by Rimmy London
After a couple well paved hours my tires met dirt. Sun-hardened, washboard dirt. I jostled against the seat belt as it locked again and again. Finally, pressing the brake pedal to a crawl I glanced up in time to see the cloud-white ranch house move into view against a background of desert hills. My decision to come home was immediately the right one. I could feel it in the way my hair craved the cool breeze and my eyes drank in the colors of retreating daylight. It decorated the landscape in a dusting of orange and purple edges and had been far too long since I’d been home to see it. My tires, now caked with dust, ground to a slow stop. Silencing the engine, tension un-wove from my mind in small threads, leaning only calm and contentment. The fragrances that found me were all desert wheat, hay, and leather. After a breath deep enough to swallow it all in, I pulled my duffle bag from the backseat. My old boots thumped against the wood deck and I continued around the porch, searching until I spotted him riding slowly on his favorite roan with a short cattle dog two steps behind. I swung my feet over the rails.
When I reached the broad-shouldered cowboy, I laughed as he shook his head at me, his wide leather hat accentuating the movement. “Hi, dad,”
“You still fond of this place, Ella-girl?” His voice, though rough as the palms of his hands, was warm and welcoming. I walked alongside his horse and lifted one hand to the animal’s warm shoulder, feeling the muscles work underneath as it moved. It was good to be home. The vastness felt like a breath of air after being submerged, and I pulled on my pinned-up hair, letting the thick strands fall loosely down my back. “You didn’t by any chance keep my old truck?” I pried, remembering when I had ordered it sold. He smiled, chuckling deep in his throat.
“Now why on earth would I do a thing like that?” he asked. I tried to think of a reason that wouldn’t involve any negative comments about my new car. “It wouldn’t be, by chance, that you would like to travel these here dirt roads at speeds exceeding four or five miles an hour?” He glanced at me with a heavy smirk on his lips.
“I should have known you would see me,” I grumbled.
“See you? I don’t think I could have possibly missed you! Took you dang near an hour to travel that little old dirt road, and even at that speed I could see you rattlin’ around in there.” We both laughed at that, with me rubbing my sore backside. “Course I kept it. Thought you might realize its worth one o’ these days.” We fell into silence, although there was still a conversation around us. Crickets in the grass and sparrows chattering as they settled in the oak tree, even my dad’s horse Musket kept a conversation with his gusts of breath and shaking of mane. They were all sounds that I hadn’t realized I’d missed. Sounds that I’d quickly forgotten, but now that they surrounded me my heart ached to leave again.
“Missed you Ella-girl.” My dad spoke in a way that didn’t disturb the quiet, turned as if addressing the wind.
“You too,” I answered, and we took the familiar left side of the trail to the barn.
* * *
That evening I laid on a denim couch as familiar as sunshine, watching a glowing amber blaze crackle in the fireplace. My dad seemed to think that darkness was reason enough for a fire, nevermind that it was still warm out. But I didn’t care. The heat it radiated felt good, as did the sound of wood crackling and falling into the grate. My father sat in his wide leather chair, hat tipped over his face and one boot kicked onto a stool. Stretched out on the couch, I listened to the sound of Dusty’s claws outside as they tapped against the deck. He paced back and forth like a hungry typewriter, and I wondered if the cattle dog had become anxious in his old age. But I turned my head when a growl built in his throat. When the sound transformed into a snarl it made my heart pound in the calm silence. I swung my feet down.
“Ella, wait,” My dad whispered. Crouched beside his chair, he held a shotgun in one hand.
“Where in the world…” I began. He shook his head at me before I could finish, and I lowered to the floor as well. It seemed ridiculous to sit by and watch as he crept forward. A mixture of admiration and fear held my insides, and I swallowed as he flipped his gun to one shoulder. It seemed to happen in slow motion as he reached across and opened the door. Staring directly down the barrel was a man I recognized.
“Givanni?” I gasped, “What are you doing here?” My voice sounded hysterical. With a swallow, I tried to find my calm. He didn’t answer, looking a bit wary as my father made no attempt to lower his gun. “It’s okay, Dad, he works at Shellbrook.”
