Page 49 of Loss and Damages
“Don’t I get a say?”
I want to tell her no, she doesn’t get a say. I don’t want to hear she doesn’t enjoy my company and that after tonight there’s no reason for me to drive out to Hollow Lake. That we’ve had a meal to remember Leo, and now she wants me to leave her alone to cut ties with the Milano family for good. I don’t want to hear any of those things come out of her mouth. I need her. I need her warmth and her strength. It’s more than her connection to Leo now.
I need time to explore what’s happening and it couldn’t have come at a worse time than in the middle of the 1100 block negotiations.
“Yes, you get a say, but not if you’re going to tell me that after tonight you don’t want to see me anymore.”
The waitress chooses that moment to serve our meals, and feeling the heavy atmosphere at our table, she scurries away.
Jemma stares at her basket, the breading on her chicken strips still sizzling. She sips her wine, sighs, and meets my eyes. “I like spending time with you, too.”
“Why do I think you think that’s a problem? And don’t say it’s because we’re too different.”
“It’s not that, well, maybe it is a little, but don’t you see what you’re doing? Buying the 1100 block? Buying Oakdale Square like it’s a box of pasta you’re throwing in your cart at the grocery store. You only think about the buildings, not the people inside them. The 1100 block is full of families who have lived there for years. Most of those apartments have been passed down from parents and grandparents. Oakdale Square is full of trailer—”
“Trash,” I interrupt.
“Trailerhomes. Those trailers are people’s homes, Dominic, they aren’t all meth labs. The strip joints, the liquor stores, the fast food places. They make a living for the people who own them, and once you buy the buildings and they’re forced out, then what? What are they supposed to do? You’re ripping away their livelihood.”
“I’m cleaning up the neighborhood, Jemma. I’m surprised you can’t see that.” I jab my fork into a French fry.
“I think what you’re doing would be wonderful if you went about it in a different way.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“I don’t want to say I wouldn’t date you because of the way you do business, but I can say we have very different values that would cause problems in the long run, so why not accept it for what it is?”
“I’m not going to change for you.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Her voice is soft, and her hands tremble as she unwraps the napkin around her fork and knife. “Leo did.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Angrily, I push my basket away. This is not how I expected my evening with Jemma to go.Noneof the women I have ever dated cared one fuck about the way I did business. They didn’t care about anything except how long I could screw and how much money I spent on them.
“You knew Leo hated how your family did business. You knew it and didn’t change. He didn’t talk about it much, but when he did, he couldn’t hide how much you and your father hurt him.”
I want to scream a retort. I want to tell her that what my father and I do is none of her fucking business, and what Leo did or didn’t approve of was between us. I want to say something, but just as I open my mouth, a huge crow lands on the balustrade near our table and looks between Jemma and me, his dark eyes glittering. His wings are the darkest black, blue in the sun that’s beginning to dip beyond the horizon.
To my utter amazement, Jemma lifts a fry out of her basket and offers it to the bird. He hops over and gently takes it in his beak.
“This is Edgar,” she says, her voice soft and sad. “He’s looking for Leo. They were good friends.”
“Leo made friends with a crow?” Now I’ve heard everything.
“By accident. One evening, we were sitting out here just like this, and Edgar landed on our table. Gave me a heart attack, but not Leo. He laughed and offered Edgar a piece of bread, which he took, naturally. After that, it became something of a tradition whenever we ate here. I think Edgar brings the food home to a family.”
“Why Edgar?”
“After Edgar Allan Poe. One of Leo’s favorite authors.”
Edgar, not finding Leo, takes flight, and Jemma sips her wine.
I force myself to pick up my burger and take a bite. This is all I’ve had to eat today and my fight with Jemma isn’t the only thing that’s churning my stomach.
Halfway through our dinner, Edgar comes back and lands in the same place on the balustrade. Jemma feeds him a piece of chicken she set aside, and after he flies away, we never see him again.
The waitress brings the check, and Jemma grabs the tiny clipboard and shoves a credit card under the clip. “Leo and I took turns paying.”
I scowl. “Leo let you pay?”
