by P. R. Paige
Rome is already up when I awaken the next morning while both Storm and India are both still asleep. From the very beginning, sex is what I believed this living arrangement was all about, but after spending my first night in the family sleeping room, I learn first-hand. That is not the case at all.
It was absolutely nothing like I had expected. If I didn't know any better, I might think that Rome, India, and Storm were all just very good friends. There was nothing sexual about the evening in the least.
Except for the fact that I was unable to sleep next to Rome, my first night revealed itself to be a very pleasant one. I can't stop thinking about the speech that Rome shared with us.
It was just so powerful.
I ease out of bed and make my way downstairs for my morning cup of white tea. I am about to descend the stairs when I detect a warm masculine voice coming from the foot of the stairs, "Good morning, Sexy." It's Rome, of course. He ascends the stairs, still wearing his pajamas bottoms and looking just as exquisite as ever.
"And where might you be headed," he asks me and then brushes his soft lips across the back of my hand.
It's going to be a major challenge for me to keep my hands to myself if he keeps doing things like this.
"Into the kitchen for some tea," I answer him.
He slips his hand under my chin and gently tips my head back, staring down at me. His eyes are intense. He examines my face, admiration in his eyes. "I'll bring the tea to you. I'm preparing a big breakfast for all of you."
"Really?" I ask, smiling.
"Does that surprise you?"
"Yes. I mean, no. Actually, it does surprise me and if you keep it up, I may not ever want to leave."
"That's the plan," he says to me. "Did you sleep okay?" he asks me.
"Fine," I answer quickly, but what I want to say is, I would have slept better if you had made love to me first, but I don't say that at all. I just simply say fine.
"So, you head right back up to bed and everything should be ready in about ten minutes." I am about to turn and head back into the family sleeping room when he surprises me by slapping my fanny. I like that! He flashes me one of those adorable smiles, and I can't help but offer it right back. I then dash off into the bathroom and brush my teeth.
In the family sleeping room, I resume my position in bed while India and Storm are just waking up.
"Good morning," I say to both of them.
"Good morning, "Storm says.
"What time is it?" India asks, stretching out her arms.
"Almost eight," I say, "Rome is bringing up breakfast for all of us."
Both India and Storm fumble out of bed and head to the master bathroom together, which I find very odd. But then again, this is the House of Rome, where everything goes and not everything makes sense.
While Storm and India are in the bathroom, in strides Rome. He brings with him three covered breakfast trays, stacked on top of each other.
"Are you hungry?" he asks me.
"Am I ever not hungry?"
"I know you're hungry for sex, but at the moment, I'm talking about food."
"You think you're so smart and so funny, don't you," I say to him.
"I more than think it," he says. "I know it."
I relax with my back against the headboard and pull the covers up to my waist. "Whatever it is, it smells good."
He sets the breakfast trays on top of the shiny dresser and seats himself next to me. "Since we have a few minutes with Storm and India out of the room--"
"Before that," I interrupt him, "what's with the two of them going to the bathroom together?"
"Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies," Rome says.
"After the outburst at the furniture store the other day, I kind of thought maybe they weren't that fond of each other."
"A lot of people might think that. Don't let them fool you. They're like sisters."
Changing the subject, I say, "So, you were saying since we have a few moments to kill..."
"What did you think about your first night with us?" he asks me.
"How was it for you?" I ask him.
"It might have been better if you had slept next to me."
"Really?" I say, flattered as I feel the exact same way, but I won't tell him that. "I'm so shocked to hear you say that." Then, out of nowhere, I tell him how I really feel. "I have to be honest. I was kind of hoping I might have landed a spot next to you also."
"I already knew that," he says.
Now, I'm trying to figure out if I am attracted to his arrogance or perhaps turned off by it.
Who am I kidding?
I'm definitely swayed by his arrogance.
"Are you going to stay again with us tonight or was last night it for you?"
"I haven't quite made up my mind just yet." That's what I tell him, but the truth of the matter is that I have already decided that if I'm going to live in the House of Rome, I want to be where the party is.
"I almost forgot to tell you," Rome says to me. "We're all planning to take a new family portrait next week, and I have three themes in mind."
"That sounds interesting," I say to him, eager to hear all about it.
"This is something for all of us to discuss, but for now, I'm thinking of us all wearing trench coats and bare feet or maybe all of us wearing bath towels or maybe white bathrobes. What do you think?"
"They all sound pretty interesting to me," I say. "I could go with either."
Listening to Rome inform me about our upcoming photo session reminds me that I misjudged just how much fun it would be when I moved in.
Moments later, Storm and India cruise in. Rome reclaims the breakfast trays from the dresser.
"Good morning, beautiful creatures," he says to them.
Storm is quick to slip into bed while India approaches Rome from behind, hugs him and then crawls into bed with the rest of us.
Rome places a breakfast tray in each of our laps. Each plate is outfitted with French toast, scrambled eggs and what looks like turkey bacon, along with angelic vanilla coffee, tea, and cranberry juice.
