by Shae Black
“You’re not hearing a word I’m saying Lana! I’m his nurse, it’s a professional relationship, and I didn’t quit my job, it’s a leave of absence.” I try unsuccessfully to explain it to her again when she interrupts me. “Fucking A Imani! I just Googled this guy! HE. IS. SO. FUCKING. HOT! Are you kidding me with the professional relationship shit, really I’m insulted that you think I’d fall for that BS! Have you fucked him yet? Is he good? I bet he’s a machine. Wait, didn’t you say his leg was broken? How do you do that with a broken leg?” And on and on she goes, asking questions in her machine gun fashion like I’m not even here. I try to slip in an answer once and a while but she’s on a roll, so I just lay on my back and stare at the white gauzy mesh material draped around the canopy of the bed. I listen until I’m pretty sure she’s worn herself out.
“You finished?” I ask, exasperated with her lengthy onslaught.
“Yes… no…I don’t know. I’m so blown away Imani this is so not like you!” Blessedly, she pauses and I grab my chance to begin to answer her questions.
“Well first of all yes, he’s very handsome, and yes he has a broken leg, that’s why I’m here, no we haven’t fucked so I don’t know if he’s a machine. And I wasn’t trying to feed you a line of BS or insult you I was just being honest.” Well, not really but I’m afraid if I’m honest with her she may have a stroke. I’ll wait until there’s something more to tell, she needs to wade into this deep cold pool slowly. I love Lana, we’ve been friends since high school, but she’s so high maintenance and incredibly overbearing. When we hang up I make one last call to the hospital and pull a few strings to get him in today. It’s really not necessary though; people know who Marcus Castillo is. Apparently he’s donated a lot of money to the hospital, participated in various charities and funded the addition of a psychiatric wing. Just say the name Castillo and people are instantly cooperative. The nervous tone of the scheduler leads me to believe that they’ve dealt with him before, she even asks for a number to confirm the appointment, and it’s today! Back in the living room Marcus is working on his laptop, which has magically appeared as things in this house, seem to do. “Just what do you do to the staff at Seattle Trinity? I just got off the phone with the hospital, as soon as I say Castillo they’re falling all over themselves trying to please you.” When will I learn? The look of satisfaction on his face says it all but of course he tells me anyway. “Imani people may not like me but they know better then to disappoint me. I told you before, people are tools used to get a job done and fear is a key motivator.” “You don’t scare me.” I say “I really don’t do I?” “No.” “What do I do to you Imani?” This conversation is going in a direction I’m not comfortable with, when people start discussing feelings I bolt or do my best to become invisible and slink away. I’m not sure there are words to describe how he makes me feel. It’s a complicated mixture of intense physical attraction and a tender unique connection to something else…his heart, his soul? I’m in foreign territory when it comes to relationships with men, never had one, never wanted to. Standing at the end of the couch I pick at a piece of invisible lint and try to find the words to answer his question but I can’t and he feels my frustration. “Come, sit with me.” Avoiding his eyes I round the couch and sit with him. “I know what you’re feeling because I feel it too, I see it in your eyes, the way you blush, how the vein in your neck pulses when we are together, the way you fidget and the yearning that glows from every pour in your body. I don’t know what to call it and I am not much on titles or categorizing so how about we just show each other instead.” He rubs a loose curl of my hair between his fingers before tucking it behind my ear. Gently he holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring my face to his. “This thing between us my Imani…” He shakes his head softly in disbelief “I do not love people, there are a few that have been like family to me but they have never had my heart. I have locked it up tight on purpose to protect it from something like this, but somehow you have the key.” His lips claim mine as his words claim my heart. We are two of a kind, hiding and protecting our lives from love but a greater force has different plans for us it seems. Our kiss is slow and sweet full of tenderness and peace, his lips stray to my cheeks and then finally he places one soft gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. “There, that is a fraction of what you do to me Imani. I look forward to showing you a million more.” A hurricane of emotion sweeps through my chest and my eyes brim with tears, his proclamation has moved me and the amazing thing is that I feel the same way about him but the lump in my throat right now prevents me from reciprocating the thought. I do the only thing my body will allow me to which is nod in agreement. “I am glad you agree, you should do that more often nurse Imani.” Oh brother I thought we were done with the ‘nurse Imani’ thing and why does he always have to end beautiful emotional moments with a cocky comment? I roll my eyes when he isn’t looking but somehow he knows I’m doing it. “Just another thing we have in common nurse Imani, eye rolling.” he says while removing pillows out from under his leg. Any other time I would roll them again but I’m distracted. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask
“We need to go to Dominus before lunch starts.” His phone is already in his hand calling Mr. Black to request that a car be brought to the front of the house in 15 min.
