Things Not Subject To Gravity - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Maria stopped just before entering the cafeteria. She took a deep breath and adjusted her hair. Her nerves were still on edge after the argument with Sybil. Her hands itched with the urge to slap some sense into him. She stretched her fingers to release the tension. To be honest, she was damn jealous. Still, she hadn't lost her spirit.
She was ready to do anything to protect him.
She pulled up the corners of her mouth and ran her fingers over her wrinkled brows. It didn't matter who Sybil was flirting with. She would've stopped at nothing—and nobody—to keep him safe. Besides, there was a high possibility that the real danger lay somewhere else.
Given Joe's revelation about Mister Green, she had to find out the truth.
As soon as she managed to smooth out her face, turning her frown into a friendly expression, she stepped in.
Le Pain Quotidian was Angéline's favorite eatery. She had her lunch there almost every day. Maria's eyes darted around the room checking on the clients and found Angie in just one round. She sat alone at a round table a little set apart, in a quiet corner. Her pretty face was tilted to the side, her chin resting on her left hand, while her eyes lingered over the coffee placed in front of her. She looked distracted, lost in her thoughts as if something was bothering her.
Maria approached, pulling her sweetest smile.
"Oh, ciao Angie!" she started, faking surprise.
The French woman lifted her head and returned the smile.
"Ciao Marie," she replied in her lovely accent, her voice warm and quiet. "Did you come for lunch?"
As if. "Sure, mind if I keep you company?"
"Go ahead, honey," she said, taking her bag off of the other chair.
Maria sat and quickly glanced at the menu, even though she knew there was nothing interesting there. She winced. Finally, she ordered the Mediterranean baguette and a coke.
It wasn't too weird for the girls to meet at lunch, but normally they had an appointment and they would pick some exotic restaurant – like Indian or Japanese.
Maria would've never happened to pass by the French café. She needed a really good reason for that. Her Italian soul cringed at the idea of eating French food. It felt like a bad imitation of her beloved cooking.
Angéline thought the same, just the other way round. They had learned to never get into an argument about food.
While Maria was waiting for her drink, she talked about her boss. She had already told Angie how much she loved him—careful not to mention his full name and his address, and of course no premonitions and killers either. Thanks to that she could brood over the hopeless situation she was in, rumbling about him giving more attention to a new boy than to her. The Italian girl kept on about her hurt feelings until the coke came.
Angéline nodded quietly all along. As she was used to giving Maria a friendly ear, she knew she shouldn't interrupt until her friend had run out of words. Maria would've talked over her anyway.
In fact, the Italian hoped that, if she opened up first, Angie could do the same and spontaneously talk about Green. By the time she finished wiggling around Sybil's subject, her food came. She took a deep breath, grabbed the bread and sank her teeth into it.
"So, you think he is gay?" Angéline asked, her perfect brows slightly furrowed as she sipped her black coffee.
Maria let the baguette fall back on the plate. Two slices of tomatoes swished out, outraged.
"What? No. No way!" she spat, repeatedly strengthening the concept with a straight-line motion of her hands.
Although she still had doubts about Sybil's sexual orientation, calling the man she loved gay was too much to bear, even for her. After all, he had taught her that she needed to be careful about her words and thoughts, because—in some way—they were bound to come true. If she had them, she would've touched her balls for luck. She took a sip of coke and cleared her throat.
"I think he is... You know..." She looked up to find the right word. "Eccentric... That's it." She flashed a satisfied smile. "He's a bit eccentric. Come on, you know what those spiritual folk are like, don't you?" she asked, tilting her chin towards Angéline.
The French woman gracefully shook her head.
"No, I don't. I didn't even know he was one of those spiritual folk up to now," she quipped with a fox smile, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. "If that's the case, he shouldn't be your type. The most spiritual thing of your life is the cross hanging at your neck and I believe it's not an act of faith." Her brows arched.
Maria couldn't take it lightly as it was meant. Her mouth pulled downward, the prickling of tears on the back of her eyes.
"Enough of this, I'm bored hearing about that man already," Angéline stated, her hand leaned over Maria's. Her eyes sparkled and another smile crossed her face as she continued. "Did you see all that finesse slumping in your café today?" she winked.
Maria lifted her gazed and smiled, thankful to her friend for dropping the previous subject. Then, her hand ran over her face before fanning herself.
