by Kate Morris
“Wow,” Connor said, still shaking her hand. “She is pretty.”
Her eyes grew large, and she pulled her hand back.
“Thanks, bud,” Roman said. “Some wingman you are.”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered nervously to him.
“Food. You do serve food here, right? I hope this isn’t a B and B. We’re starving,” he joked.
Jane didn’t smile. She was too uncomfortable to do so.
“Yeah, Roman was supposed to make us pork chops on the grill tonight, but instead he said we should come here and I said why and he said ‘cuz this pretty girl he likes…”
Roman cleared his voice loudly and said, “Hey! All right, um…let’s order some dinner, okay, bud?”
Jane could feel her cheeks burning. Was any of that true? Was this a ploy to make her look stupid? She did a pretty good job of that on her own most of the time.
“Dinner. Sure,” she said stupidly. “What do you guys want?”
“I’ll have the lasagna and a Coke. And knucklehead here will have the spaghetti and meatballs and a chocolate milk…”
“Hey! I want a Coke, too!” Connor argued.
“No, the milk’s good for you. You had a soda with lunch. That’s enough for one day,” he said in a fatherly tone.
This was a strange dynamic. It wasn’t brotherly at all, although Connor was a cute little brother, and Roman was lucky to have him. She was a bit envious. She didn’t have anyone but Nana Peaches and her dad, who she didn’t see much. However, Roman was like this kid’s father, not his brother.
“Dammit,” Connor cussed.
“Connor!” Roman corrected as Jane tried not to laugh. “I told you about that. Now no video games tonight. You gotta stop hanging out with Robbie at school. I know that’s where you’re getting this.”
“So? Everyone says bad words. It’s not a big deal,” Connor said and rolled his eyes and dropped his voice in decibel.
“It is to me. They make you sound stupid,” he said. “Thanks, Jane. That’s all we need.”
“What do you want on your salads? The dinners come with one.”
“Oh, good. That’s good, right?” he asked Connor. “Gotta get some greens in us. Less cussing and soda, more greens and…”
“Chaucer?” she quipped.
He laughed loudly. “Yes, more Chaucer.”
“What saucer?” Connor asked.
Roman groaned, “Good grief. Thanks to the public education system, my little brother’s never even heard of The Canterbury Tales. House dressing’s good. Whatever it is. Thanks.”
“It’s a garlic parmesan,” she told him.
“Even better,” he said with a smile again.
“Um, sure, I’ll have this right up,” she said.
She rushed from the room, grabbed two other diners’ drinks to get them refills and went straight to the kitchen. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, but she tried to remain calm. The door swung inward, and Lila came through.
“Soooo?” she asked, bobbing her head back and forth and hanging on to the word in a way that let Jane know she wanted details.
“Oh, um, just someone from school with his little brother,” she answered evasively.
Lila snorted, “Yeah, right. That boy is cute! Oh, if only I were younger.”
“It’s not like that,” she said. Or was it? She didn’t know. His little brother spoke of Jane as if Roman had discussed her with him. But he’d dated Stephanie last year, right? There was no way he’d be interested in her then. He’d barely spoken two words to her in the last four years, with the exception of last night. She was confused, and her cheeks felt warm.
“That boy could not take his eyes off you!”
She filled their drink order, prepared refills for the other table in her room, grabbed up the prepared salads and tiny gravy boat full of house dressing and loaded her tray.
“What do you mean? How do you know?
“Duh, Jane. I was spying. We all were. It’s not like you get boys in here every day asking about you. I mean, Jesus, you live like a seventeen-year-old nun.”
“I’ll be eighteen in a few months, remember?”
Lila scoffed, “You might as well be twelve. You live with your grandma, work like a dog, hang out with horses, and go to school. The only person I’ve ever seen you with is your friend Destiny. This is big news. Plus, we’re all gossips. You know that.” She cracked her gum loudly and offered up a toothy grin full of mischief.
