by Henry, Jane
It did the trick. Her jaw dropped and her voice rose in pitch as she spoke. "Mabel? Please fetch Agatha, will you please? I must speak to her at once ."
She had such a funny, quaint way of speaking. It was adorable. But then, her face fell, and just like everything else about her, her features betrayed her feelings. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said with a sigh. "No, no need to bother her then. I'll talk to her when I get home. I'm sure I'll find a way. Goodnight." She hung up the phone and handed it to me, not meeting my eyes .
"And?" I asked, tucking the phone into my back pocket .
"Agatha, my stepmother, has a client she's meeting with," she said, "and gave strict orders not to be interrupted ."
God, this girl needed to be taken care of. She should not have been stranded on the side of the road where any crazy fuck could pick her up, and use her .
Like me .
It seemed fate was working its magic tonight .
"Alright, then," I said. "You ever ridden on the back of a bike ?"
She blinked up at me again. "Excuse me ?"
"A bike, honey. Like my motorcycle." I gestured toward the seat for emphasis. "You ever ridden on one ?"
She shook her head from side to side with wide, innocent eyes, her lips parted like a child on Christmas morning. "No," she breathed. "Never. Oh my God. You're going to rescue me ?"
And before I could respond she legit squealed out loud, bouncing on the tips of her toes and clapping her hands. She practically leapt at me, throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing tight. On impulse, I hugged her back, folding her into my embrace. She was tiny, and so fragile, and she fit as if she were meant for me. I would see her home safely .
A little voice, unbidden, whispered in my ear. She could be the one. The one that you need .
But just as quickly as the voice surfaced, I shoved it away .
No. Fucking. Way would I bring a girl like this anywhere near my father, and even if I wanted to, I could tell with one glance at her she didn't fit the bill. She was too poor, for one. Too young .
And way, way too innocent .
I let her go before I did something stupid, like kiss her breathless. She threw her bag over her shoulder and tried to leap straight onto the bike .
"Whoa, now, honey. Easy does it. I hold the bike steady for you, and you get on, you hear? You could hurt yourself climbing on that big thing all by yourself." Something about her made me feel like a knight or something, like I was someone who had to take care of her. I held the bike steady as she swung a leg up. She was so cute, her legs dangling on either side, her eyes bright and shining at me .
"Yes! Let's do this! Let's go! Wooohooooo !"
I laughed out loud, the sound so unfamiliar to my own ears, it nearly startled me. "Hold onto my waist," I instructed, as I swung my leg over the bike in front of her. "Hey, do you have a name ?"
"Gabriella," she answered .
"Hang on tight, Gabriella," I said over my shoulder, gunning the engine to life. My laughter died into the wind along with her shrieks and hoots and hollers. I wasn't sure where I'd go or where I'd take her, but I'd enjoy every minute of this while it lasted .
"Excuse me? Do you have to take me right home? Or can we go for a teensy little ride first ?"
I grinned. "We can do whatever you want, Gabriella." The night was young. Magical, even. It would not hold us back. Yeah, I was going to rescue her, this little, blonde-haired, green-eyed girl I’d found stranded on the side of the road. For one night, I’d pretend I wasn’t me. Make sure she was safe. Pretend to be the good guy .
Just for tonight, I'd be her fucking Prince Charming .
Chapter Two
O h my God! I was on the back of a motorcycle, and it wasn't one of those little, puny ones either. This one was so big and powerful that when it roared to life beneath me, I felt like a little girl riding on a carousel. Dante drove fast, and I loved that. The pavement beneath the wheels flew past as I gripped him for dear life. My arms held tight around his waist, and I could feel his taut muscles beneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt he wore .
If my step sisters could see me now! This guy was hot, big and broad-shouldered, with a scruffy, blondish-brown beard, dark brown eyes, and tattoos that crept along his neck and up his arms. Whenever he looked at me, I felt all shivery inside. His eyes held something I couldn't decipher. It wasn't... sinister. But it wasn't safe, either .
Still, I trusted him .
Then again, I trusted most people. I really couldn't help it. Life was better that way, maybe .
We rode for a while without speaking. We couldn't have said anything if we tried, the sound of the engine and wind whipping past us were too loud. The night grew cold, and I knew I'd have to get back home eventually. But tonight I'd enjoy myself .
Dark clouds had rolled in .
"Gonna get some rain," Dante said, in his deep, raspy voice. "You want to get something to eat ?"
My stomach growled traitorously. I had no money with me, and could not ask for a handout .
"No, thank you," I said, as he stopped the bike and held it steady. He looked over his shoulder at me .
"Well, I'm starving and I don't wanna be caught on the back of this bike when the rain comes," he said. "Come in with me and have a drink ?"
This was like... a date ?
Like a real date that people had .
I'd never been on a date .
My heart pitter-pattered and I could only nod dumbly .
I would never forget this night .
"Sure," I said, as if he hadn't just asked me on my first date. "I'd love a chocolate milk or something ."