“Answer the question, son,” My dad stated, though it sounded more like a threat. Givanni looked at the gun like a rattlesnake that might bite at any moment. He didn’t seem to remember a question. “What’re ye doin’ here?” Dad repeated. Givanni leaned over slightly.
“Miss Lane,” he started, but before he could continue my dad flipped his gun down. Givanni jumped, his words choking off like he’d swallowed them.
“Well, come on in, son. Have a seat!” My dad bellowed, clapping him on the back. Looking wary of the confusing old cowboy, Givanni stumbled in to sit on the couch. My dad kicked back in his chair and seemed to be asleep again in a matter of seconds. I had to admire his show. He had Givanni glancing nervously between us. After fearing first a bear, and then a robber, and who knew what else, I was still trying to get my heart to beat normally. Not sure if I should speak first, I stared at Givanni as he stared at the floor. His apprehension kept my nerves well fed, like fat little bees swarming my insides.
“El - Miss Lane,” he began. I held my hand up.
“Please call me Ella,” I interrupted. “Or Loriel if it makes you more comfortable, but I think we can safely say that we’re friends now, so there’s no need to address me like an acquaintance.”
“Ms. Loriel…”
I rolled my eyes, but he was still looking at the floor.
“This evening I received a call from the Los Angeles police. They informed me that your apartment had been broken into.” He stopped, glancing up at me. I wasn’t sure what expression I wore, but it didn’t seem to encourage him. My head was still trying to piece those words together. The ones that made absolutely no sense. Why would anyone bother breaking into my apartment? There wasn’t anything of any great value, it was the apartment I had shared with roommates up until they graduated and moved away. I planned to move up to something more fitting my current salary but just hadn’t had the time. Givanni seemed reluctant to continue, but finally took a breath and plunged in.
“It was… ” He paused, looking apologetic. “Completely ransacked. Two detectives were there, convinced that whoever was in your apartment was looking for something. They asked me if I knew what might motivate such a raid, focusing their questions on the company.” He looked meaningfully into my face. “They asked if you had been given anything that might be of use to someone outside the company.” Feeling light-headed, I closed my eyes.
“They were looking for my security card? The one you gave me just this afternoon?” It sounded impossible. Givanni nodded reluctantly.
“That’s what I thought too, and told them as much.” I shook my head.
“But how could anyone even know that I have it?”
“Your name is in the system as having a certain level of security clearance,” Givanni said. “I suppose it could be hacked into, but that is something we can track down.” He looked suddenly hopeful. “There are people from Shellbrook and the LAPD working on it even now.”
“So…” I glanced up at him, measuring his face and trying to see past the surface. “Why would they call you? And you just drove up here? Two hours? Just to tell me this?” The more questions that came, the more ridiculous it all sounded. Who did he think he was, running around like a vigilante to bring me the frightening news. And why would the police call him?
“I’m sorry, I know how strange this all is, but I was worried that maybe something had happened to you. No one could reach you at first.” His eyes never strayed as he explained himself, and the rich color in them was va
guely hypnotic. I could feel that his confidence ran deep, like a strength more than muscle. “Shellbrook is a big name, and a lot of the guys there at LAPD know me, so when they saw that connection they just called. They figured I would know where you were. I remembered you saying you were planning to go home.” His short sentences were easy to swallow, like small teaspoons of an unpleasant medicine. But I didn’t feel healed, instead I felt like a sore had been opened up in the middle of my chest. And it ached. I tried to imagine what my apartment might look like, but Givanni’s hand settled over mine, and the warmth it brought pushed the image away. “So yes I drove out here,” His smooth voice cooled like ointment over my fear, and I found myself thinking less of the break-in and more about his mouth while it moved. And how his hand still rested on mine. He was a second glance kind of man at work, surrounded by industry and professionalism. But now sitting in a ranch house, instead of being out of place he merely smoldered a little warmer. His careful mouth continued. “I hadn’t expected that hero’s welcome, but you clearly weren’t at your apartment, and your roommates couldn’t think of anywhere besides here that you would go.”
