Sacrificia part six

“No,” he said as he hugged me to him and held me tight. “Stay. Stay and let me feel you around me, forever,” he sobbed in to my shoulder.

“Michael,” I sobbed too. “It wasn’t only me who was missing something was it?” I asked as tears fell down my cheeks.

“I was alone, so alone,” he cried. “Even friends faded and there was no one left that I could truly love. The second I touched you downstairs I felt like I was drawn to you. It’s like you were the world’s strongest magnet and only I was drawn to you.”

“I felt the same way,” I said as I slid off him but remained in his arms. He seethed as our skin separated. “Sorry. If I’d stayed on you any longer we’d have stuck together and bad embarrassing things happen that way.”

“Just don’t get up yet,” he begged.

“I don’t plan on it although I should go clean up. It would suck if I wound up pregnant the first time we were together,” I said.

“Don’t worry. I had a vasectomy about a century ago. I can’t get you pregnant.”

“I trust you, but I’m paranoid. Please let me go. I’ll be right back,” I assured.

“Ok,” Michael sighed as he let me go and I got up to go use the bathroom. I hurriedly cleaned myself up and went back in the bedroom. Michael was naked and straightening the bed when I came back. He threw our clothes towards the hamper and held up my lace underwear. It was torn to shreds. He found my bra a second later and it wasn’t much better. Both of the straps were broken and the clasp was torn.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I promise to replace them,” he said as he tossed them in the wastebasket next to my nightstand.

“You don’t have to. There’s something to be said for enthusiasm and endorphins. I wonder if anyone downstairs heard us.”

“Probably,” Michael said. “I didn’t know you were a screamer.”

“It’s been 4,000 years. Things have changed.”

“Yes, for the better,” he said as he finished straightening the sheets and came over to me. He kissed me again and I smiled and kissed him back. There was nothing sexual about it but kissing him at the moment it felt so right. Then it all went wrong. I started seizing and collapsed in Michael’s arms. He caught me and lowered me to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Seizures,” I managed to gag out.

“What kind of seizures?”

“Not epileptic or anything. My muscles just start shaking uncontrollably. I’ve had them forever. They get worse with stress. This is the second one I’ve had in two days.”

“Is there any medication you can take or anything I can do.”

“Just stay with me. Water sometimes helps but I can’t drink it without a straw at the moment.”

“Do you have any bottled water up here?” he asked.

“Bathroom cabinet,” I choked out, as the seizures got worse for a second. Michael disappeared and came back with a bottle of water and a bendy straw. He helped me sit up and held the straw to my lips. I sipped the water and took a bigger draw on the straw when I realized it was working, quickly.

Michael noticed too. “It’s dehydration,” he said as I drank more and more and my shaking lessened.

“Not entirely,” I said between gulps. “I drank about a liter of water yesterday morning before my seizure hit.”

“What did you do to drink that much water in one go?”

“I got drunk the night before, unintentionally. I drank a whole bottle of champagne by myself.”

“Chemical imbalance triggered by dehydration then. You would have had a seizure either way yesterday. You’ve got to drink water more regularly. How long ago did the seizures start?”

“I don’t remember a time without them. They get worse when I die but since I haven’t died in a while they are triggered more by stress now.”

“Three days without water when you die. Most people don’t survive more than six days without water in the best of situations. Have you ever had your blood tested for anything?”

“Twenty years ago. Tests showed that I appeared to be a perfectly healthy, and normal 17 year old, but we both know I’m not.”

“I know. How are you feeling?” he asked as I finished my water and my shaking subsided.

“Better,” I said with much less shaking.

“More water,” he said as he went to grab another bottle. He brought two and I finished them both and the shaking completely stopped.

“I’m better,” I laughed as I sat up on my own. “But damn it, now I have to pee.”

Michael laughed and helped me stand. I went to the bathroom on my own and grabbed another bottle of water on my way out. I sipped at it more slowly than the three previous. “Did you ever tell any doctor about your seizures?” Michael asked when I sat on the bed and he pulled on a pair of my sweats. They were purple and I snorted back laughter as he started putting my clothes away.

