Disappointing. That's all I have to say about the coffee Angelic makes a point of drinking every day. Almond milk and mint? I didn't expect it to be good, but I couldn't imagine how bad it would be.
I leave the two cups of coffee on the side table next to the bed. Tastes are indisputable, after all. I look at the bathroom door and wait for Angelic to finish his shower. It wasn't exactly easy to get into his room, but since the security in this house was supposed to be presidential level, it wasn't difficult.
There's music in the bathroom, and it makes me sure that Angelic is one of those girls who dances while they shower. From time to time, she sings an excerpt from the song, and I must say that singing is not one of her gifts.
I look around me. I kept a perfect memory of every detail, and that's the evil of a photographic mind. Do you remember everything. Good things. The bad things. All.
A few minutes later, the music stops and the bathroom door opens. Angelique comes out wrapped in a white dress with a towel wrapped around her hair. The first thing his eyes notice is me, sitting on his bed. She widens her eyes and opens her mouth, ready to scream, however, her voice doesn't come out. She is surprised, angry, scared.
Angelique remains static. Silence fills all the space around us, as well as the smoke coming from the bathroom. I wait for her to have something to say, and when she looks too confused to even insult me, I ask:
- Coffee?
She breathes deeply.
**
Her blue eyes reflect the light emanating from the open windows. Her hair is damp, stuck to the sides of her face. The dress is open to the valley between her breasts. She looks so determined, but so vulnerable at the same time. Angelic is not a tall woman, however, her posture makes her look taller. Maybe for the first time I see it in real size.
- What are you doing here? - asks calmly.
- A work.
- In my room?
I raise an eyebrow. Touched, my dear.
Angelique goes to her dressing table. She removes the towel that wraps her hair and begins to comb it. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, refusing to look at me as she runs the brush through her hair, rather aggressively I would say.
Is she mad that I... left?
- You disappeared for over a month and left me with a billion questions.
- I will answer all of them - I guarantee.
During my absence, I thought of her. Not romantically or melancholy, but just thinking. A personality so similar to mine is not found in just any corner. And now, knowing that she also thought of me, even if they were the worst thoughts of her life, it amuses me.
Your irritation amuses me. She made a point of being unfazed on most of our dates, that is until…that is until that night in the warehouse.
- What is your first name? - Angelique turns to me.
I'm not surprised this is your first question. She knows my last name and I haven't even told her.
"It doesn't matter," I said.
- You said you would answer.
- I answered, but not in the way you would like.
Angelic sighs, turning back to the chest of drawers. She continues to comb her hair, even though it is perfectly untangled.
Vaguely, the dream I had with this woman crosses my mind. My eyes roam her body before I can stop her. How can someone so small occupy such a huge space in a man's head?
I look at her waist and remember my hands on her. Not in the dream, but in reality. I know how soft and fragrant your skin is because I have touched and smelled it.
- Have you given up funding Elliot's campaign? - she asks.
**
- Nope. The money continues to flow into his bank account every month.
- So you abandoned me - she smiled, ironically - I mean, a third attack could have happened, and my hero wasn't there.
I smile. Even from an ocean away, I remembered your little games. Almost two months did not change his bad mood.
Oh yes. That's why I wanted to go back.
“Coffee is getting cold,” I say.
- You want to know ? I give up trying to understand you or know you.
I hear footsteps outside my room, and I know I should leave. I almost feel like a teenager running away from a girl's house before her dad finds out she's no longer a virgin. In fact, I wonder if Angelic allowed himself to go through something like this before me, and honestly, I hope not.
- Go to the Bronx tonight - I ask.
Angelique looks at me in disbelief through the reflection in the mirror. I left, then just reappeared, and she thinks I owe her some satisfaction for that. Even though she hates my instability, that's exactly what attracts her. She gets adrenaline when she's with me. Feel fear, anger, lust, excitement. But never, never disappointment.
I get up, grab my overcoat and put it on. She looks at me, maybe waiting for me to say I was joking.
I was not.
It will come, I know it. She learned her way to me, just as I learned my way to her. Angelique is not the kind of woman who lives in peace. She discovered that she liked being in the eye of the hurricane. She's like me, and that kind of makes her a part of me. My.
“I can't find you,” she whispers, then clears her throat before continuing, “I have a boyfriend.
I feel annoyance go down my throat, and I have to swallow it. We continue to stare at each other in the reflection of the mirror, and I check his posture for any hesitation, any indication that he's lying.
Angelique has never had a boyfriend. I know, no wonder I have a file on her in my office. She would have one if she wanted to, but her relationship expectations are high. Flowers are not enough, a well-decorated house is not enough, a collection of handbags is not enough.
So, dare I ask, who the fuck was enough?
- The senator's son? - I dare.
I smile sideways. Angelique answered too quickly. His hands are propped up on the dresser, gripping the wood hard enough to make his knuckles white. Her chest doesn't move, so she holds her breath. Her father wouldn't know she was lying, neither would Father Bee, nor would Vicenzo Mares.
It was your mistake, honey.
- I'll wait for you until two in the morning, after that I'll go back to Italy - these are my last words before leaving your room.
"Exactly," she said, without hesitation.