by Mia Caldwell
By the time he got to the exit there was no sign of Joan – she’d gone off on her own, just like she’d said she would.
Antonio bypassed the elevators and took the stairs two at a time, spotting her immediately as he came out onto the street.
“Hey, wait up,” he said as he hurried to catch up with her.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said with a bored tone. “I thought you’d found something better to do with your time.”
“And I thought you weren’t serious. I mean, I’m surprised your mother didn’t try to tackle you.”
“Yeah right, that would be the day. Annabell Edwards doesn’t do things that ruin her clothes.”
They both laughed and then walked in silence for a while, Joan taking the lead even though she didn’t have a clue where she was. He liked her even more for her fearlessness and sense of adventure. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he liked about her.
“Shit,” she said as they came to the end of the first block. “I forgot to leave a note.”
Antonio smiled at the unpredictable young woman, watching as she dug through her purse, pulled out a pen and paper and ordered him to turn around.
His breath hitched when he felt her hand on his back, securing the paper as she scribbled a note.
“Would you mind terribly going back and putting this note under my makeup bag, on the dressing table?”
“What’s it say?”
“Just that I’m taking the afternoon off to tour the city and that I’ll be back before dark. The usual.”
Antonio lifted an eyebrow. “The usual?”
“Yes, it’s not going to surprise her.”
“Then why the note?”
“Oh, that’s so she doesn’t worry that I was kidnapped or something.”
“That’s very considerate of you.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you think so. The question is, will you do it, or not?”
“Sure, I’ll do it, but only if you promise to still be here when I get back.”
“I promise,” she said.
Antonio sprinted back to the studio and laid down the note, under the makeup bag as directed. Annabelle Edwards was walking around, asking if anyone had seen her daughter. She looked worried, and Antonio wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he didn’t want to mess up his chance to spend time with Joan so he bolted back to the exit before she could ask him.
“Young man? Excuse me, young man?” came her voice from behind him, but Antonio pretended not to hear. He hurried to the steps again.
When he got to the street level he ran back to the street corner where he’d left Joan, but, she wasn’t there anymore.
His heart sank.
“Damn it,” he muttered. He leaned against the light post and scanned up the two streets at the intersection, trying to spot signs of her, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He’d missed her.
Shaking off his disappointment, Antonio was just getting out his cell phone to make sure he had the address for the after party when he heard a voice behind him.
“Hey, what took you so long?”
Joan Edwards was standing there, holding two iced coffees in glass bottles.
His heart swelled as he noticed the corner store. She’d just stepped inside to get drinks; she hadn’t left him. He accepted his drink and fell into step beside her as she started walking down the street.
She started to talk, and he listened.
She talked about her mother; her mother’s rules, her dictates, her attitudes and her behaviors. She talked about her mother, period.
Finally, after almost a half-hour of Joan’s non-stop tirade regarding the many, many faults of her mother, Antonio decided to interject.
“Don’t you think you’re a little hard on her? Maybe she’s just trying to look out for your best interest?” he suggested.
Joan burst out with a sardonic laugh. “Oh sure, that’s probably what it looks like to an outside observer. It looks she’s overprotective for my sake – but, that’s a lie. The truth is she loves the attention. All that grandstanding isn’t about me, it’s how she keeps the attention on herself.”
“Oh, okay,” Antonio said, “Can we talk about something else? Is there anywhere, in particular, you want to go?”
“Yes. I’m done talking about my mother,” Joan said, giving him an appraising look. “As far as where we go – this is your city, surprise me.”
So, he did. He took her to his old neighborhood, keeping a close watch for trouble as they got out of the cab.
“This is where I come from,” he said, proudly.
“You grew up here?” Joan asked, clearly surprised to see that Antonio was from such humble beginnings.
He nodded. He was proud of himself, his life, and the immigrant mother who’d birthed him in this country.
He was a bastard, raised poor, but look at him now. Antonio Ferraro had nothing to be ashamed of. Ever. She watched his face and her cynical expression softened. She nodded slightly, as if giving him her approval.
Even though he wasn’t ashamed of his humble beginnings he’d never mentioned it to any of his dates. For some reason, Joan made him want to reveal his soul to her. The fact that she didn’t hate him for coming from a place where you had to watch your back made him admire her even more.
Encouraged, he took her on a quick tour of his old neighborhood, showing her the government housing apartment block from the safety of another cab, then stopping at the corner restaurant that specialized in Polish food.
“My mother used to work here as a cook,” he said.
“You’re Polish?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
Joan dropped the subject. Of course, working in a Polish restaurant didn’t mean the person was of Polish descent.
“Does your mother still live in the same apartment?”
Antonio stiffened. He didn’t like to talk about what happened.
“No, she died last year,” he finally said.
“I’m sorry,” Joan said, picking up on his discomfort, but she couldn’t help herself, she had to keep talking to him. “You were close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
They were quiet for a while and, as they sat in the back of the cab, Joan reached over and took his hand.
