The maître d’ greeted him warmly as though he were an old friend before signaling the hostess, who led them to their seats. Looking around at the modest setting, with its low slung lights at every small square table and off beat art adorning the stucco walls, Eden was wholly surprised. This wasn’t the sort of place she would’ve ever associated with Dominic who was the quintessence of ostentatious. This place seemed far too rustic for him. And maybe the surprise showed on her face as his mouth turned upwards in semblance of a smile. “This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he quietly informed in a manner that was completely unlike him. “The food is spectacular.”
“How did you find it?” Before he could respond, menus were offered and their waiter made an inquiry about beverages. He requested a bottle of wine, vintage naturally, while Eden asked for a glass of water with a lemon wedge. Again she was surprised to find that he’d actually allowed her to order her own drink rather than do it for her as he’d done on so many prior occasions.
“Mr. Armstrong, it is always a pleasure to have you dine at our establishment.” The man standing at their side was big in girth and height and looked slightly familiar, but Eden could not immediately place him. He wore a chef’s uniform complete with hat and a genuine smile he bestowed on Dominic, who stood to greet him, taking his hand in a firm handshake. When he looked at Eden his brown eyes widened in his weathered face. “Mrs. Armstrong, what a lovely surprise.” Though Eden shook his hand with a warm smile, she was lost as to who he was.
“Franklin was our chef,” Dominic smoothly imparted, coming to her rescue. “He has since opened up this bistro.”
“Oh, yes, Franklin,” she said weakly, reddening when the man gave her an understanding smile. “It’s good to see you. Congratulations on the restaurant.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong. I could not have done it without Mr. Armstrong’s generous contribution. He is the reason I even have this place.”
When they both glanced at Dominic, he simply shrugged but remained resolutely silent on the matter. Taking that as signal to get on with it, Franklin cleared his throat and produced an infallible smile. “I will personally see to your meals. The usual for you, sir?”
At Dominic’s nod, he turned to Eden. “And you, Mrs. Armstrong, the wild mushroom risotto?” Ah yes, Eden remembered him now. He’d made the most mouthwatering risotto. At her assent, he left their company and returned to the kitchen to whip up their meals.
“You helped him with his business?” Eden asked a few minutes later.
“Nothing so philanthropic. If anything I am exploiting his culinary skills for my gain.”
Eden assessed him, tilting her head just so to see if she could peer beyond the austerity he wore so well. “Why is it so important for you to have me see you as nothing more than an asshole?”
“Because that is all there is,” he drawled with that self-deprecating air that was not at all like him. “I do not know how to be anything else.”
“But you’re different when you’re with Liam. You’re...kinder.” A soft smile touched his lips, chasing away for a second the webs of stoicism and aloofness.
“He has become an unexpected surprise,” he quietly confessed, the soft smile remaining. “A pleasant one nevertheless. I did not realize I would enjoy having him so much. It is impossible for me to be anything but kind when I am with him.”
But it seemed he could not extend that same kindness when it came to her. Eden convinced herself that she was okay with it and that it no longer mattered. It would all be over soon enough.
“He likes being with you,” she returned, taking a long sip of her water to allay the lump in her throat.
“Yes,” he assented, anchoring her gaze with his own, “but one cannot say the same about his mother.”
Eden was saved from saying anything else as the first of their three course meal arrived. It was an appetizer of six diagonally cut baguettes topped with tomatoes, basil and parmesan cheese that had just a light splash of vinaigrette dressing. The second course did not take long in coming and too soon they were both immersed in their meal, any conversation thereafter was kept strictly on the subject of Liam. Dessert was an outrageously decadent tiramisu that Eden greedily polished off and etiquette alone kept her from licking her plate clean. Franklin came out some time later to bid them farewell, and though he strictly refused to take any sort of payment for the meal, Dominic left a rather substantial tip on the table. Enough to cover their meal twice over and still leave more than enough for their waiter.