“You do remember you have a broken leg right?” I remind him with some of my trademark sass. “I was wondering where that smart mouth had gone. And yes, of course I remember. Mr. Black will drive us, my car is quite spacious, I can stretch out in the back.”
“You’re taking pain meds before we go, I won’t take no for an answer. You haven’t had anything for pain since we’ve been here and if you’re going to be moving around all day, things are only going to get worse.” Marcus sighs heavily “For you Imani, I will take something but I do not need it. I prefer not to repeat myself but do you remember me telling you that I can handle the pain? My tolerance is very high, but if it eases your mind I’ll take something to appease you.” He shrugs and I wonder for the second time what the hell he’s been through. A mother that didn’t want to feed him, very comfortable with pain, nightmares, and sleeping pills…I’m sure he’s revealed more to me than most people without even scratching the surface. I’m still amazed that I shared my own experiences with him, he does something to me, and opening up to him is easy and natural. I was leery but deep down I wanted him to know something about me that almost no one else knows. I wanted him to realize how much I trust him. I can only wait for him to do the same with me. Sharing demons is a delicate balancing act and I sense that he has just as many as I do, maybe more…. I hold out two Percocet with some water, and he rolls his eyes at me. “Aren’t these bad for me if I’m having black outs?” he asks, and I have to admit he has a point.
“Well the sleeping pills didn’t kill you so you may as well not be in pain,” I quip, he laughs at me brushing my hand away, refusing the pills. “You said if it made me feel better you’d take them, well I’d feel better.” He eyes me before taking one of the pills with no water and I cringe which amuses him immensely.
“Help me up, we can start heading out.” I help him with the crutches and we make our way slowly toward the front doors. A car unlike any I’ve ever seen before sits idling in the circle drive. “What kind of car is that?” I ask
“A Maybach convertible, do you like it?”
“It’s…fancy and big.” It’s a huge, pearl-white sedan ridiculously expensive and outrageously extravagant, just like the man himself…
“It has a lot of room inside, I prefer it most of the time.”
“How many cars do you have?” I can’t fathom why anyone would need another vehicle when they own this one. And it’s beyond belief that he has to think for a while about how many he has, my God…really?
“Six I think…well no, five I guess since one of them is underwater.”
“Shit, I wasn’t thinking I’m sorry Marcus, I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Silence falls betwe
en us for a moment before Mr. Black exits the driver’s seat to open the door for Marcus. He hands me his crutches and I watch as him sit and pull himself across the back seat effortlessly, all six feet four inches of him. “I’ll sit up front with Mr. Black,” I say when I realize there is no room left back there for me to sit, he nods with a sigh. I think he underestimated how roomy his big fancy car is. He needs me back there with him, not as his nurse but as his companion. I close the door for him and slide in the front with Mr. Black. The front of the car is completely separated from the back with a dark window, which is meant to provide total privacy to the occupants in the rear. Mr. Black catches me checking out the window and presses a button that opens it so I can see Marcus. I wish I could reach him, touch him, hold his hand; it’s such a small amount of separation between us, but it feels like the distance between the east and west coast. It’s irrational, crazy, unreasonable, and insane just like us.
