H.E.R.

Eighteen

Present...

Roman wiped his mouth and slowly chewed his food. He remembered the photo in question. It was after he and Santiago had a long lunch where they hashed out everything. Things were still a bit uneasy but the bite of anger was gone.

Roman knew how much he hated his father at the time, he couldn't stay mad at him forever. He despised what he did, but he still loved him with all of his heart. He had more good memories of his father than bad. He couldn't hate him even if he wanted to.

That picture was the start of Julia's descent into the unknown waters of the crime families.

It was clear Julia still didn't want any part of her family's dynasty, though it wasn't clear to both of them what he new role was going to be now that she attempted a hit on Roman's father. Roman still didn't know what course of action – if any action – he was going to take once word spread on who Santiago's shooter was.

"I can stop talking if you're getting uncomfortable." Julia noticed Roman's body language. He stilled as his shoulders tensed up. There was a small burning anger present, though Julia wasn't sure if she was the recipient. She felt his emotions before he said a word.

"I just need a moment," his voice was quavered with some emotion – anger, sadness, confusion, and a strange one – relief. He knew deep down Julia was going to do what she did regardless of the posted photo.

He just couldn't help but to feel he might have pushed her along in those feelings.

Roman got up and walked to the living room window. He laid an arm against it and rested his forehead on his arm. He hoped deep down Julia's crime was an act of passion; something anyone would agree on.

Everything went out the window when she just told him she'd planned to kill his father from the start. Yet, she couldn't do it. Something prevented her from completing the action.

"You went back to New York but you weren't there for very long," he remembered some of the details of her postings. "Something about 'you can't always go back home?'"

"Oh yeah," Julia swallowed, "there wasn't room left for me anymore."

Julia was born and raised in Harlem. She still had plenty of friends and family there. "There wasn't any room left?" Roman was confused.

Just when Roman wanted Julia to continue with her testimony, his phone rang. He walked back to the dining room where Julia sat and answered it. "Yes, Ali?"

"Pops is in good condition. He'll live. The doctors said the bullet went clean, in and out. They performed minor surgery but he'll be back up to speed in no time." His brother cheered. "Whoever shot him was a lazy motherfucker, let me tell you. Could've killed him and missed him completely."

"Are there any more details about the shooter?" Roman looked at Julia.

"None. No one saw anything. Whoever it was, it was someone Pops knew. There's no way someone could get that close to him and not shoot him, you know? Pops stay strapped, you know what I mean? He had to have been someone he trusted."

"So, it was someone he trusted but no one knows who?" Roman conveyed the message.

"That's what we're thinking. We've checked the whereabouts of Rod's crew and they're all clean. Some families, though, are upset Pops wasn't taken out. They called the shooter a wimp. Get this bullshit – some are calling for the shooter to come forward so they could protect him from Pops. Like that's going to stop him from seeking revenge."

A small chill coursed through Roman's body. "Yeah, I know."

"He hasn't woken up yet from surgery. We'll keep you posted once he does." Alejandro replied. "We might need you to come home."

Roman already predicted what was going to happen the moment he stepped foot inside New York. "Keep me updated." He hung up and tossed the phone aside.

He rubbed hand over his face, hoping to wipe the building anger and frustration that was bubbling. There was a lot more to Julia's story, though he began to wonder if he was able to stomach it.

"Let's go out for a while."

~~~~~

"I feel like such a millennial."

Roman grinned as he did a brief sketch of a dress he wanted Julia to model. It was going to be cinched tight around her waist, and accentuate her curves. He knew it was going to be another breakthrough in women's fashion. "Why say that?"

"Here I am in London, hiding from our families, and what do I order? A freaking avocado toast." Julia shook her head in embarrassment. "Not that I had much of an appetite to eat anything else."

"Hey, avocado toast is healthy," Roman argued, "you get a participation trophy for that. Be proud."

Julia stuck out her tongue. "Only you would make a joke during this time."

"Anything for a smile," he offered. He put away his sketchbook so he could enjoy his girlfriend. "I've been requested to go back to New York."

"When are you leav—"

"I'm not going," he cut her off, "I know what will happen if I go. There's no need for me to be there other than put on a familial front."

Roman once confided in Julia his family had been trying to recruit him into the family business for years, using his fashion house as a front for another business Alejandro wanted to go into – sex trafficking and prostitution.

Before Roman could refuse, Pablo and Santiago ensured nothing of the sort would happen. It was another reason why there was a bit of a tension between the brothers – Roman was clearly favored.

"Your family will raise questions about your absence, Ro." She suggested.

"They know what I do for a living, they know how many projects I have going on right now. They know I won't drop everything because my father survived a minor surgery and he's about go home soon to a mansion with a wait staff and one of his harem girls playing nurse for him as he recovers." Roman's voice has a bite of ice. "I'm fine here." He paused for a beat. "And you're not returning to the States."