Eden was finding it difficult to reconcile the image of this Dominic, the one who quietly aided a man to start up his business and left exorbitant amounts in tips and spoke so easily about his son, to the hardened, imperious, and manipulative man that she’d known for so long. She didn’t understand how someone could be such an open enigma. But that was exactly how Eden saw him. She’d formed an opinion of him long ago based on her experiences and she’d been content to believe in that opinion as true, until now. It was the mystery of him that piqued her unfailing curiosity and try as she might, she could not abandon the idea that there was much more to him than what he chose to display to her and the rest of the world.
The night was still young when they left the restaurant, and it seemed he had means to take full advantage as he led her to his next planned destination. Eden did not know what she’d expected and really anything was possible where Dominic was concerned, but driving through the worst part of the city was certainly not it. South Rochester was considered bad, but Green Hill, a byword for urban decay, was something else entirely. Entering Green Hill was like a descent into hell. In comparisons to the splendor that was Langston, with its lush greenery, well-kept edifices and clean sidewalks, Green Hill was a stark and bleak city of graffiti, broken liquor bottles, and trash at every corner made worse by its mentally broken inhabitants and negligent officials. It seemed like the scourge of society had been gathered at some point and dropped off in this failing city to make do with whatever little the government deigned to bestow. It made for a disturbing sight where shady men loitered at every corner and women of dubious profession set up shop. Eden warily glanced in Dominic’s direction to find him staring fixedly ahead, tension rippled through every inch of his masculine frame that his grip on the steering wheel was a bloodless white.
“Where are we, Dominic?”
Dominic heard her, heard the uncertainty in her voice, but failed to respond. His jaw worked and it took nearly all he had not to floor it out of this godforsaken hell. He drove to memories, to nightmares to a past that he had been running away from since his mother sold him. He hadn’t realized it was going to be this difficult. Hell, he hadn’t even known what he was thinking when he’d embarked on this inane journey. But he’d wanted to show her, wanted her to see what he could not so easily convey into words. Maybe then, he’d thought, it would’ve been easier to talk, to tell. But this was a huge fucking mistake. Sheer obstinacy fueled him; his sadism rearing its ugly head had him by balls, forcing Dominic to drive. 142 Garrett was the housing project that Dominic grew up in. This had once been his reality. He parked the car, killed the engine and stared unseeingly at the ubiquitous dark blue steel door associated with the Green Hill Projects, and he wanted to commit unspeakable violence.
“Dom…” her touch, gentle, soft, and warm like a blessing from the heavens settled on hands he hadn’t realized he’d balled into fists until this moment, reaching deep into the dark recess of his center and provided a glimmer of light with which he used to see. See through the darkness that surrounded him. But he was blind. “Dominic…look at me…”
He didn’t dare look at her.
“What is this place, Dom?”
“This was my grave…”
There were very rare occasions that Dominic caught glimpses of the sort of mother she could’ve been. Like today for instance, she was lucid, she could see him, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he hesitantly reached out to take the yellow and blue toy truck she held out to him. He’d been good recently, doing everything she asked, so he was happy that she was rewarding his good behavior. The truck was nice; it was the first toy she’d ever given him, and he cherished it, played with it in their small living room while she locked herself in her bedroom. Playing with the truck helped fight the twisting and gurgling of his stomach, the hunger pains that were an everyday part of his life. Drinking a lot of water always helped, but not this time and while he searched through cabinets and fridge for something to eat, his eyes settled on a nearly empty bag of bread. There were only two slices and each one had dusty green and white mold growing on it, but once Dominic cut away the moldy areas, he ate the slices of bread like it were the best things in the world.
Today she wasn’t a good mother. This was the part of her that Dominic didn’t like. She was scary when she was like this. He didn’t know where she found the gun, but he didn’t think she should have it, not when she was like this. Her eyes were glazed over with not only what she’d recently taken but the crazed look he saw there made him want to run and hide.