"Aaah, bìeddu (beautiful) Joe!" she let out with a giggle.
"Heck, he is hot. I saw you chattering, you know? What did he say?" she pressed.
Maria leaned over the table to get a more confidential atmosphere.
"He asked me to go for a ride tonight," she bragged in a low voice.
Angéline's eyes widened, then a big smile brightened her face. "And you...?"
"I told him I will think about it," Maria replied, pulling back and crossing her arms. "I can't stand guys like that, having everything spoon-fed."
"So, you like him, right?" Angéline teased.
"Well, who wouldn't? I think I saw the paper wetting itself when he put his hand on it," she admitted, rolling her eyes.
The French gracefully brought her hand to cover her mouth as she chuckled.
"And what about you? Weren't you up for an awesome date on Monday?" Maria asked cautiously, finally getting to the point.
Angéline started playing with the small silver ring on her finger and looked away.
"I'd prefer not to talk about it ..." she murmured.
Maria's eyes widened. For a moment the thought of Green abusing her friend crossed her mind. "Was it that bad?" she asked carefully.
Silence fell as Angéline looked down at the table and ran her hand through her flawless hair. She never did that. She always said she hated to mess it up. The teaspoon clinked against the ceramic cup while she stirred her coffee, pointlessly, three times.
"I wish that was the reason..." she said in the end, staring at the black, cold drink in her cup.
"Well, now I'm really intrigued," Maria commented lightly, a weight lifting off her chest. "Come on, don't make me beg," she pleaded.
Angéline eyes darted around the hall, then she leaned over the table to get closer.
"He told me not to say anything, but ... to be honest, it was the best sex of my entire life..." she whispered, her hand cupping Maria's ear.
The Italian girl shifted her chair to the side of the table so that they could keep talking without stretching. "And?" she pressed in a whisper.
"Let's say that he's eccentric too..."
"What else?"
Angéline lifted her eyes to the ceiling again and huffed.
"British, with lush brown curls that could be featured in L'Oreal commercials, smart dark eyes, and perfect hands. He's got a nice job and he's brilliant, polite and elegant. Besides, underneath his tailored suit, he's got Jeff Kesser's body. To top it all, he's a sex god... Basically, the perfect man," she listed in utter adoration, her eyes lit by his memory. "The only let down is that he's leaving next week—back to Glasgow—and he doesn't want to see me again," she concluded, her voice turning bitter as she hit back to reality.
"Geez, you're pretty messed up too," Maria mocked, but with a warm smile.
She couldn't tell her friend how relieved she was. Obviously, Angéline didn't have the slightest idea how dangerous was the man she had a crush on. The French woman looked down and bit her lip. Her cheeks turned slightly red, then she cupped Maria's ear again.
"He invited me to the Red Moon for dinner and I let him take me to his room—half drunk like a college girl ... He stays at the Penthouse, can you believe it? We did it in ways that I couldn't even imagine ... He literally blew my mind ... There was something irresistible and frightening about him, I don't know ... Anyway, he was pretty clear and there's nothing to do, just forget about it," she concluded, leaning back in her chair and shrugging her shoulders.
Maria held her hand and gave her a firm nod and another warm smile. Forgetting about Green was indeed a good idea.
"Well, at least you enjoyed him for a whole night." She winked, referring to the fact that there was no way she could get that much out of Sybil. "It's his loss, losing such a fantastic woman. Maybe you should go for Joe, how about that? You can have him," she said playfully.
"Oh, please!" Angéline bit back, trying to suppress a chuckle. "I would never date a biker, not even if he looks like Christopher Mason Brown."
She straightened her back and smoothened her skirt like an old times lady, but the chuckle she had been holding finally escaped her lips. Maria followed in.
"Sorry, I'm not buyin' that!" she said, as the laughter took over her words.
Angéline shook her head like an offended damsel, but her mouth curved in a soft smile. "Say, I never asked you before, but—if you had to describe your boss—who does he look like?"
The Italian straightened up and as she thought about her reply, she adjusted one of her curls that had slipped over her forehead. "Well, if I have to go for a real guy—one that you might know—which means excluding cosplayers..." Maria winked. "I guess, Valery Kovtun should do," she decided.
Angéline brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled with awe. "Gosh, that's quite something. I can imagine why you forgot all about that street boy," she teased with a light chuckle.
