Pieces of Truth

by Angela Richardson

  How could Clint not see where I was coming from? How could he not understand?

  “You are hurting me right now, Norah.”

  Ohhh, that stung! Immediate disappointment in my boyfriend swirled inside me as I registered what he said.

  “Don’t say that Clint. Don’t you dare say that. Don’t lay that kind of guilt on me. You are not being fair.” I looked at Clint now, my eyes ignited in defense. I was trying to be understanding of Clint’s emotions, and be sensitive to his feelings, but now, he was completely disregarding mine.

  “I’m not being fair? He has sent you twenty-four gifts Norah. Twenty-four! What kind of fian...” Clint paused and cleared his throat before he continued, “boyfriend, am I, to allow that? Fair, it’s all I am!”

  He did have a point. He had showed a lot more restraint than I thought he was capable of. Yes, we had had some bad fights because of the gifts, and we had thrown around some pretty harsh words, but Clint had not told my father of Samuel’s persistence, and that in itself, showed me that he cared about my feelings.

  “Stop Clint. You are letting these gifts come between us. It’s exactly what he wants.” I wanted this fight to end. I wanted Clint to forget about it and move on. I wanted to pretend like I never answered the door this morning.

  “No, you are letting these gifts come between us. You can stop all this with just one conversation with the guy. Do it for me Norah, for us.”

  I didn’t want to scream at Clint, but his lack of understanding on my behalf forced the next sentence out as being yelled.

  “I can’t fucking believe you are putting this on me Clint!”

  Clint looked like he was ready to explode, his face turning a deep shade of red. “You can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! This shouldn’t be happening anyway! It should be finished! Done! He should be gone forever!” Clint’s temper was not restrained any more. It was out in the open, loud and hungry, and plainly saying whatever sprang into his head.

  Wait, what the hell does that mean?

  “What the hell does that mean?” I shouted back at him, just realizing that what he said made no sense, even in the heat of the moment.

  Suddenly Clint’s rage was interrupted by a different look on his face, and I knew that look. It was fear. It was as if he had said something he wasn’t supposed to say. That made me even more angry because now I was thinking about the note and the potential of more lies. I was suddenly thinking that I should be a lot more angry.

  “It was nothing Norah. Just forget it. I’m going to get ready for work.” Clint strode off to the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving me in the middle of the lounge, my fists in balls and my mind racing with anger and suspicion. Trying to now control my breathing, I was faced with the fallout of yet another argument from the gifts Samuel had been sending me. I really believed he would stop this pursuit. I thought if he saw I was with Clint, he would understand that I made a decision back in Morewell, and that when I agreed to live with Clint, it was a clear sign that I had moved on. But Samuel seemed relentless. The gifts were accelerating in expense and grandeur every week. But why? Why? Did Samuel really believe I still loved him? Did he really think he had a chance? The questions in my mind just reignited the other questions about the note, and what could possibly be hidden from me.

  I stood, shaking, still feeling the intensity of our argument. I knew that Clint had let slip something he wasn’t supposed to, and now I was left explosively confused, which, if you knew anything about me, meant I needed to vent, and vent now. Normally I would paint or hightail it to a gun range, but since moving to New York, I had promised myself that I would try and find other outlets to dispose of my inner fury.

  I needed to get out of my apartment and fast, but at that time of morning I wasn’t sure where to go. Sometimes in the early morning I would head to the markets or Central Park to sketch and get some ideas, but this morning, all I wanted to do was offload and talk to someone. I wanted some support, and to get some clarity and advice on what I should do. I couldn’t talk to my best friend Tess. She was in Europe on a work assignment and with the cell reception there, as well as the time zones, calling her would be useless.

  Fuck, I wish I could talk to Josh right now.

  Josh. Oh yes - Josh. My best friend. I hadn’t seen Josh since graduation. We had called each other a couple of times since I moved here with Clint, but we had not spent any one-on-one time together since then. I wasn’t sure why I had avoided seeing Josh, and with that realization in mind, it was now all I wanted to do.