Jane frowned and shook her head, “Nothing to see here. He’s just in charge of his little brother a lot, so he brought him here for dinner.”
She hefted her tray and went to the swinging door again.
“And asked for you!” Lila called out as she went through.
Great. Now her cheeks were burning hot. No hiding this. She dropped the drinks with the older couple and made sure they didn’t need anything else. Then she approached Roman’s table with caution.
“Your food will be out soon,” she said as she placed their drinks, homemade breadsticks, salads and dressing on the table.
“Thanks,” he said.
Connor remarked, “Gross! Salad?”
“Eat it. You’re already on thin ice for cussing,” Roman warned, making Jane grin.
“You know, Connor,” she said, taking a chance. “Mr. Contuccini gives out a free cannoli to kids who eat their salad.”
“Really? What’s cannoli?”
“Dessert!” she informed him.
“Mm, like chocolate?”
“Yeah, chocolate chips. That sound good?”
He looked at his big brother for confirmation, and when Roman nodded, so did he. Then the boy dug into his salad with vigor. Jane gave him a grin and turned to go.
“Hey, I don’t have your number,” Roman said, touching her sleeve.
“No,” she agreed. Why would he? It wasn’t like they were best buds.
“Can I? Have it, I mean?”
She hesitated before asking, “Why?”
“I was gonna call you to find out what time to come over later.”
“Later?”
“Yeah, to study for the review paper. Remember? Jane Eyre?”
“Um…”
“Just give me your phone, and I’ll transfer our numbers,” he offered, and Jane pulled it out of her back pocket, not even sure why she was doing so before relinquishing it to him.
“I don’t…”
He took it from her and hit the share button, linking both of their phones. “There. Done. Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said and tried to walk away again. He stopped her.
“So, when should I come over tonight?”
“What?”
He poured salad dressing on his salad and said nonchalantly, “To study. Eight? Is that okay or do you work later?”
“I get off at eight.”
“Okay, eight-thirty. I’ll be over at eight-thirty.”
Jane opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut before walking away in stunned silence. Her legs felt wooden. Her other table called her over and asked for their check. She dropped it, and they thanked her. They were regulars. When she got to the kitchen again, Jane leaned against the stainless-steel prep table.
“So?” Lila pressed as she reapplied her spicy red lip gloss. “What’s his name?”
“Huh? Roman,” she answered.
“Someone giving you a hard time, chica?” Jose asked. He was the sous chef to Hector, who studied directly under Mrs. Luigi when she’d run the kitchen.
“No. I’m fine, Jose.”
“If he is, I’ll give him a pounding,” he threatened and showed his fist balled up and ready.
“Um, thanks,” she answered with a smile and a chuckle. “But no. He’s just somebody I know from school.”
Jose served time in Pennsylvania for armed robbery many years ago, but Mr. Contuccini believed in second chances so he’d hired him. Jane trusted him. He’d definitely paid his debt to society and had
turned his life around. He now had a wife who was expecting their first child.
“He is seriously good-looking. Where were the boys that looked like that when I was a kid?” Lila asked. “You should go for it, girl.”
“Go for… go for what? No, we’re just…” she said but couldn’t finish. They weren’t even friends. “We’re just going to study together later.”
“Uh-huh, study, sure,” Lila said. “I did some studying in my day.” Her laugh was raucous and ornery.
Hector roared angrily, “Jane, your order’s up. Come on! Quit dawdling, girl.”
“Yes, sorry,” she returned and rushed forward. He glared at her, but Jane grabbed the plates and set them carefully on her tray. Hector was never like this. Next, he snapped at Jose. He must be having a bad day.
She left for the dining room and carefully placed Roman and Connor’s dishes in front of them and took their salad plates. They thanked her, and she left again. This time, she stopped at another table and took the order of a new couple. The wife wanted white wine, so she went to the bar to order it from Al, their bartender. As she was walking back into her section, Mr. Contuccini followed.
