He threw his head back, laughing at my big milestone. “That does sound like progress. How long are you going to wait to ask her out again?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was almost hoping she would text me and give me the green light.”
“It hasn’t happened?”
I shook my head. “Nope. She did come into my shop and nearly expose my secret. She’s now proclaimed it her favorite sweet spot, which could spell trouble for me.”
“Oh shit. Were you there?”
I nodded, filling him in on the rather embarrassing tale. I still couldn’t believe I had actually hidden behind the counter. I was glad Rand wasn’t around. He would never let me live it down. It was rather embarrassing and one of those things I decided I was going to keep to myself and Kacia—and now Maceo.
He was unable to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god. I wish I could have seen that.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t. It was undignified, and you would have revoked my man card.”
He laughed again. “Now what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“I think you’re in dangerous territory,” he warned.
“How so?”
He grimaced. “Our city is not so big.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.”
“She might run into you one of these days,” he said, and I knew where he was going with the conversation. It was the same place Kacia had gone.
“Maybe, but the chances of that are unlikely,” I replied.
He grinned. “Do you really think so? She walked into your shop. She must live nearby. I’m sure you must live nearby as well. Fate has a funny way of making things happen that look like a coincidence but are really the work of one of the gods.”
Maceo was a traditional Greek man, believing in the many gods from the mythology teachings we had all been raised on. It wasn’t as if any of us worshipped the gods, but it was very common to hear them mentioned. “The gods need to take a seat and let me handle my own business,” I grumbled.
“I think you have to tell her before she catches you,” he said. “That would be bad. And it is surely to be very embarrassing for you. If she’s the type to go into hysterics, you might be looking for a new country to live in. She’ll make sure you can never show your face here in Heraklion again.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she’s that kind of a woman. She wouldn’t want to embarrass herself. She’s very subdued.”
“Good. That’s very good. However, I think it is wise to tell her now, before she can find out on her own. Ask her to dinner. Then, over a glass of wine, tell her the truth.”
I grimaced. “And what if she tosses the wine at me, or what if she gets up and walks out?”
He shrugged. “That’s the risk you take. In no scenario does this end well for you if she is truly that hung up on the idea you have money.”
I sighed, knowing he was right. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “Don’t you hate it when old people are right?”
“I do. I really do. I also hate money.”
He slowly nodded and finished his drink. “I do, too, sometimes,” he said in a low voice.
I studied the man and got the feeling he was struggling with something. “How’s it going for you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “What could be wrong? I have all the money in the world, a home, nice clothes, and everything money can buy.”
It was a sarcastic answer. I was an expert in the language of sarcasm. “But no woman,” I said, filling in the one thing he left out.
“No woman,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Not a woman that would see me and want to be with me. The women I have met want to be with Maceo Vitalis, the wealthy man that can give them all they want or serve as their foothold in my social circle. A way for them to meet other wealthy men who might be able to offer them more. I have dated more aspiring models and actresses than I care to admit, only to find out they wanted to be with me for my connections. It’s a bit of a blow to the ego.”
“I’m sorry. We’re from opposite ends of the financial spectrum, but I guess we both still have our own problems when it comes to women.”
“We do indeed. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you it’s better to find out what she’s really after now. Don’t let your heart get filleted by a woman who sees you as a meal ticket and an occasional tussle. Don’t waste your time or energy on a woman like that. You had one dinner with her. She had the chance to see you for who you really are. If that isn’t good enough for her, fuck her. You don’t need her.”
“I get it. I do.”
“I was able to peg you for one of the good guys within five minutes of talking to you,” he said. “She should be able to as well.”
I raised my hand, signaling the waiter. It was time to order some lunch. I wasn’t sure what was eating at Maceo, but the liquor in his belly wasn’t helping. He needed something to eat. It was clear he wasn’t interested in spilling his guts to me, but he was also in a shitty mood and wanted a friend. I had been there and knew the feeling well. I could be that friend for him.
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” I told him after we had finished our lunch. I insisted on paying. I didn’t want him to think I was that poor or that I was using him for his money.
He smirked. “I think it’s I who should be thanking you. Sorry about earlier. It’s been a rough week. I promise I don’t usually day drink.”
“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging. “If you ever want to talk, just holler. We can go to the beach and hang out, or maybe you’d like to go for a run with me. I find that really helps improve my mood.”
He looked horrified. “I’ll watch you run, but I’m not sure I could actually run. I’m rich and pampered and not used to physical labor.”
I looked at the man’s body. “Bullshit. You do something to stay in shape.”
He chuckled. “Good genes, and I do some strength training but not often.”
“I can do that. Give me a call. I have a feeling my dating life is about to dry up. I’m free. All the time.”
