Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” My hand frantically grabs at the man I bumped into, and honey-brown eyes stare down at me.
“Romeo?” I ask with disbelief.
He turns fully, adjusting his tie as he smiles at me. A mental attraction sings between us like we’ve never been apart and I miss him all over again.
“What are you doing here?”
He looks to the dog in the cage, a golden retriever who looks really old. He’s not even trying to get our attention, it’s like he’s given up on finding a home. It makes me sad being in here, it brings back too many memories.
“I don’t really know,” he replies with a strange look on his face.
I nervously laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder.
“Yeah, I can’t have any pets but I thought I’d come look,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything.
“I tried calling,” I inform him, curious if he was just busy or ignored it on purpose. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything. I knew us being friends after the move would be a long shot. I miss him though, and I want to tell him that.
An awkwardness falls between us, choking me of my words and I suddenly feel the need to get away from him. I’ve missed him so much. He taught me to come out of a darkness and live a life he lived. Nobody lives like Romeo though. So I’ve been stumbling a little, but I’m finding my own groove slowly but surely.
“I gotta go,” I tell him.
His eyes look back at me like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. So I walk away.
Romeo
In my kitchen, I open the drawer of condoms and the ball gag. I grab them and toss them in the trash. Just looking at them makes me scowl. I can’t go back to that part of my life, not after Luna taught me what it’s like to feel. She not only taught me how to walk in the light, but how to embrace my darkness. Speaking of darkness. Reaching above the stove, I grab my meds and take them.
Seeing Luna today made things worse. I was trying to move on, even ignoring her calls so I wouldn’t hang on to the sound of her voice, but now all I want to do is go to my room and sleep. I’m having a low episode, not wanting to see the light or go outside even. It’s been over a week and I still can’t get back to normal. I should be in the office going over the ledger with Leo, but I just can’t concentrate right now. My phone rings, and I pull it out of my sweats. It’s my mom.
“Hey,” I answer grimly. It’s like moms sense when something is wrong with one of their kids.
“So, I’m having Dad cremated, do you know where he’d wanted to be spread, honey?” she asks, and I want to tell her the toilet, but she did love him at one time.
“There’s a bridge in Brooklyn, just under it. That’s where I’d put him,” I tell her, because that’s the day he really died for me. The day he bought Luna.
“Hmm. Okay! Can you text me the location?” she asks, her voice sounding sober and chipper.
I wonder if she’s doing AA meetings, or going back to church. Dad dying is the best thing for this family and this is proof.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I tell her, just about to hang up.
“Hey, you alright dear? Is it the job? I can help, you know, I’ve watched your father—”
“No, I’m alright,” I interrupt her. She doesn’t know I killed Dad, she thinks a rival did. When she found out, she cried and grieved like any wife would but after him being gone for a few days, things started to settle around her. If she knew I killed him, she wouldn’t be offering her help. She’d probably be drunk and asking where she went wrong in raising us kids. She doesn’t fully understand what it’s like to be in the crew of the DeAngelos. Not from her side.
Hanging up, I notice lightning just outside my window. Another storm is coming in.
Meow.
A white cat, maybe a kitten jumps on my countertop wanting food. Yes, I adopted a cat. I hoped it would bring some warmth into my home now that Luna is gone but all it does is make me think of her. He’s a little fucker though, always hungry, flinging litter out of his box, and attacks my feet when I even slightly move them. He hasn’t even been here a whole day and I want to kick him. Rubbing his chin, I tilt my head to the side, thinking of a name. Even with my dark side, there is a kindness that lingers within me. Maybe it’s from my mother, maybe it’s the meds, I don’t know, but they’re hard to juggle. I hope the cat can keep up with my mood swings. He begins to purr, happy with me and his new home.