Leon

I wonder, why my stomach feels as light as an empty bag of chips. The fair assumption was that I had left my dismal avocado and egg toast at the breakfast table and turned away from the little one warm greetings of the day as if I had to stop the storm and lightning. Today it was all about being quick and slick. I squealed the tyres on a virgin road instead of attending a conference with some famous writers which Maximo kept much information about. As insanity overrode my mind, I decided not to miss the right turn and under any circumstances, avoid taking help from the GPS lady enlightening me with the new directions, that still would lead me to the same spot.

What was devastating in all of this was that this insane woman stretching her legs with a good gamboling at my place, with a glass of vino, left its bearings on me by targeting my deepest insecurity ( women, like my real insecurity?! What the heck.) Sometimes a slow burn pain during the afternoon and in another minute a sudden bubbling broth of depreciation hinged around my chest.

Case in point: Amy, as named by Maximo.

Moments later, I wilted to rest my hands on the arctic black marble of the table. My hair follicles shone with sweat and it would drip down my face if I didn't stop it. Stop what? Stop looking into the mirror or use my knuckles to break every reflecting surface that my eyes spot?! For I couldn't face myself. Because this was not me. My face colour was graduating from blaring red to electrifying blue like the flashlights on a police car. I felt much, much more internal havoc than the visible tremors.

I'd done all I could. Now I just needed to pray that whatever I did today should be the last hope that ought to trump the chances of the final disappearance of Amy from my bungalow permanently. With no single strand of hers to be found anywhere. Not even in the broom's hair!

I took out the neat oatmeal-hued box with a white bow tucked in the centre and anxiously put it back in my jacket pocket. At the same time, I felt my phone ringing and thereupon I declared that my phone was hijacked by none other than Maximo himself. Sorry, Max. This was going to be the first time that I hid something from you.

Was I too ashamed to share my location details with him? Oh, no. But, yes. Here I was, creating my own story and fighting up against the overthinking spiral.

Suddenly it came to me that I was in the packed public toilet and the man behind me gave me a humble look, "You can do it, brother. Get the girl."

I shook my head and exited the toilet.

With a footfall of legions of people chiming in for the Saturday morning brunch, I couldn't find the path that led me to their restaurant's best private section.

Finally, I sat across from Paige Langdon. A twenty-three-year-old model. And my potential date.

Some plus things going for her were: She had appeared in a couple of well-known skincare ad campaigns. Lately, she had walked for D&G's spring collection. And was pictured hanging around with celebrities in Coachella. So it went without saying she hadn't recovered from the achievement and that she wasn't behaving properly.

"Is it too hot here?" I raised a question.

"This place is more lame than I thought."

I gulped and seated comfortably, distributing the heat evenly.

"But I think your presence makes up for it."

In a quest to petrify Amy, I decided to receive ego hurt in bulk. There's nothing I hated more than having to hitch a girlfriend. I still wasn't prepared to manoeuvre my friend's sister into something called a situationship. And by the way, she was way too forward.

"Did you order something?"

"Oh No. Only Fried items in the menu. I'm on a diet."

"So, let's just have drinks." I began after an almighty push, "Is Tom still in the skunkworks?"

"Yes. He loves that job."

A major piece of my esteemed dignity was in a dumper. Looking back, in these five years, the abstinence that I was preaching in an imaginary white cassock successfully was now going to meet with an immature fate. I never thought that I would take some time out of my in this life for a girl. But if I didn't say anything, it would turn out, she wouldn't like my company at all. "And you are here for how many days?"

"Hmm . . . Three."

I touched my jacket where I had kept the box and the weight happened to obstruct my heartbeat only when I thought about it. Or else I didn't mind it at all.

"Actually it's ten. I'll think of staying if there's anything exciting to do."

Okay. That answer showed some hope. She was interested in keeping the ball rolling.

I nodded and the waiter came up to us. "A cup of mulled cider is always a workable pick-me-up," I said after holding up the menu card. "Shall I order the same for you?"

