Goodbye for now

Utterly Bitter Gold

"Who was that?" I ask Rio as I raise the fork to my mouth. He's been silent since he returned home to find me cooking dinner. He's giving me no indication that he's going to answer me so I continue, "a friend?" He makes a displeased face. He's offended that I would even suggest that he'd be friends with that man. "A colleague," he replies simply. "This is really good," he murmurs around his fork. Rio has never been shy to compliment me. I blush and tell him about how I found the recipe and made adjustments to it. I'm glad he likes it. If there's anyone on this planet that I want to make proud; it's him. "You should talk to your sister. She misses you." Oh. I forgot about that. I guess I should want to make her proud too.

Rio wants to stay up late tonight. He sits behind a giant sturdy desk with papers strewn all around. His new burner phone has been pinging non-stop. Something big is going down tonight. He's told me over and over again to go back to bed, that I need my sleep, and he'll join me when he's done. When I drag the heavy duvet to the office and settle myself on the brown leather couch he quickly escorts me straight back to bed after sighing annoyedly. He walks out of the bedroom and returns carrying a glass of orange juice. I suck in a huge gulp and almost throw the glass across the room when the extremely bitter taste hits my tongue. My face scrunches up in utter disgust. Rio grabs the glass before I can knock it away and clasps it firmly within my hold, his hand coats mine. "What is that?" I sputter trying to get the taste off my tongue.

"Something to help you sleep" I stare down at the tiny blue flecks that float to the top. My stomach churns at having to drink the rest of it. "You're drugging me?" I ask meekly not letting my gaze meet his. "Yeah, and you're gonna drink it all." My stomach almost throws up. I look up at him, face twisted in disgust. "The other option involves a cage" I rear away from him, almost spilling the glass in our joint hands. His face remains apathetic at my reaction.

"Drink it," he urges the glass closer to my face, keeping his voice gentle. "You freaking yourself out, ma. You ain't been sleeping," he whispers as he lifts the glass to my lips. And just like that, I obey him. I lift our joint hands, mine shaking very slightly. I gulp it down quickly. Not wanting the taste to stay on my tongue for too long. He watches me intently as I drink. "Good," he murmurs as he draws the glass away. I lick the bitter flecks off of my top lip.

"You won't be bothering me tonight," he says as he shuts off the light. "Yeah" I respond quietly as he tucks me back into bed then comes to settle himself too. Curling his body around mine. I don't instantly get knocked out and my mind just slightly feels off-kilter. Though I do feel ready to drift off soon. I use this as my liquid courage. I say something I'll probably regret in the morning.

"I was so scared that you had been hurt somehow and I could do nothing to help you." He draws in a long breath not really wanting to answer me. "You think I don't get scared? You think it's easy at the top, huh. It's all on me to know when shit's going down so that you don't need to worry that pretty little head. Because I don't ever feel emotions, huh. I'm unbreakable, never got doubts, don't regret nothing and I'm always in control, huh. That's what you think, mama? I don't need no rest. I don't get no breaks... I need you to understand me, ma." He twists me around to face him.

He takes my hand and puts it on his chest. His heart is beating wildly under his warm skin. I shiver a little when he brings his face close to mine. "I'm just like you... I'm human too" his lips brush across mine as he speaks. His eyes round sending me silent pleas. "I know you're human" is my lame reply. I don't know how to answer his openness. "You sure as hell don't act like it" he murmurs as he pulls my face into his chest. Bringing me into an unbreakable embrace. "Don't you have work to do?" Ain't no rest for the wicked. "I'll get to it in the morning," he shuts down the conversation and soon he's breathing slows and steadies as he falls under.

I guess the wicked also need sleep.

The view from up here is amazing. It's breathtaking. Rio came home and asked me if I wanted out of the apartment. I haven't been out of here since I arrived. All errands, like groceries, have been taken care of by anyone other than me. That's the only time his men ever leave. They sleep in shifts. They make sure that at least two of them are awake and guarding at all times. I'm pretty sure I saw them play "Rock, Paper, Scissors" to see who unfortunately needs to stay up all night.

I eagerly said yes to Rio. He brought me up to the roof where two reclined lounge chairs awaited. The city buzzes below us as people rush home from work ready to start their weekends off with a bang. I'm on top of the world. Rio owns this city and I get to sit on the throne as his queen. We're so close to the clouds I swear I could touch them. Rio hands me a sweet delicious fruity drink in a glass that is bigger than my head. I suck it down greedily and bask in the tropical flavors that satiate the thirst inside me.

He's pleased that I enjoy the drink. His eyes sparkle back at me. He takes a sip of his own equally as big glass. He looks like he wants to say something to me but he's holding himself back. I already know what he wants to say. That he's hiding something. "Your eyes give you away" I whisper to him. He looks like a god. The afternoon light dances off his caramel skin. Outlining the silhouette of his profile. His breaths come in slow and evenly paced. He gives me a bemused look for a second before realization clicks in his eyes, "everyone's hiding something." He says it so simply as if it's common knowledge. I guess he has more street smarts than I will ever have.

Curiosity burns at me. I'm unable to resist. I've been wondering this since he came back. I steady my breathing in order to get ready to ask him the most ridiculous question I've ever thought of. "Do your skeletons dance?" I'm grateful when he doesn't look at me like I'm an idiot. Like I've grown four heads. Instead he snickers. Not like it's a hilarious joke. No, there isn't any humor in his eyes. It's the kind of laugh that you give when you know everything has gone to shit but there's nothing you can do about it. So you laugh with your arms clutching your stomach. Laugh hysterically because it will soothe away the pain. Dark jokes are popular for a reason.

"Nah... they're coated in gold."