Chapter 19: Human Torch

The way I was clutching onto my phone tight wasn't veiling my blatant paranoia, but I was ready to get this phone call over with. Anyone that knew me well knew that I hated having to wait for important conversations; and, of course, I would need to be expecting one on my trek to an emotionally draining destination. Not only was I anxious to get the chat out of the way, I was also adjusting to my new, shorter journey to to that place owned by a thief.

Merely minutes into my walk, the anxiety towering in the distance reversed back to the one vibrating in my hands.

"Hi, mummy," I returned over the line, hoping she would find my tone convincing.

But even through her naturally calm, though often mistaken for tired, voice, she was highly concerned about my current situation.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I love you," she sadly greeted.

"Love you too, mom," I groaned.

I should have known the heat-seeking missile was merely seconds away when she immediately followed with, "You didn't move... did you?"

"Uh... actually I did, mom," I confessed while twisting my nose.

And... here we go.

"No, Ada. What happened to Greta? Good friends fight every now and then. Why don't you move back with her?"

I shook my head, "I can't. She didn't want me to live there anymore."

She panicked, "What? That's not what you said last time. You said you wanted to move on. Why would she kick you out?"

I had to pause and keep it together at the crosswalk, though it felt impossible. "For the same reason Andre cut things off with me months ago."

There was silence on the other side, and I desperately needed her to say something.

Say you're not surprised. Say you're disappointed in me. Something...

"Ada..." I heard her sniffling. "You've always been able to tell me everything. Why are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding, mom. I promise. I just didn't know how to tell you any of it because I am too embarrassed."

"Embarrassed about what? I love you, no matter what; you know I do," she sadly reminded me, and I could imagine the weary look on her face.

"I know you do. But it's hard to talk to anyone when I feel... worthless. Mom, I'm twenty-five. I stupidly moved out into an apartment I might not be able to afford in the long run. I'm an intern because I turned down a full-time job that probably would have made Andre and Greta stay."

"Ada," she muttered.

I scoffed, "I'm serious, mom. My life is far from what I had hoped, and it's because I'm just not as smart as I thought I was."

"Ada, never ever say something like that again," she demanded, though her tone was still so soothing and soft.

And it killed me. A voice that I've known for all of my life tore me apart in the middle of a crosswalk.

"I'm sorry, mom," I sighed, before biting my lower lip to hold back all of the tears that were dying to explode from within me.

Without wasting another second, she said again, "I love you... with all of my heart, Ada."

"I love you too," I exhaled.

"Stay strong, my darling. You've always been so vibrant, full of life, and free. Don't let anybody steal that from you."

*

Around 11:30AM, I read the latest incoming message in my email. I should have been surprised, or more so incensed, about the request detailed in the body text, but I was still in a daze that never left me since I ended the call with my mother earlier.

With partially furrowed brows, I stood from my seat and slowly began to pace in the direction the elevator.

The doors parted and there was a cheerful face accented with shimmery eyeshadow.

"Lunch with the big boss?" Renee teased, as she pranced out of the lift.

I gave her a look, as I entered, but it was playful.

Don't let them think something is wrong.

Renee was great. She could always figure a way to inch even the tiniest of smiles on someone's face. Despite what was going on in my head, I held one of my own, and Mr. Leoné could see it as I sat in his chair and stared at the small succulent by his computer.

Five minutes of silence were finally cut down, when he put down his tablet and crooned, "Since you like having a choice when eating, I think the leather booklet belongs in your hands."

But I never broke my attention from the cute plant that juxtaposed all of who it belonged to.

"Ms. Young..." he finally called, without sarcasm.

Only my eyes turned his way, and I caught his inquisitive stare. "Ada–"

"I'd like to eat outside, Mr. Leoné," I quietly interjected.

"Out... but the nearest decent restaurant is quite far from here," he scoffed.

Turning my face to him, I lowered my eyes and muttered, "Oh."

Lifting my eyes once more, I could see his stuck on mine before falling down to my mouth.

I hardly scraped my teeth against my lower lip when he angrily jumped from his chair with his phone in hand.

*

After a silent and brief car ride, Kyle stopped the car as close to the curb as he could get in mid-day traffic. With haste, Mr. Leoné yanked at the door handle and pushed his way outside. He stood by the open door and impatiently gestured with his eyes that I follow suit. I casually did so and took in the new view of a building I had passed all the time, but never planned on entering. I wouldn't have guessed that the establishment with a name that brought a little smile to my face each time would be a favorite of Leoné.

"Confection."

However, I didn't have too much time to soak in all the decors little hints of blue white and red, while the big boss began to stalk inside.

Once again, another door was impatiently held for me. As soon as I stepped through, I took sight of the middle-aged hostess, dressed in a black, knee-length dress asked with a pair of lovely bright blue eyes.

With a heavy accent she greeted, "Ah, bonjour, Monsieur Leoné. Holding another meeting here today?"

"Oui," he grunted, forcing half of a smile.

She was still warm. "Wonderful. Should I anticipate any more guests?"

"No," he answered with discomfort. "Just a table for two."

Her attention immediately shifted to me, and I returned a closed-mouth smile.

"Oh, I see," she nodded with slight embarrassment, obviously from not noticing me before.

We followed her to a set of stairs and ascended into a lovely outdoor seating on the restaurant's balcony. It was a cute table for two, covered with a fine linen, scalloped table cloth with a candle centerpiece. The day must have been slow for the establishment; we passed about four patrons on the bottom floor were no other patrons on the top, apart from the dark-haired man talking on his phone while overseeing two very small children as they ate.

This place was way out of my league, but I felt a little at ease when the hostess returned and smiled at me as my boss pulled out my chair.

