Tracing Hearts (25 page)

His face twists, and he retracts his fist as if he’s going to punch me. His friend grabs his elbow.

“Oren, don’t. Your dad’s on base. He’ll kill you if you screw up again,” his friend says, and Oren lowers his arm.

“You’re fucking lucky, ass wipe. Just wait until the next time I see you.” His friend starts to lead him outside. “Don’t go in any dark alleys, sunshine.” Oren kicks a garbage can on the way out, which almost topples over. I hear him laughing and talking, as they get farther from me.

“What the hell was that about?” Sam asks as he emerges from the back.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, watching them to make sure they’re really gone.

“What was Oren Newton doing in here?”

I turn to face him, puzzled. “You know him?”

He snorts. “Yeah. Everybody knows him. He’s the son of the CEO, whose company owns multibillion dollar contracts with the Army. Have you ever heard of Gerald Newton, CEO and owner of GA Newton Corporation?”

“It doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, they’re the ones sponsoring the General’s Ball on Saturday. Word is, he’s a rich, asshole—a loose cannon which daddy can’t control. Even with several handlers, he manages to get into trouble. Fortunately for him, his dad always ends up bailing him out, paying people off to keep his ass out of jail. I’d love to know who gave him that broken nose,” Sam chuckles.

“I did,” I say, and Sam looks at me, as if I have three heads.

“What do you mean, ‘
you did’
? Are you serious?”

“Yep. Remember that night you were praying to the porcelain god all night?” He nods and reflexively puts his hand on his stomach. “Well, that’s who gave me this black eye.” I point to my face as realization dawns on his.

“No way! I don’t remember that. Where was I?”

I give him a wry smile. “Passed out in my car.”

We both smile at the recollection.

“You kicked his ass pretty good. What did he do to deserve the wrath of Vaughn?”

“He was about to get too friendly with a woman who didn’t want him to.”

“Dude! Seriously?” I nod. “Damn. I bet he was pissed that you showed up.”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I’d stay far away from him, if I were you. If General Brooks gets wind of anything that could potentially ruin his going away party, he’ll court-martial you.”

“Don’t worry. I have no plans to rock the boat. I’m not even planning on going.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam says, as we walk out of the hangar together.

***

The Present

Sebastian

“So, this whole thing has to do with an overinflated ego and a broken nose?”

I shrug. “There’s a bit more to it than that, but essentially, yes.” She eyes me, suspiciously, as if her vision could burrow through my mind, but I don’t continue. The rest will remain a secret.

***

It’s well after lunch now, and I’ve just finished talking to Mick. When I step into the living room, I spy Julia, pen in hand, scribbling furiously into a notebook. I stop and watch her briefly. Her legs are both curled up underneath her, as she sits sideways on an overstuffed chair. She looks so cute when she’s concentrating. I finally decide to speak up.

“What’re you doing?” I ask. She jumps slightly, then quickly covers whatever it is she’s working on.

“Nothing much. Just jotting down a few notes.” Her smile is guilty, and I think she’s hiding something.

“Really. What kind of notes?” I try to peek over the top, but she holds it closer to her, in defense.

“Just some stuff I’ve been playing around with. It’s nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Are you sure about that?” She nods, but the smirk remains. “Can I read it?”

“Um…it’s not finished yet.”

“I don’t care,” I say because it’s true.

“Well…”

I chuckle a bit and decide to show her mercy.

“It’s fine, Julia. You don’t have to show it to me. But, will you someday?”

She blushes a very sweet shade of scarlet.

“That’s been my intent since I started it.”

And, something about her response warms my heart. I don't know what she’s working on, but I think it might just be about me, or us, and that makes me smile.

“Well, finish up. We’re going out,” I say. She raises her eyebrows.

“Oh? Where to?”

Her puzzled look makes me laugh. “Just get ready. We’re leaving soon.”

We jump in the car and head South on US 19. There’s a quaint little neighborhood in St. Petersburg, which hosts a store I really want her to see. Julia questions me a few times as to our destination, but I say very little.

