VIII. So Now the Truth Comes Out
Madison Shepherd
The houses were getting more mundane and less grand as Angelo drove into the strictly working class district of North Beach. He turned into a street and parked in front of a little yellow house. He helped me out of the car and up the steps.
The house was quiet and smelled like roses. It was also very silent.
"Mama took the kids to San Diego for the weekend," he explained.
I nodded and looked anywhere else.
"Come on," he said leading me up the stairs. "You need to clean up." He opened the door to a small cozy room, with a queen sized bed, a work table and a chair by the window, there was a bookshelf with thick volumes in it and another pile of books next to it and a small bedside table. The bed was made neatly and the room was tidy.
"There's a bathroom over there," he jerked his head to a door in the corner, "in case you need a moment."
I marched into the bathroom and closed the door. I ran the tap and doused my face with the cool water. The shock was beginning to wear off and in its place came anger. Anger at my own pathetic helplessness, anger at Carson and..... anger at Angelo. Why was he helping me? He had made it as clear as possible that he didn't want anything to do with me. So why the hell was he here now?
Scowling, I opened the door and stepped back into the room. Angelo was at the far side of the room, as far away as he could get from me.
Well, I was certainly not going to make it easy for him. If he wanted me gone, he was going to have to tell me himself. I walked over to the desk and inspected the items. A laptop, some sheet music notes, leather bound volume. Picking it up, I flipped idly through the pages.
"Put it down, Madison," he said to me impatiently, "We do not touch things that don't belong to us."
I ignored him and my attention zeroed in on a small black box with gray lining at the edges and intricate engravings. I took it and studied the design. Angelo was across the room in a flash, he took the box from my hand very carefully avoiding any physical contact.
"That's right," I said savagely and clenched my fists at my side, "Careful or you might get a disease."
Emotion flickered in his eyes and he looked away.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" I shouted.
Instead he turned his back to me and went to the window. I knew he was watching my movement in the reflection and I imagined how I must look to him, pacing around with my torn dress, scratches on my face and arms- like a true damsel in distress.
When he turned, his gaze was fixed on my face. "I think," he said after some time, "that I'd better get you home."
And in that instant, I wanted to make him hurt. I wanted to make him feel something. I was tired of the games, his mood swings, and trying to penetrate the granite wall that was Angelo Tallerico.
"Why do you hate me?" I blurted out.
He stopped abruptly and looked at me in disbelief and genuine shock. "What did you say?" he whispered.
"I know it's not nice to assume," I swallowed, "but I want to know."
"You don't know what you're saying," he said coldly.
"I do!" I flung back. "Why do you hate me so much, Angelo Tallerico?" He was about to say something but I swept on, "I see it in your eyes. Ever since that stupid party, I tried to be your friend but you've thrown it back in my face. Snubbing me in public and just generally humiliating me. I apologized for what happened with Carson, didn't I? But you're just too stubborn to let it go."
He shook his head slowly. "I don't hate you."
I swept on as though he hadn't said anything. "I just want to know, Angelo and after this I promise I will leave you alone. For weeks now you ignored me and then suddenly you show up at the car. I know I should be grateful to you but I don't care about that! What were you doing there? Were you waiting until an actual crisis or until Carson raped me before you felt it was acceptable to talk to me? Is that what it takes to get a regular reaction from you? Just tell me Angelo Tallerico because I don't understand why you would do it considering how you feel about me. And even now," I continued bitterly, "you don't want to allow yourself anywhere near me as though I'm a leper. What the hell is wrong with you Angelo that you have to live this way? Constantly shutting everyone out? Building walls around you to keep everyone out? Never trusting anyone? I want to know Angelo and I want to know now and I promise this'll be the last time you ever hear from me."
Angelo looked at me then said again, "I don't hate you, Madison. But yes, you do have a right to know after all." He exhaled and then he said again, "I do not hate you at all, Madison," then he uttered three strange words I thought were beyond him, "I miss you."
I blinked spastically and was dumb for a minute or two. Angelo Tallerico? He missed me? It made absolutely no sense as of this moment. I was willing to argue my sanity as of this minute because ever since I could remember he had treated me with disdain.
"You miss me?" I asked in quiet surprise.
He sat on his bed before and clasped his hands between his knees. "Shocking isn't it?"
Struggling to keep my voice even, I asked him, "Angelo, when we came back from summer vacation in Palm Beach, why didn't you ever talk to me?"
An expression flew across his brows furrowed. "I was jealous," he said simply, "You picked Carson over me. I guess I just hoped that..." he shook his head, "wished was more like it, that we could find a way from there."
Then why did you never say anything, I wondered helplessly. That summer came back to mind.
Angelo Tallerico and I had been friends. I remembered why I had liked him, he wasn't like other guys. Most wanted to just crawl into a dark corner and make out but not Angelo. He was content to just walk on the beach, talking and laughing. Sometimes he would join the musicians on the beach who played merry music. Angelo loved music and was exceptional at the violin and piano. Taralynn and Avery constantly teased me about our frequent walks on the beach and I brushed them off because there had because nothing romantic at all about them, just two friends enjoying each other's company. Carson had been another matter. He was the cocky bad boy type that every girl felt drawn to and I also fell for his charms. I began hanging out with Carson since he was more interested in me than other girls. Angelo didn't have much to say about our relationship but he became cold and withdrawn and would never say why and when Carson asked me to be his girlfriend, I could not say no. The next morning which was also the last day of the retreat, I walked up to be Angelo to invite him to my birthday party but he simply gave me a chilling look, turned and walked away. It was the last time we spoke. I was puzzled by his strange behavior but eventually I grew tired of asking and forgot all about him.