  I quickly hurried back to my bedroom. Clint had childishly locked himself in the bathroom and had not come out. I threw on some jeans and tight fitted tank top, grabbed my bag, my sketchbook and my cell, and headed for the front door.

  Chapter 2

  The Past

  ~ ~ ~

  Did he really think I didn’t see him coming? Did he really think I would buy the incredible coincidence of our meeting? Didn’t he know that boys had tried this same routine before?

  They knew who I was. They all knew.

  Grudges. Curiosity. Power. Whatever the reason, when a guy came up to talk to me or when they ‘accidently’ ran into me, their faces were riddled with motivation. I was no fool. I was not blind. Plus, I had been informed time, and time again by my father about the whispers, bets and other such reasons as to why men would approach me. I knew they considered me a conquest, a way to get to my father, and today outside the stairs of NYU was no different.

  I noticed him walking towards me before the pretend collision. I saw his stride, saw his arrogance a mile away. Yes, I saw Samuel Voltaggio before our ‘chance’ encounter the day we first met.

  When our bodies first hit one another, and I fell to the ground, our eyes connected while he helped me to my feet. There was immediate confusion in his gaze in those first few seconds. I expected to hear cheesy lines and a steady flow of dishonesty to come tumbling out of his mouth, but this guy, stalled with nothing to say. The rugged Italian, who looked like he could conquer the world with his swagger, seemed lost in hesitation. He couldn’t stop staring at my face, and had a problem with what to say next. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “A sorry would be good you know,” I pointed out to him as he steadied me to my feet. He cleared his throat. Immediately I smelt his cologne. It was a manly scent that made me think of fast cars and secret spies. The smell reminded me of my Dad when I was young and the endless stream of women that would visit him. His well-groomed features as well as the smell, told me that this guy knew how to operate women, and I would need to be careful.

  “Oh yes, right. I’m so sorry I bumped into you like that. I didn’t see you.” And right away I could tell when he was lying. I could hear the hint in his tone, the way his voice wavered. In a split second he had given me his greatest weakness, and I knew playing with him was going to be easy.

  “I, I, I…” he stuttered, still looking at my lips.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I asked. I squinted my eyes at him as I waited for something more than this bumbling innocent guy act. This was not impressive. How he thought this was the right approach was beyond me. I really thought he would be a lot smarter. A man on a mission would bring his heaviest artillery, and it looked like this guy hadn’t even packed a pocket knife.

  He shook his head, trying to come up with something to say before finally finding his voice again. “I did not expect...” He trailed off.

  “To run into another person. You and me both. Thanks for the apology buddy, but I have to go.” I had already given him a minute too much of my time.

  “Wait!” He half yelled, and reached out to grab my arm as I tried to move past him. I looked at his grip, and he immediately withdrew his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. He swallowed and then returned to staring at me again. Whatever he was trying to do was clearly not going to plan. I was unsure he even had a plan anymore, given he had nothing to say. This was not the smartest approach at trying to get to Big J
oe’s daughter. I began internally laughing at the guy who should have brought his ‘A Game’ today, especially considering what I knew about his reputation.

  I was standing in front of Samuel Voltaggio, the only son of my Dad’s rival. I had seen pictures of him many times before. My father made me well aware of what he looked like, as well as his reputation. It almost seemed stupid that he would think I wouldn’t know who he was. Surely he must have had some idea that my Dad would have educated me about the face of our enemy. Thinking that I was clueless to his identity almost made me feel offended. Did I really appear that naive? Did he think my Dad would not give me that type of information? Granted it was traditional in our culture that women were separated from any and all manly matters, but my father bypassed those traditions when it came to my safety, giving me information on a need-to-know-basis. I guess I could understand why he would think I wouldn’t know, but the assumption still made me pissed.