“Yes, but they couldn’t figure out why I had them when nothing showed up in my blood work or any of the other tests. The only test they didn’t perform on me was an MRI because of my cuffs. When I explained that I couldn’t take them off they scoffed at me, tried to remove themselves, and got burns for their troubles. One nurse got shocked so badly she went flying across the room. They stopped trying after that. What are you doing,” I asked as he continued cleaning.

“Trying to be a nice, courteous guest, who hopes to share your bed tonight,” Michael said sheepishly as he tossed a pair of jeans back in the basket. I laughed.

“Stop cleaning. I’m sorry to say that you can’t stay tonight. Bianca is staying for one more night and I’ve got plans to attend the festival and just crash.”

“I wouldn’t interfere with your plans, just tag along. I’ve got to go back to the hotel and get some of my stuff anyway so you would have a few minutes to yourself.  Please let me stay. As nice as that hotel is it’s nothing to your company.”

“Fine,” I sighed, “you can stay. Help me get dressed and we’ll go downstairs, see how things are going, and we can go to the festival for some shopping.”

Michael smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. “You may want to change too. Purple is not your color,” I laughed. Michael looked down and laughed at himself. I found an old pair of army surplus camouflage pants and a black t-shirt that was too big on me and gave them to him. He hopped in the shower while worked the knots out of my hair. He was fast and came out dressed before I’d finished my hair.

He helped me with the rest of it and even French braided it for me. I could have done it myself but it was a pain in the ass to do on a regular basis. I was still naked when he finished and had no idea what to wear. My leather pants were not an option because they needed cleaning and they would hurt after all the fun. Pants in a general would hurt. Michael decided for me while I was thinking.

He dug in the back of my closet and found a dress I hadn’t worn in a few years. It was empire waist number that was long and flowing and dyed to match my cuffs and eyes. He also pulled out a three quarter sleeve black sweater and a pair of black slippers to go with it.

I smiled and nodded at him in approval, he laid the dress on the bed and went to find underwear in my dresser. He found matching satin bra and underwear that matched the dress in the drawer. I offered to take it from him and put on myself and he shook his head no.

He helped me put the underwear on and kissed up my legs and held me against him while he was on his knees. I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair with pleasure at every touch. He slid my bra on next and was meticulous in its placement, brushing a finger here and kissing there. He then wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back against his front. He breathed along my neck and traced his hands over my bare skin and I shivered.

I turned in his arms and kissed him. When I came up for air I spoke. “We’re never going to get out of here if you keep touching me like that.”

“Hmm, what an appealing idea,” Michael purred.

“Naughty boy,” I purred in return as I ran my hand across the top of his pants. He grabbed my hand and growled playfully then spun me around so quickly I lost my balance and fell against him as he pulled my arm into a tight elbow lock. I yelped and ground myself against him. He kissed my ferociously and I bit his lip. He undid his pants with one hand while he held me. Then he let go of me and moved my underwear down enough to slide himself inside of me again. He lifted me once I was mounted and held me against one of the posts of my bed and fucked me hard and fast. I screamed for him quickly and orgasmed so much I soaked the front of his pants and still he pounded into me. I felt another orgasmic wave building and just when it became too much for me to hold back he let go and we orgasmed together, screaming.

When we were spent Michael collapsed to his knees and I went down with him and we sat in a puddle on the floor, panting. “Gods! Let’s get dressed and get out of here before I give in again,” Michael said. “You’re too delicious to resist.”

“You are too. I agree, but we must get some food and more water before getting too far,” I said.

“Food, water, clothes. Easy enough,” Michael said as he stood up and helped me. I pulled my underwear back up and pulled the dress on quickly and checked my hair. It was still good. I tossed a comb at Michael, grabbed my sweater and pulled on my shoes. Michael combed his still damp hair and put the comb back on the vanity. He un-tucked his shirt and let it hang over the drying stain of me and pulled on his boots.

“Are you sure you don’t want to change pants?” I asked.

“No. I want to remember,” he said with a smile, as he helped zip up my dress and kissed me again.

“Ah, no,” I said as she tried to kiss me again and I put a finger on his lips. “Water and food first. When we’re out in public you can kiss me all you want. The temptation to strip each other naked and fuck will be so much easier to resist when people can see us.”

