by Prince, DD
Tia
He was staring at me, looking like he was considering what he’d say next.
“What?” I whispered, feeling dread spread through me.
“I want to compromise with you about tonight. Have a nice evening together.”
I waited for him to continue. He scratched his jaw, looking like he was pondering something. Finally, he spoke, “Tonight, I want you to look at this as if it’s just a date. Just two people having dinner. Get to know me. Try to be open-minded about enjoying the evening.”
I gave him a “yeah right” look.
“I mean it. I’ll reward your obedience.” His eyes were flirty. I didn’t want flirty. But he rewards obedience, he punishes defiance. I had been punished already and knew that to be true, for sure. This guy loved mind games, that much was obvious. Making me snuggle in exchange for not getting raped, offering me vanilla sex if I complied, raping me, restraining me, and now making me pretend to be on a date and be happy about it?
I swallowed hard, “How will I be rewarded?”
He looked thoughtful for a second, “We’ll see.”
I thought back to our first night together. He wanted me to pretend to be happy about lying in his arms in order to have him not touch me sexually. This seemed like it was a lot like that. But it was probably a trick, too, because when I’d woken up the next morning he was doing sexual things to me anyway, using the fact that my guard was down. What was his trick this time?
“Why would I trust you after you tricked me that first night?”
“Whoa, that wasn’t a trick. I kept my word. I didn’t fuck you that night. In the morning you were rubbing your sweet body all over me and I just responded. I’m just a red-blooded man.”
I rolled my eyes. He was so full of it. As if I’d rub all over him.
“I’m trusting you,” he said, touching my hair, twirling a curl with his index finger, “I’m taking you out in public with me when you could make a scene, when you could try to run away from me. I think you know that it’d be very stupid to do either. I think you know you’re lucky that you’re not still tied to my bed. I’m trusting that you won’t do anything stupid. Compromise. I’m trusting you. You give me some of that back.”
I backed away, not wanting him to touch me and hating that this was a veiled warning for me to not try to get away tonight. It had occurred to me, of course it had. I could sneak out the bathroom window; I could hope someone else was in the bathroom and tell someone in the bathroom that they needed to call the cops. But I hadn’t hatched a real plan because I didn’t know how to do it without putting Dad and the Crenshaws at risk.
What choice did I have about this little game, though? He was repeatedly letting me know he was in charge and I didn’t feel like I had much choice in the role I’d play.
I’d had fleeting thoughts in the past about joining the community theatre. Maybe I could just look at this night as being in a play, playing a role. Couldn’t I? Could I pull it off? I wasn’t sure if I was capable.
“I don’t like to talk consequences, Tia, because it’s usually not necessary. Most people who know me know what they put at stake when they cross me. But maybe you and I should have that conversation. Just this once.”
“We don’t need to have that conversation.” I said, not wanting him to make it impossible for me to play this role tonight. But by the look in his eyes, I think he wanted to scare me. And he was. Every hair on my body was at attention.
“Let’s just say this, then. Let’s just say that all you hold dear is at stake with me, Tia. Now, tomorrow, twenty years from now. Always. I don’t forget debts and won’t forgive betrayal. Capeche?”
He arched a brow so I nodded.
Tommy
This was going to be a fun experiment. I’d get to see what she was made of. Could she be convincing or would it take some work to get her to be as perfect outside of the bedroom as she was in it?
Now she seemed like she was trying to mentally prepare herself for her acting role. We sat in the car for a few minutes while I checked my voicemail messages and then I got out of the car and she motioned to open her door. I held an index finger up, signaling her to wait while I walked around and opened the door for her. She got out of the car and looked up at me,
“Chivalry should be shot dead and pissed on,” she flashed a look of disgust at me.
“And why is that?” I was taken aback.
“Because it’s one of the things that keeps women oppressed.”
I was a little shocked at her comment and her brashness. She flashed a smile at me, “This is me. The real me.”