It was only the second time they’d touched. Antonio felt his heart race.
He wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“I think I should take you back to your hotel,” he said.
“Why?” she asked, lower lip jutting out in a delectable pout. “It won’t be dark for a few more hours.”
Antonio told the driver in Italian to take them back to the city.
Joan crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Fine, whatever.”
They sat in silence as the driver got onto the highway. Joan was looking out the window, watching as they left the urban wasteland and headed towards the prosperous parts of the city.
As they drove past the soccer stadium Antonio broke the silence between them.
“That’s where I play. Do you watch soccer?”
“No,” she said, honestly.
It was the first thing about her that he didn’t like.
“Oh,” he said.
“But, you like it?” she asked. “Why?”
Antonio’s chest swelled. Enthusiasm bubbled out of him, he couldn’t help himself. He turned and smiled at Joan, who was looking at him with those big, golden brown eyes. “Soccer is the greatest game in the world. If you’ve never followed it, you should. I’ve always loved soccer, even before I was a superstar.”
She bounced her head from shoulder to shoulder, putting a finger in her mouth, as she gazed at him, with innocent eyes. “You’re a superstar? Are you sure? I don’t think I got that memo.”
He’d wanted to kiss her then, so bad, but he was afraid to it – he knew it would be a mistake.
Instead, he asked the questio
n that had been on his mind from the moment he laid eyes on her back at the studio.
“How old are you, Joan Edwards?” He couldn’t stand not knowing.
“Not old enough.” A look passed between them and Antonio felt himself blushing. It was like she could see into his soul. He looked away, determined to call this ‘date’ short and get her home before he did something that he’d regret. It was obvious from the way her eyes darkened that she was thinking along the same lines.
“Driver, can you step on it?” he asked in English, then repeated in Italian to make his point.
“Smart move, Romeo,” Joan said.
She was okay, probably relieved, and after that Antonio put aside his lust for her. He had no doubt that she was under age. That’s all he needed, the wrath of her crazy mother and the laws of the Italian state undermining his future.
Once the sex was off the table the tension between them had faded away and he started to enjoy Joan Edward’s company even more. She had opinions on everything from architecture to politics. She talked about how much she hated modeling now that she’d finally made it in the industry.
“Then, why don’t you quit?”
“Because my mother would kill me if I did. Frankly, I hate fashion. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re Italian. It’s probably sacrilege to say such a thing.”
“A model – no, I stand corrected, a super model – that hates fashion is very unusual. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I’d never do that,” he said.
Joan turned away, looking out the window as they got off the freeway and drove onto a busy street that would lead them into downtown.
“Stop!” Joan said.
“What? Why?”
“There’s a fair! Please, please please, you’ve got to take me there Antonio. Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
She was bouncing in her seat, her face bright as she pointed to a carnival in the distance. He checked his watch. They were already close to her hotel, but it was still early.
“Alright,” he said, “But, only for an hour. Then I’m taking you back.”
She smiled the whole time. That smile lit up her face, lit up the carnival, and lit up his soul.
He laughed when she ate cotton candy and got some of it stuck in her hair. They went through the fun house, staring and laughing at each other as they looked at their reflections in the fun house mirrors.
After the fun house, she took his hand and dragged him to the ring toss.
“Win something for me,” she begged.
Some of the carnival attendees recognized Antonio, and soon he had an audience as he tossed his rings. The first batch didn’t land over a single bottle. Angry, Antonio bought another batch of six, and then another, until one of the rings finally hung on by a thread.
The carnie was trying to say it wasn’t good enough, but the crowd hooted and complained that the carnie was trying to rip off a national treasure.
Joan joined in the protest and finally the carnie relented and handed her the stuffed monkey.
By the time they left the fair, smiling and stuffed full of carnival foods, Antonio knew that he’d wait for Joan to be old enough and find a way to make her his wife.
He was only nineteen, and promises made that young have a way changing or slipping into the ether of the forgotten, but for the rest of the time he was with her the promise burned hot in his soul.
He’d fallen in love with Joan Edwards, and he knew that he’d never be the same.
The sun was already setting and darkness was closing in by the time they caught another taxi and made it back to her hotel.
“I hope I can see you again, perhaps the next time you are in Milan?” Antonio said, hoping that the next time she was in Milan she’d be at least eighteen.
“Suit yourself,” she said, flippantly, but there was a sly smile on her lips. They stood in the lobby. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he forced himself to stay cool.
“See you around, then?” he said and started to go back outside.
“What, you’re not walking me to my room? That’s not very gentlemanly.”
“Uh, I’m not sure, I mean, what if your mother is angry?”
“Stop being a wuss, Antonio,” she said, and she punched him in the arm.
“Hey, watch it, I’m an athlete.”
“An athlete that can only use his feet and head and chest, never his hands or arms.”
“Hey, you said you didn’t know anything about soccer.”
