by Jackson Kane
“Like him like him?” Z’s lips crept up in a scandalous grin.
“Fuck, what are we, teenagers?” I laughed.
“You’re about to leave your best friend’s wedding party in your dream city to chase after a man you barely know because you think you’ve foolishly fallen in love,” Zenya said flatly. “That is totally something teenage I would do.”
“When you put it like that,” I groaned loudly. “Maybe this is a bad idea?”
“Oh, shut up. I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you right now.” Zenya crushed me in a hug, then gave me one more squeeze before letting me go.
“You don’t think I’m making the wrong choice? I know you weren’t the biggest Veto fan.”
“I don’t think he’s a bad guy. Hell, he got our rings back! He’s just flaky and distant.” Zenya shrugged, then quickly smirked at me. “Maybe he just has a Calli-shaped hole in his heart.”
“Are you teasing me?”
“Yes.” Zenya’s widened smile revealed the full top layer of her pearly teeth. “Now, will you get the hell out of here already?”
I blessed her with a look that was equal parts scowl and appreciation, then I ran for the door.
I wasn’t even fully into the hallway when I heard my name. It was enough to stop me dead in my tracks. Jennifer stood rigidly out in the hallway tapping madly at her phone, probably answering some important emails. Maybe it was just Jennifer’s efficient, severe demeanor, but she somehow managed to suck all the charm from her bridesmaid dress.
“I had the chance to review your resume,” Jennifer said, pocketing her phone and taking a sip of her martini.
Crap. I didn’t have time for this right now.
“Already?” I glanced down the hall towards where I was heading and thought about making a break for it. No… I couldn’t just blow off a potential future boss. “I mean, hi, Jennifer. You look great by the way.”
Jennifer gave a slight nod. It was an acknowledgment for either her efficiency or my compliment. I couldn’t tell which. “I’d like you to start tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” I choked on the word. “I mean, thank you. It’s just so sudden.” This wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Did things always move this fast here? I figured she wouldn’t even get back to me for a few weeks, if at all. And now to move out here by tomorrow? That’s crazy!
“I’ll be honest, Calli. Your resume isn’t impressive. You have no real experience and your only reference is some pizza place.” The disdain in her voice about Marcos' restaurant was blatant. But that place was like a kid sibling to me; yeah, I had my problems with it, sure, but I didn’t like anyone else talking poorly about it.
“If my resume isn’t any good, then why are you offering me the job?”
“Zenya is family now,” Jennifer said, as if the answer to my question should’ve been obvious. “Your wellbeing matters to her, thus I’m willing to take on some inconvenience to make her happy.”
My lips drew tight. Did she really just call me an inconvenience? I was conflicted. On the one hand, I was glad she was so accepting of Zenya, but her insults and patronizing demeanor were a little difficult to stomach. She was a hard, yet complicated woman.
I bet a lot of people hated Jennifer both professionally and personally.
“I'm just not really ready for that. I don’t even think I have enough clothes to start.” Or a place to stay.
What really mattered to me was that I wouldn’t have the chance to drive back home to find Veto, if that’s even where he went. It had to be! I would, of course, check the hotel, but deep down, I just knew he was heading back to Roslington.
“It's tomorrow morning or not at all, unfortunately. I’ve had to fire our receptionist so the position needs to be filled immediately.”
“Receptionist?” I asked, taken aback. “My degree is in research… I was hoping to be a legal assistant, like Zenya.”
“Oh, dear, no! You aren’t nearly qualified for that.” Jennifer stifled a genuinely surprised laugh. “However, in a few years if you do well, who’s to say?” Jennifer shrugged noncommittally. “Zenya tells me you’ve always wanted to work out here in the big city. Well, here’s your best chance to follow your dreams. But I need a decision right now.”
A dozen scenarios played out in my mind. “This might be my only chance. You're exactly dead on about that.”
Jennifer nodded briskly. “Work starts at eight. Be there at seven for the preliminary—
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I interrupted. Zenya’s words stuck in my head. Sometimes that means chasing what you want most in the world. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take the job. My dreams have changed.”
Jennifer was stunned at being turned down, but only for a moment. She was far too professional to wear her genuine emotions openly for long. Quickly recovering, she reached out to shake my hand. Her tone softened, but only a tiny bit. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I said, through a broad smile of relief.
As I ran through the building and hailed a taxi back to my own hotel’s parking lot, a strange feeling washed over me. It was like I’d suddenly been transported back several years to when I was faced with the decision to move to NYC. This time, however, the roles were reversed.
Staying in Roslington meant risking everything. It wasn’t just Veto, either; I’d come to a realization about Sophie’s Place as well.
I had no idea if I'd made the right decision, but at least, this time, I'd actually stepped up and chose for myself. This time, I didn’t let life happen to me. For better or for worse, I was finally in charge of my own destiny.
* * * * *
Veto wasn’t in the hotel room. I didn’t think he would be, but I had to at least check. Pausing for a moment after collecting my things, I looked around. Why this room? Veto owned the whole hotel; he could’ve picked any room he wanted. Why pick this one-bed broom closet?
Are all billionaires this mysterious?
