by Taylor Hill
Everybody on campus knew about the Wild Cats—it was CCU’s worst-kept secret. Of course the fact that the gang was made up of the toughest, meanest football players the university had to offer ensured that it was the kind of secret nobody was in a hurry to pass on to anyone with the authority to actually do something about it. Few would dare.
So imagine my surprise the following day when my friend Paulie informed me that not only had somebody taken on the Wild Cats (and put an end to the Delta Gamma party in the process) but they’d gone so far as to beat up the entire crew, and even broken Pete Van Diem’s hand in four separate places—thereby ensuring that the team’s football captain would be confined to the bench for the rest of the college year. My heart dropped at the news. When I’d seen Romeo and Lou the night before, especially hanging around with those other two creeps from the Grove (possibly the last two people in the entire universe that I would have expected to see at a CCU party), I knew that whatever trouble was taking place had to have something to do with them. But now… to find out that they’d taken on Pete Van Diem and the Wild Cats? I felt sick. Those football thugs meant serious business and they’d be out for blood after suffering such a humiliating insult to their reputation. Just what the hell were Lou and his friends doing there anyway?
And Lisa, naturally she was distraught. I’d tried to warn here about what Lou was in to these days but she hadn’t listened, preferring to view his every move through the rose-tinted lenses of new love’s idealism. She’d told me I was paranoid, over-reacting, making mountains out of molehills. Sure he was no choirboy, but Lou was hardly a criminal, she said. Except now it seemed pretty clear that he was and nobody could deny it. So why did it feel like I was almost as shocked as she was?
She refused to answer his calls for the next few days and we stayed in at the apartment, hitting the books by day and watching movies, drinking cocktails and playing board-games by night, sometimes with Paulie and another girl Cassandra that we knew from class. At some point it must have dawned on Lou that he’d really messed things up because his calls and texts started bombarding us much more frequently and in the end Lisa had to just turn off her phone and leave it off from then on completely. Even though nobody had mentioned it, I was mentally preparing myself for the moment when Lou would pull up outside on his motorcycle and start banging on our door, demanding to enter, and I was already trying to think of what I would say to get him to leave again when that moment came—but thankfully it never happened.
No, it wasn’t until the next day, at lunch in the cafeteria, when Lou finally turned up to beg Lisa for a second chance…
Me, Lisa and Paulie were sitting at a table, none of us saying anything and all of us barely picking at our food (we’d had one too many cocktails the night before, again, and I was beginning to realize that we’d have to set some serious ground-rules about the cocktail kit now that me and Lisa were living in the same apartment. Either that or just throw it out the window altogether, before we became full-blown alcoholics), when I looked up to see a forlorn and affronted-looking Lou striding across the cafeteria floor towards us.
His eyes were wide and puffy as though he’d been up all night and his goatee was bolstered by the approaching fuzz of two days or more’s worth of stubble.
“Baby!” he called, “I’ve been worried sick about you. Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”
Lisa said nothing, her gaze firmly fixed on her spaghetti and meatballs.
“Lou…” Paulie said, standing up and holding out an arm to still him as he approached. (Paulie had been a childhood friend of me and Lou growing up, exactly in between us in age, one year older than me and one year younger than Lou. Even though I’d always kind of known from the moment I was old enough to understand such things, it had taken Lou completely by surprise when Paulie had come out of the closet the previous year and it always made me a little proud of my brother that he hadn’t turned against Paulie like all the other tough guys in the neighborhood did when they heard the news. Coming out as gay on the Orange Grove was probably one of the bravest things I could think of for anybody to do.)
“Paulie,” Lou said, his frantic eyes still fixed on Lisa, “you were always my friend, but this doesn’t concern you. Now let me speak to my girl.”
At that moment my temper erupted and I shot to my feet, leveling my finger at my brother. “She doesn’t want to speak to you, ok!” I shouted, “So just leave her alone! And what the hell were you doing, Lou—getting mixed up with Pete Van Diem and those animals like that anyway? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
The whole cafeteria was staring at us now and I felt my cheeks turn red as my anger dissipated. Great, I thought, everybody already half-suspected me of being some kind of gangster’s moll, coming from the Orange Grove like I did (not to mention what had happened to my father) and now they’d think I had something to do with this Wild Cats affair too—an event which was already becoming the number one gossip on everybody’s lips on campus that week. Excellent, thanks a lot Lou…
A cold and unfamiliar look came over his face that unnerved me to see on him and Lou smiled. “Get myself killed?” he said, “Sandy, no offense, but you haven’t got a clue…” He looked back to Lisa, who was doing her best not to show her inner-turmoil and embarrassment as she stared down at the table in front of her. “Baby,” he said, his face softening again, “I’m sorry, ok?”
“Come on buddy,” Paulie said, putting his hand on Lou’s shoulder again, “they just need some time. Let me buy you a beer and talk about it.”