“No, I didn’t.”
They were in the elevator by then, and when the door closed so did their nervous banter.
Joan moved to him suddenly and, from the look on her face and the longing in her eyes, Antonio knew that she wanted him to kiss her.
He backed away and put a hand out to keep her from getting any closer. “Joan, no. I’m sorry. Not now. Not for a few more years, okay?”
Joan’s shoulder’s slumped and she jerked away. Antonio felt bad, knowing the sting of his rejection had to hurt her very badly. He didn’t want her to hurt.
“I’m sorry, Joan,” he said.
The elevator stopped and the door pinged open. She flipped her hair and plastered on a fake smile. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I was just kidding.”
She walked out of the elevator and headed down the hall. Antonio hesitated.
She turned and scowled. “Are you coming or not?”
“I think I’ll just wait over here.”
She stomped towards him and pulled him out of the elevator, surprisingly strong for such a skinny thing.
“You’re coming to the front door whether you like it or not, Antonio Ferraro.”
“Okay,” he said laughing. He walked along side her, and soon she arrived at her door.
“Let me do the talking,” she said as she took out her key and entered it into the lock. It didn’t work. “Shit, she always does this when I bolt. She doesn’t trust me not to bring back some tall handsome stranger when she isn’t around. Typical.”
Antonio lifted an eyebrow. Was she making a joke?
She knocked on the door and he could hear heels clicking on the marble floor inside the suite.
The door was flung open and Annabel Edwards gasped at the sight of her daughter.
“Joanie, my God, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!”
“Mom, don’t be such a drama queen. I left you a note and I’m back early – before dark, like I promised.”
“I don’t care, I didn’t give you permission to go. And who, pray tell, is this man?”
“This is Antonio from the photo shoot.”
Annabel gave Antonio a withering look. “Oh, yes, I remember you. One of the jocks. Lawn bowling was it?”
He flinched from the obvious slight. “Soccer.”
“Whatever,” She flicked her hand dismissively and glared at him. “Young man I could not care less what type of ball you choose to toss into a hoop or roll across a lawn, but I do care if you think you can make advances for my daughter. I’d like you to leave now, and if I ever see you near my daughter again I will not hesitate to call the police.”
“Mom!” Joan said.
Antonio’s cheeks flushed even as his jaw clenched and his fists tightened. He was starting to understand Joan’s attitude about her mother.
“Come inside, Joanie,” Annabel Edwards said, stepping out into the hall to grasp her daughter’s arm and attempt to pull her inside.
Joan yanked her arm out of her mother’s grasp. “I won’t!”
“Joan, get away from this scoundrel, right now,” she ordered.
“Mother!” Joan screamed. “Don’t call him that. Antonio and I are in love, and he’s going to marry me, and I’m having his baby!” she announced.
Antonio was so shell shocked by this unexpected announcement that he didn’t see it coming - the next thing he knew Joan Edwards had leaped onto his torso, her skinny arms around his neck,
long legs hooked around his waist. He had no choice but to grip onto her and keep her from falling, she had no power to stop the kiss.
“Joan, what are you doing?” shouted her mother.
Antonio was caught by the taste of her sweet mouth on his, shocked by the hot invasion of her tongue. For just a second he gripped her tight to his body and kissed her back. Then he remembered where he was, who he was with and who’s mother was pounding on his back trying to yank them apart.
He pried his mouth away, pulled her limbs off his body and forced her back to her feet.
“I’m sorry, Joan, I’ve got to go.”
He ran away, leaving the most intense woman he’d ever met behind him, and even as he entered the elevator he could hear Joan’s maniacal laughter in the hallway.
He jabbed at the elevator door, fearful that Joan would escape her mother and come running after him.
They were both a couple of fruitcakes – two crazy bitches.
“Get in,” shouted the mother. He heard a grunt and a sound as if someone had fallen on the floor.
The door to the hotel room slammed shut as the elevator door pinged open.
He thought he could hear Joan crying out to him, faintly, “Antonio, don’t leave me! What about our baby?”
He stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button to the lobby. As the doors closed he burst out laughing.
Holy shit!
He ordered a cab back to his apartment and told himself that both daughter and mother were out of their gourds. Even though he’d never felt the same kind of attraction or connection with any other woman, it was clear that Joan was trouble on a paper plate.
That would be the first time he walked away from Joan Edwards, but it wouldn’t be the last. Joan was his kryptonite.
Despite, how bizarrely their first day together had ended, and despite all the warning signs, Antonio followed Joan’s skyrocketing career with the interest of a dedicated hobbyist. He had not missed one cover, magazine spread, or tabloid article if Joan was in it.
That was his first mistake, other than the ill-conceived first date – following her career and admiring her from afar.
He never should have done that and he never should have tried to connect with her years later, after he’d determined she was of age and no longer under her mother’s thumb, but, he had. The drama that would come next would make that first day seem like a walk in the park.