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My phone is old and busted. The charging symbol takes forever to come on. Every time it dies, I wonder if this will be the last time. I use all my restaurant money for rent and household expenses. Buying a new phone isn’t something I planned for. I almost laugh. How can I pay forty thousand if I can’t afford a new phone?
Finally, the screen blinks awake. I spring out of bed way too fast, way too eagerly. I need to control some of this hunger. It’s not wise for a person like me, with basically no experience, to rush headfirst into this, whateverthisis. The best-case scenario is that he’s a Good Samaritan who wants to help me, and that’s all. He’s not going to want me in the sudden, captivating way I want him.
His final text is asking to put protection on my house. I sit cross-legged on the floor near the socket. There’s one next to my bed, too, but it’s busted, like half the stuff in this place. I bite my lip, wondering if he’s awake. It’s almost four a.m.
But that would mean giving you my address,I text.
A reflexive smile spreads across my face when he begins to type a message in response almost immediately. A stranger’s text shouldn’t be able to light me up like this—a stranger who also happens to be a mob boss. It shouldn’t make me feel so sure he’s the man for me. It’s atext. I’ve been through too much to be so naïve.
We’ve been over this. I could get your address from the loan shark if we were working together, which we’re not. Just let me help you.
Why do you care about helping me so much?I reply.
As he types his response, I imagine him telling me it’s because he felt it, too. It wasn’t all in my head. A lightning bolt crashed into our lives the moment we laid eyes on each other. It electrified us. It connected us. It created something truly special between us.
Because it’s the right thing to do.
I shake my head.Please, Elio. I probably seem like a kid to you, but I’m not an idiot.
You don’t seem like a kid to me. You’re a nineteen-year-old woman. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. I don’t think you’re naïve, but it’s the truth. Helping you is the right thing to do; occasionally, even men like me need to do that.
So you’re just a Good Samaritan? Is that it?
Those three dots appear, disappear, and appear again. I torture myself by imagining all the things he could be typing, all the declarations of heat and possession.
Have you spoken to your mom about this?he asks.You said you were going to do that before you decided.
She was passed out when I got home.
Then wake her the hell up.I imagine his huge body trembling as he types this.This is important.
I know, but when she’s taken her meds, there’s no point waking her up anyway. She’ll be too groggy to understand what’s going on.
What about your dad? Have you heard from him?
I sigh, my chest getting tight as it often does when I think about what sort of father-daughter relationship other people might have.No, and I don’t think I will. When he vanishes, he never contacts us. He just comes home when he feels like it. Mom takes him back, like always. To be honest, I don’t think Dad even cares about me.
Oh, jeez. I’ve already clickedsend. Something about texting with him tears all my walls down, but I have to try to keep them up. I have to use my head, not my heart.
Why do you say that?he asks.
It’s too late now, and truthfully, I want to talk with him about this, even if it makes no sense.He’s never really shown me any love. I always get the feeling he didn’t want kids. I can’t remember him showing me any affection or support, even when I was little.
That’s goddamn unacceptable,Elio texts.A man should love and support his daughter.
Something thuds into me, a heavy fist of emotion. I didn’t even think about the very likely possibility that Elio might already have a girlfriend, a wife, and kids.Do you have children?
No,he replies.But I value family. It’s the most important thing. If I ever had a daughter, I’d be there for her. Always.
Closing my eyes, I caution myself to slow down. I shouldn’t let his words trigger a torrent of fantasy inside me. I shouldn’t think about the first time Elio holdsourdaughter, the love beaming from him, the look he’ll give me, both of us sharing in the perfection of the moment.
But we’re getting off topic,he goes on.You’re in danger, Scarlet. Right now. Being in the same apartment where that lowlife visited puts you at risk. I swear to you—I swear on my little brother, on my sick father, on my mother—I’m going to protect you. I’m not going to betray you. Please, trust me.
I bite down, knowing this could be a mistake, but also, he’s right, isn’t he? If theywereworking together, he could find me. Surely, a man like Elio has ways of finding this information anyway. Deep inside, something pulses. If I wanted to dance down Crazy Street, I’d think it was my womb, as if my fierce desire for a family with him is making me trust him.
Yeah, that’s nuts, but so is this. I’m typing out my address. I stop several times and try to drum some sense into myself. I keep going, on and on, until the full address is typed out. Hovering my thumb over thesendbutton, I try to convince myself one last time.
I don’t know this man. He’s a stranger. He’s acriminal. He could’ve lied about everything he’s said so far. So what if he swore on his family? These are just words. People can say anything they want, and yet I clicksendanyway.
