Chapter 4

I contacted my boyfriend Brian last night after learning the horrible news that I had been rejected for yet another job. I asked if he would want to come or if I could. I admitted that I was a little anxious and needed to see him. He repeatedly apologized but said he had a soccer match. Brian plays soccer. 

His hard comb over fade and sandy two-tone hair is styled very much like a soccer player's. Due to the sport, his body is slim but not defined with curved muscles. His white-toothed grin, which has enchanted me since day one, is his best feature. 

I was able to appreciate his passion for his sport and the scholarship money he received while not playing on a top-level team, so I couldn't be mad at him for taking it so seriously. He will participate in friendly leagues to keep his craft sharp and at its top level. He occasionally had "meets" on Sundays. 

I assured him it was alright and then sobbed myself to sleep. 

I was resolute when I woke up today. After showering, I applied a cream to keep my curls natural. Although I don't wear makeup, I do mascara on my lashes, mainly because they are long and tend to curl into my eyes without it. I wasn't attending any job interviews, but I planned to look into minimum wage employment like Dunkin Donuts in my area. I can't be picky when I need money so badly.

I dressed in this two-piece outfit, which included cotton high-waisted design shorts and a simple white tube top that matched the pattern on the back of the shorts. It's not spectacular, but it's also not a mess. I only required a pair of sandals for footwear. 

I left my bedroom with my head held high and bypassed the breakfast I knew wasn't in the fridge. When no one was there last night, I ate dry cereal because I was ashamed to admit how unfortunate I was. 

Amar grinned and said good morning as he left his bedroom for class. I walked out the front door with my head held high and said, "Hello, Amar, have a good day." 

Since I no longer have bus money, I must walk to every location I plan to visit today. That would be the Dunkin Donuts near my flat, the Burger King near the train station, or a place closer to downtown Denton, where fast food restaurants are hiring all the time in some capacity. I was moved by walking.

Even though the neighborhood around Sullivan Square was undesirable, I decided to go down to the Haymarket neighborhood near downtown and City Hall and then onto Washington Street to the Wendy's, but they weren't hiring. When I realized how much more work I would have to put in to make ends meet, the salary levels were terrible to me. I was so worn out by late afternoon that I had no hope of ever walking home. 

That was wise because I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, and these sandals would blister. Fantastic job, Samantha. Never before have I felt as exposed and terrified as I do now. Where would I get my next meal? Rent? 

When I considered lunch, I remembered Carlos, the homeless man I met the previous week. He also seemed hopeless. That could be the kinship I noticed in his eyes. At the restaurant, we purchased that lunch...Although I couldn't recall the name, I could recall Leonard and his offer to help. 

I can't believe I am thinking about it, but I need something wrong. I'll think about it if the money is worthwhile. I've got to. 

I forced myself to move forward because I knew where the restaurant was but not its name. I continued beyond the skyscrapers until I reached the lower brick buildings, where I could see the location. Maximo's.

When I enter, what will I do? What ought I to say? He is not even employed here. My God. I almost went back along that city sidewalk where I had come from because of my nerves, but my pride stopped me. I cannot owe money, and I cannot rely on my parents. Not from me. Couldn't. 

When I approached the restaurant, I saw that it was open this time. The heavy burgundy curtains were fastened at the corners, allowing me to view the customers dining and chatting animatedly. I noticed a line next to the bar counter, which was made up of people waiting to pick up orders to go. "Marco? Is there a Marco here? Somewhere behind the counter, I overheard a shout. For me to see above that many people, I am too short. 

I lingered at the hostess's desk while trying to devise a plan of action. When she approached the desk, a young woman with thick hair that swayed when she walked grinned at me with a server's grin. She asked me with expectation, "Are you looking for a table, or am I here for a pick-up?"

You will anticipate that I will place an order if I request a table. I lack the funds to cover that. I took a deep breath in and just started doing it. 

I wrung my fingers and said, "I'm here for Leonard," thinking she would recognize the name. She peered over her shoulder for some reason as her brows wrinkled. She addressed the man with kindness rather than snobbery, saying, "He doesn't work here,darling." 

He stated that his brother would, I believe. I sputtered. Who said what? I was unable to recall. An "Oh, Matteo?" She inquired, her face looking understanding. What more was there for me to do but nod? 

She gestured for "one second" before turning and going to those rear doors. She possesses the broad hips my mother's family is known for. 

To imagine the scene of this location when it is open, well-lit, and filled with customers, I cast my gaze throughout the space. Little candles were placed amid the strewn tables, although none were lit now; this is probably an evening custom. They primarily fulfill pick-up orders because everyone who works nearby must like the cuisine. 