“Stop the car,” I say abruptly. Mr. Black glances at me like I’m nuts, and maybe I am. But right now I don’t give two shits what he thinks. I must have just enough wild in my eyes because he pulls over to the side of the road; I’m out in two seconds, crawling into the back with Marcus. He immediately understands the need for contact and lifts his casted leg allowing me to slip under it and rest it across my lap. It’s heavy but anything is better than sitting up front behind the dividing window. I felt like a child looking in through the glass window of a candy shop who isn’t allowed to go in. He smiles knowingly while taking my hand and instantly the two magnets connect. Mr. Black sits up front watching us in the rearview mirror briefly before he closes the partition giving us privacy. The rest of the ride to Dominus is quiet; Marcus plays with my fingers absently in his lap deep in thought. I try to keep an eye on him without seeming obvious I’m constantly checking his actions and reactions for something out of the ordinary, always anticipating another blackout.
“Sir?” I hear Mr. Black say over an intercom from the front seat.
“Around back,” Marcus answers, and we drive a bit further, stopping at what must be the rear entrance to Dominus. I stare out the window at a cold, wet day not unlike the other 364 days of the year in Seattle Washington. Once out of the car Mr. Black rushes ahead to open the door for us and we step into a poorly lit hallway. I follow Marcus down the hall listening to him click clack until we reach his office. In the center sits a massive mahogany desk typical Marcus style. “I’d give you a tour, but they’re setting up for lunch. We can go out when they’re done, before the first reservation arrives.” He gestures to a couch opposite the desk that he wants me to sit on while he makes his way behind the desk. Mr. Black follows Marcus, placing his laptop on the desk before leaving us alone again.
“I have a couple of things I have to tend to, do you mind staying with me and waiting?” he asks.
“Of course, I hadn’t planned on leaving you alone. I’m yours for twelve hours, knock yourself out,” I say.
“Twelve hours, hmmm? I’m going to have to let you go home at some point aren’t I?” he mutters.
“Well yes, my family and my best friend are freaking out about this arrangement,” I say the words but I know that being separated from him for any amount of time will be difficult. Shit I couldn’t even sit in the front of the car without him for five minutes, how the hell am I going to go home for the weekends?
“Tell me about your family.” He asks leaning back in his chair like a king on his thrown. Before I begin though I realize I haven’t elevated his leg and I start to look around for a stool. Settling for a chair I scoot it close to him and work at propping his leg as I fill him in about my family.
“I have one sister, Latoya, who is three years older than I am, she’s married with two children that I love like my own. My mom is a gymnastics teacher and my Dad a veterinarian, pretty normal family, nothing exciting really.”
Marcus looks thoughtful “Did your mother teach you gymnastics?” he asks playfully “Why yes Mr. Castillo, she did, and I can deliver a calf and give a huge injection of penicillin thanks to my father so you better watch yourself,” I answer, with chin up and a quick nod.
“Well Imani, I’ll remember that when I have a pregnant horse or a massive infection.” He chuckles and I hear people shuffling around outside the door to his office. Before I can return questions about his parents and family, he begins to work and just like that I’m once again dismissed. I wonder about this habit, is it him being rude, or is something else going on? I wish I could corner someone who knew him before the accident, and ask them if this is the normal Marcus, maybe Maria. “Do you have a restroom nearby?” I interrupt.
“Yes, out the door to the left,” he answer pointing absentmindedly toward the door. So it’s ok to be away from him as long as he’s guaranteed an immediate return. I’ll have to remember that tidbit of info. I push the heavy unassuming door open expecting a couple of stalls and a sink for the employees but find quite the opposite. Wow, I feel underdressed, if these are the facilities for the staff I can’t imagine what the public restroom looks like. Black and white everything is everywhere, from the glossy black counters and raised sink bowls to the white stone walls, each stall separated with a black pillar. You could eat off of any surface in this room it’s that clan, almost clinically clean like an O.R. I enter a stall just as two women come through the door, unaware of my presence. I don’t usually listen in to other’s conversations but I can’t help overhear this one when I realize they are talking about Marcus and I. “Did you see the car?” A woman with a Spanish accent speaks first.
