I shift in my chair with an admiration toward Mia’s honesty. Hell, I understand it too.
“As a kid,” I say, “they used to tell me that the streets of each borough run through the city like veins and that if you live here long enough, this place absorbs itself into the DNA, in our blood.”
Mia squints her eyes, thinking about it.
“Is that how you feel?” She asks me, swirling her glass. “That it’s in your blood?”
“Too many people fear that the city will just eat them alive. And for some of us, that’s true, but there’s no other place on earth that provides so much opportunity without discrimination.”
She gives me a look as if I’m just spouting bullshit.
“No, I’m serious.” I lean forward. “You know who first told me that? My grandfather, he came here as an Italian immigrant as a kid, his family suffered extreme poverty. Yet, in his own lifetime, he managed to create enough wealth that even my grandkids will benefit from his investments. If I don’t show respect to this place, then I also show shame toward the Moretti family name.”
“Wow.” She slides her hand over mine. “I guess you can’t argue with that.”
I turn my hand over and clasp hers. It’s new to me, sitting here with a woman, on a date. Even if I just wanted to show her the restaurant and the food, that’s what this is. It’s made even more bizarre considering the fact that she’s technically still my hostage.
“You know I never do this.” I point to the table. I don’t know why, but I’m compelled to tell her how it is. “This thing between us—sitting down and having a meal–it’s not something I ever do with other girls.”
“So I’m the exception?”
I lift my eyes, locking onto hers as I remember everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done to her body. “I guess you could say so.”
Her smile grows an inch. “Have you ever had an actual girlfriend that you took out in public?” Her hand still on mine, she plays with my fingers absentmindedly.
What a weird question. I think about it. “Uh, can’t say that I have… Not since high school, anyway.”
The blush on her cheeks tells me she likes the answer. “I see.”
“You see what, exactly?”
Her shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Just that you obviously care enough about me to bring me out here, of all places.”
“Of all places?”
“Yes. Here is where everyone knows who you are. You could have taken me anywhere else, hidden me from the curious eyes and dangerous strangers. But you brought me here, right to the midst of it.” I narrow my eyes, and she leans forward onto the table to elaborate more. “It just seems as though you want me to be a part of your life. Your real life.”
“My real life, huh?” I chuckle. “You think you can handle that?”
She looks around. “So far, I think I am.” When she looks back at me, there’s a glint in her eye, a mischievous sparkle. She’s thinking of the other night, how she ‘handled’ me in almost every possible way. My smile increases.
“You haven’t had a ‘public’ boyfriend before, either?”
She shakes her head with a smile. “No.”
“Well, I’m glad to show you how it’s done.” I’m talking about more than just dinner, and she knows that. As if remembering the pain and the pleasure, she wiggles in her seat, rearranging her dress around her thighs.
“Not even a private one.”
“What do you mean?”
Seemingly over the sexual moment, she sighs and looks to a wall on the far side of the restaurant. “I just feel a sort of regret about my past.”
“Which past?”
“My time as a teenager…working for my dad and staying in such a small town instead of leaving and living my life…like this.” She waves a finger around, gesturing to the room and to her dress, and lastly, to me.
“Why didn’t you leave?”