He laughed, and we walked out of the restaurant together. There was a black car waiting for him. He got into the back and was gone in a flash.
He was a prime example of why I wasn’t all that interested in wealth. My father was the same way. When I was younger, they had warned me to be careful in choosing my friends. My father was convinced the only reason anyone would want to be friends with the fat kid or to date the fat kid was because they were after his money. That had been a blow to the self-confidence.
I pushed that thought right back where it belonged and reached for my phone. It was time to come clean and end the charade before the curtain was pulled back, revealing my true identity before I was ready.
I leaned up against my car, holding the phone in my hand, and gathered the courage to text Eliana.
Dinner tomorrow night? Did I wait long enough? I added several winking emojis to keep the message lighthearted.
I held the phone in my hand, waiting for her to reply—hoping she would reply. As I waited, I thought about everything Kacia and Maceo had told me. I knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. I also knew there was a pretty good chance that once I told her the truth, she wouldn’t agree to any more dates.
Yes. We do need to talk.
Can I pick you up at seven?
I was hoping if I picked her up, it would give me an excuse to take her home after I told her. Obviously, she could always get a cab, but I had a feeling I was going to be pleading my case up until the minute she left me.
Fine.
It wasn’t exactly a resounding acceptance, but I would take it. She sent me her address, and I realized Maceo had been right. She lived just a few blocks from the gelato shop. I lived in the opposite direction about a mile. We were definitely in very close proximity.
If I didn’t tell her, she would absolutely find out.
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br /> Chapter 18
Eliana
I was getting ready for work when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly finished putting my hair up and rushed to get the door. It was my mother.
My first thought was I was going to have to be extra friendly at work that night so I could earn tips to replenish what I was going to be giving my mother. Rent was due next week, and I was already stretching things after splurging on the damn dress.
“Mom, I have to work soon,” I told her before she could even get started on her latest drama.
“I won’t stay long,” she said, pushing into the apartment.
I checked my watch. I had hoped to stop at the store on the way into work to grab a few things. I would have to do it tomorrow.
My mother walked right to my refrigerator, rummaged around, and pulled out the very last can of soda I had. I inwardly groaned. I had hoped to have that tomorrow morning.
“What’s up, Mom?” I asked, hoping to speed things along.
She flopped onto the couch and crossed her legs in the tight mini skirt she was wearing. It was probably bought in the juniors’ section of the department store. My mother had a nice figure, and she was not shy about showing it off in clothes that were very snug and revealing.
“There are no good men left in this world,” she complained.
I rolled my eyes. It was the same old conversation, just a different day. “Why do you say that?” I asked, pretending I cared.
“I thought I had met a nice man,” she said. “We went out to dinner and had a good time. Then, he took me to a hotel and expected sex with nothing in return.”
“Nothing in return?” I asked. “What were you expecting?”
“He was married! He forgot to mention that little bit of information when he asked me to join him for dinner.”
I nodded. My mother was always the innocent party, sorely aggrieved by a man only looking for sex. “I think you should start asking these men if they are married. This isn’t the first time this has happened to you.”
“They should be honest and wear a ring or mention it! Instead, they think I’m the kind of woman who will play the part of the mistress. Not even a kept mistress, just a piece of ass.”
I didn’t point out that she dressed like a prostitute and flirted to the point there could be no other assumption about her intentions. “I’m sorry,” I said instead.
“It’s worse than that,” she said, looking at me with real distress.
“Worse?” I asked, a feeling of dread rising in my stomach.
She shrugged a shoulder. “The last man I was dating, he gave me some money to take care of a few things. Now he wants it back.”
I groaned, closed my eyes, and sat on the edge of the couch. “How much?”
She made a choking sound. “Trust me. It’s more than you have.”
“No shit, it’s more than I have! Why did you take the money?”
“He gifted it to me,” she said defensively. “He never said it was a loan.”
I shook my head. “Mom, you have got to stop this. It isn’t the first time. It’s happened with jewelry, clothes, and money before. Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, completely frustrated with her.
“I’m not doing anything,” she said, pouting. “These men want my company, and they like to shower me with gifts. They can’t take back a gift once the relationship is over.”
“Mom, they want them back because you usually screw them over in one way or another. You either hook up with their friends or disappear when you get bored.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It is,” I said firmly.
“Regardless, I don’t have the money, and now I must listen to the man’s insistent whining and complaining,” she said.
I sighed, glad I wasn’t in her shoes. It was why I hated the idea of relationships. They always ended, and they never ended with everyone being friends.
I had seen my mother fight with the men she dumped or cry and beg for the men who dumped her to take her back. There had been more than one occasion when we had burned a man’s things as part of some revenge. The first time we burned a man’s clothing, I had been thirteen. It hadn’t exactly instilled the qualities of a healthy relationship in me.