As we roll up to the back entrance to Mazzaro’s, my excitement level rises.

“What is this place?” she asks.

I turn in my seat to face her.

“This is a store I’ve been wanting to visit ever since we arrived in Florida. It’s called Mazzaro’s Italian Market and it’s an authentic Italian grocery store reminiscent of the local mom and pop stores in New York. You can get a lot of unique items in here that you just can’t find in the big chains.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “It’s like a little taste of home for me.” My grin is infectious, and her face lights up.

“Oh, Sebastian, I’m so excited to see what you saw as a child. Let’s go inside!”

I exit the car and walk around to her side. Helping her out, we start our trek back in time.

The first part of the building is painted to look like a small Italian neighborhood. The brightly colored scenes are decorated with doors, windows, and topiaries. All have been expertly painted on, giving it a Tuscan feel. Two classic cars sit parked, seemingly lost in time, at the far end. One looks to be a Fiat, and I think the other is a Citroen, though I’m not exactly sure.

The next wall depicts a tunnel or bridge in between two old style Italian buildings, with gondolas and a water canal. It looks as if you could sail right into Venice.

As we approach the light colored, brick façade, two stone lions sit perched on either side of the entrance. Their stately appearance demands respect as we pass by the columns they protect. Upon entering, my childhood rushes back to me. The first thing that catches my eye is a glass case full of fresh fish and meats which are laid on a bed of ice. Behind that, dried garlic and red peppers hang from the ceiling. I smile as I point out the fairly large fiberglass shark that looks as though it’s crashing through the wall and eating a boogie board. It’s obviously their mascot.

We move about the store, marveling at the unique décor of every room we enter. I’m surprised at the details that weren’t spared. A wine cellar with a nice selection of wines and cheeses, is made up to look like a world from ancient Italian times, with the look of hand carved stone pillars included. A meat counter which also makes any deli sandwich you could imagine, a dessert case, a spice section, and even a coffee house are all a part of this jewel, which has been tucked away for me to discover. I feel like a kid again.

“Sebastian, this place is phenomenal,” Julia says. I’d almost forgotten she was with me.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

We stand, mesmerized, visually taking in all Mazzaro’s has to offer.

“So, should we buy some things?” she asks.

“Yes, let’s.”

We tour the place again, this time paying more attention to the products for sale. As we gather our haul, I watch Julia. She seems genuinely excited to experience this with me, and I think I’ve fallen further in love with her.

“Black Cambezola cheese. That’s what we need to get,” I say as I pick it up from the case. “My grandmother used to buy this once in a while as a treat. It’s a soft cheese, and it’s delicious.”

“Okay,” she agrees. And, along with some fresh baked bread, some sliced deli meats, and an expertly made latte, we head for the dessert case.

“We cannot leave here without something sweet, although I’m fairly certain I already live with the sweetest on earth.”

She grins and blushes, waving me off as if it’s not the absolute truth.

“I get to pick this one,” she says as she looks at the choices. “Chocolate covered bacon?” Her nose wrinkles, and I laugh.

“We could try a sample.” She reluctantly nods, and I request a piece. The flavor is sweet and salty, and unexpectedly good, although we forego a purchase.

“Let’s err on the side of caution and just get a traditional cannoli.” I agree and place our order.

“Thank you for bringing me here and showing me a little piece of your childhood,” she says.

“And that’s exactly how it felt,” I reply. “Thank you too, for indulging me. I had a great time.”

“Anything for you,” she coos.

Julia

“Checkmate,” he says as he moves his Queen onto the space occupied by my King. I slump in defeat as he tries to stifle a grin.

“I don't think I’m cut out for Chess,” I say as I sit on the floor and cross my arms in front of my chest. I really don’t like losing, especially in a game I can’t seem to grasp.

“I tried to let you win, but I just couldn’t help it.” He chuckles slightly. “Let’s try again. I’ll help you this time.”

We gather our pieces and begin to set up the next game.

“Is it Bishop, Knight, Rook, or Knight, Bishop, Rook?” I ask. I’m confused.