My head tilted, “My r-roomates?” I pieced the word together like another language. “I don’t have any roommates.”
“Well, your old roommates. The one in Colorado who adores you, and then there’s the one that moved to Hawaii - she’s a little self-absorbed if you were to ask me honestly. But the newlywed in Florida was nearly in tears. Maybe she’s always emotional? She wants you to call her as soon as you can.”
I was on my feet at that last sentence, staring at him like he might eat me. Words wouldn’t even gather together, and instead, I felt my mouth dry slowly as it hung open. He called all my roommates. He drove two hours just to find me. Who on earth was this man? He seemed to read my alarm easily and sunk back in the sofa. “I’m sorry Ms. Lane, but I don’t think you realize how concerned we all were. We thought you had been - well, we knew that anything might have happened, and when you wouldn’t answer your cell phone…” He shook his head, leaving the end of that comment to hang in the silence. He rubbed one hand across his forehead and over his eyes, and for the first time, I noticed the tiredness there. I pulled the cell phone from my pocket, the dark screen clearly displaying my neglect, and slumped back onto the couch next to him.
“I’m sorry Givanni,” I huffed, the words wafting out in a gust of air. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s all so strange - I can hardly believe that something like this would happen. What I meant to say was just… thank you.” I tilted my head to face him, and with his elbows perched on his knees, he tipped his chin to face me as well. One side of his mouth lifted into half a smile. A minute of silence passed and quickly stretched into two. And then three.
A light snoring came from the corner of the room, and I tried not to laugh at that. My dad never snored. I was quite sure he had listened to every word, and no doubt the silence bothered him more than the rest of it. What’s a little break-in in the city? All this night did was validate every conversation I’d ever had with him. The dangers of being crowded together with a million strangers. The fruitless effort of working yourself raw for a paycheck. I had heard it all. Repeatedly. But I wanted more than ranch life, and working was the only way I knew how to solve that problem.
“That isn’t the only thing that happened this evening,” Givanni sounded reluctant to continue but didn’t hesitate once our eyes met. “I was worried about you because Marco was attacked on his way home from work.” My eyes widened, but as I studied the look on his face I saw emotions other than concern for his uncle. After assaulting his hair it all came out in a rush. “He won’t talk to me! He wouldn’t even let me see him. I got a call from the police letting me know he was okay, and I didn’t know anything was wrong in the first place! He said it wasn’t a big deal, just some punk kids, but I haven’t been getting the whole truth from him lately. I feel like this is connected to… ” I could see a small muscle work in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. “To other things.”
“So that’s what you were arguing about?” I felt like I was testing the waters with each question, and I watched his reaction. “Did it have anything to do with those documents he had in my office?” Surprise crossed his face, and he rubbed his chin with one hand.
“Those are a complete mystery to me,” He paused and kept his eyes on me as if waiting for another revelation. “I discovered them in his filing cabinet but he refused to answer my questions about an address that keeps coming up. It’s not what it should be.”
“The one in Sicily?” I asked.
His mouth slanted like a smile fighting with a frown. “Now, how did you know about that?” he asked. My cheeks flushed even though I felt a little victorious.
“Mr. Ginetti left an invoice in my office by mistake,” My eyes flickered up to his face and back to my hands. “I returned the paper the next day. I had studied it for quite some time and knew the address couldn’t be correct, but then I saw the signed portion and realized I had no business prying.”
“So you think the address is just a mistake?” he asked quietly. No surprise at my actions, no anger. He had moved through the news like another rung on a ladder. The thought that Mr. Ginetti would react much differently crossed my mind, but then it wasn’t Givanni’s personal document I had taken. I took a breath, rubbing my hands together.
“No, I don’t think it’s a mistake. But beyond that, I have no idea what to think. I couldn’t find anything when I researched that address, not even a satellite image of - ” I stopped suddenly, wondering if I’d told him a bit too much.