“Oh, Jane, good, I caught you. I forgot to tell you,” he said as she placed the couple’s drinks on their table and took their order. Then she went toward Roman’s table to check on them but stopped. Her boss continued when she paused a few feet from Roman’s table. “I’m almost out of apples. Tell your grandmother I could use three more crates. Her recipe for the apple tartlets was such a hit. She should write her own cookbook. What a fantastic cook. I bet you are, too.”
“Yes, she is, but no, I’m not. I have not inherited her culinary skill, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell her about the apples. I don’t work tomorrow, but I could bring them in.”
“No, no. Bring them by Monday after school or if your grandmother is in town in the next few days, bring them in then. No hurries. I’ve still got one crate left.”
He touched her shoulder affectionately and left. Jane resumed and asked Roman if they needed anything.
“No, this is great. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. I’ll have to bring my parents when they’re in town next.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said, thinking of his snobbish friends and the fact that they never went one mile beyond The Strip, the cool, hip area where all the new chain restaurants and stores went in. There was absolutely nothing original to see there.
She just nodded and left again. In the kitchen, Hector was ranting again. Mr. Contuccini was trying to calm him down. She grabbed a cannoli and two dessert forks and went back to Roman’s table.
“As promised,” she said and placed the dessert in front of Connor, taking his spaghetti dish. Roman hadn’t asked, but she’d gone ahead and ordered Connor the child’s portion of the pasta. He ate most of it, but the adult portion would’ve just gone to waste unless they took home leftovers.
“Awesome!” Connor stated with child-like glee.
“Thanks, Jane,” Roman said. “Make sure to put it on the bill.”
“It’s on the house,” she said, knowing she’d just write it on her slip where they kept track of their meals. Mr. Contuccini gave his employees a fifty percent off discount if they ate at work, and his prices were already low.
She went to fetch the salads for the other table as their hostess showed in another couple with two children. Maybe business would pick up, after all. When she returned, Roman and his little brother were gone. On the table were two twenty-dollar bills, although his meal was only a little over eighteen dollars. On the back of their bill, it said, ‘see you tonight.’ She’d been hoping he was joking.
The rest of her evening went without fault, and she was able to finish her shift on time. They weren’t as busy as they normally were on a Saturday night, but the work was steady, and she made good tips, Roman’s included, which felt strange taking.
Then her night took a turn for the worse. She was just clocking out when a commotion around the corner from the breakroom alerted her. It sounded like the entire rack of pans came crashing down. She hoped nobody got hurt. Jane rushed out to see.
“Hold him down!” Mr. Contuccini shouted.
“Hector, Stop it! Dude, what the hell’s wrong?” Jose yelled as he sat on Hector on the tile floor.
They grappled with Hector until Al the bartender heard and came running in.
“What’s going on?” he asked Jane as he gently placed her out of the way of the melee.
“I don’t know! He’s…” she didn’t know how to describe it.
She watched helplessly as they wrestled with him until Al finally punched him in the head. It effectively knocked him out. Al was a big man and knew what he was doing. He was also the restaurant’s unofficial bouncer if someone drank too much and got rowdy or loud.
“Call an ambulance,” Mr. Contuccini yelled at her.
Jane did as he ordered, and five minutes later the ambulance pulled around back without its lights and sirens going. They hauled Hector out on a stretcher. He was coming to and struggling to be free. He groaned and moaned and fought against the restraints. Jane stood next to Lila, who put her arm around her waist in a comforting manner.
“What was it that set him off?” Mr. Contuccini asked everyone.
Nobody answered. Nobody could. Then finally Jose stepped forward.
“I only asked him if he thought the grill was clean enough,” he explained. “Then he got so mad he pulled a knife on me.”
“What?” Jane whispered to herself mostly. Everyone was as shocked as she. This was crazy. Hector was so sweet and mild-mannered. And very, very patient. He never got frazzled, no matter how busy they were.
