by Lacuna Reid
It’s too late. He didn’t hear me, or if he did, he had more important things to do.
Chapter Two
Gino
I usually have fifty things on my mind at once but she walks into the bar and I’m spellbound. Everything about her draws me in. Every atom of her being is humming in delicious harmony with me. She’s wearing a plain black top over black pants. The simple nature of her clothing just leaves everything that she really is to shine.
I try to pay attention to my phone. Act normal, Gino. I’ve got a lot of emails to get out tonight, but none of them are holding my attention like the dark-haired, green-eyed goddess that has just entered the bar.
She doesn’t know how significant this is, how significant she is. I’ve been looking for you for so long. I watch her sip a martini she clearly doesn’t enjoy.
To be completely honest, I was hoping to see her. I’m staying here because I know she works at the restaurant next door. It was weeks ago when I first caught a glimpse of her walking down a busy street and I just knew.
I don’t like to think of myself as a stalker. This is much bigger than that. We have a mystery to solve, and it’s not just about me; it involves my three closest friends, my chosen family, as well. For years we have been looking for the woman who has haunted our dreams, and now she’s within reach. My torso tingles in anticipation. Something big is coming. I check my hair in the camera of my phone then I brush down my suit. I’m ready.
I’ve kept my distance and tried to find out more about her. I didn’t expect her to come in tonight, but now her voice is raised, on the phone to someone and it sounds like she’s lost her job. This could be it, the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. I slowly approach the bar.
“I’m Gino Santoro,” I hold out my hand. “Let me buy you a drink you actually like.”
She’s shocked, I can feel her draw back, but at the same time, she’s looking at me, and I can tell she likes what she sees. Her gaze sends sparks of electricity coursing through me. She is exactly the person I’ve been looking for and now that I’ve found her, I can’t let her go. But I have to tread carefully. I can sense already that she runs away, that she retreats. I have to make her an offer she can’t refuse and then I have to back off until she makes up her own mind.
I can tell from the look on her face that she’s hesitating, resisting the offer, which is to be expected. Who takes a job offer that involves moving across the world from a stranger in a bar?
It’s hard – perhaps the hardest thing I’ve ever done – to just walk away from her, not knowing if she will eventually follow, but as much as I want to seize her and pour out the millions of things I’ve been thinking and feeling for years, I can tell that would just send her running away as fast as possible. The stakes are too high to risk that. If only she knew who she is… who she was. But there will be plenty of time for that. I just have to get her to El Cielo. I make my offer and walk away.
“Wait…” she calls after me.
It’s too much of a risk. If I turn around now, she might refuse me before even thinking it over. She might demand to know more and then talk herself out of coming.
Less is more.
I pretend I haven’t heard her and keep walking. I can’t force this. I have to wait for her to come to me… to us.
Chapter Three
Mira
I leave the bar with adrenaline coursing through me. I’m not sure if it’s the strange encounter with the gorgeous man who I can’t get out of my head, or his offer of a mysterious job, one that might be the solution to all my problems.
I get home to my apartment. Really, calling it an apartment is too generous. It’s more of a human shoe box: tiny and shabby, in a run-down 1960s cement building that probably never looked aesthetically pleasing, even when it was brand new.
I’m half expecting to find an eviction notice on the door because I’m so behind on rent, but there’s nothing… yet. I close the door behind me and lean against it with my eyes closed. My head is swimming with shame from yet another major career fail.
Patterns flash behind my eyes and I catch a glimpse of an angelic being… his face is so familiar, blue eyes… and his whole body looks like it’s made out of golden light. Micah… My mind must be playing tricks on me. Micah was my imaginary friend when I was a child, but he couldn’t possibly be real. I open my eyes and then close them again. He’s gone, but even if it was all in my head, something about the glimpse of him reminds me of how I felt when I met the man in the bar.
I want to go back to that bar, to somehow track down that man, even though it’s too late. I don’t want to look at my messy apartment or think about my messy life. I spend a few minutes just fantasizing about a life of luxury with Gino Santoro, but it’s not long until his face morphs into Cliff’s in my mind and I give up. My ex is the last person I want to see right now, or ever. I look at the card Gino gave me instead.
I consider calling him, asking to meet him, spending the night with him… even though that’s not something I would be brave enough to do. It’s like Lana says, I always hold back; I always run away. Well It’s worked for me so far… sort of.
I clear away a few pizza boxes and put them by the door, ready to recycle. The whole one-room apartment needs a deep clean, and probably something quite toxic is required to get the mold off the ceiling. The problem is, I never have the energy or the motivation to do more than just a surface tidy-up. The dishes in the sink can wait.
I slump down on my unmade bed, not really wanting to be here. My body is still humming with the attraction I felt to Gino. Why does it feel so strong? I only spoke to the guy for a few minutes, and now he’s taking over my mind somehow. I should consider his offer; it might be the best way to escape my current mess – but to do that I’d have to face him again when I want to run away from this feeling, whatever it is.