When he finally planted himself across from me, she clasped her hands together and began, "Would you and your guest like usual, Monsieur. Leoné?"

He was already concentrating on unfurling his napkin as he responded, "I'd... we would like to see a menu today, please."

My head was tilted while I watched her surprise morph into joy.

But before she could flutter away, I stopped her and sweetly smiled, "Actually, I think I'll let Mr. Leoné decide what we should have. I think I like the sound of this usual."

She and I looked to him to find him glaring at me. To me, there was no reason for him to be so visibly upset, since my smile and tone were sincere. But with frustration he nodded to our hostess and she was walking away with a perturbed, yet intrigued, facade.

He loudly forced air from his nose and anchored his elbows on the table. I tilted my head, scrutinizing his anger. I could have swore my eyes were screaming of innocence, and my confusion was evident.

"I thought you wanted to choose what you wanted to eat," he said with an indignant undertone.

I turned away to look to the city life under the afternoon sun, and sighed, "I only said I wanted to eat outside."

"And now we're all the way out here," he added through his teeth.

"Yes, a place you chose... not me," I indifferently reminded him.

"You said–"

My head switched back to him, "I said... I wanted to eat outside."

"You don't want to eat here?" he asked sharply, redness surfacing again.

Looking around, I told him, "I don't know this place. I can't normally afford to sift what looks like a four-star restaurant into my dining schedules."

"Then you should have said where you wanted to eat... outside," he growled.

"How reactive of you..." I smirked. "....when you tried to be so proactive, just moments ago."

"Reactive?" he asked with a lifted brow.

I slumped my shoulders. "It sounds like you're blaming me that we're suddenly sitting at what seems to be a frequent stop for you."

The angry man was doing what he did best, boasting his credentials. "I'm a very successful businessman. I am far from reactive."

"Okay," I lightly shrugged with a smile. "How are you going to prove that to me?"

He was quiet, as I expected. I leaned back in my chair and looked up to the ceiling. "How about we both be proactive by asking each other random questions to get to know each other better?"

He rolled his eyes, "What have I said about–"

"Not being reactive?" I interjected with a bigger smile. "I'll start. How old are you Mr. Leoné?"

"Thirty-one," he quickly answered with a twitch underneath his eye.

"Your turn," I peeped.

"How do you like your new furniture?" he smirked.

I felt my own twitches around my face, but answered, "I think the landlord's taste is a bit tacky, but my cat loves it. With anything new, she just loves clawing right into to it, you know? It's like some primal, ownership kind of thing."

He didn't look too happy, and I was feeding off of his uneasiness.

"Where is president Baddone?" I asked next.

His eyes shifted down to the centerpiece and his answer was quick, "The president is vacationing out of the country at the moment. Why do her whereabouts spark of any interest to you?"

I smiled, "Just wanting to know where the president of the company I work for is. That's all. She seems pretty nice. Will we ever be working with her? "

"No," he immediately answered.

"Why?"

"Because I said so," he finished with even more irritation.

I lifted both brows to him, and he snipped, "What?"

"It was your turn to ask a question, but you just did... and then I just answered so now it's my turn again..." I faded before showing a big smile. "... when will the new landlord be taking over for my building?"

I knew the topic would put a deliciously evil smile on his face, "In less than forty-eight hours, he will be an official holder of the building. Do you think that will be too soon for the tenants?"

"It all depends, but I do think they would like to get to know who they will need to report to when they need share concerns about their living arrangements and their belongings. No one would want to be under the control of a person who could easily throw them or their things out when they feel like it."

"You have a point, but that shouldn't happen when the one in command is obeyed. It's not difficult to follow the rules. Does this fact about obedience bother you?" he grinned.

I returned the expression with more enthusiasm. "Oh, no! Not at all. In fact, I think I would have anticipated that the new landlord be one to rule with an iron fist. Although... I do have one last question about him."

He slowly tucked his chin, and I leaned in towards the table. Insecurely, I looked around us before shaking my head and quietly giggling to myself.

Finally, I locked eyes with him and whispered, "You see, I've met this landlord on a handful of occasions. He's really aggressive with his tone and seems to demand perfection. However... he's easily thrown off by somethings that I can't explain. So, what do you think I should do?"

"You should not ask him any artless questions and simply do what he asks of you," he grunted. "Just as I said in my aforementioned statement."

I cringed, with a sad expression. "But you see, that's just the thing. I can't just obey because he's just so... confusing, you know?"

Mr. Leoné quickly shot, "How is he confusing?"

Quickly, I sat up and straightened my face. "Because I don't know if he wants me to call him Mr. Leoné or Ezra behind closed doors."

The more his confidence faded, the more mine grew in the form of a smile. The color in his face gave him more character than I'm sure he understood, and he turned away to stare at the admirable city view.

I turned to smile at the hostess traveling beside the waiter who balanced a tray of our food with one hand.

"One Sole Meunière for monsieur and another for the mademoiselle," she said with such contagious pep. "Is there an occasion?"

My boss immediately looked up to her with annoyance, but I had already drawn her attention when I chimed, "Oh, no not at all. I'm just his intern."

She left us with a nod of compliance, and I turned my attention back to the incensed man.

"Well, this looks and smells amazing," I announced, while unraveling my napkin.

But when he didn't move, I pouted, "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're stressed out. You know what happens when we worry about things? You can lose your appetite for extensive periods of time. Crazy how that works, huh?"

I could see that I had fed him well through the fire that was visibly burning behind his chest, but my pyromania hadn't been quenched until I looked him in the eyes and said, "God... it's insane how hungry I am, right now."