C H A P T E R - E L E V E N
After getting eggs, bacon, and coffee from Melinda, sharing her joy that "it's only the living room, honey, and I've been after your Dad for months for a new couch," and "I really needed a few days off," (told you she always looks on the bright side), saying hello to the commandos, taking a shower, and accepting delivery of my laptop, bag, purse, and jacket straight from the "scene" from another of Falcone's, I was scoring through work again
Antonette and Mic had called. Mic because she overheard a conversation regarding the firebombing at the station. Antonette because Mic informed her of the firebombing.
Mic and Antonette kept this information from Enrico since they assumed he was probably nursing his wounds, therefore it is possible that he was nursing them when he didn't call.
I thought about phoning him for a while, but in the end I decided to let him have some time to recover. Or at least, I convinced myself I was doing it. Actually, I was afraid.
Everyone was aware that I was off limits for conversation aside from the first briefings regarding my childhood house being firebombed, which were all completed. They were aware of my dedication to my career. I was shocked when my cell phone rang as a result.
I finally recognized Enrico.
"Falcone calling," it stated as I picked it up and glanced at the display.
I fixed my gaze on it. I didn't have his phone number programmed in my phone since I didn't have his phone number.
I turned it open and put it to my ear, wondering whether Antonette was playing a practical joke and, if so, how she did it and, more importantly, why.
“Hello?”
"Babe," Falcone said.
Antonette was not performing a practical joke.
“Falcone?”
"Little black dress, high heels, 7:30," he said.
I made a blink. "What?" I inquired. ”
“Tonight.”
"How about tonight?"
"You in a tiny black dress and high heels tonight. I'll be there at seven thirty"
Ohmigod! Falcone had proposed to me on a date!
My stomach became mushy.
"Are you inviting me on a date?" I only wanted to confirm.
"I've been fucking you for a year and a half, Sweet Pea."
My stomach had ceased being mushy.
"I know."
"No, I'm not asking." I swear to you, dress and shoes, I'll be there at seven thirty."
Uh... what?
"So, you're not asking me out on a date, you're informing me we're going out on a date," I predicted properly.
"That's all there is to it," he said.
"Don't tell me we're going on a date!" " I yelled.
"I just done it, babe."
"Con," I said, since it was a big con. He chuckled his deep, manly, delighted laughter, then said, "Get work done, I want your emphasis on me, not work."
"I doubt I'll have time for a date. I'm buried," it was a lie. I was catching up with the job I completed last night and today. I had plenty of time for a date, and I had a life creed that said that every opportunity to wear a tiny black dress should be seized, no ifs, ands, or buts. But I was making an exception.
"Was made very apparent last night, Gia, even before I battled a fire side by side with your old guy, that I had their permission; don't believe they'd step in if I clothed you myself and dragged you kicking and screaming to my car."
Unfortunately, this was correct.
I moved my attention to something else vexing.
"Did you put yourself on my phone?" I insisted on knowing.
"Yeah," he said.
“When?”
"Before I turned it over to Fang."
“Fang?”
"My man who brought your items." Jeez. Was that guy's name Fang? I could see it, I'd noticed his eyeteeth were a little protruding, but I couldn't imagine he'd be okay with that nickname because it seemed to be making fun of this unfortunate dental anomaly and he looked like he could hammer a human body through cement with his fist if he thought someone was making fun of him.
“Why?" I went on.
"How come?"Falcone inquired.
"How come you programmed yourself into my phone?"
Then there was silence, "Babe."
There was no more, as usual.
"What, Babe? We've been in a non-relationship for months; now we've changed, and I've conveyed that I'm concerned about this change and our future."
"You may be as unsure as you like, Sweet Pea; I'm sure enough for both of us. Dress. Heels. Focus. It's seven thirty."
I opened my lips to say something, but there was no response.
I turned off my phone. Then I just stood there staring at it.
Then I threw it on my desk and said, "God, he's so annoying."
But even as I said it, I knew deep down that I was pleased to be able to wear one of my tiny black dresses, and that I was also ecstatic that I finally, finally had a date with Yago "Falcone" Cabrera.
I pretended not to be thinking about how much I wanted to ride in his Camaro as I returned to my job.