To stop my brain going in circles about some random guy I met in a bar, I pick up my Kindle and lose myself. I start reading a contemporary witchy novel I’ve been saving for just such an occasion. I’m just past the part where the librarian discovers she’s a witch when my eyes start glazing over, and I realize I’ve stopped paying attention to the meaning of the words I’m reading. I put my kindle down and drift away into the land of sleep.
The white marble structure stands, magnificent, against the sky. It seems to glow with its own internal light from the torches within.
I’m only young, a child, in my sandals and simple tunic, but I know I need to be connected with this building. I know it in my bones. My family is visiting my aunt and uncle, making the trek on foot from our neighborhood. We leave offerings outside the temple on our way. We do not go in.
I struggle against my mother, wanting to explore, but she holds me firm. “No, Mya, stay! The temple is for the priests and priestesses of Artemis.”
A shiver runs through me. This is the moment I know what I want to be in life.
* * *
There’s knocking at the door, but how can there be a door when we are in a stone temple made of pillars? I roll over, realizing I’m at home, in my bed, in my shitty apartment, and not actually in Ancient Greece.
Who the hell is hammering at my door at this ridiculous time of morning? Possibilities of eviction notices and debt collectors flash through my mind – or worse: my father. I’m almost certain I’ll pretend I’m not home, but then I hear the voice.
“Mira – let me in!” My best friend’s muffled voice comes through the door.
“Lana?”
“Who else is dedicated enough to come over in your time of need and take you out for coffee?”
I push myself up and let her in.
“This place is a mess,” Lana says, eyeing the pizza boxes by the door and the dishes in the sink. She’s never been one to hold back on what she really thinks and I usually admire her for it, but this is not one of those times.
“Mind your own business,” I grumble, pulling on some jeans and raking my fingers through my hair.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Of course, Lana is in her expensive yoga gear and full makeup, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail… while I look like I haven’t showered in a week with my greasy hair, baggy t-shirt and jeans.
We walk around the corner to La Commune, our favorite café. The whole place is painted cornflower blue and has this 90s feel to it, as if we might just be able to order a bowl latte and a panini. We order our lattes, although they are the kind that come in glasses, and sit at one of the cast iron mosaic tables, inhaling the sweet coffee-scented air.
“You need to sort yourself out,” Lana says, and I know she’s going to launch into one of her self-help speeches. “What is it you really want, Mira?”
“To turn back time and see my mother again.” I meant to say it in an offhand way, to throw her off her diatribe, but as the words come out, they strike a chord in me, and tears prick at my eyes.
“Ouch,” Lana says. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
“No – I mean, I’m fine. It was a long time ago. No point in wanting impossible things, right?” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “I guess what I want is freedom, you know? That’s why I had to leave Cliff, and that’s why I can’t talk to my father. They’re both so controlling.”
“I know. I get it,” Lana says, patting me reassuringly and patronizingly on the shoulder. “But the problem is, freedom comes with responsibility.”
“That is not how the quote goes,” I argue.
“But it’s true,” Lana insists. “If you want the freedom to have a nice tidy house, you have to do your frickin’ dishes. If you want the freedom of money you have to hold down a job, at least that’s how it is for most of us.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The waiter brings us our piping-hot lattes. I skim some of the milk foam off mine with my finger and lick it. Lana glares at me, as if I’m a disgusting child, but we’ve known each other long enough to both find this amusing.
“I know you’ve always loved food,” Lana says. “That’s why you wanted to be a chef, ever since school; that’s why you did your training – both times!”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I say. The first time I dropped out because Cliff made me. It wasn’t until after I left him that I managed to go back and finish it, which is another reason why I’m neck-deep in debt.
“My point is,” Lana continues. “You loved it enough to finally finish that diploma…”
“You’re right, I do love it. But cheffing is honestly so stressful,” I say, thinking of Michel and the awful way he treated me. My past bosses were much the same.
“Life’s stressful,” Lana says, shrugging.
“I’m so over working in busy kitchens. What I really want is a little cottage in the country with a big herb garden, a vegetable patch, lots of fruit trees… and pets… and just to have enough money to live, without depending on anyone.”
“That sounds like a nice dream,” Lana says. Then she narrows her eyes. “So how are you going to get there?”
I take a sip of my latte, trying to distract myself from the question because it sounds like the only answer is hard work and I’ve had enough of that. Then I remember the gorgeous man from last night with his mysterious offer. I hesitate for a moment, not sure whether to tell Lana, but in the end, I decide I need a second opinion. “In the bar last night a man offered me a job.”
“This doesn’t sound reputable,” Lana says with a sly smile.
“No,” I give Lana a playful shove. “It was a fancy hotel bar, and this well-dressed guy said he needs a sous chef for a role somewhere in the Mediterranean. It sounds fancy – and they’d pay my relocation expenses and stuff.”
“You’re kidding right?” Lana gapes at me.
Last night it had sounded like a crazy idea, but now it didn’t seem quite so insane, especially given my glaring lack of other options.