“Alright,” Michael said as he took my hand and kissed it. I smiled and we walked downstairs. I pulled a one liter Nalgene© bottle out of one of the cabinets and filled it with the filtered water I kept in the fridge, taking a couple of gulps. Michael drank water straight out of the pitcher and found some of the leftover bacon from this morning. He chowed down and I ate a cinnamon bun. I stole a piece of bacon out of Michael’s hand and we both chuckled. Michael liked the frosting off my fingers and kissed me. We both drank a little more water and headed out into the store, laughing together.

The store was still busy but all of my employees stopped to stare at Michael and me. I turned red and broke into a fit of giggles. Michael joined me and hugged me then we stumbled towards the front of the store. I grabbed my purse on the way and Michael pulled me with him out the front door. We burst outside laughing and kissing.

There were stalls everywhere and wonderful displays of color and fantastic smells. Michael and I walked down Main Street holding hands and looking at everything. Michael bought us both cups of hard cider and sticky sweet caramel apples. I rented a wagon and filled it with a bushel of apples, six extra large apple pies, gallons of hard and regular cider, and my personal stock of the entire line of apple themed bath products and candles. I had to get another wagon just for the soaps, candles, lotions and other odds and ends for the store. Michael pulled the one for the store along happily as she walked beside me and looked around with me.

We stopped at one of the jewelry stalls, filled with sparkling silver and semiprecious stones. I looked at some of the rings and earrings. I tried on a bracelet or two and that’s when I spotted the necklace that wowed me. It was a huge opal set in silver with ten or fifteen smaller opals around it in a flowing organic shape. It looked like a chemical fire set in stone. I stared at it in its case and nearly left a nose print on the glass and kept fogging it up.

“Would you like to try it on?” the attendant behind the counter asked.

“No. No, I couldn’t,” I said. “I’d be too tempted to buy it.”

“Go ahead Gabriel. Try it on,” Michael said. “It can’t hurt.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced. The attendant unlocked the case and handed me the necklace carefully. Michael helped me put it on and turned me to face the mirror on the counter.

“Beautiful,” Michael said.

“It is,” I said. The necklace picked up the purple of the dress and glittered, drawing ones eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about the necklace,” Michael said. “We’ll take it and the matching earrings,” he added as he handed the girl a wad of cash. He helped me unhook the necklace and handed it to the girl, who put it in a fitted a box with the earrings and bagged the box in a nice velvet bag.

“Thank you, and have a nice day,” the girl said.

“Thank you and you have a nice day too,” Michael said as he took the bag. We walked out of the booth and gathered up our wagons. “Lets go back to the store,” he suggested.

“Why did you buy the necklace?” I asked.

“Because it belongs on you and I could, but I’ll wait for a special occasion to give it to you,” he answered as we headed around the corner, back to Main Street. We walked slowly, enjoying the afternoon.

I thought about what it meant for Michael to buy me jewelry even though we’d already slept together. Any man I’d ever had bought me jewelry had usually brought it as part of the wooing process to get me into bed or they gave it to me after only because it was classier than leaving a wad of cash on the bedside table. Most men didn’t bother with gifts or I left before they could do anything. One summer fling I’d had tried to give me jewelry to keep me from telling his wife but I told him that I wasn’t a two bit prostitute, dumped him, took the jewelry, and gave it to his wife, telling her in the process. It turned out that he was a bigger sleaze that I thought because the necklace he’d given me turned out to be the wife’s to begin with. They were divorced a year later. She wrote me regularly and I wrote her until she died.

Michael said he was saving the jewelry for a special occasion, which meant he was planning on sticking around for a while. I knew he wasn’t wooing me because we’d already slept together and he wasn’t paying me off like a hooker.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard,” Michael said as he noticed me trailing behind. “What are you thinking about?”

“You and what that jewelry means,” I answered.

“Ah,” Michael said. “You don’t know what a gift of jewelry really means when someone cares about you. You’ve never been given a gift from a man without there being an ulterior motive and you want to know what I mean by giving it to you. In my case it means that I like you, maybe even love you. It’s not about getting you in to bed or as a thank you for sleeping with me. It only means that I like you. I haven’t even given it to you yet anyway. Wait until I do, then you can dissect it’s meaning. Are you thirsty?” he asked, changing the subject as we passed a food and beverage stall.

“I could use a water,” I said.

