Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) by E. J. Fechenda Page A
Authors: E. J. Fechenda
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kicking in, reducing my hangover headache to a dull
roar, so I wasn’t a total mess.
It wasn’t until we were on the elevator that Dom
broke the silence. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh yeah, I want something greasy and bacon
definitely needs to be involved.”
Dom laughed at my answer. “Alright, I know just the
place.” We walked out of the front of the hotel and I was surprised when we
passed the valet desk and kept on going.
“We’re walking?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. Did you want to take
the car?”
“No, let’s walk. It’s just that you tend to drive
everywhere.”
“We’re only going a few blocks.”
I was happy we were going on foot. It was a perfect
Sunday morning in May and with a light breeze that filtered through bright
green leaves on the trees. A lot of people were out and about checking out the
museums and fountains on the parkway. We strolled down 17 th Street
at a leisurely pace, window shopping and chatting about random things. Dom
walked on the outside, closest the street, but kept by my side; not quite
touching, but occasionally brushing up against me.
“Where are we going for brunch?” I asked.
“It’s not a fancy place, but they definitely have
bacon.”
“That’s fine, I don’t need fancy you know that.”
Dom smiled at me. “Yeah, I always liked that about
you.” I shook my head and laughed because when we first started dating last
year, Dom was always trying to impress me by taking me to upscale restaurants
where I at first felt underdressed and overwhelmed. I got used to being on his
arm and the respect he received, but he learned I was more content with him
cooking dinner for me at home or eating a kitchen-side prepared meal at
Franco’s.
We walked a couple more blocks until we reached a
small corner diner. Dom held the door open for me and I entered the unassuming
restaurant. The aroma of coffee, bacon and fried potatoes hung in the slightly
smoky air. A counter ran along the left side of the space and there were a few
unoccupied stools. There were about ten booths total in the place, two up by
the window and the remaining were along the right wall. One in the back corner
near the restrooms was the only one available. Streaks of sudsy water indicated
the tabletop had been recently wiped down and even the salt and pepper shakers,
plus assortment of condiments were clean, absent the usual sticky fingerprints.
Dom sat down across from me and stretched his legs out, forcing my feet apart
slightly to accommodate. He smirked up at me letting me know he was
deliberately in my space. The man was persistent, but I also think he knew
every time he touched me, I wanted to jump him. Instead of getting lost in his
green eyes, I focused on the menu.
An older woman with short salt and pepper hair came
over to take our drink orders. Her name was Irene, according to her name tag,
not because she introduced herself. Dom ordered coffee and I ordered a diet
coke and a glass of water. I resumed looking over the menu even though I
already knew what I wanted. Dom nudged a foot against mine causing me to glance
up.
“Do you know what you want?” he asked.
“You,” I wanted to say, but just nodded and
folded the laminated menu closed, placing it on the edge of our table.
Irene returned with our drinks and retrieved a small
note pad from the pocket of her half-apron to write down our order. Dom ordered
a ham and cheese omelet with a side of toast and hash browns. I ordered a
turkey club, which had the requisite bacon, and a side of French fries. Grease
was definitely called for this morning.
When were about halfway through our meal, I took a
sip of diet coke to wet my suddenly dry throat. “So, what did you want to talk
to me about?” I asked Dom.
Setting his fork down, he wiped his mouth with a
paper napkin before answering my question with a question. “Do you still have
an interest in teaching?”
That was not
roar, so I wasn’t a total mess.
It wasn’t until we were on the elevator that Dom
broke the silence. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh yeah, I want something greasy and bacon
definitely needs to be involved.”
Dom laughed at my answer. “Alright, I know just the
place.” We walked out of the front of the hotel and I was surprised when we
passed the valet desk and kept on going.
“We’re walking?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. Did you want to take
the car?”
“No, let’s walk. It’s just that you tend to drive
everywhere.”
“We’re only going a few blocks.”
I was happy we were going on foot. It was a perfect
Sunday morning in May and with a light breeze that filtered through bright
green leaves on the trees. A lot of people were out and about checking out the
museums and fountains on the parkway. We strolled down 17 th Street
at a leisurely pace, window shopping and chatting about random things. Dom
walked on the outside, closest the street, but kept by my side; not quite
touching, but occasionally brushing up against me.
“Where are we going for brunch?” I asked.
“It’s not a fancy place, but they definitely have
bacon.”
“That’s fine, I don’t need fancy you know that.”
Dom smiled at me. “Yeah, I always liked that about
you.” I shook my head and laughed because when we first started dating last
year, Dom was always trying to impress me by taking me to upscale restaurants
where I at first felt underdressed and overwhelmed. I got used to being on his
arm and the respect he received, but he learned I was more content with him
cooking dinner for me at home or eating a kitchen-side prepared meal at
Franco’s.
We walked a couple more blocks until we reached a
small corner diner. Dom held the door open for me and I entered the unassuming
restaurant. The aroma of coffee, bacon and fried potatoes hung in the slightly
smoky air. A counter ran along the left side of the space and there were a few
unoccupied stools. There were about ten booths total in the place, two up by
the window and the remaining were along the right wall. One in the back corner
near the restrooms was the only one available. Streaks of sudsy water indicated
the tabletop had been recently wiped down and even the salt and pepper shakers,
plus assortment of condiments were clean, absent the usual sticky fingerprints.
Dom sat down across from me and stretched his legs out, forcing my feet apart
slightly to accommodate. He smirked up at me letting me know he was
deliberately in my space. The man was persistent, but I also think he knew
every time he touched me, I wanted to jump him. Instead of getting lost in his
green eyes, I focused on the menu.
An older woman with short salt and pepper hair came
over to take our drink orders. Her name was Irene, according to her name tag,
not because she introduced herself. Dom ordered coffee and I ordered a diet
coke and a glass of water. I resumed looking over the menu even though I
already knew what I wanted. Dom nudged a foot against mine causing me to glance
up.
“Do you know what you want?” he asked.
“You,” I wanted to say, but just nodded and
folded the laminated menu closed, placing it on the edge of our table.
Irene returned with our drinks and retrieved a small
note pad from the pocket of her half-apron to write down our order. Dom ordered
a ham and cheese omelet with a side of toast and hash browns. I ordered a
turkey club, which had the requisite bacon, and a side of French fries. Grease
was definitely called for this morning.
When were about halfway through our meal, I took a
sip of diet coke to wet my suddenly dry throat. “So, what did you want to talk
to me about?” I asked Dom.
Setting his fork down, he wiped his mouth with a
paper napkin before answering my question with a question. “Do you still have
an interest in teaching?”
That was not
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