The boy's pretty face popped up in Maria's mind. When she'd seen him after the spa, she could barely recognize him. His wild, grungy look had gone for good, and he could've featured in the Mulino Bianco's family – if it wasn't for his sharp eyes. "Set has more the 'Clavane' vibe, you know? Sometimes you can't say if he's a boy or a girl," Maria considered, tapping her index finger on her chin.
Angéline's eyes widened. "Matthew Clavane?" She gracefully shook her head. "You mean—after he went nuts, ran away, ended up in the road, couldn't take a bath, grew an awful beard and lost weight, right?" Angéline's sugary voice went mercilessly off the list as she innocently batted her eyelids.
Maria shook her head, holding back a smile. "You've never seen him decently cleaned up, like he is now."
"Cleaned up?" the other woman repeated, her brows slightly furrowing.
Maria shrugged. "My boss did it," she said before thinking, then she swore internally.
"I see." Angéline clasped her hands, a fox-like smile bending her lips. "So, you are up against the boy you like, to get the man you love?"
"Angie—" Maria squinted.
The French girl balled up her right fist and raised it in front of her friend. "You can do this, Marie," she said, trying to keep a serious face.
Maria hesitantly stretched her hand and rested her palm upon her friend's knuckles.
Angéline clicked ht er tongue and grabbed Maria's hand, pulling her close. "Get them both, girl," she whispered.
Maria grinned. "Well, that's the plan."
Their chat had turned light and the two kept going on about models and actors until Maria managed to finish her lunch and excused herself. She'd got the information she wanted. She could look up the Red Moon on Google and find the name of the hotel where Mister Green was staying. While she stood in the line for the cashier, in her mind she thanked Joe for tipping her off and Angéline for blowing the whistle. She paid the bill for her friend too and ran off to Café Palermo.
During noon, the lack of customers gave her time to do her search. She left Vito to handle the front and headed to the storeroom. While she pretended to rearrange the goods, she found out that the restaurant Angéline mentioned was at the ground floor of the Night Hotel in the Theater District. She thought about doing a walk-through of the place right after closing time. Despite the possible threat she was about to face, some sort of excitement stirred her guts. She wasn't going to sit and wait anymore. She could actually do something to help Sybil.
The afternoon went by quickly and she changed her clothes for her second job. Before she reached back to the front counter, she decided not to tell Vito—she didn't want to worry him. She smiled at him as she walked to the main door, heading to Sybil's flat. The idea of having Green at hand's reach had washed away her frustration and turned her anger into determination. Sybil wasn't the one she had to fight with. They could sort things out and work together. She had to talk to him.
Like every other day, she took care of the dinner. She cooked pumpkin vellutata, polpette with spinach and scamorza, and arranged a colorful beet, carrot and cabbage salad as side dish. After she served the meal, she took a seat beside Sybil. She gathered up her courage and told him – and Set – everything she had found out, including her idea of checking up the hotel.
As calm as ever, Sybil revealed that his perception of Mister Green had changed, and then he expressed his firm intention to go there alone. He stated that—as he had already been a guest of the hotel—he could've gathered information easily. When Maria tried to counter, he absolutely forbid her to even get close to the building.
Maria ended up accusing him of being inconsiderate again, but he was adamant on his decision, to the point of promising her that he would've cut ties if she disobeyed his order.
Maria knew that he stooped to blackmail because it was the only way to hold her back. She knew he wanted to protect her. Still, his coldness was terrifying and heartbreaking. Things took a worse twist than they had at lunchtime. She left the apartment, slamming the door, but this time she had tears in her eyes and a weight on her chest. She wished he'd follow her, hold her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right.
He didn't.
She dragged herself back to the cafe, staring at her own feet and crying loudly like a middle-school girl. When she spotted the entrance, she dried her face with her hands, straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. The detective was sitting there, at the very same table he had taken in the morning. To be honest, he was even more beautiful than Christopher Mason. He was too hot to be true.
As if he had read her mind, his blue-green eyes lifted up to meet hers. Behind his back the shutter was already down—Vito had told her that he was going to hang out with some friends for the night. Joe waved his hand for her to join him. Obviously, he had been waiting for her, past closing time. She wondered how many minutes had passed since her father had left—she had no idea—and felt kind of sorry to have kept the detective on the hook. Unfortunately, he had chosen the wrong the day to hit on her.