“Water it is then,” he said passing the handle of the wagon he manned to me. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He ran over to the stall and bought me water. He came back and passed the water to me and took the handle of the wagon back and even took the other wagon from me. I drank some of my water.

“Let’s walk back to the store,” he suggested again and he began hauling both loaded wagons towards in the intersection where the festival ended and where my store was. I sipped my water and walked just ahead of Michael who looked like an advertisement for the army or some men’s cologne. I noticed that all the women between fifteen and 45 noticed him and even a few men. I smiled and stepped in line with him and kissed him on the cheek.

He stopped and let go of the wagons’ handles. They wouldn’t roll. The street was too flat. He smiled at me mischievously and I giggled and ran up on the sidewalk and around one of the stalls. He chased me and caught me and I laughed again as he snatched me up in his arms and swung me around in a big circle.

When we came to a stop and caught our breath I looked up in his playful green eyes and kissed him seriously. He kissed me back and held me close to him.

Someone cleared their throat behind us and drew us out of our kiss. “About time,” Harold Billingsly, town mayor and owner of Billingsly Realty said. “I tried to get your attention several times. Now that you’re done trying to devour each other, body and soul, I think you should introduce me to your friend Ms. Arcane and move along. Your wagons are disrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic,” he said pointing to our wagons, which were barely in the way, and most people just walked around easily.

“Oh, stuff it Harold. Let Ms. Arcane enjoy herself,” Monica Billingsly said, coming up to her husband, “I wouldn’t mind being introduced to this stud muffin of a handsome young man though,” she said to me with a smile.

“Okay then,” I sighed. “Michael, this is Harold and Monica Billingsly. They own Billingsly Realty and Harold is our mayor. Harold and Monica this is Michael Angelus. He’s new in town and staying at the hotel until he can either find his own place or he decides to move on.”

“Moving on seems less and less likely though,” Michael said. “I’m beginning to like Backwater a lot,” he added with a look at me.

“Tell me,” Harold started, “how long have you been in Backwater?”

“This is my fourth day. I only stopped here looking for old books on my way to Toronto, but I found most of what I was looking for and more besides,” Michael answered.

“And how did you come across our dear Occult dealer, Gabriel?” Monica asked.

“She was the one that had the books I was looking for and I got more than I bargained for,” Michael said.

Harold cleared his throat again and turned pink as I turned in Michael’s arms and snuggled into him. I could tell Michael was smiling at the Billingslys as he pulled me into him and kissed my shoulder. “Let’s get back. I have some naughty ideas of what to do with that can of whipped cream and those chocolate covered strawberries I saw in your fridge,” Michael whispered in my ear.

“Excuse us please. We need to be getting back,” I said to the Billingslys as Michael and I took up our wagons and took a few steps towards Arcane’s Arcane. Monica smiled at us and patted Harold on the shoulder and Michael and I raced back to the store, laughing all the way.

When we got to the front steps we stopped and I breathed as I remembered what to do. “Take that wagon around back,” I said to Michael, pointing at the wagon with all the food and my personal stuff. “It’s all my stuff and needs to go in my fridge and freezer and in my bathroom upstairs. Juliet!” I called. The Barbie™ girl came out. “Help me with this,” I said as Michael disappeared around the house. “How are things going?”

“Good, busy. Bianca is a hit and sales are amazing. Everyone is buying stuff like crazy while they wait. You’ve been gone a while. Was it fun shopping?” the squeaky young woman asked.

“It was great. This is just for the store. Michael took the wagon full of my stuff back to the kitchen for me,” I said as we hefted the wagon up the steps and wheeled it in to the store. Veronica, Morticia, and Chartreuse came forward and started unloading. Cindy was behind the register and there was a line for both Bianca and the register. There were lots of people milling around but no one seemed in a rush to leave. Even the people waiting in line to purchase were looking relaxed with no particular place to be.

“Wheel this out for me,” I told the girls. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.” I headed to the back door.

“About damn time she found a man and had some fun,” I heard Chartreuse say as I walked through to the kitchen. I laughed to myself and closed the Kitchen door behind me. I found Michael throwing things fridge in to the big metal trash bin the city gave me for trash pick up. I usually kept that bin out in the back of the house.