I’d never met another one, so there was no way for me to know for sure. There was something very unique about Veto, frustrating and irresistibly so.
I didn’t stay long enough to even change out of my dress. It was a relief that Carrie started for me, though I wondered, if she'd been broken again, would Veto appear out of thin air to save me once more?
With every mile I drove back home, a growing apprehension was building in my chest. My heart was flooded and slowly sinking in thick, dark mud.
What if I'm wrong? What if I never see him again?
Several long, anxious hours later I arrived home to a familiar and unsettling sight; a storage pod was parked out front of my building. But it wasn’t the same one as before.
This time someone was moving out.
I didn’t see Veto anywhere. “Excuse me!” I gasped, blocking one of the movers. “Whose stuff are you packing up?”
They were clearly finishing for the evening, and the looks they gave me weren't kind. “Can't say,” one of them grunted.
“Don't know,” the other said simultaneously.
The first man glared at the other, then eyeballed me. “It's a rush job. The owner wants to be gone ASAP.”
I tried knocking on Veto’s apartment door, but there was no answer. Was he not here? My eyes watered as I pounded on his door. I couldn’t bear the thought of having come so far and gotten so close only to miss him now.
No, I decided. I won’t let that happen!
I stormed downstairs and did the only thing I could do; I parked my car in front of the storage pod. This time, I was blocking Veto in. The only way he was getting his stuff out of here was by making me move.
Veto knew where I lived; he’d have to talk to me eventually now, right?
The last thing I remembered after sitting on my incredibly soft, warm and welcoming bed was texting Zenya to ask Clint for Veto’s number.
Sometime later, my ringing phone woke me up.
“Hello?” I answered. I was drowsy but excited that it might
be Veto on the phone. I must’ve been exhausted because I still hadn’t changed out of my maid of honor dress.
I exhaled loudly in disappointment when I realized it was Marcos.
“Well, good to talk to you, too,” Marcos sarcastically replied. I apologized, and he asked how the wedding went.
I abruptly began laughing, having no idea where to even start. It was by far the craziest weekend of my life. I instead focused on how beautiful and happy Zenya was, and didn’t dare start the story about Veto, especially being that I didn’t know how it was all going to end.
“Good to hear. I’ve always liked Zenya, kid’s got a good head on her shoulders. Have you given my offer anymore thought?” Marcos gruff voice was borderline raspy. The Pats game was on in the background at the restaurant, so it was probably from screaming at the television. I just hoped there weren’t too many customers there to hear Marcos’ cursing.
“I have.” I rubbed the restless sleep from my eyes and straightened on my bed.
I loved my regulars and, for as draining as the work was, there was something rewarding about seeing people leave the restaurant happier than when they arrived. I’d come to realize that I still loved NYC and I looked forward to visiting Zenya again, but I didn’t want to move there, especially not for a job I knew I was going to hate.
“I can’t do it, Marcos. Becoming a manger just isn’t a good fit for me,” I said.
“Ah.” The disappointment in his weary voice was obvious. “So what happens now? You finally following that dream of yours?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said. “I want to buy the restaurant from you.”
“What?” He was clearly taken aback. I doubted he’d ever considered selling, despite just how much business had declined in the past few years. “I—I can’t do that!”
“Why not?” I thought it’d be harder to muster the courage to ask him, but it wasn’t. It just flowed out like the most natural thing in the world. This past weekend changed me. I didn’t exactly know how, but I knew that it was up to me to change my life; not my location, or who I worked for, but me.
“Because!” Marcos struggled, groping for words. “It’s my livelihood. It’s all I got!”
“I’ve been doing your taxes for years. You and I both know it won’t be anything for long. You can either sell it to me now or you can lose it to the bank in a year or two.”
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Distant cheers and jeers went up as one of the football teams scored a goal. Hearing the laughter of the regulars in the background reminded me why that place was worth saving. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and lately, some shittier people were coming in. Like the guys who don't tip!
But the restaurant was worth saving.
Veto mentioned the charm in Roslington. At the time, I couldn’t see it. But Zenya was right. Sometimes, what you really needed was a change in perspective. Sometimes that was all it took to see what was right in front of you all along.
“What about me?” Marcos’ voice was frailer than I’d heard in years. He was more beaten down than I thought. “What’ll I do?”
The concern in his voice was difficult to hear. I wasn’t nearly as close to Marcos as I was to Zenya, but if I missed all the hardship going on with my best friend I could only imagine how much I missed with him.
“There are so many things that desperately need updating at Sophie’s Place,” I said. “The presentation, the website, the social media footprint, partnering up with other service providers, damn near everything needs an overhaul. But not the food. That’s the heart of the restaurant. Without it, the place might as well be, I don’t know, a bowling alley or something.” I was rambling. I collected my thoughts and continued. “I’d rather you stayed on as head chef. That’s what you’ve always had a passion for, anyways.”
“I don’t know.” I knew I wasn’t going to win him over completely with just this one phone call. He was always slow to come to any big decisions. “What about the name? Would you keep it? For posterity or, uh, brand recognition?”