His eyes crinkled around the edges and he smiled at me, in a way that made my heart flutter rapidly against my chest. "Chocolate milk?" he asked, putting the kickstand of his bike down. "You want chocolate milk ?"
I straightened and stretched my arms, yawning. I was so tired, having been up before the sun rose and walking all that way until he picked me up .
Then I remembered I had no money. "Actually, maybe just water," I said, following him toward a little diner. He made some kind of grunty noise, as he held the door open for me .
A middle-aged waitress with her hair piled up in a bun and large, oval-shaped glasses perched on her nose giving her the appearance of an owl, watched us walk in with her mouth hanging wide open. Why the heck did she do that? We didn't look that weird or out-of-place, did we ?
"Table for two, please," Dante rumbled. The woman picked up the menus, dropped them on the floor, then picked them up again with trembling hands. How odd .
"Yes, of course," she said. "Right this way." She led us to a little table in the back with black spindly chairs and a plastic red and white checkered tablecloth. She placed our menus down. "Special's on the front, but we're out of apple pie. You can have anything else you’d like, though, and straight away ."
"Thank you," Dante said, pulling out a chair for me and pointing for me to sit .
I nodded my thanks and sat, scooting my chair up closer to the table .
Something smelled really yummy, and my stomach growled again, but I would not open the menu. "Just a water for me, please," I said, as he took his seat. He raised a heavy, dark blond brow at me and pursed his lips .
"Why just water? You're not hungry ?"
My mouth watered as the smell of French fries wafted through the air .
I couldn’t lie .
"Well, I'm starving," I said. "I just... I forgot my money, and don't want to be obliged to you any more than I already am. But if you... if you get me something to eat I will repay you." I was so hungry .
The h
umor in his eyes fled, then, and he sobered. It was a little scary, actually .
He pointed a stern finger to the menu. "Pick out what you want," he ordered in his raspy voice .
I looked down shyly, pleased, and a little bashful. "Okay. Yes, I will ."
As I looked over the menu, it occurred to me he looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. Was he a customer where I worked? There were so many people who came there, I never could identify everyone I saw. Or did I know him from somewhere else ?
He folded his menu and sat back in his chair. "Pick something out ?"
"I'll have the chicken tender platter, please," I said .
His lips twitched. "And chocolate milk ?"
I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please ."
The waitress took our orders moments later, and placed a plastic basket of bread on the table. As we waited he leaned back in his chair, his large, muscular arms crossed over his t-shirt. I tried to observe him without him noticing, but how could he not? We were the only people in the restaurant. I distracted myself with a piece of bread .
He looked at me as I stared, and I quickly looked away again .
"So, Gabriella," he said. “Let me get this straight. You went to a concert because your sister got free tickets, and you wanted to go. But then one of the friends who was supposed to meet you decided he wanted the ride, so you were ousted? Seriously ?"
"Well. Yeah. Something like that." The truth was, I was rarely allowed to join them .
He chewed thoughtfully on his own piece of bread now, and my eyes fell to his bandaged hand .
“Did you hurt yourself?” I asked .
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Hurt my hand a bit working on my bike. So, it seems your sisters are not very loyal.” I didn’t answer, because I wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to respond. "Meanwhile," he muttered under his breath. "Loyalty is just about all my family has ."
"Well, that's good at least," I said helpfully, as I took a sip of my drink. "Loyalty is important ."
He looked at me without blinking as he chewed his bread, and after a moment of awkward silence, he looked away and changed the subject .
Well then .
"So what about your family? Do you have any other siblings ?"
I shook my head. "No. My father died three years ago in an accident, and my mother died when I was just a little girl. I was their only child ."
"I'm sorry to hear about your losses," he offered gruffly, and as I glanced over at him, I could read sympathy in his eyes .
"Thank you. I miss them." My throat tightened a bit, so I took a sip of my milk, swallowing down the lump that had lodged there. "And you?" I asked. "Do you have a father and mother? Well, I mean, everyone has a father and a mother, or they wouldn't exist. It's a silly question, really. But what I mean is, are your parents still alive?" He stared at me in surprise as I stammered on like a freshman on her first date with the varsity football captain. "I mean, they, um, didn't die?" Oh, God, what an idiot. "Did they?" I squeaked. “Are they alive ?”
He smiled at me, his dark brown eyes lighting up his otherwise somber expression. "Yeah," he said. "At least they were when I saw them an hour ago ."
“Oh my gosh,” I said, embarrassed .
"Hey," he said. "I'm just teasing you. Yeah, my parents are alive. They sell property, and I manage that for them." He said it nonchalantly, but he didn't look in my eyes when he did .
Weird.
It was that moment the waitress chose to bring our food over, and I was so grateful I could bury myself in my food and not embarrass myself anymore .
"Thank you," I said. The smell of the fries and chicken had my stomach clenching in hunger. "These look amazing. Seriously. They look really good. God, I'm famished ."
Dante took his burger and we both ate in silence for a while. Finally, he put his food down and looked at me .
