatantly expressing disinterest in any type of communication? Because you're a charity case, remember? Kayla winced.
***
Jeremy rolled over haggardly and grabbed his cell phone. He had gone straight home after encountering Kayla at Sacred Haven, refusing Rocco's offer to have dinner with him and Rita.
"Hello" He spoke tiredly into his cell phone, burying his head further in his micro fiber pillow and silently cursing.
"Jeremy?" He heard his mother say softly, her voice sounded strained and he immediately sat up whilst turning on his bedside lamp. The dim light lit up a small portion master bedroom, leaving most of the room in a shadow.
"What's wrong?" He said quickly, throwing the covers off of his pajama clad legs and running a hand over his bare toned abs. He heard no answer. She sniffed and then let out a small whimper; Jeremy's whole body was doused in cold water. His mother was crying.
"Ma?" He bellowed in frantic speed.
"Ssh" She whispered quickly; he felt as he could hear her tears. Jeremy's eyebrows furrowed. Why would she be shushing him over the phone?
"Can I come over?" She asked in between small sniffs.
"Why are you crying?" He pressured. If she was really crying he was going fuck someone up. That question seemed to diminish her will power to remain composed; she burst out into soft sobs before hastily covering her mouth. Jeremy's heart froze at that sound, he knew if he continued to grip his phone the way he was it was going to break. Somehow he knew this had everything to do with his father. He hadn't heard his mother cry in years but every time she did cry it was always because of Paul.
"I'm coming for you" He bit out.
"No" she cried "Frankie can drop me off" she stuttered anxiously.
"Sarah!" Jeremy heard Paul scream. What the hell was going on?
"Where are you?" Jeremy asked as he pulled on his slacks, shirt and shoes simultaneously.
"In the closet" She wept, Jeremy removed the phone from his ear placing the back of his hand firmly over his mouth as he closed his eyes and counted back from ten. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth could've shattered in any second.
"Stay put. Don't move."
***
Jeremy jumped out of his Maybach as soon as it was parked on Paul's spacious oval shaped driveway he hadn't called Leon, his driver, because he knew it would mean wasting precious time. Ray sauntered over to him with a serious expression on his face before Jeremy could step foot near the outdoor entry way.
"What brings you over hear so late, Gianni" Ray deadpanned as he straightened his over-coat. Jeremy jostled him backwards in one powerful shove as he felt his blood rush up his neck, cheeks, nose and hair follicles.
"For how fucking long have you known me, Ray. What do you think brings me here so late?" Jeremy growled, his were eyes full of accusation. Ray knew Paul was probably hurting Sarah...but he valued his career more than he did the woman who had never directed a foul word towards him. He recovered easily and glared at Jeremy, nevertheless knowing he was in the wrong. He didn't bother to stop Jeremy from heading towards the house. Jeremy shuffled in his slacks pocket for his spare keys. Once inside the house he took the left winding staircase all the way to the west side of the house passing several miniature dining areas, offices, and bathrooms before coming upon the staircase that led to the master bedroom. He swung the door open without as much as a discretional knock. Surprised to find the room particularly void of any sign of Paul, he practically ran over to the walk-in closet, and drew back the mahogany sliding doors only to find his mother curled up in the corner, her black hair engulfing her face and shoulders. As soon as she saw her son she attempted to pull herself together, rising too her feet and tightening her silk robe.
