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“Oh my God,” she groans.
“Need to be up early?”
She nods and takes a careful sip of the coffee.
I reach over the table and give her my hand. “I’m Christian, by the way. Russo. I’m so smitten I didn’t even introduce myself.”
She takes it and shakes it vigorously. “Kerry. Smitten?” She narrows her eyes, her small hand still holding mine.
I wrap my other hand around hers as well. She was warm in the club, but now her skin is a bit chilly. I lick my lips and her eyes dart to my mouth. Pushing down the predatory need to pull her little body to me, I smile. “Yeah. Smitten. Now, what’s making you drink the night away and having you talk to strangers because you broke your friends?”
“Oh… work stuff. I can’t really—” A tear wells up and trickles down her cheek. I reach out and stroke it away.
“What do you do for work?”
“I study behavioral science, and I do volunteer work at a center in a less fortunate neighborhood, a center for autistic children. It’s a sort of daycare setup, but most of them aren’t there every day. Some are, but some come by like once a week. We help train them with language, and simple tasks that the rest of us take for granted.”
“That’s admirable, Kerry.”
“Well, it’s where my heart lies. I couldn’t do anything else. We also have courses for the parents. Anyone is welcome. If you know anyone, I’ll give you the contact information. I always want people to spread the word. Do you have your phone? I can give you the phone number.”
I have to force myself not to gape. She met me a few minutes ago, and she’s already letting me know where I can reach her. She doesn’t need to give me her phone number, or address, I know it anyway. I know her home address, and her parents’ address as well. If I was the average Joe, though, and an ass, she’d just have given herself on a plate. Oh, girl. Too naive.
“I really don’t know anyone who’d need it… but sure.”
She gives me a phone number and an address I dutifully tap into my contact list. A list stock full of mobsters, and then an address to a community center for autistic children. I shake my head, amused.
“Thanks. So, do you like your work? Doesn’t it wear you out to study and work?”
“I have very little free time.”
“And yet here you are…”
She sighs. “I should have been in bed. But I had to numb my head. I felt like absolute shit today.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t wanna go there. I already nagged holes in my friends’ heads. Please let’s talk about something else.”
“What do you wanna talk about then?”
“Well, for instance, who are you, Mr. Mysterious?”
“I’m just a boring stockbroker who happened to need to numb his head too. Too much shit at work to even begin to describe.”
“You’re not married?” She glances at my left hand and then smacks her forehead. “I’m sorry. Foot in mouth.”
I laugh and flex my hand. “Nothing for me.” I nod at her own left hand. “Neither are you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let’s move on.”
I decide to steer the enticing little Miss Curious back to the matter at hand. “Tell me about your studies. Are you gonna work with kids when you grow up?”
She lets out a sigh and shoots me an embarrassed smile. “Yeah! Better topic. Again, sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. Studies?”
In the next half hour I learn everything there is to know about the center, her studies, autism, and working as a volunteer. She’s passionate, clearly intelligent, loving. I wince, and the heart I’ve considered blackened beyond repair suddenly aches a little. The difference between us couldn’t be greater. I kill people for a living. People run when they hear the name Christian Russo. I kill for the mob. I almost only kill trash, and feel no remorse, but sometimes someone else gets in the way, and I take no pleasure in that. I also can’t back out, or I’ll sooner or later be the one someone comes for. If it stands between me and some chick I don’t know, however sweet she may be, I’ll always choose me. There’s no need to be cruel, though. There can be pain, and there can be no pain. Of course I’ll let her go without pain.