  “I’m waiting,” I said impatiently, as his dark brown eyes, which looked almost black, went from my eyes, to my lips, to my body, and then back to my eyes again. As I looked into his eyes, trying to see into the depths of that darkness, it hit me. It was subtle, but it hit me.

  The rush of attraction.

  A heat from inside me suddenly appeared from nowhere.

  Damn. That’s not good.

  There had been a hole in my heart that was left gaping open since my best friend Josh had moved to Morewell for college two years ago. Josh and I were not romantic, but our friendship filled a void in me that needed companionship, and with him gone, the sudden need for something more in my life sprung open inside, begging to be filled.

  “I’m Samuel,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but also sexy and smooth. My knees trembled at the sound of his voice.

  That’s new.

  “I’m Lenorah,” I said. (But I was sure he knew that.)

  He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me, thinking. He looked around and then back to my lips again. He appeared like he was now making this up as he went along.

  “Look, this is going to sound a little forward, and we are two complete strangers, but can I...buy you...a cannoli?”

  What? I burst out laughing. Of all the things I expected to come out of this guy’s mouth, the last thing I expected him to say was ‘cannoli’. (Note: a cannoli is a sweet Italian dessert. It has a deep fried pastry dough casing, filled with a yummy custard-like filling.)

  I was impressed with his creativity to say the least, and wondered what he was about to say next. “What?” I asked, still a little taken back in surprise about his weird approach. This was certainly a new one for me.

  “Cannolis. Do you like them?” He sounded sincere in the way he asked.

  Hmmm cannoli. Yes, they were one of my favorite desserts, but it had been a long time since I had one. The last time was on my seventeenth birthday with Josh on a rooftop. Josh had failed, quite typically, trying to put a birthday candle in one of those things, and the cannoli’s filling ended up everywhere on my hands as I blew out my candle. We lay on that rooftop staring at the stars that night while I licked parts of the cannoli from my fingers. The thought only reminded me of how much I missed Josh and the void in my heart.

  “You are being serious aren’t you?” I was smiling at him, but still very confused. What kind of line was this? What kind of play?

  “There is a little Italian cart I know of, right near Central Park which makes them. I swear, they are the best in New York.” He grinned softly which looked genuine. It didn’t feel like some elaborate ploy to get closer to me. I wanted to slap myself for thinking this, but his offer felt heartfelt and sweet.

  My knees twitched yet again as I looked into those dark brown eyes. “Down girl,” I internally told myself. This was already turning into code red. I couldn’t possibly find myself attracted to this guy. I had to remind myself that he was the enemy, and I refused to let my body react. C’mon Norah, your mind knows better than this. It did know better, but I was still drawn to him, perhaps out of curiosity. I had a bad habit of that. Looking into things I probably shouldn’t. Taking unnecessary risks. But old habits die hard.

  “You want me to go with you, to Central Park, for a cannoli?” I was blushing and considering his offer, and I was also doing my best to hide it from his eyes that still gazed longingly at my face. He had now tilted his head so his look was even softer than before. I gulped, knowing that I was feeling the effect of his charm.

  “Yes, and to talk of course. Cannoli and conversation. Can you think of anything better Lenorah?”

  I smiled back. I couldn’t help it. As much as I didn’t want to encourage this fruitless encounter, I was still very curious as to how far this guy would try and take it. I should have been more worried about my safety, especially given who he was, but a voice inside me was saying not to panic, that it was OK, that it didn’t sense any threat or danger.

  “As a matter of fact, I can’t,” I replied honestly. One of us had to be.

  Samuel motioned his hand in the direction behind him. I had just finished my classes today and was heading home. Usually on these days, my Dad’s men didn’t bother waiting outside NYU because they knew I headed straight back to the apartment, and I thanked my lucky stars that they weren’t around to see this. I mean, if this sight got back to my father...

