Romeo of the Streets by Taylor Hill Page B

working tonight after all then. Which meant that Romeo wanted to see me alone…
    “Ok, so I’m here,” I said, approaching him from the side at his table. “What do you want, Romeo?”
    He turned his head slowly and looked up at me, appraising me so carefully and casually that I was almost sure he was drawing it out for his own amusement, just to get under my skin. He gestured to the seat across from him in the booth. “Sit,” he said.
    I sat down gruffly, not even taking off my denim jacket first.
    “You want a drink?” Romeo asked, his voice as rich and deep and cool as ever. I had to remind myself that I was technically negotiating with the enemy here and couldn’t let myself succumb to his charms, no matter how natural it might have felt.
    “No,” I said.
    Romeo shrugged casually and then turned to a passing waitress. “Hey,” he called, “get me another pitcher of ginger ale and two glasses.”
    “Sure hon’,” the waitress said and went back to the bar.
    I stared at Romeo across the table. “I said I didn’t want a drink.”
    “I know,” Romeo smiled, “I’m extra thirsty tonight.”
    I sighed, beginning to feel a little fed up wondering what this guy wanted from me, never knowing where I stood with him. Yes, he was incredibly handsome and was probably fighting off the other girls wherever he went, but that didn’t give him any right to toy with me like this. Did he not know the effect it had on me, even just to be in his presence? I wasn’t particularly experienced with love, sex or romance in general, but I had a feeling that any girl would revert to an anxious, giggling mess in his company. Surely he knew that?
    “Why did you ask me here?” I said.
    “Lou’s pretty upset about Lisa.”
    “Lisa’s pretty upset about Lou,” I replied, matter-of-factly.
    The waitress returned with the jug of ginger ale and asked us if we wanted anything else. “Sure,” Romeo said, his eyes on me, “bring us a basket of fries, to share. Wait… actually, make those twisty fries.”
    “You got it,” she said and disappeared as Romeo poured a glass of ginger ale and, without asking, passed it over to me.
    I looked at it for a second and then snorted reluctant laughter. “You’re unbelievable,” I said, taking the glass and bringing the tip of the straw to my mouth to drink. It was cold, sweet and earthily rich to taste—kind of like how Romeo himself might be, the thought occurring before I had a chance to suppress it.
    He shrugged. “Lisa has every right to be upset,” he said. “it’s a shame she had to see us there that night. I don’t want you two to ever come close to that stuff.”
    “It’s a shame she had to see you there, or a shame that you were there in the first place?” I asked, leaning forward. I wasn’t going to let him act like the chivalrous hero in this situation, not when he was just as complicit in what had happened that night as the other guys.
    “Both,” he said, “if I had my way we wouldn’t have been there at all—but that’s just not the way it is.”
    “Yeah, right,” I said folding my arms, “as if you didn’t have a choice.”
    Romeo levelled those deep eyes at me and for a split-second I was lost in them. Lost and suddenly certain that there really was more to him than this swaggering gangster persona he affected. “Maybe I had a choice once,” he said, “but that was a long time ago. Now, if I don’t do what I have to do, people get hurt. There is no choice.”
    The waitress arrived back with the fries and neither me nor Romeo looked up to acknowledge her, so she left the basket between us without a word, obviously wise enough not to interrupt whatever deep conversation was taking place at our table.
    “Hurt?” I asked, reaching out to grab a couple of twisty fries, “you mean like Pete Van Diem and those football players got hurt?”
    Romeo smiled. “Oh come on Sandy, don’t tell me you actually feel bad for those guys? They’re drug