"Gabriella," he said. "What would you have done if I hadn't found you ?"
I didn't answer right away. It was a fair question, and one I'd been pondering while I'd walked along the side of the road in just my broken flip flops. "Honestly, I don't know," I admitted. "I would've maybe... kept walking or something until another kind soul stopped to let me make a call on their phone, I guess ."
"Alone. Without a way to get back ?"
"You know, I'd have found a way. Everything always works out in the end ."
"Does it?" he asked quietly, his eyes growing strangely serious .
"Well, yes. I think so, anyway,” I said .
"Not sure this burger worked out," he muttered with a grimace, as he placed it back on his plate. I laughed .
“Here, have some chicken,” I said, offering him mine, but he shook his head and continued to look at me with curiosity .
“So what do you do for work ?"
"I'm a waitress and restaurant manager," I said with a smile. "In Vegas. I wait tables ."
He smiled. "Yeah? Well that's a respectable job, Gabriella," he said. "And I bet it keeps you busy. What do you do in your free time ?"
"Free time is pretty much nonexistent," I explained. "I used to do things like paint, or craft, or sew, but it seems these days that all I do is work. I guess it's maybe just the way things are when you hit adulthood.” My eyes hit his. “What about you ?"
He shook his head. "I don't really want to talk about me," he said brusquely. "Back to you. So can you tell me a little more about your parents ?”
Well, that was a little weird, but I didn't comment. He was buying me dinner, so the least I could do was cooperate .
"Have you seen any ketchup?" I asked. My fries were nice and piping hot and just a little salty .
He smirked, removing an enormous bottle of ketchup from behind the dessert menu, he opened it, squeezing some out onto my plate for me .
"Thank you," I said, swiping a fry through the ketchup and popping it in my mouth .
He watched me eat, not touching his own food, and I squirmed a bit. Finally, he spoke again .
"So, you think chowing down on these fries is gonna get you out of answering my question?" he asked. Though his eyes danced, teasing me, his voice held a hard edge that made me want to please him .
"What was your question again?" I asked him, stalling. I didn't want to talk about my parents. It was a sad story for me, one I didn't feel like revisiting when I was in the middle of this totally surreal night, with a hot guy, eating fries and chicken tenders in a little hole-in-the-wall diner .
"Your parents?" he prodded, taking another reluctant bite of his burger .
"Oh. Right. Well, like I said, my dad passed away. He died in a shooting downtown a few years back. Got on the wrong side of a robbery. It was a real tragedy, to be honest," I said, speaking quickly and not looking at him as I chewed a few more fries and swallowed them down with my drink. "I... I miss him a lot. He was a good man, and I learned a lot from him ."
My hand shook a little, then. Most days, I was fine, going along with whatever task was in front of me. My stepmother kept me busy as heck, managing the restaurant. I oversaw most things. But it was what I did, what I had to do to earn my keep. "My dad left me with nothing," I explained. "It wasn't supposed to be that way. But when my stepmother married him, she became executor of his will, and everything he owned went to her. She says that he declared bankruptcy before he died and left me penniless .”
Why was I sharing my heart with this man I didn't know from Adam ?
As usual, though, I didn't stop. I couldn't. Once I started talking, I had a hard time rei
ning myself in .
"My mom was an entertainer. A singer. She had the most beautiful voice you could imagine, Dante. Just beautiful. The voice of an angel, my father would say." My food lay forgotten as I recounted my story to him. "And she was so good. So very, very good. She never asked for anything for herself, and she always met the needs of everyone around her. I wish I could be as good ."
Dante's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Who says you aren't?" he asked softly .
I shook my head. "I'm not," I said to my plate, not meeting his eyes. "I couldn't be." If he met my stepmother, maybe he'd understand why ...
Dante didn't need to know all that, though .
"So yeah, my mom is sadly gone, but I learned a lot from her. I wish someday to be as good as she was ."
He nodded slowly, picked up his burger and took a bite, then swallowed it before replying. "A noble goal, Gabriella," he said. "To strive to be good, like people we admire. I like that. Everyone should have someone in their lives who inspires them to be a better person." His gaze met mine, and I squirmed a bit .
"They should," I whispered, and for some weird reason, I wanted to cry. I hadn't talked about my family situation to anyone in years... or had I ever? I was far too busy working to have any friends. It felt oddly cathartic talking to Dante about my parents, because after tonight, I don’t think I’ll ever see him again .
"So what about you?" I asked. "Do you have any brothers or sisters ?"
He sat back in his chair and swallowed the mouthful of food he was chewing before replying. He took a long pull from his Coke, and eyed me thoughtfully before continuing. "No. Just my mother, whom I love, and my father, who can be downright ruthless .”
I frowned, and took another sip of my milk before wiping my mouth with my napkin. "Well… I'm not sure ruthlessness is an admirable trait ."
His jaw tightened. "It's not ."
"Hmm. Well," I said, trying to find something positive to say. "It seems that your family is... an interesting sort ?"