“You’re right. It’s scary in here. I couldn’t find a place to put anything so I decided to be useful and clean out your fridge. There’s stuff in here that went bad a month ago and other things that I’m not even sure were good to begin with.”

“Ha-ha. At least my fuzzy stuff wont crawl away before I get a chance to clean it up. You’re the one who said he had three month old crusty dishes back in his place.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Michael said with a laugh. “Anyway it doesn’t matter. I’m going to send for my stuff and start looking for a place around here. I’d move in with you but it seems a little soon and this is your place. There’s no room for my stuff.”

“Thanks for your consideration. You getting your own place also means that we could go over that and get less funny looks if we decided to have sex during the day again,” I pointed out.

“That’s a valid point,” Michael agreed as he tossed a few more take-out containers in the trash. When he had two full shelves cleared and had moved everything worth keeping around making enough room. He put one pie in the fridge along with the apples and the gallons of cider and he put the other five pies in the freezer. The freezer had hardly any thing in it besides a few pints of Ben & Jerry’s, a couple trays of ice, and an ice pack or two in it. It also held pies and Girl Scout Thin Mints a few times a year but I ate those and didn’t buy more, unlike the Ben & Jerry’s.

“Now your fridge is safe to eat from,” Michael said as he finished putting the pies away. He put the last of the stuff in the wagon on the table and scooted the trash can towards the door. “Why did you only have Ben & Jerry’s in your freezer?”

“Because it melts in the fridge,” I joked.

“Michael chuckled. “I mean why don’t you have things like frozen vegetables or meat in there?” he clarified.

“Because I only buy what I need for a few days at a time and order out a lot. You saw. I can’t even clean out my fridge on a regular basis. Imagine if I forgot about things in the freezer. It would be there for years or at least until I moved, in which case it would be money down the drain because stuff that has to stay cold doesn’t travel well.”

“So just pies and ice cream?” he asked.

“And Girl Scout cookies. I eat them and give them as gifts. They don’t stay in there for ever, or even for very long,” I pointed out.

“That’s logical,” Michael said. “What do I do with the garbage?” he asked looking at the metal can.

“Take it out, put the lid and the big flat rock on it and I’ll take it to the curb on Monday. That’s trash day.”

“Why do I have to put the rock on it?” Michael asked.

“Because of raccoons and the occasional bear. I even saw a wolf once. The pest control people caught him and the bear though and had them relocated to another nature preserve.”

“You mean there are wolves in your little preserve back there?” Michael asked.

“One little pack of about ten wolves. Any time one of them gets too used to humans they are either relocated or they’re taken to zoos. Once in a great while one comes up rabid and they get euthanised but for the most part they stay away from here. They travel north out of the preserve more often because there’s less people and more animals for them to hunt.”

“Nice. Want to go upstairs. We could talk,” Michael said.

“I thought you had naughty things in mind that involved whipped cream and chocolate covered strawberries,” I said.

“I did, but we don’t have to do that,” Michael said.

“We can work up to that. Take the trash out,” I said. “I’ve got to go talk to Bianca real quick. I’ve hardly talked to her all day and she needs a break.”

“Okay,” Michael said as her hefted the garbage pail and took it out the back door.

“Take the wagon back out front. Someone will pick it up,” I called and went back into the store The line for Bianca was much shorter and I saw that someone had made up a sign that said Bianca would do her last reading at 5:00. It was 4:15 now.

“Hi,” I said as I took a chair behind her. She didn’t have a customer at the moment. “I saw someone was considerate enough to make up a sign for you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. It was unfair to let you do all these readings then run off doing my own thing.”

“It’s fine,” Bianca said. “I can tell you had fun. How’d you get over your fit so easily?”

“Michael helped. He figured out that I was dehydrated. I’ll sleep soundly tonight though.”

“Yes you will. How much longer will the festival be going?” she asked.

“It will run late tonight. 11:00 is the earliest it will close. Tomorrow it won’t start till noon and it will run ‘til six. Then they’ll breakdown for the week and start again on Friday.”

“I won’t be here that long. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ve got to go see my kids, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. If you want me to come with you around the festival I can,” I offered.

“You don’t have to. I’ve made good friends with Patrick. He offered to show me around.”