“To be honest, I was more interested in the guy than in his offer of a job halfway around the world,”
“No way! You didn’t!”
“No. Nothing happened,” I assure Lana. “You know I’ve never done anything like that even though I’ve thought about it. Anyway, he left before I had a chance. It’s too bad because he would have been a welcome distraction.”
“What’s the job?”
“He didn’t say much, just gave me his card, and told me to get in touch. Quite frankly, even thinking about another job at this point is stressful.”
“Mira, you know you need a job. To be honest, you’re better off, going back and begging that asshole chef to give you another chance… I mean, sure find out more about this mystery guy and his offer but… there are so many unknowns.”
“I don’t think I can do either of those things right now,” I say, looking at my coffee rather than Lana.
“Honey – don’t do that. Don’t freeze and hide under the blankets. You always do, but we both know you really can’t afford it this time.”
Lana is right. I have no savings and a stack of bills that totals over 5k, not to mention my student loan and a maxed out 2k credit card. It’s too much to think about, so I distract myself with my coffee instead.
“There’s another thing,” I say, trying to divert Lana from her favorite hobby of trying to fix my messy life. “I had a temple dream. Do you remember how I used to have those?”
“Ooh – the ones you had back in high school, with all the hot guys?”
“No – well, yes, but there were no guys… not this time…”
“I remember how we used to tease you and say you had a dream harem.”
My face reddens at the memory even though it’s hardly something to be embarrassed about now.
“Yes, well. The thing is, I had a whole lot of them back then and then nothing for the last… well… it’s been over ten years.”
“Don’t say that. You make me feel old.” Lana nudges me in the shoulder with her fist.
“What’s so wrong with being old?” I ask. “Isn’t it just a normal part of life?”
“Easy for you to say,” Lana says. “You always have your head in the clouds, avoiding life, so you probably won’t even notice getting all wrinkly and grey. Anyway, what were you saying about the dream?”
“I don’t know. Why would I have another temple dream now after so many years? What does it mean?”
“It probably means it’s just another way you’re avoiding the real-life issues,” Lana says, glaring at me playfully. “You’re frustrating as hell, Mira, but you know I love you and I only want the best for you.”
“I know,” I say, taking the last gulp of my coffee.
Lana has always been there for me; her life is near perfect with her fiancé and her good career as a speech therapist. I sometimes wonder if she’s so focused on fixing my life because hers is so perfect.
We get up and start walking back in the direction of my apartment.
“At some point,” Lana says. “You’re going to have to start taking responsibility for your life and stand up for yourself against these asshole men.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, giving Lana a big hug. “I’ll see you again soon.”
We part ways and every word she said seems to hang in the air around me.
Chapter Four
Mira
There’s a pile of bills in my letterbox again, replete with URGENT and OVERDUE stamps, glaring in red. I don’t bother to sift through them. I only ever get bills in the mail. I just scoop them up and tuck them into my bag, then head up to my apartment.
I’m just a few feet away when I notice the sign stuck to my door, and instantly my mood flies into PANIC. Of course, it’s an eviction notice. My heart races as I take it off the door. I quickly let myself in, shutting the door behind me before anyone else can see it.
I have one week. One week to find a new place to live and move all my stuff. Admittedly, I don’t have that many belongings, but I don’t have money either, and I need lots of it.
I need money for bond and rent and... a job
, I don’t have a job. I sink down against the door and let myself cry. I knew this was coming but I didn’t want to think about it. I tell myself off for being so stupid, for throwing my job away.
I could go back and beg Michel for another chance. The thought leaves a corrosive taste in my mouth.
Instead, I dig the cheap pre-mixed margarita out of the freezer and make myself a slushy in the blender. The sweet tangy liquid is a welcome distraction from all this shit. It doesn’t take long before I’m feeling tipsy, probably because the only thing I’ve eaten is a latte.
I should call Lana but I know exactly what she’ll say and I’m not ready for that. Maybe she and Dave will let me crash on their couch again while I sort myself out, or maybe they won’t this time…
Something needs to change, or I’m out on my ass.
I reach for my wallet, trying to figure out what I can scrape together, but the first thing I find is a business card. Gino Santoro.
Damn Gino with his stupidly good looks and stupid fancy suits and offers that are too good to be true.
I close my eyes and rest my hands in my palms. How did my life come to this? Am I seriously considering a job offer from a man in a bar? I sigh. Don’t be stupid, Mira, I tell myself as lights flicker in front of my closed eyes. He’s probably a con artist trying to get me to sign my life away… but then again, he seemed so genuine and trustworthy. I hyperventilate into my palms, hoping that something, anything will change.
That’s when I see him again – just a glimpse – a flicker of Micah, surrounded in gold light again. It might sound crazy but something about seeing my imaginary friend again helps me make the decision to go through with it – to contact Gino.
I’m not quite brave enough to call him, at least not until I’m half way through a quart of margarita.
“Hello?” His smooth velvety voice sends a jolt through me.
Pay attention. Don’t get distracted by his sexy voice.