She decided that at least she could take out her bitterness on somebody else. She walked over and threw her bag on the table. She dropped into the empty chair and snorted, looking up at the cloudy sky.
"Good evening to you, Maria," he said, totally relaxed.
"Eve', cop," she grunted, hoping that the tears didn't leave obvious marks on her face.
The man kept quiet and she ended up glaring at him.
Her hostility shattered on the impact. As soon as it dived in the sea of his eyes it began to turn into something else. Her gaze dropped to his tanned skin, attempting to stop the alchemical process. Bewitched, it slid down the line of his pecs, craving to peek under his tight shirt as her anger finally transformed into desire.
He chuckled. "You can't take it out on me, can you now?" he said in his low, slightly rough voice. "No idea which kind of errands you're running, but when you came you had the face of somebody who was just dumped."
Goal for Joe—football back at the midfield. Maria ran her hands over her face in a useless attempt to relax her facial muscles. Thanks to his comment her mood had reverted back to annoyance.
"I thought you wanted to take me for a ride—not persuade me that you are a jerk," she replied dryly.
"My little girl, all men are jerks. Even if I want to take you for a ride, it would be unfair to let you think otherwise, don't you agree?" he quipped.
Maria snorted. "Listen, Joe, I'm not in the mood," she pointed out as she leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her short dark hair.
She stretched her legs, noticing that she was still wearing one of the dresses Sybil bought her. It was pink, fluffy, too short and totally mismatching her current feelings. Moreover, it was hard to believe she had been running errands in such an outfit. She bit her lips, hoping that the man wouldn't notice.
"Well, if you really want to make it clear, you shouldn't be sitting here—dressed like that," he countered, half a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his eyes trailed down her legs.
Shit. She had found yet another man who seemed to be able to read her mind. "You are the one who called me over. Sorry for being polite despite my mood," Maria replied, narrowing her eyes.
Joe leaned over the table, his clear eyes studying her.
"If you've had a bad day, you could use a little distraction, right? Why don't we just drink a beer, eat some junk and maybe play some pool?" he asked seductively, swirling the key of his bike around his index finger
Maria had to acknowledge that—at the very least—he was the patient type. His face was close enough to be kissed with just a slight stretch from her side. She swallowed back. Despite her mood, she wasn't sure she would've disliked it. She forced herself not to show any interest and shrugged.
"Alright, if I find you still here after I take a shower and change, I won't make any more excuses," she conceded as she stood.
She couldn't disobey Sybil after all—she was too scared of losing him. Brooding over it just made her feel worse. A distraction was required and the best way to forget things would be hanging out with somebody else. To be honest, she hoped she could make Sybil as pissed and jealous as she was. She wanted to have her sweet revenge.
She unlocked the big door next to the cafe and took the stairs up. As she entered the flat, she took a deep breath. The familiar aroma of Italian bread and coffee saturated the air drifting up from downstairs. She had lived there for twenty years, so it was the first smell she remembered. For a moment, her nostrils caught a faint fragrance of lily—her mother's favorite—but it might have been her imagination.
She threw her bag on the bed and decided to go for a little encouragement to face the night. She rolled a joint with some fine leaves she's gotten from a good client, an old friend of her father, that still held onto some of his young-time good habits.
After the incident, her therapist said she should smoke and prescribed it to her. It helped somehow, lifting her spirit a bit. Anyway, the one she got around was definitely better.
She locked herself in the bathroom. Vito didn't know she was still on it. He actually never liked the idea to begin with. Her back slipped down the white-tiled wall as she sat on the floor and peacefully took in the smoke. Her mother wouldn't have liked it either. Maria would've quit right away, if she could still hear her mom's scolding her.
When she finished, she slowly undressed and got in the shower. In fact, she was trying to stall. Some part of her hoped that Joe would leave after all. The drug had kicked in her blood and made her head lighter, but a vague sense of bitterness still lingered in her heart. She wished she could go back to Sybil's place and just forget about the whole situation. Yet, she couldn't.
She slipped into a pair of skinny jeans, a simple tank top and a hoodie with the print of a big skull smoking a cigarette on the back. Since her mother's funeral, everything she wore had turned black. Vito didn't like that either, but he couldn't bring up the subject and ask her to change it. Nobody could. Except for Sybil.
The last thing she thought, as she stepped out of the door, was how happy she would've been if Sybil was the one waiting outside.
And then how much she wanted to kick Set's ass.