“Bishop, Knight, Rook. Here, let me help you.” He reaches across to my side of the board and assists me in setting it up. “Remember, the Queen can move in a straight line, in any direction. She has the most versatility.”

“Well, of course she does, just as she does in real life.” I smirk at him. He shakes his head and smirks back.

“I suppose,” he says as he moves his pawn ahead two spaces. I counter with moving one of my pawns.

He moves again within seconds, whereas I take considerably longer to decide where to go. We go on like this for about ten minutes. He sees my lingering hesitation and takes pity on me.

“Why don’t you try this,” he says and shifts my bishop diagonally across the board. It bumps into one of his pawns, knocking it out of the game. I smile with delight.

“I like that move,” I say while gloating a bit, even though I know it was his idea.

“Don’t celebrate too fast,” he says, then takes my bishop out using his Rook.

I frown.

“This is too much like work, if you ask me. Between trying to remember which piece is which and where it can move, I’d say this game is for people with too much time on their hands.” I’m pouting and he laughs.

“That may be true, but I’d say it also helps you think fast on your feet. I used to play this game a lot with Peter.”

“Who won the most?”

“It’s probably about even. He’s a terrible winner though. He actually has a victory dance.” My eyebrows shoot up at the notion that Peter has any sort of rhythm. “It’s a sight to see,” Sebastian adds, then laughs.

“I’ll bet.” I laugh too, then an idea hits me. “How about we make a little wager?”

He stops laughing and raises one eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“Like…if I win this game, you tell me all about why we’re
really
on the run.”

“And if I win?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, what do you want?”

He thinks for a moment. “I have a few ideas.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

A devious grin spreads across his face.

“If I win, and I will, I’ll expect you in our bed immediately following the game.”

“You’re awfully confident, Mr. Smith. Is it so impossible to think I could actually beat you?”

“It’s absolutely impossible, Mrs. Smith, because I have no intention of telling you any more information.”

“Really?” I say as I bat my eyelashes at him.

“Really,” he repeats, and raises and lowers his brow as a challenge.

We stare into each other’s unwavering eyes as if it’s a contest.

“Do we have a deal then?”

“Yes, Mrs. Smith, we have a deal. Let’s continue.” He gestures toward the board and I take stock of my next possible moves.

As I sit across from him, it occurs to me that I need to gain an advantage. I nonchalantly undo one of the buttons on my shirt, then another, and pull the two parts open slightly. I then run my fingers through my hair as if a heat wave has suddenly hit me. He lifts his eyes at my movements.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s suddenly very warm in here. Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re trying to distract me, that’s what I think.”

“Why would I do that?” I say, and seductively pull the pony tail free from my hair, shaking my head in the process. I see him swallow slightly.

“It’s not going to work.”

“I don't have any idea what you mean,” I feign innocence.

Then, I take an ice cube from my glass of tea and begin to suck on it. As if planned, it melts quickly and a few drops land on my chest, which then trickles down between my breasts. I see his lips part fractionally, and his eyes follow the wet trail that’s headed south. His breathing becomes shallow and I know I’m getting to him. To seal the deal, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and let out a soft moan.

“You cheat,” he says hoarsely, just before launching himself at me. I squeal and let him push me onto my back. I hear the Chess pieces scatter as he quickly laps up the fallen drops of water.

“You ended the game. I win,” I say, breathless and not caring about collecting my prize at the moment.

“So it would appear,” he says, while kissing and sucking his way down to the closed part of my shirt. “I don’t think we need this at the moment.” Abruptly, he pulls open my shirt, and I hear the buttons pop and skitter across the floor. I giggle in surprise and wind my fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue into my navel.

Slowly, he kisses his way up to my face. Our mouths collide, and the flame turns to a raging fire. Leaning up on his elbows with his weight atop me, he reaches behind his head and grabs hold of one of my wrists, then the other. He hoists them above my head and pins them there with one hand. I arch my back off the floor in appreciation and moan.

“I changed my mind. Getting you to our bed will take way too long, and I’m not a patient man,” he says as his hips grind into me.