"Actually, a martini would be fine."

"One mulled cider for you and a martini for ma'am." Sir, would you want a mix-in?"

"Bourbon."

"Alright, sir."

"Truth is, nothing could beat the spiced drink I had in Muchacho, a few months back. Just perfect." She paused and tightly clutched her phone smiling. "My friend is putting up stories on Instagram. She's vacaing in Malta. Look how cute is her little skirt. It's Prada."

"Oh, Is it?" It was just a normal thing that I adjusted on my seat and she thought that I was interested to peep into her phone and comment on that small clad that her extrasensory perception captured as some high-end brand. She turned the screen toward her greedily.

"It's a very beautiful place. You should definitely visit Almarte and Lavio Beach. The best. They allow patrons to watch the roasting process."

"Oh really. How fascinating." I breathed and bit my lip.

"I heard your book is getting adapted into a movie?"

"In process, you can say." I did some random hand movements on my bespoke navy blue Brioni jacket.

"How does it feel to be a celebrity? Demanding?"

"Nothing has changed except I had to add extra layers of blinds in the bathroom." I got rid of my Chopard and placed them on the table.

"That's that!" She smirked. "Anyway, Congratulations. Do let me know if you don't find your actress. I'll play the part happily without any fees."

"Well, there's a talent scout to look after that." I watched her intently as she took little sips from her mini crystal glass her large eyes peeking at me to see if I was still watching her. I was sure she had got the enlargement of her eyes done and well.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" I showed off as if guilt clogged my breath and my whole concentration from the funfetti seeped off. In my efforts to manoeuvre her into a (fake) relationship, I was successfully hitting the marks of a humble suitor. I had only gritted my teeth and tilted my head to set my blazing eyes on hers. "Your eyes-" I stopped.

Damn, I glimpsed at someone familiar sitting close to the doorway behind the cinder block pillar. Her long straight hair and excessive hand movements pointed towards the identity of the only woman for whom I'd been risking it all. But it wasn't right to assume things from the back, so I thought I should take a better look at her. "I'm sorry but I need to talk to someone."

"Okay." She raised her shoulders. "I'm counting down the minutes."

I didn't want her to think that last night's food gave me the runs, but there was no other way of excusing her.

How nice it would be if I surprise her. I plucked the flowers that were strewn on the foliage climbing the wall and strode toward her table. "Let's say hello to the con woman." I rubbed my nose.

Just as I approached the table, a jarring surprise washed away my confidence. The woman stared at me and the flyaway strings of cheese from her fork immediately set her mouth out to devour it. On the other side, her partner bore the same confused expression. I applied my presence of mind and placed the five to six stalks of flowers in the pot forcefully. "These are fresh. Please enjoy your meal."

The man asked, "Are you the manager?"

I placed a shy hand on the absence of a name tag. "Ah, Yes. Yes. We are pleased to announce that our steak is one of the best. Please try it."

The woman acted along. "Sure, we will."

———

Not long ago I'd exited the restaurant and zipped my vehicle through the cars peppered on the main street, now I faced the traffic that was backed up for miles. The honking of cars took precedence and made me angry. I couldn't rest in the car for a minute more. I received a message on my phone. It was from Paige. She had sent me a photo in which I remember vividly I was staring at a girl who I presumed was Amy while she pouted into the camera. What comment should I write? It looked more like a copy taken by a spy.

Me: The picture looks stunning.

Paige: Good to know. But next time try to make the candid pic look not so candid <3

Earlier I felt like everything was falling apart, but in reality, it was all coming together for the highest good. Now, I could easily show that girl... that girl. Wait for a moment.

What I was just seeing sent me off to La La Land. Not this time again. It was unbelievable, so much so that I squinted at the screen like an eighty-year-old man reading a newspaper in a dark room. Amy? What could be more besetting than watching Amy padding along the pavement? This time I couldn't be wrong. She had a tense look on her face, most probably because the sun was hitting her eyes directly. She flipped her hair back. I rolled down the window and shouted, "Amy! Hey! Stop!"