"This is food fit for a queen," I say to Rome, ready to dig in fast.
"You are my queens," Rome says.
Rome sits at the foot of the bed, studying all of us as if he's a waiter on call.
"You're not eating?" I ask him.
"I had my breakfast already."
I glance over at Storm's plate which contains only scrambled eggs and coffee.
"You don't eat very much, do you, Storm?" I ask Storm.
"I eat my share," Storm says to me.
"I wish I could be more like Storm," India says with her mouth full. "But I just can't help myself. I love to eat." India then changes the subject. "I think it might be time to file a missing dog's report for Doggie," India says to Rome.
"Yeah, it has been a while," Rome says. "She's usually back by now."
"What do you mean?" I say to Rome. "Isn't it unusual for a dog to run away?"
"Oh, no," Storm answers for him. "She's runaway several times before, but never for this length of time."
"That reminds me. Whose dog is it anyway?" I ask.
"Doggie is the family dog per se," Rome says. "However, she really belongs to India."
"She belongs to all of us," India says, correcting Rome. India finishes her last bit of coffee. "Rome, sweetness, would you bring me another cup of coffee?"
"What will I get for it?" Rome asks India.
"Anything you want," India tells him.
"Well, for the time being, I'll settle for a kiss," Rome says.
Rome steps to India, places his cheek to her lips so that she can kiss him, then he kisses her right back.
Since kisses are treated as currency around here, I want in on the action. "If I give you a kiss, what will you give me?" I ask Rome.
"What would you like?" he answers.
I think about it, but nothing comes to mind. "How about I give you a kiss now, and when I think of something that I w
ant, you can give it to me then."
"I can live with that," Rome says.
Before I have a chance to plant a kiss on Rome's lips, Storm raises her hand. "I want in, too."
"What have I started?" Rome asks. He leans over India and kisses me, then Storm.
While I enjoy my breakfast, I'm thinking of a name for my novel. Maybe I will call it Kisses for Sale, but then again, maybe not. Then, mysteriously I have it. I know what I will call my book. Something that sums up the essence of the story I want to tell: The House of Rome.
I finish off the remainder of my scrambled eggs and French toast and soak up Rome's charm and singular wit. Then it hits me. My greatest fear is being realized. I am falling in love with Rome Nicki all over again.
Episode Twelve
Blaring country music can be echoed from inside the police station when Rome, Storm, India and I approach the entrance. As we head inside, Storm and India walk alongside Rome, Rome firmly in between the two. India is glued to his arm as usual. Once inside, the country music makes sense to me now. A line dance is in progress with more than two dozen police officers. Obviously, they have found a terrific way to bring excitement to the workplace.
The beautiful, redhead female police officer sitting at the desk, talking on the phone is the next thing to garner my attention. On the wall behind her is a plethora of mugshots of allegedly missing dogs and cats.
"Look, Rome," India says and points to the pictures on the wall. "There're very pet friendly here."
The female police officer is still on the phone when we all four approach her at the desk. When the female police officer ends her call, India says, "We'd like to file a missing person's report."
"And who are all of these people with you?" she asks India.
"Oh, these people," India says, looking at all of us. "They're my family. This is Rome, Storm, and Thursday."
"What? No Friday?" she asks with a giggle. "Just joking."
The female police officer examines us from top to bottom. "I'm not used to four people coming in to file one missing person's report."
"Well, it's actually not a missing person," India says. "It is a missing doggie, and because we're all family, we do everything together."
All the while this insane dialogue is transpiring, I'm thinking to myself: Just another non-ordinary day in the Land of Rome.
"Excuse me," the police officer says and steps away from the front desk and into an adjoining room. Upon her speedy return, she is accompanied by another female police officer. This one wears a police uniformed skirt, shirt and short tie. This is interesting as I have never seen a police woman in a uniformed skirt before.
"Hello," she says to us. "I'm Officer Scottie O. Please excuse the line dancing. They're studying for the finals."
"We understand," Rome assures her.
"I understand you wish to file a missing person's report for your dog. Is that correct?"
"That is," Rome replies.
"Won't you walk this way?" she says to us. She escorts us down a long hallway and then into a private seating room. Lo and behold there are two clowns dressed as police officers, one male and one female, wrapped around each other, going at it pretty hard on the cot. There's lots of ohs…. ahs… ums and lots of "give it to me babies" and "oh yeas."
At this moment, all eyes are on them.
I'm not talking much. I'm only here to watch the show.
If someone had told me that two clowns dressed as police officers were making out in the back room at a police station, I would have instructed that person to lay off the drugs.
Officer O. yells at them. "Both of you. Out. Now!"
The two clowns manage to tear themselves away from each other and dash out the door, leaving behind a red nose in the center of the cot.
Officer O. takes a seat in the chair behind the desk in front of the computer, and we all four sit across from her. As usual, Rome sits between Storm and India, India's hand on his lap. Just as Officer O. is about to file our report, the female clown returns and pokes her head inside the office. "Fifteen minutes. Please," the female clown begs. "We have nowhere else to go."