The hopefulness in his voice broke my heart a little. Marcos loved his wife more than anything. Her betrayal snapped something inside of him that was irreplaceable. I didn’t think he’d ever truly get over her.
It struck me that I’d never talked to him about his ex-wife like this before. I took a moment to let that sink in and to choose my next words very carefully. “Sophie’s gone, Marcos. She has been for a long time. It’s time to let her go.”
“Let me think on it a while.” There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.
“Sure.” I said, hearing a frantic knock on my door.
Was it finally Veto?
I ended the call and raced over to answer it. But when I opened the door it was Hector, my neighbor Olga’s youngest. The cute little pipsqueak was about ten years old and his English always slipped a little when he was excited or overwhelmed. “Come quick! Come quick! They take your car!”
“What! Take my car? Who’s—” I wanted to ask him more questions, but he grabbed my hand and led me in a mad rush down the stairs. Now I was worried.
Outside, Olga cradled her blanket-wrapped infant and yelled at the tow truck driver in Russian. She stood directly in front of my bumper and wouldn’t let the flustered operator hook up his winch to tow me. Olga reminded me of a mother bird defending her nest against a predator.
I didn’t know any Russian and her English was very broken, but she still came out to help when I needed it. That made me feel really warm inside.
“Is this your car, lady?” The red-faced tow truck driver asked in a huff. He did a double take when he saw that I was wearing a maid of honor dress.
It’s been a strange day.
“Yeah, I’ll move it!” I jogged up and opened my door. I tried my best to thank Olga and to tell her I could take it from here. But she refused to leave completely in case I needed more protecting.
“Did Veto call to have my car towed?” I asked, fishing out my keys. I was wounded; I never thought he’d do something like that.
“Lady, I don’t know any Veto. I’m just trying to do my job. When the cops say you’re parked illegally, I gotta move you. It’s nothing personal.”
Still, though, someone had to have called the cops to send the tow truck. I hated the thought that despite everything we’d been through; Veto might’ve done this. I also hated that I didn’t know him well enough to know for sure. He did disappear before even saying goodbye.
Could I have been that wrong about him?
I turned my key and... nothing. This time, not even the radio came on. I tried a few more times, but it became painfully obvious it wasn’t going to happen. I deflated, my forehead coming to a rest on the steering wheel. Not even Veto could resurrect Carrie this time. My car was completely dead.
“Yeah, shit. That’s your engine. Now I have to tow it. I’m sorry.” The operator shook his head, shrugging, then glanced at a tense-looking Olga and cringed. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble from her. Am I going to have to call the cops?”
“No,” I said, suddenly worried for my neighbor. The last thing I wanted was to get the police involved. “No, you can take it.”
I held out a hand to Olga, stopping her from intervening. She saw the hurt look on my face at losing the final link to the good old days. She hugged me and sweetly said something I couldn’t understand as the operator hooked Carrie up.
No car, no job, and I was past due on my rent. I was definitely a stronger person now, but this blow still hurt a whole lot.
The tow truck driver gave me a slip of paper with all the information I’d need to pick it up from impound, then sidled up into his cab and started his truck. The truck’s engine let out a victorious roar and began pulling away with my poor car in tow. Then it came to sudden stop, lurching forward with a loud screech.
“Hey, buddy!” The operator yelled from his open window. A high-end, black Mercedes-Benz had just cut him off and blocked him from l
eaving. “Are you fucking crazy? Get the fuck out of the way!”
The dark silhouette of a broad, handsome man exited the car. He wore a knee-length wool coat and scarf over an immaculate navy suit. His tie was perfect. When he looked up at me, his crisp, blue eyes split the night air.
Veto was back.
Chapter 9
Calli
“There you are,” Veto said to me. He walked by the tow truck driver’s window like the angry, cursing man wasn’t even there. Veto’s eyes were fixed only on me. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“You were looking for me?” I parroted, not understanding what he meant. “But you left. That’s why I came back!”
“The police needed me to fill out an official report of my involvement in identifying your robber.” Veto’s eyebrows turned up slightly. “When I came back, you were gone.”
Ugh… I could’ve stayed? My veins were suddenly full of lead. Wait. If he wasn’t here, then that meant... “You didn’t call the cops on me?”
“Why would I do that?” Veto leaned back as if I’d just insulted him.
“Because,” I said, sweeping a hand toward the pod. His genuine confusion at the question surprised me so much that I started rambling. I wasn’t crazy! “Your pod. I saw that you were moving out, and your movers told me that you wanted to be gone ASAP and—” I stopped, noticing Veto’s cracked grin. “What’s so funny?”
He shook his head, his grin widening. “That’s not my pod.”
“What?” I looked back at the portable storage unit as if it had more answers. I groaned loudly, feeling even more stupid. “Oh shit.”
Veto didn’t have to say anything. I could see the smug amusement in his eyes.
“Hey, Asshole!” The operator got out of his truck, storming over with balled fists. “You’d better move this fucking car or—”
“Or what?” Veto turned his massive form directly at the man, acknowledging him fully for the first time. His face was set firmly. A chill ran up my spine at Veto’s sudden protective aura.