“What, no, who’s car?” The second answers with note of fear in her scratchy cigarette abused voice.
“The beast is back, I saw them pull around in the Maybach, I can’t believe he’s out of the hospital so soon! I mean shit Megan died in that accident!” The Hispanic woman says with disbelief.
“They let him out? Oh never mind…knowing him he probably just left.” Wow, they know him well. “I thought he was in a coma, I was actually a little relieved, it’s been nice around here with him gone.”
“Yea, I haven’t had to iron my panties or scrub my hands with a Billow pad for 10 days!” The smoker giggled. No way am I letting them know someone is in the bathroom with them now, I want to hear more about the beast. Maybe I’ll learn something about his pre-accident personality. Slowly and quietly, I press my hands to the sides of the stalls cool stone walls and lift my feet to the toilet so no one can see them under the door. Not breathing, I perch on the toilet edge and continue to eavesdrop. I silently thank my mom for Twenty-two years of gymnastics; they’re finally coming in handy!
“Elijah isn’t much better, but at least he doesn’t time our breaks to the second and threaten us with death if we sneak out to smoke,” Accent says. “Or make you clean your area with a toothbrush for hours…oh wait, never mind Elijah made me do that once too, he’s a mini beast.” The women chuckle and take care of business in the restroom but when they come out of their stalls to wash at the sink, they strike up again.
“If the pay here weren’t so damn good I’d fuckin be out of here right now,” scratchy voice says. Shit is he really that bad?
“Did you know Christen says he’s in the Italian mob or something? You ever notice people that he fires just disappear, like I mean they’re never around anywhere again, ever?” Accent says.
“Mob, like you think he’s having them killed? Carmen, you’re nuts- he’s awful, horrible even, but murder…. No way!”
Accent snorts, “You’re so naive Trinity, in my country people are killed for much less, life has no value in Columbia. You’re just a warm body to do what the boss wants, and if you’re lucky you get to go home to your family at night.” Whoa, Carmen is full of educational information. Note to self, never fucking go to Columbia, and where have I heard that comment about being a warm body before? That speech must be one Marcus makes regularly.
“Well, that’s Columbia not Washington, and nobody’s going to kill me i
f I get a new menu item wrong. I just don’t believe that.”
“Suit yourself, but if I ever disappear, you pack your bags and run far away, I’m telling you,” accent says, very seriously. Scratchy doesn’t respond and I imagine her mouth hanging open in shock at the thought of her friend being murdered. They finish up, taking a long time washing their hands and drying them. Either they’re stretching out a break or the beast has the idea of cleanliness burned into every fiber of their being. God they wash a long time, my legs are actually starting to become numb. When they exit I let myself down and pee, while I review and attempt to make sense of this new information. Mob. Maybe its just denial but I’m with Trinity. No way is Marcus in any mob, is there any such thing as an Italian mob? He does have an awfully extravagant home. No, no, no, he said his aunt left him money; those women are just spreading crazy gossip. I choose to believe and trust Marcus’s explanation but at the same time I wonder where Aunt Angelica got her wealth.
Chapter 17
I slip into Marcus’s office without another employee run-in along the way. I think they must all be in the kitchen now, or out front as it’s nearly time for lunch. Marcus is on the phone, and I return to my spot on the couch, when I sit down I start checking out the decor of his office. It’s big of course, that’s a given. No windows back here, the lighting is dim, other than the light on his desk. A fireplace, much, much smaller than the one at his house, burns gas in the corner. An entire wall of mahogany book shelves are built into the walls behind Marcus’s desk, all the contents protected by glass panels covering each shelf. There is not one personal item on those shelves, no books for pleasure reading, no photos or knick knacks, they hold books about business, manuals for Dominus, training information. This is his version of a filing cabinet, just incredibly organized and visually pleasing to the eye. Marcus’s office is another space of clinical cleanliness I note, along with the smell of cinnamon and maybe clove. I think I smelled the same scent in his house, he has an interesting taste in scents. Finishing his call, he announces that he’s ready to give me a tour of Dominus.