“Patrick?” I asked as I looked around for the phantom Patrick. Then I realized she meant Deputy Fitzpatrick. “Oh you mean Deputy Fitzpatrick. His name is Patrick Fitzpatrick? I thought Chartreuse had it bad,” I laughed. Bianca did too. “Would you like to meet up for dinner? Michael and I are going to have to eat some real food sometime. We could eat at Tony’s. It’s great Italian.”

“You mean that Anthony’s Palazzo up on Cherry Street?”

“Yeah. Anybody in the know calls it Tony’s. Even on festival nights if you’re a resident of Backwater there are no reservations required. We could get seated even before the people with reservations.”

“Is the food any good?” Bianca asked.

“It’s the best outside of Chicago or Italy,” I said.

“Since you’ve been to both places I’ll believe you. Let’s go. It will be nice not to have to cook or clean.”

“You don’t have to do those things here either, but going out is a safer bet on how the food will turn out,” I joked as the next customers came up. “I’ll tall Michael and you tell Patrick. How does 7:00 sound?”

“Let’s make it 7:40,” Bianca suggested. “It will give me more time to look around before it gets dark.”

“7:30 at Tony’s then,” I agreed. I left her to do what she was there for and went back to the kitchen.

Michael was back and just sitting at my big kitchen table, reading the one cookbook I had. “How would you like it if I cooked tonight?” he asked.

“There’s no need. We’re meeting Bianca at Tony’s for dinner at 7:30. It’s her last night here. It should be special. You can cook for me tomorrow night,” I said.

“What’s this Tony’s place?” Michael asked.

“It’s the Italian restaurant on the corner of Cherry and Market. Its full name is Anthony’s Palazzo. Everyone around here just calls it Tony’s. Its great Italian food without the price of a place ticket to Italy.”

“That sounds nice then. Will it just be us and Bianca?”

“No. Deputy Patrick Fitzpatrick will be joining us so no talk about our stuff and no surliness,” I said.

“I’m not surly. I’m just reserved,” Michael objected.

“Not surly my ass. You’re demanding, and silent and you tried to kill me yesterday,” I pointed out. “You’re down right one of the seven dwarves.”

“There was no Surly Dwarf,” Michael pointed out.

“His name was Grumpy and that’s you to a tee.”

“I am not Grumpy or surly,” Michael said, putting down the cookbook and getting a sour expression on his face.

“Grumpy!” I exclaimed as I sat on his lap. “But I bet you Grumpy never got to do this with Snow White.” I kissed him right on the mouth and put his hand on my breast. I let him take it form there. He slid my dress strap down along with my bra and cupped my bare right breast with his hand and he started unzipping the dress with his free hand. He undid the clasp of my bra single handedly and slid the dress down to my waist. I tried to free my arms but Michael wouldn’t let me. He held me down and kissed me and made me moan and gasp and made me want him.

He let my arm free after a few minutes then cleared off the kitchen table and stripped me naked. He guided me up on the table and knelt down as I sat up on the very edge. From there he licked me and nibbled and made me come with his mouth over and over again. I relished each sensation. He kissed me with as much ferocity and gentleness on my lower lips as he did my mouth. He made me writhe and scream until I was so spent I just lay back on the table and let myself twitch with joy. I couldn’t even focus my eyes.

“Did you enjoy?” Michael asked.

I didn’t even have words. I think when I tried to say yes it came out “Gah,” with lots of nods and gasps.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asked.

I shook my head and saw stars. “No. No walking,” I said when I had words again. “I don’t think I can stand up. I’m seeing stars.”

“Oh,” Michael gasped. “Water.” He poured me a glass and helped me sit up. I drank greedily and had another glass before I could see straight.

“Better?” he asked when I finished the second glass.

“Yes,” I said.

“Let’s go upstairs. I think you need to lie down,” Michael suggested.

“I usually do after a fit,” I said. “I napped half the morning away yesterday and slept for about nine hours last night. I don’t usually sleep more than six.”

“Okay. You can take a nap then,” Michael said picking up my clothes. I started up the stairs and he followed. When we got to my bedroom I collapsed naked on the bed and immediately went to sleep. In the few minutes it took me to fall asleep I heard Michael shuffling around and that was all.