“Huh. Maybe you could help me figure out what he’s been doing.” Givanni said. I frowned, the headline of ‘Chief Financial Analyst Smuggles From Company’ going through my mind.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, he’s the president of the company. Maybe it’s okay if he knows something we - I don’t.”
“Yes, he is the president,” Givanni rushed. “But I am the CEO, and the reason they even have CEOs is so that no one person has absolute power. I should know what’s going on because it’s my job to know what’s going on - to protect the entire company.” I was pretty sure I agreed with him, but I was also pretty sure that my current ranking with the company didn’t give me any right to know everything about everything. I slumped onto the couch, leaning my head back. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, exhaustion hitting me.
Givanni rubbed his face with both hands. “Since Guadalupe, the danger to this company is stronger,” He gave me an apologetic glance. “I warned Marco against adding someone to our circle. You know, a new hire. I thought they would be exposed to the same risks, but he didn’t listen. At first, everything seemed fine,” He shifted in his seat. “But then you had that accident, and I began to wonder. It has grated on me ever since. I cannot believe it to be simply coincidental.” He stopped long enough for me to glance across his face. “I am so sorry to bring you into this,” he said softly. I glanced at my father, who was sitting a little more rigid than before.
“Look, Givanni…” I began, stopping at his expression and wishing he didn’t constantly look so concerned. It scattered my thoughts. His face was entirely too compassionate, and when my cheeks began to feel warm I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I’m sure things will be fine,” I continued. My dad snorted in the background. “Like you said, they have people working on it already.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Givanni said. His eyes were clear with worry, but whether it was for me or for the company I couldn’t decide. He no doubt had spent most of his life working towards his success. So surely that was where his concerns settled. There really wasn’t any reason for him to be so worried just for me - we hardly knew each other. I was surprised to see him stand and stretch a bit before glancing at his watch. “I’d better be heading back.” His voice sounded like sleep, and when he blinked it took a moment for his eyes to open again.
“Givanni, that’s c
razy. Just stay here tonight. It’s s-so - late -” I stuttered a bit as he leaned closer to me with the widest smile I’d seen yet framing his teeth. It complimented him well, like every part of his face was made for that smile. The deepened crease along his cheek was hard to ignore. It was quite perfect.
“I can’t do that - I wouldn’t ask it of you. Your father would hardly have a good opinion of me if I came barging in here in the middle of the night and then crashed on his couch.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you Loriel.” Surprised by his drop in formalities, I was frozen in the expression that came the moment he’d said my name. It sounded incredible wrapped up in his voice. “But I would like to know when you plan to head back?” His eyebrows lifted with the question and he was unmoving - gazing back at me. I thought for a minute, wishing that going back to my apartment didn’t sound like such a horrible idea.
“Sunday,” I managed. But the moment I’d said it, I wanted to take it back. Maybe Monday would have been a better idea, or a week later. Sunday was practically tomorrow. Givanni seemed okay with my answer, but I could also see uncertainty edging his features. His eyes studied my face, and I found myself wondering how that color green could ever be completely natural. It must be because the pallet it rested on was so pleasant and warm. And he did have a very warm face, the color reminding me of desert sand, the kind you would see underneath if you dug away the top layer. But it was too smooth to be compared to sand. Melted chocolate maybe, lightened with vanilla crème. It would have to be something exquisite, made in Switzerland or Germany.
“Staying might not be worth it,” he said cautiously. I refocused. It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about my job. He wants me to leave? He seemed to read something on my face. “Loriel,” I cringed a little to keep from reacting to my name on his lips again. “I’m just not certain about everything in our future,” He meant Shellbrook. I knew that. But my head enjoyed throwing me in its place. “So, what I mean is just - that you should maybe keep your o-options open?” He was adorably unsettled, second-guessing his words and looking like he had lost control of, well, control. I nodded. Options open. Okay. “Just wanted to warn you about that,” Warn me about what? “Maybe keep this from Marco though, he wouldn’t want me interfering so much.”
