The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 5 - The Boss

The cool, early-summer breeze hit me as soon as I stepped onto the pavement, and I immediately felt better. Until I noticed him waiting for me on the opposite side of the street like a great, towering marble statue. He made his way over through the stream of people, and I stuffed my hands in my vest pockets, mentally preparing myself to say my piece about Sosa. I mean, Stephanie!

"I saw what happened," he says in his brisk tone before I even have a chance to open my mouth. "I got you some water and pastizzi. I didn't know which ones you prefer, so I got two of each." 

He held up a greasy white paper bag and two bottles of cold water. My mind went back to the conversation Sosa and I had had earlier in the bar, and the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach returned.

Maybe I shouldn't have let Derek take her away like that. I checked my phone. No texts yet. No calls either. I turned my attention back to the task at hand: Mr Cordina and his bag of treats.

"Thank you. You didn't have to," I said quickly as I tried to focus on what I really wanted to say. "Listen, I know what it must have looked like back there, but Stephanie is just having a rough night and—"

"Don't worry about it. It's none of my business," he shrugs. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. None of his business? Who was this man, and what had he done with The Boss? 

"Whatever you do when you're not at work is none of my business," he corrects, a cheeky glimmer lighting up his eyes.

Oh, Superman read minds too!

My little bubble of rage quivered inside me, but I managed to hold my tongue, remembering how rude I had been earlier. I didn't want to push my luck. I checked my phone again. Still nothing from Sosa or Derek.

"Call her," Mr Cordina prompted. "It's no use worrying. Just call her."

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I dialled her number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

"Hello?" Sosa's voice chimed into my ear.

I sighed out a breath of relief. "Hey, it's me. Are you okay? Are you home?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I'm sorry. I'm still with Derek." She sounded better. Calmer. "Can I call you back?"

"Oh," I said, taken aback. "Uh... Yes, sure. Of course."

"Don't worry, we're just talking." I felt her smiling on the other end of the line, and I automatically smiled back, comforted by the thought that she was safe and cheerful again. 

"All right. I'll call you tomorrow then. Bye."

I hung up.

"Is everything okay?"

I gasped, startled. I turned around to find Mr Cordina hovering close by. 

"You're still here. Yes, she's fine. They're talking," I added, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh.

"Talking?" he asks, raising a sceptical brow. Then, he made a face as if to say, If you say so. "Good. Now... pea cake?"

I stared back at him, completely nonplussed as I tried to wrap my head around the scene in front of me. The Boss — cold, ominous, distant, someone akin to a mythical creature — was standing a mere three feet away from me in the middle of Paceville, with a greasy bag in his hand and a hint of a smile on his lips.

His light blue, steely eyes were focused on me, like two ice-cold laser beams beneath his dark eyebrows. His pale skin was almost translucent under the neon lights, contrasting spectacularly with his black hair — a perfectly orchestrated mess on top of his head, the parting a perfectly straight line. He had a short stubble across his perfectly symmetrical face, which made him look older than I remembered. His slim-fitting shirt and light-coloured trousers enhanced how perfectly tall and lean he was, but they also made him stick out like a sore thumb against the throng of drunken young apes around us.