Michael woke me up at 7:00 and I felt like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes. I got up and got dressed in the same dress as before and my hair was still okay. Michael had apparently gone back to his hotel and found a nice suit to wear. “How long were you gone?” I asked groggily.

“About fifteen minutes,” he answered. “You slept right through everything. Here, have some water,” he offered. I drank it and felt better and more awake. That’s when I noticed that my whole bedroom was clean. I’d only been asleep for two and a half hours and Michael had gone nuts and still had time to go get clean nice clothes.

“Are you some kind of cleaning fairy?” I asked jokingly. “Every time we’re not busy you clean for me.”

“No. I’m not a fairy of any kind. I just appreciate you and think you should have nice things and live in a nice space.”

“My space is nice, just a usually messy nice,” I pointed out.

“It’s fine with me. You should know where to fine everything. I just put your clothes in the drawers and closet the way you put everything and vacuumed.”

“You vacuumed? Why didn’t I wake up when the vacuuming started?”

“I said you slept through everything. You must have been really tired. We need to get going. My car is out back,” Michael said as he looked at the clock. It was 7:15.”

“How do you expect to drive there? Market and Main are shut down and they’re the fastest easiest way to get to Cherry Street,” I pointed out.

“Back streets,” Michael said.

“Fine, though we could walk there in the time it’s going to take to drive and park,” I pointed out as we walked downstairs. Michael caught me when I tripped and almost fell on the last stair. I would have fallen and cracked my head on the table if he hadn’t.

“Maybe we should cancel and take you back to bed,” Michael suggested.

“No. We can’t. I can’t. You can bring me back as soon as dinner is over but I have to see Bianca and treat her to a nice evening before she leaves town,” I insisted as Michael escorted me out the back door to where I would have parked a car if I owned one. Where my non-existent car would have been was a 1934 Cadillac coup. It was gorgeous and painted shiny slate gray and was accented chrome all over the place.

“Wow. Is that really your car or did you just rent it?” I asked.

“It’s mine. I rebuilt it, twice, using original parts. I bought all the parts when the car was new. I wanted to keep it around for a long time. The only better example is in the International Car Museum in France and it only has 1000 miles on it because it was driven from the factory to ship yard in Baltimore when it was given to the museum in 1948,” Michael explained.

The night air helped wake me up and Michael opened the car door for me. I climbed in and he closed the door on me and walked around the car to the driver’s side. Once he was behind the wheel we were on our way. He drove the car out on to 1st street and looped around to Prince Street and he made and illegal left turn on to Green Street and after a slight turn on to Cherry Street he pulled around behind Tony’s where the parking was. It had only taken five minutes and breaking one traffic law and Michael was opening the door for me again. The parking lot was pretty full but we parked pretty close, maybe three rows from the closest spots. There were tourists and townsfolk everywhere and they stared as we got out of the car. 99% of the people had never seen a 1934 Cadillac outside of a history book, a movie, or a museum. I’d ridden around in one for a few years when I had owned one in New York and it was fun to ride in one again.

We walked around to the front of the restaurant and found Bianca and Patrick Fitzpatrick waiting for us, dressed nicely. I’d missed Bianca coming home to change while I napped. Deputy Fitzpatrick was dressed in a nice but ill-filling older suit that he looked completely uncomfortable in. I was betting that he only wore the suit for special occasions like funerals, weddings, and church on Christmas and Easter.

“Was it you who was driving the antique car?” Bianca asked Michael.

“Yes,” he answered. “Shall we go to dinner?” he asked in return.

“Yes,” Bianca said. “Lets have a nice dinner. Come on Patrick. Even if we’re first in like for a table we’ll be waiting for a bit.”

I took Michael’s arm as he offered it and the four of us walked in to the restaurant. Tony, the owner and executive chef of Anthony’s Palazzo was in tonight and he was standing in the front of the restaurant talking to the hostess and he came forward to give me a hug.

“Gabriel!” he shouted with a heavy Italian accent as he wrapped his short arms around me. Tony was only 5’5” and weighed about 300 pounds. I bent down and returned his hug.

“How are you Tony? Was your trip back to Italy all that you dreamed?”

“That and more although I would have loved to take you with me, my glorious beauty.”

“Tony you’re outrageous. If I took you up on every offer I’d weigh 500 pounds and be living with you and our seven children in Venice or Florence in a Palazzo fit for royalty,” I flirted.

