Page 30 of Hold Him Like Gravity

“We could have walked. You didn’t have to get a ride-share.”

“I didn’t. He works for me,” Rico said, nodding at the guy who rushed out to open the back door as we approached.

“Is, uh, Lombardi Premium Meats a, you know, chain store?” I asked as he slid in the back with me. The heat was pumping out of the vents, chasing away the chill in the night air. And I was suddenly grateful not to have to walk in the cold.

“No. Just the one store.”

But he had a personal driver?

“Do you own other businesses?” I asked, looking over at him. Which was how I saw the look of confusion flash across his face for a second before it was gone.

“Yeah. Something like that,” he said, nodding.

Not having followed through on my plan to get to know this new borough I was calling home yet, I had no idea how fancy of a place the restaurant he took me to was until I had a menu in my hand. Then nearly had a heart attack over the prices of the items listed.

Even just the plain pasta with marinara was like thirty bucks. Who pays thirty bucks for something that costs, like, two bucks to make? Max.

And if you wanted to have a protein with your meal, forget about it, it was adding on twice that.

“What’s the matter?” Rico asked, making me look up to realize he was studying me.

“I just don’t know what to get,” I lied.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, that I had the money on me to split the check. Even if my rational mind would be bitter about having to spend that much on one meal. I mean, I could get like thirty frozen personal pizzas for that price.

“Want me to order for you?” he asked.

I hated when men ordered for women. It always seemed condescending if not outright infantilizing.

But, for some reason, I found myself agreeing.

And then I swear the guy ordered half the freaking menu as my mind tried to keep a running tally of how much that would be.

Which was probably why, when the server walked away, and Rico turned to me to start a conversation, I nearly choked on my own spit when he led with, “So what made you decide to leave the Bronx?”

CHAPTER NINE

Rico

“How… how did you know I’m from the Bronx?” she asked, her face looking suddenly ashen as her eyes went round.

“You mentioned working at a bodega there,” I reminded her, having no clue why she was having such a strange reaction to a normal question.

“Oh, right. Right,” she added with a nod. “Duh. I just… wanted something new,” she said, each word just not quite ringing true. “I lived there my whole life,” she added. That part, at least, sounded honest. “And, well, Brooklyn is a lot more affordable than, say, Manhattan. You’ve always been from here?”

“Born and raised,” I confirmed.

“Never wanted to leave?”

My entire fucking childhood.

“Never,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t Brooklyn I had a problem with, it was my home life. Once I was old enough to really get out on my own, make my own money, build a new family, I really started to appreciate the area. And actively work to protect it. I’d never think of living anywhere else.

“What do you like so much about it?”

“I dunno. Think it has more of a sense of community than most of the other boroughs. Save for maybe Staten Island. Got a lot of culture. Great restaurants.”

“I haven’t really explored much,” she admitted. “I moved without looking into it. Spur of the moment decision, I guess. And I keep meaning to check out the local attractions than just… hanging out with my TV and frozen pizzas at home.”

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