Jesus Paulie, I thought, a beer at lunchtime? The cocktails from last night probably hadn’t even left his system yet… But nonetheless I had to hand it to him, because it did the trick as Lou appeared to resign himself to his fate. “I’ll call you baby,” he shouted back to Lisa as Paulie led him away and I reached out to put my hand over hers. Yep, the jerk had really done a number on her this time.
That night we hit the books for another test coming up (no rest for the wicked and all that, except for maybe the occasional cocktail now and then, of course). I’d asked Lisa if she wanted to talk about it after the confrontation with Lou in the cafeteria but she’d just shrugged and said she was fine, which I knew from experience meant that yes, she did want to talk about it, although she needed some time to think it over for herself first. That was ok by me and I was just happy to be there to keep her company until she was ready to open up and let the waterworks flow, if that’s what it would take to see a smile on her face again.
At about eight that evening Paulie and Cassandra called around unexpectedly and I got up to let them in, resigned to another night of very little study after all (if Paulie wasn’t gay I would have sworn there was something going on between those two. I mean Cassandra was great and all, but jeez, lately the two of them seemed to be joined together at the hip).
“Hi!” I said, sharing hugs and kisses as I ushered them inside.
“Where’s the sorrowful princess?” Paulie asked and I directed them into the living room.
As Lisa got up to greet our guests my phone beeped in my pocket and I whipped it out to look at the message.
“Hi,” it said, “I need to see you. Can you meet me tonight?”
Weird, I thought, I didn’t recognize the number. “Who’s this?” I sent back.
“ROMEO,” came the reply.
I looked up in stunned silence not knowing what to do or think. At that moment I saw Lisa return from the kitchen with her box of Star Wars Monopoly and of course, that old faithful, the cocktail kit. If nothing else I knew I had to escape from yet another indulgent night of mojitos and margaritas with my increasingly study-shy friends.
I looked back at my phone and started tapping. “Where and when?”
He asked me to meet him at Flip N’ Chip’s, which was only a five minute stroll across the busy main thoroughfare from our apartment building, and by that time I’d already agreed to meet him so it was too la
te to back out. Was Lou working that night, I wondered? Why else would Romeo have asked me to meet him there? It seemed like, not only was I now going to have to deal with Lou pressurizing me to let him see Lisa, but I would also have to endure the silent and moody treatment from Romeo too. Great.
And yet still I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement to be on the verge of seeing him again. Rightly or wrongly, I was curious to hear his side of the story and maybe find out just what the hell they’d been up to that night. While the idea of Lou getting involved in that stuff filled me with dread, I couldn’t help but be intrigued thinking about Romeo deliberately walking into the face of danger, even if I did wholeheartedly disapprove of his behavior. And, being honest, while spending the last few days comforting Lisa about the way her man had let her down, part of me was also thinking of and missing Romeo too. I needed to see him again, if only to find out once and for all if he really was just a tough guy asshole like he acted. At the very least, I might finally get some closure on him.
The bar was quiet that night and I spotted him immediately, sitting by himself in a corner booth and sipping on a glass of ginger ale and ice with a straw. I quickly scanned the bar for Lou and was both surprised and excited to see no sign of him. Perhaps he wasn’t working tonight after all then. Which meant that Romeo wanted to see me alone…
“Ok, so I’m here,” I said, approaching him from the side at his table. “What do you want, Romeo?”
He turned his head slowly and looked up at me, appraising me so carefully and casually that I was almost sure he was drawing it out for his own amusement, just to get under my skin. He gestured to the seat across from him in the booth. “Sit,” he said.
I sat down gruffly, not even taking off my denim jacket first.
“You want a drink?” Romeo asked, his voice as rich and deep and cool as ever. I had to remind myself that I was technically negotiating with the enemy here and couldn’t let myself succumb to his charms, no matter how natural it might have felt.
“No,” I said.
Romeo shrugged casually and then turned to a passing waitress. “Hey,” he called, “get me another pitcher of ginger ale and two glasses.”
“Sure hon’,” the waitress said and went back to the bar.
I stared at Romeo across the table. “I said I didn’t want a drink.”
“I know,” Romeo smiled, “I’m extra thirsty tonight.”
I sighed, beginning to feel a little fed up wondering what this guy wanted from me, never knowing where I stood with him. Yes, he was incredibly handsome and was probably fighting off the other girls wherever he went, but that didn’t give him any right to toy with me like this. Did he not know the effect it had on me, even just to be in his presence? I wasn’t particularly experienced with love, sex or romance in general, but I had a feeling that any girl would revert to an anxious, giggling mess in his company. Surely he knew that?
“Why did you ask me here?” I said.
“Lou’s pretty upset about Lisa.”
“Lisa’s pretty upset about Lou,” I replied, matter-of-factly.
The waitress returned with the jug of ginger ale and asked us if we wanted anything else. “Sure,” Romeo said, his eyes on me, “bring us a basket of fries, to share. Wait… actually, make those twisty fries.”
“You got it,” she said and disappeared as Romeo poured a glass of ginger ale and, without asking, passed it over to me.
