Revenge Is Best Served..

Dinner

The sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door woke me from my slumber. "Yes," I said yawning. How long was I out for?

"Can I come in?" Martha asked.

"Of course," I answered sitting up.

"Are you okay dear," she asked walking towards the tub. "You have been up here for a while now."

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep." I started getting up and she handed me a towel. "Thank you."

"Well, its almost dinner time so meet me in the kitchen once you've changed and I'll give you some fruits and juice until dinner is ready."

"Change? Into what?" I followed her to the bedroom and was surprised to see a few jeans, tank tops, blouses, and summer dresses across the king-sized bed. My mouth fell open and she answered before I asked.

"Mr. Shaw went out and got you a few things."

"Martha," I said sheepishly as I watched her arranging the already neatly placed outfits.

"Yes dear."

"Have you ever read Fifty Shades of Grey?" I covered my mouth as soon as the question left my lips but I had to know.

"I've heard about it. What of it?" she asked, finally looking in my direction.

Sitting on the couch that faced the bed, I sighed and held my head down. here goes? "Do you think he has a room like that and wants me for that purpose? Because I honestly can't understand what else hed want in return for bailing me out."

"Child look at me." She continued when I did with the smile of a proud mother. "If that was the case he would have said it, that man filters nothing. He's honest and straightforward, too much so sometimes if you ask me but he is kind, caring and has a good heart." She got off the edge of the bed and walked towards me. "One thing he could never do was admit when he liked someone. I'll see you in a bit dear." She patted me on the back again as if trying to reassure me, then left.

She closed the bedroom door and left me to my thoughts. Was she hinting that he liked me or was it just another part of her description of him? Did I want to know? I couldn't shake the Fifty Shades vibes that I was getting when I looked at the clothes he went out and got for me. Do men do that? Ten minutes of looking at the outfits and trying to ignore the lump in my throat, I decided to wear the black ripped skinny jeans, a white blouse, and black converse. 

Him knowing my clothes and shoe size was seriously creeping me out.

Finding the kitchen was an easy task as it was an open area. The size of it, however, took me by surprise. 

The cupboards and cabinets that lined the walls were all white and the countertops were black marble. The appliances were all the same brand and black. The island that stood in the middle had five stools behind it, with a variety of fruits on top of it. The floor seemed to reflect the ceiling and I wondered if I was really in a kitchen. There was no way a floor, not to mention a kitchen's floor be spotless but as I watched the chef I saw why. I have never seen someone as careful as he was, as clean and neat as he was, in a kitchen. I sat down at the island as I watched every one. 

"Here you go dear," Martha said setting a plate of fruits before me.

"Its Samantha or Sam," I said remembering that I hadn't introduced myself. "Or Sammie, if you like."

She smiled and leaned on the island. "Well Sammie, eat up. I have a few things to take care of but Lenny here will let you know when dinner is ready. When it is, please make your way to the dining room." She informed me, pointing to the archway that was off to the side and for the third time that day, she left me.

I ate the fruits and drank the juice as I watched the chef and a few others go about their duties.

"Lenny, we'll have dinner in here seeing that it will be just the two of us," a familiar deep voice said beside me.

"Sure thing Michael." 

I watched as the empty plate disappeared and was replaced by a full one. I looked at the masterpiece that was placed before me and like the young adult that I was, I wanted to take a picture of it. Before I could give it a second thought his name registered. Michael Maxwell. M & M, I couldn't help but smile.

"Care to share?" he asked annoyed.

After clearing my throat and nodding no I focused solely on the food.

"Back to being a mute, I see."

"I'm not a mute," I retorted. "And even if I couldn't speak that would have been very disrespectful."

"Oh really?" He looked at me pointedly. 

"Yes," I answered reaching for my fork.

"Hmm," he breathed out. "Then maybe I should apologize then?"

"That would be best," I said still avoiding his stare.

"Well, I apologize for assuming as you gave me the wrong impression. Now before I assume again, let me ask. Are you a liar?"

"What kind of question is that?" As he continued to stare, my head slowly moved on its own, up his arms, shoulders, then eventually to his face, meeting those brown eyes that stared into my very soul.

"The kind that deserves an answer," he said simply as he began to eat.

"I have lied, in the past," I admitted, "I think everyone has at least once in their life."

"How did you know Ramone?"

I immediately lost my appetite. "I didn't."

"I think you're lying. Now I see why they think you killed him."

"I didn't." The fear that had completely washed away made its appearance once more. Was he a friend of his? Did he think I killed him? Did he want to kill me? Was this all for revenge? 

As my chest began to constrict, it became very hard to breathe and I felt dizzy. Spots began to develop behind my eyelids and my vision became blurry and after a few seconds, I watched helplessly as my body met the floor.