CHAPTER 17
"It was some shitty evening in a bar where I was having a few drinks." Like a professional chef, Red shakes the skillet in the air and twirls the pasta. He glances at me as he adds, "Your husband was there, too."
"Oh? You knew him, then?" I ask, chewing my apple nonchalantly.
The broccoli pieces and pasta are mixed pretty well, making my eyes narrow at the sight. Red pours the pasta into a casserole dish and takes the bowl of cheese. I stay attentive, my eyes back on his unappeased face.
"No. To me he was just a snobbish rich dude like any other," Red replies. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly contrives, "No, Mia, what I meant is—"
"Red . . . tell me something I don't know." I chuckle lightly, cutting him off. I'm very much aware of my husband's priggish manners, especially in public. "Was he having drinks? And who was he with?" I take another bite of my delicious apple, not really curious about Patrick’s companions.
"Um . . ." Red stammers and clears his throat. "With his business associate, I guess." He doesn't look me in the eyes.
Liar! I can tell he is not telling the truth about this one.
"I see. And then what? How did you end up being his most trustworthy bodyguard?" I tease him, because I'm sure in . . . one . . . two . . . he's going to scowl so hard at me. "What?" I burst into laughter as he does it.
"Not funny," Red hisses. Opening the oven, he slides in the pasta. I grin at him and he continues, "At some point I headed to the restroom and he was there. I didn't pay attention; I just went on with my business. But suddenly I heard some movements from outside the stall and I could smell trouble."
My eyes are squinted in utterance of concentration on Red's words. I stop eating the apple and still. He leans against the cabinet, crossing his arms.
"I cautiously stepped out and there he was, pinned by two masked men. One was holding a gun at him, and the other jerking him up by the throat." Red sighs, making it sound like a mundane subject while I find it otherwise.
"You helped him?" I croak, horrified.
"Yeah . . . to make the story short. And afterwards he looked for me about three days later and proposed a deal that I become his bodyguard. Well, the pay was handsome so I accepted. I needed a new job anyway," Red explains.
Wow. I sigh and at last I remember my apple. I take another bite while meditating the story that doesn’t leave me indifferent.
"So someone wanted to kill him, huh? And now I'm living the same thing— what a life." I chuckle, hurting deep inside. "And who were you with at the bar? Don't tell me you were all alone?" I alter the topic as quickly as I can.
Red crunched his eyebrows, and my eyes are insistent. "What do you want to know, Mia?" he utters, mocking me.
If you were with some chick? I don’t reply, however.
"I wasn't with anyone. And mostly a woman," Red articulates. Fuck! I'm embarrassed. "I told you I was having a shitty day . . . and trust me; no woman was capable of solving my issues."
My curiosity grows wild, but I know I won't get anything even if I ask about it. Perhaps in due time I shall make him talk— not now.
"Not even the incredible Mia Vera?" I joke, questing for his smile that I’m starting to miss.
He gives me a brighter one. "You're so full of mischief," he remarks, and we both laugh. "But I'm sure if I had you I wouldn't be at the bar. I’m certainly sure of that." Confidence gleams his eyes and I flush the deepest shade of red.
The infamous broccoli pasta is finally ready. Yuck! Red gives me a solid glare as I make a face. I fix my expression as quickly as I can and he serves me the creamy pasta that, with all honesty, smells as terrific as it looks.
"Mia, I promise if you won't like this I'm taking you out this instant and buy you anything you want to eat," Red says.
"Oh?" I feel five again, except that Sophie wasn't this generous when trying to make me eat her butternut squash mac and cheese.
Lately I'm missing my mom more and more. I smile softly at the thought of her.
"Let's see," I mutter, wriggling my behind to sit properly. I grab my fork, Red's amused eyes on my every action, and dig into the golden crust of the pasta— my favorite part of any baked food. "Hmm." I savor the taste.
"What?" Red asks sharply, still up at his feet right beside me.
I take another forkful. "Hmm." My mouth is busy chewing as I hum.
"Damn, Mia, tell me! Is it bad?" Red is impatient.
Jeez, I hardly notice the tiny pieces of broccoli inside. The cheese melts in my mouth and the pasta is very succulent that I can't explain its taste.
"I like it," I answer truthfully. Red scowls; he doesn't believe it. "I mean it, Red. I don't know how you did it, but I swear I don't mind finishing this whole plate."
Red finally smiles. "I knew you'd love it." He gives me a hard kiss on the top of my head.
"Cocky much! What happened to the modesty, sir?" I gaze up at him.
"Nah, I don’t do modesty," Red answers and I can't believe he's the same man I used to know a few days before.
After dinner we get into a cheesy argument on who should wash the dishes. Red is stubborn and I'm the mule. We decide to do it together as none of us wants to look lazy in front of the other.
"I need to take this call," Red tells me while drying his hands with a towel some moment later.
"Um, sure. I'll finish tidying up the kitchen." I smile at him.
I'm in the living room, seated on the floor with a pair of cushions, hugging my knees with my head hung low to one side. My eyes are completely transfixed by the sullen flames in the fire place that's standing right before me— it feels warm.
My mind is clogged with thoughts. Tomorrow scares the hell out of me. If it were up to me I wouldn't leave this place any time soon. But I have to face the music and see what tune I can adopt. Am I going to keep the marriage that feels harrowing? I can’t help but wonder.
I sigh heavily and reach for my little wine left. I down the glass and Red returns right on time. I manage to catch his worried gaze as he finds me in this unpleasant state. A frown crosses his face but he immediately softens his expression with a small smile.