I laughed, a big open-mouthed laugh. She looked embarrassed, “Well, I guess I’m an old-fashioned guy. I’ll be oppressing you every chance I get. Opening the door for you is something you should look on as a gift, my treating you like a queen. My queen.”
Her face was red. I kissed her on the temple and held my elbow out. She gulped hesitantly took it.
The maître d greeted me excitedly, “Mr. Tommy, so nice to see you!”
“Augustus, this is Tia.”
He lamented for 20-30 seconds about how gorgeous she was and how nice it was to meet her. Yeah, she was but he was laying it on a bit thick. I gave him a look. He pulled himself together and kissed her hand and led us to a table and immediately brought over a bottle of red wine and poured glasses for us. A waiter brought bread to the table and menus were presented. He spoke to me in Italian about the specials prepared for the evening. When they were gone, I leaned over and reached for her hand and skimmed my thumb across her knuckles. She didn’t pull away and her face revealed nothing but a warm-looking smile. I returned the smile, gave her a look that showed I was pleased with her.
Tia
We were sitting across the table from one another at a really romantic Italian restaurant with red and white checkered tablecloths, soft lighting, candles, and I’d decided to try to pretend that I was on a date with the guy from the ice cream parlor.
I figured it’d be the only way I could pull off the feat of acting like I was happy or even open-minded about being in his company. I didn’t think I could pull off acting like I was happy to be sitting here with Tommy Ferrano, the guy who had done all those awful things to me, so I tried, instead, to rewind the clock in my head and pretend that the gorgeous hunk from the ice cream parlor hadn’t morphed into the sadistic criminal who’d threatened to sell me into slavery.
I decided that this wasn’t the guy holding me for some ransom that could never be paid. This wasn’t the guy who’d spanked me, getting off on my pain, who’d tricked me into sex and then forced sex on me. This man didn’t tie me to his bed and screw me, making me cry from embarrassment at responding to him. I tried my hardest to rewind my brain to when I first saw him. What if I could be here in this nice restaurant with the gorgeous guy from the ice cream parlor who’d given me an outrageous tip, who’d flirted with me, who’d winked at me with some unspoken promise? That’d be nice. That unspoken promise wasn’t going to be a nightmare. This was just a date. My loved ones hadn’t been threatened, my future hadn’t been stolen, and I wasn’t being forced to sleep in the bed and the arms of a criminal. I wasn’t being forced into anything.
I decided I had to try to make myself believe that I was here on a date with the gorgeous guy I’d met at the ice cream parlor. Thinking like this was the only way I figured I could pull it off.
“Mind if I order for you?” he asked me, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. There was light in his eyes, not darkness, making it easier for me to pretend.
“Sure,” I said, “Just no shellfish. I’m highly allergic.”
He nodded, then he spoke Italian to the waiter.
“I heard you’re half Italian. You speak it?” he asked after the order was taken.
“No, my Mom was Italian but she never taught me. She only spoke it in the house when she was yelling at my Dad or using it to keep some secret from me talking on the phone or whatever. We never un
derstood her but knew when she spoke Italian someone was either about to get something good or get in trouble,” I laughed a little, and then I knew my face sobered, thinking about her, about my Dad.
“I ordered us the lasagna. The lasagna here is to die for.” Tommy tried to change the subject, “The only lasagna better was my mother’s. She never passed the recipe on before she died but my sister Tessa does pretty good.”
“I think my Mom was the only Italian woman in the world who couldn’t cook,” I said, smiling, but Dad could cook. Between my Dad and Rose, I’d learned to cook, too. Dad had shown me how to make meals seemingly from nothing. When the fridge and pantry had been nearly bare at times he’d come up with gourmet concoctions and I’d watch and had started to make suggestions for spices or additions to the meals based on what I could find in the cupboard or freezer. We joked that we could make anything taste gourmet with a little of Dad’s secret spice blend.