“Absolutely, mi amour. You deserve it all,” Tony said. The hostess gestured for us to come forward. There was a free table. “Come, come. Eat, eat. You will have the house special, appetizers, anything you want and fresh cannoli with espresso chocolate chip filling for desert. I insist. You are too skinny. Who is this Apollo walking with you? Have you finally found someone to replace old Tony?”

“I could never replace you Tony, but this is Michael. He’s a new friend. You haven’t met Bianca either,” I said pointing to my old friend.

“Ah, yes. How rude of me, Senora Bianca. It is a pleasure to meet a new lady friend, always,” Tony said turning his attention to her. “You, I think, need red wine. The Châteaux Burgundy, 2120. You will also have a fall greens salad with endive and feta cheese, and olive oil and vinegar dressing on the side, followed by the elk tortellini in a rosemary butter sauce. I like it. A challenge you are.”

“He’s good,” Bianca said to me as we were seated.

“He’s kind of a food genius. I never order here when he’s here. He always knows exactly what I want and he brings it to me even if I don’t know what I want. It’s your turn gentlemen,” I said turning to Michael and Patrick who sat across from us.

“Ah, yes, the wonderful gentlemen,” Tony said turning to Michael first. “You, Michelangelo, will have the house white wine, and the surf and turf, Italian Canadian style. It is venison medallions in a creamy Alfredo over a bed of steamed spinach and wide noodle fettuccini and scallop and shrimp skewers with a honey garlic marinade. What’s your name?” Tony asked as he turned to Patrick.

“Patrick Fitzpatrick,” the deputy answered.

“Ah, a wonderful Irishman. You will have the dark house brew, the elk steak, medium rare, with a side of mixed vegetables steamed to perfection and swimming in butter. For dessert you all get cannoli, on the house,” Tony said with a flare. “Did you catch all that Roberta?” he asked, turning to the waitress who had been standing behind him.

“You bet your ass Tony. I’ve only worked for you for the past 15 years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Repeat it back,” he insisted.

“House special, elk tortellini, Italian Canadian surf and turf, elk steak medium rare. Beer, Chateaux Burgundy red, house white wine . . .”

“Oh, I forgot you my dear Gabriel, your beverage. Water with a twist of lemon, no ice,” Tony said interrupting Roberta.

“… Water, twist of lemon, no ice, fall greens salad, feta and endive, vinaigrette on the side and espresso cannoli for four on the house. Anything else, appetizers or salads, that you want to add Tony?” she asked. She knew we didn’t have any say in the matter so she went straight to Tony.

“Artichoke dip and that’s all,” Tony finalized.

“Alright folks. I’ll be right back with your drinks and your appetizer. Come on Tony. It’s time for you to work your magic,” Roberta said as she took Tony by the arm and led him off to the kitchen.

“What’s the house special?” Michael asked me.

“I like to call in a fairytale of food and it always ends with Happily Ever After,” I said. “It’s three different kinds of ravioli, usually made with whatever is in season, topped with this amazing rosemary garlic miracle that Tony calls a white wine sauce and a plate of seasonal vegetables, raw or cooked to perfection depending on Tony’s mood. People come all the way from Regina and Winnipeg to eat the house special. We’ve even had a few famous people stop here at Tony’s for the house special.”

“We’ve had people? You make it sound like Tony’s is part yours,” Michael said.

“Nope. Well maybe a little. I helped pay for the restoration when Tony’s kitchen burned last year because of bad wiring.”

“Shouldn’t his insurance have covered that?” Deputy Fitzpatrick asked.

“Yes, but not the full cost of brand new Viking and Subzero appliances. I paid for the overage that the insurance didn’t cover. Now his insurance will cover those and Tony’s cooking is better than ever so I think it was worth it,” I replied.

“Where did you get that kind of money?” Deputy Fitzpatrick asked.

“It’s family money. My parents and grandmother left me a lot of money. I’m single, own my home and business and my business is very successful. I think I can afford a few thousand dollars investment in outside interests.”

“Okay. I just think it’s kind of strange to invest in a restaurant,” Fitzpatrick said as the artichoke dip and drinks arrived in the hands of Roberta.