"Can you sit with me?" I breathe, laying my head one-sidedly on my knees while looking at him.
Red strides closer and my gaze stalks him. He slowly bends down and sits astraddle behind me. My back automatically reclines onto his chest, and sooner I'm engulfed by his strong, masculine arms— the sweetest embrace.
"What are you thinking of?" Red's husky voice pushes through my ears.
A lot. I exhale heavily.
"Just this and that," I reply while clutching his biceps with my both hands so our bodies are perfectly connected. "I don't know how things will be when we go back to Portland." My voice is perturbed and I can clearly imagine Red's scowl.
But he doesn't utter a word and it constricts my heart. Maybe there won't be 'us' the minute we leave Astoria. Perhaps what we have right now is a simple fantasy that's bound to dissipate like thin bubbles in the air.
"Why don't you stay a little longer? Didn't you come here to stay for a few days?" Red finally says something.
"How I wish that was the case," I reply meekly. "If I stay here a day longer I'll probably lose you forever."
"What?" Red sounds surprised. My big mouth! "Is that what he told you? He threatened you, didn't he?" Contempt is very apparent in his voice, his muscles tense in my soft grip.
Oh boy.
"Well, yeah he did. He's going to fire both you and Bill if I don't abide to his wishes," I breathe, shutting my eyes at the feel of nerve entrapment lacing my voice.
Anger surges in Red's blood and manifests its power though the tension of his entire body. No, I don't want him this way. I cock my head back to catch a glimpse of his face, his eyes are blazing.
"Red, it's okay. I won't let him harm any of you." I'm probably unreasonable telling him this but it's my heartfelt concern.
"Oh fuck," Red mutters with mild exasperation, frowning. "I don't need you to protect me, Mia. Don't do that." He sounds cold . . . distant even. He breaks my heart.
"Okay. I'm powerless, right?" I whine as I whirl my head toward my front, my heart aching. "It seems like you don't care what will happen to you . . . Or to us, if Patrick loses his mind."
The idea blanches my skin.
"I do care, Mia. Pretty much than you can imagine," Red says, his voice soft. He hugs me tighter, kissing my hair. "But don't live your life as he wants. You have equal rights to your freedom as he has."
I don't like where this is going, for I know my place in Patrick's life. If I want an escape out of it, then my route won't be through the front door as Red colorfully marvels in his head.
"I'm going to sleep," I blurt, ready to rise up and leave. "I'll do my part—whatever it takes— to make sure no one gets hurt at my expense. I don't care what's your opinion on this matter, Mr. Bodyguard." My voice is stern as I pull out of Red's arms.
He blinks at me, surprised. He then frowns as I stand up, his lips slightly apart.
"I didn't forget I'm your bodyguard . . . Madam," he says, his gaze fixed intensely on mine. A sharp breath slides into my lungs as he rises up briskly—my eyes follow him. "But what about you? Do you even realize who you are anymore?" He glares at me.
My chest props on and off, anger tightening my belly. Why the hell is he telling me this? I glare back at him and he moves closer.
"Why are you still putting up with the man who cheats on you over and over again?" Red snaps, his rage out in the open, no masquerade on his face. "The man who makes you cry in the backseat of your car as if he's the only thing you have! And fuck, God knows how many times that have happened ever since I met you!"
"Stop it." I lower my gaze, tears brimming unbidden in my eyes. I clench my fists tight, and he strides towards me with menace. "Red—"
"Look at me." Interrupting my plea, Red clutches my arms deftly so that I face him. I don't comply. "Fuck, Mia, look at me!" he orders, and as docile as I become whenever I'm around him, I do as I'm told.
His eyes are raw, angered, burning enraged that my skin shudders at the sight.
"Stop it, Red! Please." I manage to voice out, importunately.
"Why should I?" he snarls, his voice unguarded. "Isn't it the truth? Don't you have any dignity left? How do you stand him, huh? How do you stand that motherfucker, Mia, tell me! And yes, you were right. He was with a woman the day I first met him at the bar! And that woman is—"
"Stop! Enough!" I yell and pull myself out of his grip, panting heavily. He swallows tightly. "Whatever happens between my husband and I is none of your fucking business!" I wipe the tears with the back of my hand before breezing toward the staircase.
"Mia!" Red follows me. I speed up with all my strength while weeping all over again. "Mia, wait!" He is profuse but I'm determined.
How dare he! I cry nonstop as I slam my bedroom door shut. Putting on the lock, I slide down right behind it and sit on the cold, wooden floor. My face finds refuge on my knees, so many emotions erupting at once.
"Mia, open the door!" Red shouts from outside with unceremonious knocks. "Mia—"
"Go away, you jerk!" I snap, tears pooling in my eyes like a crying baby.
I don't need anyone to remind me of the hell I'm in— most especially Red.
"Mia—" Red starts loudly but he suddenly stops. I hear him sighing heavily. “Mia,” he calls gently this time, and he's stopped knocking. "Please open the door and let's talk," he begs.
I close my eyes tightly, doing away the tears. I want to be alone, but I also want to be with him. What a fool I've become.
"Please, Mia," Red insists, his tone placating. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You are right; it's none of my business."
After a few minutes of sitting in silence contemplating Red's imploring voice, I pull myself up and slowly open the door. He's standing right outside and only moves a bit when he sees me.
"Mia." He sounds relieved despite looking worried at my puffy eyes. I still in my stance, sniffling. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry." He dashes in without thinking twice and scoops me into a tight hug.
My body relaxes instantly, thawing in his brace that takes my pain away. Burying my face on his chest, I hug him back tightly and I don't want to let go.