It was just like the night before with Brian and Randall. She also noticed that Hector’s eyes were very bloodshot when he came to. He’d made the same horrible groans and growls as Randall as if speech had become impossible. Nothing he mumbled was coherent or clear. He was mostly throwing jumbled fragments of words together and not making any sense.
Jane shivered as she drove the ten-minute ride home and not from the cold or the rain. It came from deep inside her and left her feeling helpless and afraid. Her hands shook so badly when she tried to unlock the back door that she dropped her keys. She’d had this same feeling years before in a similarly terrible situation.
Chapter Six
At eight-thirty, he stood on Jane’s front porch and knocked. Nobody came to the door, though. At eight-forty, he was starting to wonder if she was inside and ignoring him. At nine o’clock he rose from the rocking chair on the porch as headlights came down the drive. Jane got out and ran for the side door. He’d apparently been knocking at the wrong door anyway. Roman jogged around the side of the house and startled her badly as she was picking up keys she must’ve dropped. She actually screamed.
“Oh, my gosh! Sorry, Jane,” he said and held his hands out submissively before him to show her that he was not some stalker hiding in the shadows. Except, he sort of was.
“Roman!” she breathed on an exhale of obvious relief. The side of the old house did not offer a porch to shelter them from the rain. They were both getting soaked. She paused a moment before saying. “Come on in.”
She unlocked the door and let them inside. He was standing inside their small mudroom connected to a kitchen, which was considerably smaller than his own house. The floor was brick, which was different from anything he’d ever seen before. One wall was also exposed brick, and the pale, aqua green appliances looked like antiques. The countertops were all butcher block and very scarred, showing signs of use, which was a good thing. There wasn’t even a dishwasher. A table with only three chairs was also in the kitchen in the corner and looked equally old. What looked like a small living room was straight forward through an open doorway.
“Let me hang up your coat,” she offered and extended a hand.
Roman stripped out of it and noticed how badly her hand was shaking. He really startled her. She hung his coat and her own on
hooks near the door. Then she dropped her shoes there, too.
“Should I take off my shoes?” he inquired, not wanting to be rude.
“No, you’re fine,” she told him.
She bustled around the kitchen, putting a kettle of water on the electric stove and turning it on.
“Nana Peaches is out with her friends,” she told him and ran a hand over her wet face. “She won’t be back till late.”
“Oh, is this okay that I’m here?”
“Yes, it’s fine. She won’t care. She’s not like that.”
He nodded and offered a friendly smile. Then he felt foolish and stopped. He probably looked like a real creep.
“I’m…I’m gonna go change,” she said, pointing with her slim index finger toward the hall. “I’ll be right back.”
She seemed soaked, dripping actually. Roman stood there as she sped out of the room. Then he could hear her running up a flight of squeaky stairs. He rubbed his hands together nervously and wandered into the living room. The furniture was old but comfortable looking and done in a no-nonsense dark green plaid. The television was on and tuned into a twenty-four-seven news channel, and they were talking about some sort of flu bug. He knew a lot of classmates who had sicknesses right now at school. Half the football team missed their game a few weeks ago because of the flu. Coincidentally, they were beaten by the Massillon team, although that usually happened anyway. The newscaster, whose hair looked like it was plastic and glued to his scalp like a Ken doll, was asking a scientist guest contributor about the flu, to which the woman said that it was early in the winter season to see such rampant flu. She should visit Ohio. Apparently, mother nature hadn’t gotten the message.
He strolled over to a piano in the corner where photographs sat in frames on top of it. There were some with Jane in them. Most were when she was younger. A woman in her twenties or early thirties was in a few with Jane, someone he suspected was probably her mother since Jane looked a little like her, only prettier and much more petite. Others were old, likely relatives of her grandmother’s. There was even one with a senior couple standing next to an antique truck parked in the apple orchard during what was obviously harvest time. It looked like it was taken from the 1950s or thereabout. It was so cool. What a history they had here.