I instantly called Maximo, "Hey, Max." I ran a hand through my hair. "Forget asking me where I'm right now. Just tell me is Amy gone or still there?"

He answered, "She's long gone."

"Excellent!" I thrust a fist in the air and secretly subdued my happiness. "Could you recall what she had on? Like a cardigan, or jacket? Something like a maroon shrug?"

"I-I am not sure-"

I pushed the door open of the car and ran after the figure. New noises penetrated my ears. The indistinct chatters like 'Hey the police is flagging down the cars! Get back in here!'

I didn't look back for I knew the pissed-off drivers were objecting to my prompt action. "Amy?" Suddenly a throng of girls entrapped me and I had to withdraw the idea of finding her. Anyway, she should have been at Doc Connor's.

"Autograph, please."

"Yeah."

"Please look into the camera, Leon."

I obliged, standing in a stationary position.

——

Maximo turned into his duty of liting the stylish tapered candles on the console table as long as a rail- line and watched me through the wall mirror to his heart's content. I halted in the centre of the grand foyer, placing my hands on my waist. "Well, I don't know why it sounds like a joke to you Max, but I was spending time with a girl."

"Leon, my day consumes of work no other than to manage your things for twenty years. But I still won't believe it unless you take me to that restaurant and I confirm it with the waiter."

"That would be embarrassing." I pinned him with the eyes and slumped on one of the Bergere chairs. An aggressive smirk twisted my mouth as I picked a golden ashtray from the table. "Maybe or should I say, you don't like the lack of professionalism of the new cook?"

"New cook?"

"Amy." My features scrunched and I replied, "I'll ask her, why did she stop cooking. A woman like her should be taking this job very seriously instead of roaming around. Does she always come this late?"

"No. You know she's going through a lot."

"Stop taking sides as if she's of Lessie's age who doesn't know any better." My tongue sizzled and I closed my eyes. "Amy. Amy. Amy. A mystery that is no longer a mystery. There are lots of questions for you. What was she doing in that area?"

"Are you sure it was her?"

"I can spot her in a room full of a million women."

"Just ask her when she comes."

A balmy smell tickled my nose and I knew who it was. Still, I tried to put up an innocent face and snapped my finger at the elder. "What time is it, Maximo?"

"Seven-thirty."

"Is this the right time to return? You should know the door of the mansion closes at quarter to eight." I stood up to face her.

"Then I still had time, I suppose." She bent sideways to get a sight of time on the clock.

"If today it's this late, then tomorrow, who knows you would break your own record."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. Yes. Of course, it's all that you can offer after all that globe-trotting adventure you have had-"

"What do you mean?"

"Where were you gone?"

"I was gone to my Psychiatrist."

"You don't have to lie. I saw you. How shamefully bold you get while you step away from the mansion."

"Leon, you can go to the reception desk, get the CCTV footage or directly check with Doc Connor?"

"I've to talk to him nevertheless."

"It's strange that there is minimal to no effort about tonight's dinner on your part."

"I'm a little tired today."

"And what about the siren song that you sing, will do wonders for my well-being, huh? Rightly so. The real intention is to let the husband starve. Should I say it was all a cheap, spurious wife game to woo me?" My eyes danced across her face. "What's in that bag?"

"It's for - Lessie! I got you something."

The little dashed ahead and flung her arms around Amy's knees.

"Did you get me that jewellery box?"

"Yes. It's purple. I searched everywhere."

"Thank you so much." At the little one's screech of delight, Amy came to her eye level and Lessie planted a peck on her cheek. She drifted off.

"You see, I've just felt it, our role as wives is also interwoven with these thankless jobs of cooking, scrubbing the tiles, giving husbands long ass massages, acting according to their temperaments. But now the rigid condition has changed. If you start to reward me for every comfort I give you, I'll never go back on my words. At least, learn something from Lessie."

I didn't know what to say.