Like A Bullet [P.M.]

Chapter 61

I took a deep sigh as I lunged myself to the white, leather seat beside a window. Tony's jet was high class, with sofas, beautiful carpets and plasmas and food and... Well I could go on. Laurel took the seat in front of mine and smiled at my comfortable presence.

"How long is the flight?" She asked, taking out a magazine from the seat's pocket.

"Eight hours, honey." I said, looking out the window with eyes full of excitement.

"So, if it's six right now, and with eight hours it would be two A.M. But the time zones are different so... We would be arriving in Rome at around eight in the morning? That would be the perfect time for a quick breakfast and maybe a stroll around the hotel. And then we're off to start our day in Rome."

"Look at you. Eight hours left until we touch Italian ground and you are already making plans."

"You know I like to plan ahead. Being organized is something passed down in my family."

A waiter then approached us, two menus in hand and a smile on his face.

"Hello, welcome aboard, I will be waiting you on this flight. My name is Aaron."

"Hello, Aaron."

"Hey, man."

"Pietro!"

"What?"

"Anyways, here is the menu for this evening. Anything you'd like to start off the meal?"

"Can I get a glass of water, please? I'm thirsty." Laurel said, eyeing the menu.

"I will have a glass of water too, please."

"Alright, I will bring you the glasses, and I will take your order when I'm back." With a smile, he walked into the staff room.

"What are you gonna pick?"

"I am going to reserve the pasta eating for Italy, so I am going to eat the skirt steak with baked potatoes." I beemed, slamming the menu shut. "You?"

"I don't know. I'm caught between the ribs with the garlic bread, and the fried shrimp with fries."

"Both are good choices."

"I know." She paused, thought for a while, and finally came to a conclusion. "I'm going with ribs. I'm in the mood for ribs."

"Excellent choice, innamorato." I smirked, waiting for her to ask me what that meant.

"Sei così dolce, pensando non so italiano." She smirked, sitting back and crossing her legs.

"Huh. Touché."

"Here we are, two glasses of water." Aaron approached, setting the two beverages on the table, and a plate with a few slices of baked bread. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, I will have the ribs with garlic bread, and he will have the skirt steak with baked potatoes."

"How will you have the meat, sir?"

"Medium-well, please."

"Alrighty then, I will come out with those orders in a few minutes. Enjoy the bread." He left, again, with a smile, on his face.

"That guy likes to smile." I annoyingly muttered.

"Pietro, it's his job. He has to be in his best behavior for his guests. Aka, us." Laurel placed me a slice of bread on my small plate and I nodded a 'thank you'.

"I know. But it looks like a fake smile. Just saying."

"Maybe his dog died and he's in pain?" Laurel joked.