The waiter brought warm bread and an antipasto platter. It smelled mouth-watering and for the first time in days I was actually hungry. It all tasted as good as it smelled, “Oh, this is so good!” I exclaimed and Tommy looked happy. He kind of smiled like ice cream parlor guy, looking insanely attractive. He wore jeans but with a black button down dress shirt today under a blazer and the top few buttons were down and I could see a little of his chest. There was a thick silver chain on his neck with a crucifix of about 2 inches long on it. I felt a pang in my gut, reminding me that it was just wishful thinking that this wasn’t what I was pretending it was, that this wasn’t a real date with that guy that I’d daydreamed about. After it was over he wouldn’t walk me to my door at my new apartment and kiss me goodnight before we’d go our separate ways. If only. If only after tonight I could dream about our second date. I’d call my friends and we’d talk about the date for hours. If only…
Tommy
Watching her eat was a beautiful thing. She seemed carefree and she was eating, which was good, as Sarah had complained that she’d barely eaten anything since arriving. She was talkative, too, nothing too in-depth but we conversed about the food, the restaurant, and the mood was light. But staring into her dessert, she started to take on the look of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
My phone rang just before I delved into my dessert. I answered.
“Tommy! We’ve got a huge problem. Huge!” it was Luciana, my sister.
“Is it the baby?” I exclaimed into the phone. Tia looked up at me from her tiramisu.
“No, we have a big problem because I’ve just heard the news, news that did not come from you. You’re engaged! I’m going to punch you in the nuts for letting me find out from someone else. How could you?”
I let out a little huff, “Seriously, Luc?”
“Yes, seriously! Q’uest que fuck, Tommy?”
“It’s not official yet so no nut-punching, alright? I’m not alone,” I answered, “Tia and I are out for dinner. I’ll call you later.”
“Bring her Sunday for dinner to Pop’s. We need to meet her. I’ve got Tess here. She agrees.”
“That was already part of the plan.” I answered, “Gotta go.”
Tia was looking at me curiously. I shrugged, “My sisters just found out about you. They’re anxious to meet you. Sunday there’s dinner at my Pop’s. We’re expected. You get to have the whole Ferrano experience all at once.” I rolled my eyes.
Her eyes widened fractionally, then she said, “Tell me about them.”
“Well, there’s Contessa - Tessa, she’s, ah, 22, has 2 boys, aged 1 and almost 3. There’s Dario - Dare, you met him, he’s 24 and single, then there’s Luciana, Luc, she’s 22 also, she and Tess are like 10 months apart, and is pregnant with her 3rd. She has 2 year old twin girls.”
“Uncle Tommy? You’re the oldest?”
I smirked at her, feeling a twinge at my name on her lips. That might’ve been the first time she’d said it. “That’s me. Thomas Vincent Ferrano Jr. 29. The three of them are my half siblings. Pop remarried after my Mother died. That marriage didn’t last though, so he got married again. That didn’t last either. Now he’s on wife #4. Lisa is the same age as Dare. She’s good friends with the girls.”
Tia winced.
“Yeah. That didn’t go over well at first. Everyone’s over it. Pop’s a real ladies’ man.”
She shuffled uneasily in her seat. I looked at her curiously.
“I’m so full.” she said, putting her fork down.
I signaled for the waiter to bring the bill, “Wanna take a walk? Walk off all these carbs?”
“Great idea,” she smiled at me. Her smile seemed genuine. She was a damn fine actress so far. This was good to know.
Five minutes up the road we pulled into the parking lot for the beach. It was close to sunset and the weather was perfect for a stroll. As she got out of the car I grabbed her hand and held it as we walked. We got to the sand and she stopped, reached for and then held onto my shoulder, and then pulled the strap off an ankle, let that shoe drop off, and then let go of me to get the other shoe off. She bent and looped the straps around her index finger to carry them and I grabbed her free hand again and kissed each of her knuckles.
She looked up at me and smiled, “Thanks for dinner, Tommy.”
My name again. Another twinge. And that smile seemed real. I felt a pang of annoyance that it seemed so real. I think I must’ve frowned at her because she swallowed hard and chewed her bottom lip and looked down. I took a few steadying breaths to push my pissed off attitude away, I lifted my necklace out of my shirt and fingered the crucifix on it as we walked in silence. I caught a look on her face that made me realize I was squeezing her hand too tight. I loosened it and her expression softened.