It had a wonderful aroma. Thirst made my stomach rumble.

Over the top shelf, the bar appeared to be glowing. Again using strategic lighting to effectively market. I focused on a man who appeared to be heading in my direction. He was dressed casually in a suit. Brown button-down shirt with rolled sleeves, no tie, and the top few buttons were undone; dark pants. He had brown eyes and dark hair. Beautiful as hell. 

His eyes examined my appearance and likely attempted to identify me. Leonard probably has a gazillion chicks chasing after him. How was it that he couldn't? His manner alone is fascinating. His classy but distant demeanor. He is the kind of man you want to catch the attention of. In a crowded place, you want his eyes to latch upon yours. 

I'm Matteo, Leonard's brother. Hello. The man approached me and stood at the hostess counter, saying, "I heard you were looking for him. "Hello, yes. I shook his hand and said, "I'm Samantha. I've shocked a lot of hands while looking for work. As he looked me up and down again, the man's mouth tipped slightly in the corner. He shook my hand after placing his warm hand in mine.

Hello, Samantha." What the hell do you want with my brother, I must ask? He grinned as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "You aren't his usual...company. He reminded me of Leonard in that stance. He was handsome, yet not as stunningly attractive as his brother. 

When he referred to me as his "company," my gut tightened. It's almost as if a ton of girls come here looking for him, and poor Matteo has to shoo them away like flies. I was speechless, and my cheeks were burning red. 

Oh, he gave me a job, but I don't have his contact info, so I had to come here...where I first met him," I rubbed my head, realizing I was speaking like a complete moron. In a job interview, I would not be performing well at all. 

The man focused on my face during my speech, but later, he gave me another glance. It appeared almost as though he was trying to solve a puzzle. "Dancer?" He inquired. "Huh?" I couldn't grasp it. His disarming smile made him chuckle. 

Matteo pulled his phone from his pocket, pressed a few keys, and then looked up at me while craning his head to see the phone. He glanced at the screen quickly when it pinged and slid the phone back into his pants pocket. Black pants and a brown top. Not at all, unlike his brother the other day.

The man's dark eyes focused briefly on me before saying, "He says he's on his way." When he observed my anxious behavior, his mouth turned up in amusement. Even though I knew I was here to meet Leonard, the mere thought of him approaching made my stomach tighten, and my cheeks heat up. I can't help it; I'm acting ridiculous. 

Have a seat, Samantha, and feel free to order any food or beverages "on the house," said Matteo. My stomach was itching for food, and I wanted to lurch. But that would be very impolite. I once purchased a meal from here. I won't do it once again. 

He showed me to a vacant booth, and I thanked him. He shocked me by taking the seat across from me after I slid across the leather upholstery. I believed he was sending his brother and leaving me here. 

My soft voice strained to be heard above the chatter of the customers already present who were enjoying themselves or the screams of names being called for pick-up orders. Matteo stood with his hands clasped over the table and a further deceptive grin on his face. Thank you. Have you visited this location before? His brother didn't bring up my name. Why, do you suppose?

"Once. As your brother entered the area, he observed me giving a homeless man some cash so he could buy a meal. I hastily explained: "He offered to provide the man a spaghetti dish and pay me the bus money I'd given the man back. Dark brows rose into Matteo's hairline. He questioned, "Leonard ?" I said with an "Um, yes" nod. 

He had a deep laugh that wasn't highly stern like his brother's voice. He rubbed his chin and said, "That's new for him. Another tiny distinction between the two brothers is that he is clean-shaven. The question "What is?" My head tilted. 

He observed the forward fall of my hair before turning his attention back to me and saying, "Uh, doing a decent thing." That remark persisted. Leonard claimed he wasn't kind, so I should have taken him at his word. Yet why? He is certainly quite serious, but is he genuinely awful? He made me a job offer. I thought it was kind of him. 

"From where do you get that gorgeous hair?" Before I could ask more questions about his brother's "decency," Matteo changed the subject. I caressed my hair as if I didn't know what would be there. I inherited my mother's thickness and my father's curls. 

His eyes appeared to be once more examining me. The question "What ethnicity are you?" I frequently receive that query. I have a somewhat exotic appearance while being 'white' if that's even the right word to use.

"I'm from Portugal. Although my parents immigrated from there, I was born here. Before he could continue, his gaze shifted to something behind me, causing me to look back to see what it was. The sight of Leonard entering sent a shiver down my spine.