Officer O. doesn't respond right away. She's thinking about it, then, "Okay, but only fifteen minutes. I'm conducting a very important interview here."
The door flies open and in pops the two clowns again. They waste no time returning to the cot where they were before and go at it again. There's kissing… groping… panting… and heavy breathing.
"Don't mind them," Officer O. says to us. "Ordinarily, I would never condone this type of behavior, but they don't have anywhere else to go."
"We totally understand," Rome says. "I mean, they have to go somewhere."
"Completely," I agree. "It's not like they could get a room or anything logical like that. That wouldn't make any sense."
"Exactly," Officer O. agrees.
I want to keep my mind focused on the matter at hand: the report of our missing dog, but I'm struggling because right behind me at this very moment are two police officers dressed as clowns, making out.
How can I ignore that and maintain a straight face?
Officer O. logs into the computer. "May I offer any of you something to drink?"
"What do you have?" Storm asks her.
"Gin, rum, vodka and, of course, beer."
My eyes shoot to Storm. India. Rome.
I'm shaking my head and scratching my scalp. Is she serious?
"Is that typical to offer alcoholic beverages?" Rome asks Officer O. It's an answer I'm sure we'd all like to hear.
"Well, we like to keep the people calm, less chance of them shooting up the place," Officer O. says. "You know what I mean?"
"Absolutely," Rome says.
I smile because it's obvious that Officer O. is no less afflicted than the two clowns, making out behind us.
She straightens her tie, then directs her attention at all of us. "Okay, so what's the name of this missing pet?"
Both Storm and India speak at the same time.
India says, "Doggie" while Storm says, "Rockette."
"So which is it?" Officer O. insists.
Rome is quick to interject. "Rockette is her professional name. Doggie is just her given name, you know, like a name of endearment."
"And what professional is that," the officer asks.
"She's a hustler," India is quick to say. "You know. A working girl."
"Of course," the officer says, typing her statement into the computer. "How about I say, Rockette also known as Doggie."
"I think that's a fabulous idea," India says.
"So when was the last time you saw Rockette, also known as Doggie?"
"I would say about five or six days ago," India says.
"No," Storm interjects. "It was more like six or seven."
I just continue to look, listen and enjoy the show. What else can I do? After all, they're filing a missing person's report for a dog!
"Do you have a description?" Officer O. asks us.
India thinks about it, then, "She looks like a dog. You know: four legs, a snout. The usual."
"Is she white? black?" Officer O. asks.
"Oh, we don't believe in races," India says. "We're all the same in God's eyes."
Officer O. takes a shallow breath, looks away a moment, then returns her attention to India. "What I meant is, what is the color of her fur?"
"Well, seeing that she is from a mixed family," India says. "I would say she's like a blackish brown."
"No, it is more like a brownish-black," Storm says.
Officer O. continues to type the information into the computer. "How about I say brownish-black/blackish brown?"
"Works for me," India says.
"Any distinguishing characteristics?" Officer O. asks.
"She does have this thing that wags back and forth," India says.
"You mean a tail?" Officer O. questions.
"Yeah," Storm says. "She definitely has one of those."
All the while th
is report is being taken, I struggle to keep from howling. The whole scenario is straight from the pages of a comedienne's notebook.
After India supplies Office O. with her address and phone number, Officer O. says, "I think I have everything I need here. We'll be in touch."
"How long before you find her and bring her home to us?" India asks Officer O.
"It's difficult to say," Officer O. says, "I mean with the description you provided and all."
"Well, just do the best that you can," India says, rising to a standing position. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."
If I didn't know it before, I definitely know it now. Everyone who lives in the House of Rome is a little, how shall I say, touched, which scares me because I also live there.
The laundry room in the House of Rome is huge and filled with sunlight and fresh air from the opened windows. India and I sort through our clothes about to do two loads when Storm comes in carrying something behind her back.
"India, I have a surprise for you," Storm says with a big smile.
"Did you get my Gillian Flynn book?" India asks Storm.
"It's in the kitchen on the table," Storm says.
"Thank you," India says. "What's the surprise?"
From behind Storm's back, she reveals the cutest, tiniest, light brown kitten with beautiful marble-like dark eyes.
"India, I know you're a dog person," Storm says, "but the lady at the mall was just giving these away and I just had to get one for you. For us."
India's eyes light up with awe when she takes hold of the tiny kitten. "Oh, he's a cutie. Is it a boy or girl?"
"How should I know," Storm says. "It's a cat. He's a sweetie, though, right?" Storm says to India.
"He most certainly is," India says, smudging the tiny kitten against her cheek, admiring him with eyes of wonder.
I am also not a cat person, but this particular charmer could quite possibly change all of that. There's something amazing about the saucer-like eyes that I find riveting.
As we are all in the midst of ogling over the sweet kitten before us, Rome appears, wanting to know what all the fuss is about.
"Look, Rome. We have a new addition to the family," India says, "and we have to keep him."