“What about Dad?” I asked, almost more to myself than her, knowing she hated to talk about the man I hadn’t seen since I was a very young girl.
She smiled fondly. “He was a good man. A handsome man.”
“Then why did you leave him?”
“He left us, dear,” she reminded me for the umpteenth time.
I didn’t believe her. “Are you sure about that? My memory is different. I remember you telling him to leave.”
“Same difference. We were never going to be truly happy together.”
“Why? You got together with him and had me. You must have been happy at one point.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Your father was an attractive man who was very persuasive. I was very young and naïve when we met. He was working at a factory. He promised me he was going to be moving up and would be an executive in no time. I waited and waited, and it never happened. We were poor. He drank too much and had no drive to better his position in life. He was okay with our tiny house and barely enough money to buy food. I deserved more than that.”
I didn’t point out that I was a part of the package, and I deserved a father. “Why couldn’t you have waited a little longer?”
“I wasn’t getting any younger. It was bad enough I had a child. Men don’t want a woman who has a child. They have these silly fantasies that the women they take to bed are virgins. Virgins who know the ins and outs of a man’s body and how to give them the most pleasure,” she added with a smile.
I cringed at the thought of my mother’s expertise in that department. “Did he ever try to see me after you made him leave?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted nothing to do with him. He was a boring man that would forever be poor.”
“He was my father.”
“That means nothing. What kind of father was he when he couldn’t give his daughter pretty dresses and send her to the best schools?” She asked it as if that was really a valid question.
“Not every father is rich,” I stated, growing more irritated with her. “Kids need their fathers for other reasons. Reasons that have nothing to do with money.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I heard he died some years back.” She spoke with zero feeling. “No relationship can survive without money. Without money, there will always be fights over the inability to pay bills or buy things. Money makes the world go around.” She laughed.
I had known about my father already. I had sought him out but never had the courage to actually talk to him. He had drunk himself into an early death. I always wondered if his drinking had been sparked by my mother and me leaving.
I didn’t know the details surrounding the situation, but I had no doubt in my mind my mother had pushed him out of our lives. I didn’t know if he wanted me or was happy to be free of the burdens of fatherhood. It was a chapter in my life I spent very little time examining. There was only enough room in my head to deal with my mother’s drama and my own life problems.
“I need to get to work,” I told her, anxious to have the conversation over.
“So soon?” she pouted.
“It’s not early. I work evenings.” Working was a foreign concept to her.
“Before you go, do you have some money I can borrow to get by? I had to give that awful man the money I had stashed away to get him off my back. He threatened to call the police on me, can you believe that?” She looked aghast.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I can believe it. You took his money.”
“He gave me the money, and I gave him me,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t have any money to give you. In fact, I won’t be giving you any more money at all. Get a job. Learn to support yourself, and quit taking money from men!”
She
jumped to her feet, putting her hands on her hips and glaring down at me. “Eliana! Don’t talk to me like that.”
I stood as well, our heights evenly matched. “I’m talking to you like that because that’s what you need to hear. I don’t have the money. I work all the time, and I don’t have money because you keep taking it. No more. Get a job.”
She pursed her lips. “Obviously, you’re cranky. You work too hard.”
I wanted to bang my head against the wall. “Yes, Mom. I do. Now, I need to finish getting ready so I can go to work.”
“I’ll come by later when you’re in a better mood, and we’ll talk then,” she said, completely ignoring everything I was saying.
“I’ll probably be working,” I snapped.
She patted my shoulder. “Okay, dear, I’ll see you later,” she said and walked out the door.
I closed it behind her and threw the lock for good measure before turning and leaning against the door. I put my hands over my face, trying to figure out how in the hell I had gotten so screwed in the parent department.
My mother was a child. An immature, selfish, spoiled brat with zero concern for anyone else in the world. She was her entire world. Her and her many trinkets and treasures that she cherished more than anything else.
I didn’t even know where she was living. She was essentially homeless. She always had been. She shacked up with one man after another until they kicked her out. Then she ended up in hotels, paying for the room with a “borrowed” credit card, or she sold pieces of jewelry she’d been gifted during a relationship.
I could not understand her motivation. Why would anyone want to live that way? I was very different than her. For that, I was thankful. Through her eyes and her many experiences, I learned relationships were disasters. It was basically jumping from one disaster to the next. You never knew if it was going to be a tornado, earthquake, tsunami, or a cold freeze, but there was always disaster looming.
I was not interested in living like that, waiting for the next disaster to strike. I liked my life to remain on an even keel, few ups and even fewer downs. I didn’t care if I died alone.
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