A tiny fur ball of a golden retriever puppy bounded right up to her and started licking her calves. She let go of my hand and dropped to her knees, dropping her shoes and pulling the pup into her lap, “Oh my gooooodness!” The dog licked at the air, furiously, wanting to lick her face. She held him back at arm’s length but giggled. A kid, probably around 10, ran up to us with a leash in his hand and it still had the collar attached to it. Obviously the pup had squirmed right out of his collar.
“Sorry!” the kid said, “Marley!”
“Oh it’s okay!” Tia exclaimed, “He’s soooo cute; how old is he?”
The kid shrugged but the dog couldn’t be any more than 8-9 weeks old. Tia was scratching him behind both ears and he was licking her arms. Her red dress was covered in wet and dry sand and she didn’t seem to care in the least.
The kid leaned over and tried to get the collar over the pup’s head but the dog was having none of it. He took off into the water. The kid shouted at the dog and Tia started to laugh.
“He’s a water dog, he can’t help it!” she said, giggling.
The kid’s father came running up. The guy was out of shape and out of breath. The dog had obviously gone on a good run. The guy looked at the dog swimming in the water like it was his worst nightmare come true.
“Hang on,” Tia called to him and then she lifted a thick stick up off the beach and tossed it toward the dog. It landed in the water beside the pup and he immediately swam to it and caught it between his teeth. Tia started slapping her legs, “Come here, Marley, come here! Fetch!” The dog started swimming toward her with the stick in his mouth.
“You’re a genius!” the kid’s father said.
She just laughed, “I love goldens. They can’t resist two things. Water and retrieving.” she was laughing harder, all carefree. It was a beautiful sound.
Yeah, and he can’t resist beautiful girls.
I shook my head, taking it all in, a grin on my face. She flashed a smile at me and it was so gorgeous and seemed so genuine that I felt a pain pierce my chest.
The dog bounded toward Tia again and then shook hard, getting all of us wet. Tia squealed like she loved it. The dad went to grab the dog, “Wait!” Tia told him. We have to let him fetch it at least once more. Can I? He�
��d think I was a liar if we just let you chain him without a fetch.”
The guy laughed and shrugged. My face hurt from my perma grin. She didn’t want the dog to think she was tricking him. I shook my head at that.
“Marley, drop it!” she demanded, with authority, and pointed at the ground. The pup held tight to the stick for a second and then dropped the stick in front of her and panted enthusiastically at her. She swiped it and flung it into the water and squealed with glee as the dog took off back into the water. “He’s so smart already.”
As soon as she slapped her legs, “Marley!” he swam back. The little boy took the stick from the dog and threw it into the water again and I grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear, “Let’s make our getaway.”
“Bye,” she said to the guy and his kid and waved at the dog who was swimming back toward us. She actually waved bye to the dog. I was shaking my head.
She seemed light and carefree. She was walking along, a spring in her step, holding my hand, smiling. I’d somehow wound up carrying her sandals in my free hand, and the sun was setting. It was like something out of a chick flick. I had to kiss her and take full advantage of this moment right fucking now.
We were in an area with no one else around. I stopped and took in a big breath. She stopped and looked at me. Then she swallowed hard. She looked a little bit freaked out.
I reached down and brushed some sand off her cheek with my thumb and then leaned down and sucked in her bottom lip. She hesitated at first but a second after my lips touched hers, she started to melt into me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. She was responding. The sun was setting, leaving the sky orange and pink. Birds were on the horizon and I was filled with emotion, “Marry me,” I said, caught up in the moment. Stupid beach at fucking sunset. I felt like such a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason, I guess. She looked up at me, her jade eyes full of alarm.
“Marry me.” I repeated, “I want that ring on your finger.” I felt like the fucking Grinch who stole Christmas after his heart had grown three sizes.