I looked at it for a second and then snorted reluctant laughter. “You’re unbelievable,” I said, taking the glass and bringing the tip of the straw to my mouth to drink. It was cold, sweet and earthily rich to taste—kind of like how Romeo himself might be, the thought occurring before I had a chance to suppress it.
He shrugged. “Lisa has every right to be upset,” he said. “it’s a shame she had to see us there that night. I don’t want you two to ever come close to that stuff.”
“It’s a shame she had to see you there, or a shame that you were there in the first place?” I asked, leaning forward. I wasn’t going to let him act like the chivalrous hero in this situation, not when he was just as complicit in what had happened that night as the other guys.
“Both,” he said, “if I had my way we wouldn’t have been there at all—but that’s just not the way it is.”
“Yeah, right,” I said folding my arms, “as if you didn’t have a choice.”
Romeo levelled those deep eyes at me and for a split-second I was lost in them. Lost and suddenly certain that there really was more to him than this swaggering gangster persona he affected. “Maybe I had a choice once,” he said, “but that was a long time ago. Now, if I don’t do what I have to do, people get hurt. There is no choice.”
The waitress arrived back with the fries and neither me nor Romeo looked up to acknowledge her, so she left the basket between us without a word, obviously wise enough not to interrupt whatever deep conversation was taking place at our table.
“Hurt?” I asked, reaching out to grab a couple of twisty fries, “you mean like Pete Van Diem and those football players got hurt?”
Romeo smiled. “Oh come on Sandy, don’t tell me you actually feel bad for those guys? They’re drug dealers, they beat people up for a living. I mean shit, I know you’re a gentle soul or whatever, but those guys?”
I shrugged. “Fair enough,” I said, “so they’re drug dealers, thugs, whatever… Now how does that make them any different from you?”
“Trust me,” Romeo said, popping a French fry into his mouth, “I’m different.”
“Anyway, I came here to talk to you about Lou—the guy’s completely depressed about Lisa. You have to say something to her. If they don’t spend Valentine’s Day together tomorrow you know they’re both going to regret it.”
I sat back, somehow feeling disappointed that the conversation had moved from me and Romeo back to Lou and Lisa again, not least of all because the last time I myself had had any kind of meaningful romance around Valentine’s Day was the time I got a mystery card in third grade and that had turned out to be from the weird kid at the back of class, the one who smelt like onions and always wiped his boogers on the back of his sleeve. “You know,” I said, “me and Lisa aren’t all that big on Valentine’s Day. I mean when all’s said and done it’s really just a massive marketing scam, right?”
Romeo said nothing, continuing to eye me levelly from across the table, and I sighed, powerless in the face of his dominant, masculine resolve.
“You think she listens to me?” I protested, “I was the one who warned her not to get involved with him in the first place. She didn’t listen then.”
He leaned back a little, once again smiling his trademark ambiguous grin. “Fair point,” he said, “you think you can warn her not to get involved with him again then?”
I laughed. “Ok,” I said, “I’ll try my best.”
“Good girl,” Romeo nodded. “I’m actually really starting to worry about the guy.”
I toyed with my straw as I looked over at him. “This might surprise you,” I said, “but even though Lou might act like a real tough guy, deep down he’s actually kind of sensitive.”
Romeo shrugged. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “In fact you’d be surprised how common that is with guys in this thing.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised and interested, watching him closely.
Romeo’s grin broke wider and he laughed. “Hell no,” he said, “most of em are complete psychos. Jesus Sandy, sensitive guys? Gimme a break…”
I laughed, reaching across the table to give him a playful shove for making fun of me and our eyes met when I did, causing something unexpectedly primal to pass between us in that moment—an animal, vital understanding that I felt certain neither of us wanted to consciously acknowledge.
I leaned back and sipped my drink, eager to change the speed of the conversation before I found myself doing something I might later regret.
“I worry about hi
m too though, you know,” I said, “that stuff, what you guys are into… Just promise me you’ll look out for him, ok?”
Romeo watched me solemnly from across the table and I thought not for the first time how easily and hopelessly a girl could lose herself in those big eyes of his. He reached out and took my hand in his own, his touch smooth and strong and, in my already sensitive and receptive state, somehow achingly exotic in its masculinity. Tingles went up and down my spine as I looked up and met his gaze.
“I promise,” Romeo said and I don’t know why or how, but I knew to the very core of my soul that he meant those words with his every being.
“You’re in deep now cowboy,” Freddy said, “way down the rabbit-hole—so just hold on tight and keep pushing this train forward. With your help we’re going to get these guys, but we need to you to stay strong.”
Romeo picked up the small white cup from the conference table and sipped the coffee they’d provided for him. The morning sunshine glared through the windows, unfettered by any other buildings this high up in the Chicago skyline and therefore completely and relentlessly all-encompassing at this bright hour of the morning. Mafiosi and their accomplices tended to do most of their business at night, preferring the cover of darkness to hatch their schemes, and Sal and his crew were no different. A side-effect of which, meant that Romeo was now totally unused to functioning at any time before eleven am at the earliest.