Page 33 of Hunter

“Tony’s mom taught me,” I reply, sipping at the delicious wine that probably cost a day’s wages for me.

“Tony, as in ex-boyfriend Tony?”

“Yes, she always showed both of us how to make our meals. Right up until she died, that is.”

“Died? How old were you?”

“Sixteen, same as Tony,” I tell him, but suddenly feel uncomfortable over talking about my ex-boyfriend’s mother.

“So much loss, Lou,” he says as he places his hand over mine in sympathy. He smiles when I look nervously at our hands but then withdraws it and starts eating. I laugh when he theatrically groans over the first mouthful, reminding me of my father all those years ago. “My God, this is amazing. If you ever want to give up being a PA, you can come and be my chef.”

“Nah,” I giggle, “much too stressful. Have you seen a chef in action? They look like they want to routinely kill someone every five minutes. I think they’re even more angry than Phoenix.”

“True,” he says as he digs into the vegetables, “I feel for those poor bastards who have to do it all in front of the clientele. Must be like having to perform each and every night.”

“Your wine is good,” I admit, pointing to my glass as though he needs extra visual cues, “are you a wine connoisseur?”

“Nope, but Theo is,” he grins. “Had him run out and pick something for me.”

“You two are good friends, aren’t you? How long have you known one another?”

“Since we were three. Technically, he was Kev’s friend first,” he says as though caught in a fond memory. “But he went to England when he turned eight and didn’t return until he was eighteen, give or take. I took pity and let him back into the fold, even if he was being a sad sap over the girl he left back there.”

“That’s Izzy, right?”

“Yes, we went over there last year to ‘rescue’ her of sorts. Her story is pretty sad, much like yours, Lou,” he says, now looking at me seriously. “But they got their happy ending. What would be yours?”

“I don’t know,” I reply with an anxious shrug of my shoulders. “Not everyone gets a happy ending, especially when they have no idea what they want it to be.”

We stare at each other for a few awkward moments before one of us, I forget who, changes the subject to talk about other things; neutral and unthreatening things.

_____

As the evening continues, we end up on the couch, chatting over wine and chocolates, a vice of mine, him at one end, me at the other. It feels comfortable, even if his six-foot-something body pretty much stretches over to my side and the waft of his expensive aftershave makes me feel a little dizzy. It’s the first time I’ve laughed with someone who isn’t Jake and the fact that he doesn’t make every joke end in ‘cock’, ‘ass’, or ‘tits’ is an added bonus. Jake will grow up one day; that day just hasn’t come yet.

“So, I have a confession to make,” he says, looking rather guilty, so I brace myself for whatever new idea he has in store for Trent and me. “I kind of knew Trent was going to ask you out. He said as much the other day.”

“What?!” I laugh and cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. “Why the hell didn’t you talk him out of it? I mean, God, I couldn’t think of a worse couple than him and me.”

“I didn’t feel it was my place,” he says with a grin, “it’s your decision who you go out with, Lou, no matter what your brother thinks.”

“Thank you,” I reply, no longer laughing, for his words are what I need to hear sometimes. I’m usually surrounded by men who are all alpha, aggressive, and possessive types. Some women eat that shit up, but honestly, after years of growing up with it, I’m not in the least bit interested in someone like that. I always thought Tony was the exception to the norm around here, which was part of the reason I fell for him in the first place. I still like to think he was, once upon a time. Unlike me, he lost sight of who he was; he allowed the usual rhetoric of our community to brainwash him.

“How come you ended up with someone like Tony? Were you childhood sweethearts?”

His question is asked with genuine curiosity, not condescension, so I decide to give it to him.

“So, once upon a time,” I begin with my head succumbing to the amazing wine Theo bought. So much so, I spring onto my knees with a giggle to begin my theatrical retelling. He smiles over my playfulness, which only encourages me. “My parents and his parents were best friends. Dad and his dad were in the same ‘gang’ right up until my mother was killed. His father, Emilio, wanted to help my dad get revenge, but Dad just wanted out. They remained good friends, even after Dad got the bar and Emilio stayed in the gang. You with me so far?”

“Lou, you’re tipsy,” he laughs softly, and I smile before shushing him…I shushed my boss! He laughs a little harder but also leans forward to take hold of my hand and deliver a kiss on the back of it. I hold my breath until he brings his eyes back up to meet mine and I suddenly lose all memory of what I was talking about. “Sorry, Louisa, please continue.”

“Y-yeah, ok,” I say, sounding breathless. “Where was I again? Oh, yeah, right. So, Ava, Emilio’s wife, pretty much took care of us kids, although Javier and Phoenix were that much older, so they kind of did their own thing. They did things boys their age shouldn’t, not in decent society anyway, but it was overlooked; it was normal for around these parts. But Tony and I grew up like any other child, being cheeky, sneaking in chocolate cookies his mother had just made, and generally loving life and playing with free abandonment. We were best friends and I loved him as much as I loved Dad and Phoenix.”

He smiles at my story with his hand now holding mine, but I then realize my story is about to become sour. I turn serious, my brow furrowed over the painful memory of what happened next.

“When we were both sixteen, his parents were killed in the most horrendous way.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to picture it inside of my head. I never saw what happened, but my mind often imagines how that once-upon-a-time home must have looked after their murderers had finished with them. “Emilio had been forced to watch their attackers beat and violate Ava. They then slit their throats and left them there for Javier and Tony to find.”

“Lou,” he whispers as he moves up to wrap his arms around my shoulders, holding me as fresh tears spill down my face. The woman who had been a mother to me, and the guy who had given Tony and me sweets when he came back from work, were destroyed. Their sons were left to pick up the pieces…literally. “You don’t have to tell me any more, Lou, I shouldn’t have asked.”

---