  Samuel was right about the tiny Italian dessert cart. It’s selection of authentic cannoli were the best I had ever seen, but I settled on a cinnamon one before we took a seat at a nearby park bench. Samuel got one that had been dipped in chocolate. The guy had a sweet tooth, and for some reason, I mentally stored that information. I don’t know why I was already taking notes about this guy. It’s not like I would ever see him again after today. Remembering that, I decided the best thing to do now, was to just force the end of this meeting. I was enjoying this dangerous liaison, but I knew I couldn’t let it persist much further. I had to get home, and I much preferred to keep the memory of our meeting as something sweet rather than sour.

  “So what’s your last name Samuel?” I knew just by asking, that it would lead to the end of this, ummm, date, quickly. I felt a little sad for blurting out the question, but really, what was the point of stretching it out.

  “It’s Voltaggio,” he said bluntly, looking to me for recognition. He said it so quickly, no hesitation or hiding, but definitely with a hint of guilt. Perhaps he thought I wouldn’t put two and two together and the conversation about our backgrounds would happen at a later time.

  “That sounds familiar,” I said, taking a big bite of my cannoli. He watched me eat it before responding again.

  “Hmmm does it? I suppose I should ask you the same thing then. What’s yours Lenorah?”

  I thought about lying, but only for a second as something inside me wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye. But I couldn’t play the same game as Samuel, it just wasn’t my style. “Mine is Rossi,” I said taking note of his reaction, knowing my name would probably make him want to open fire on innocent bystanders. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared hearing the name. Years of hatred were embedded in the word, I was certain.

  Any minute now we would bid each other ‘adieu’ and we would be on our way, our paths never to cross again.

  “Rossi? Rossi? Rossi?” he chanted, trying to see if he could place the name in his head.

  Seriously Samuel! I appreciated him playing dumb, but I knew I was going to be forced to help this along.

  “Yeah, your name too. Sounds like, sounds like...oh my God! Please tell me you are not the son of Michael Voltaggio!”

  “I am.” He said it flatly, like he couldn’t dress it up.

  “I’m Lenorah Rossi.” My hands were pointing to my chest.

  Samuel stared blankly at me. Oh please! And the Academy Award goes to...

  “Daughter of Guiseppe Rossi.” I assisted him with more information in the hope he would drop the pretence. His eyes looked misty as the details clouding his thoughts disappeared,
and suddenly he flinched, like a light bulb went off in his head. He was really good at this.

  “Oh sweet Jesus. Really?” He looked shocked, like this was all new to him, and perhaps on some level it was, but I brushed that thought away, mortal enemies and all.

  “We should probably stop talking now. We wouldn’t want a Shakespearean tragedy on our hands now would we?” I don’t know why I said that. Like the idea could ever be possible anyway. I laughed at the impossible thought. Samuel and me, together, our families at each other’s throats. That would be a crazy situation indeed! The rebel in me however, was slowly rubbing her hands together at the concept of more. Not good.

  “Two households, both alike in dignity,” Samuel quoted. “From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.”

  Wow, not just a pretty face. My knees twitched even more at his ability to recite Shakespeare. Another quality I mentally stored in my head.

  “That’s a bit dramatic, but yes, you get the point. Nicely quoted from Romeo and Juliet I might add, but now that we are both aware, perhaps this coincidence should just be that, a coincidence and we should part ways. No point continuing this... this...”

  Samuel’s smile turned into a frown, a sad clown-type of frown and I felt the nag of something else, regret. OK, yes, Samuel had been somewhat like a gentleman, and his looks did kind of make me feel something I hadn’t felt in a very long time, but this was crazy. I couldn’t see this guy again. It would kill my father, and most likely start an unnecessary war. I couldn’t be selfish and I couldn’t hurt my Dad like that, even though most of my happiness had to be pushed aside to accommodate my Dad’s lifestyle. That reminder made the deep-seeded resentment I had for my Dad, come forth.

  Maybe I shouldn’t just disregard this. He doesn’t appear all that bad.

  But, I could never trust the guy. Right?

  Samuel noticed my internal debate, like I was struggling with the disconnection too and he saw it as a sign to try and change my mind.