Now I knew. And I felt really stupid. Was I responsible for the cold, withdrawn person he had become?
"Angelo," I went to sit down next to him, "It's alright."
"It's not alright!" he snarled standing up abruptly. He looked down at me on the bed and his eyes were filled with cold anger. "You can't know, Madison! It's not alright!" He began pacing the room angrily. "You have no idea how it feels to watch the one thing you've always wanted go straight to another. I knew I had messed up and I hated myself for it. If I had only spoken up once then maybe you wouldn't have had to go with that snake McQueen! I saw myself for what I was, a cowardly fool!"
"You are not a coward, Angelo," I said firmly.
"I am!" he hissed, "and I would always say to myself, 'Next time you see Madison, pack up your courage and tell her how you feel before some other fool gets her!'"
I went to him, placing my hands on either side of his face; I asked him, "Why didn't you even say anything then?"
He winced, "I just thought that summer was summer and maybe you were done playing around." He went to sit on his bed again. I looked at the expression on his face. Of course he had felt rejected, and why wouldn't he when I had acted as though he didn't fit in with my new and cool lifestyle. Angelo who had been my very true friend. Come to think of it; there had because nothing cool about the lifestyle. Carson had been a shallow jerk and our whole relationship had been all about him and what he wanted, never me. I saw my folly and the realization made me feel like a grade A bitch. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes smarted.
"Look Angelo, if I've ever been a bitch to you..."'I faltered and a tear fell, "I'm really sorry."
He looked up at me in surprise then gently took my wrist and pulled me down into his lap. Grasping my chin, he turned my face to his. "I have never thought you were a bitch."
"But I treated you so horribly," I sobbed surprised at how calm he was. How could he comfortably hold me on his lap when I had blatantly used him without any consideration for his feelings.
"No worse than I did," he said, "I shut you out and allowed my pride get the better of me. I was so ashamed of myself for that."
And I hit him, I thought weakly, I drew his blood. More tears escaped from my eyes and I said , "I'm sorry."
"Stop that," he said huskily, "Don't. Don't cry, my darling. It's alright."
"It's not alright!" I protested with another sob, "I treated you horribly and how can you just sit there and hold me like nothing happened when I clearly don't -"
"Madison," he said huskily, "shut up." And then his lips covered my own in that instant.
My eyes widened in shock and I pulled away looking at him in shock.
"Y-Y- you still love me?" I asked in surprise. "After everything?"
He smiled, flashing his dimples. "Whoever said I stopped?" He brought his lips to mine again, I gave in and allowed myself to be carried on the waves of passion. It was as though it was finally quenching a thirst that had been raging inside of me. I was home and suddenly thought, poor Lori. And poor I, going through Carson's bland kiss not knowing that there was something hotter and better waiting for me in Angelo's arms.
Somehow or other, we ended up on the bed, he lost his shirt and the zip on my already ruined dress went down. My hands explored his strong, muscled back, there were raised marks which were probably scars, him hair was soft and silky, his mouth was hot and wet on my neck as he kissed lower still but suddenly he pulled away.
"Stop it," he said firmly.
I felt cold all of a sudden without him warm body. "What's wrong?"
"I think we should get you home," he whispered against much hair.
"I don't want to go," I said stubbornly and he smiled warmly before pressing his lips to mine in a tender kiss.
"I know and neither do I want you to," he kissed my forehead, "but we ought to stop now or else I won't be able to control myself."
Feeling bold, I threaded my fingers through his hair. "What if I don't want you to control yourself?"
He closed his eyes and said firmly, "Madison, mi cuore, not yet. Please."
Pouting, I relented and allowed him to pull me inside his arms. I inhaled his scent, he smelled spicy, like something good to eat, nutmeg and cinnamon, with a distinct lemony fragrance. A dark mark on his left shoulder drew my attention. A tattoo, I realized in surprise. Angelo didn't strike me as the kind of person to have tattoos.
He exhaled, "I should take you home now." He sat up and searched around for a shirt, I studied him, his stomach was hard and rippled with a well deserving six pack, well defined pectorals, biceps that flexed tantalizingly and a strong back. When he turned around I gasped at the tattoo I saw. It was a copper snake wound around a sword with its fangs sunk into the skin of his back. On his right shoulder was a grinning skull wearing a top hat with a rose in its mouth. Lower was a sort of insignia, a shield with a lion, a cross and lily.
"Angelo, why do you have so many tattoos?"'I asked while still studying his body.
He looked at the tattoo on his arms and said wryly, "There's a lot you don't know about me, Madison."
"You're just a whole bag of secrets aren't you?"'I teased.
He grinned showing his dimples, "Only to certain people."
"Why a snake?" I blurted out.
"I think they're highly misunderstood creatures," he answered. "People take one look at them, scream and run in the other direction. Do you know the feeling where people look at you and just see trouble?"
I shook my head. "Well that snake is really misunderstood," he went on, "The sword signifies honor and trust. You only have good intentions but people just judge you without knowing.
Tattoo comes from a Tahitian word 'tatua' and it means to mark the skin. When I ink my skin, I feel it and I want to mark it so I'll always remember the different events that have shaped me into the person I am today. See this," he pointed to a tattoo in the shape of a map, "This is the home country, Sicily so I'll never forget where I'm from. Papa would always tell me never forget the son of who you are. And this," he pointed to the insignia, "is the family crest of the Tallericos. It means above all else, family is first."
I nodded and placed my head on his shoulder. I knew life couldn't have always been easy for him. Most people tattooed their skin to show how tough they were but not Angelo. He had so much more inside. He found a polo and pulled it over his head and handed me a jacket to cover up the mess of my dress. I was reluctant to leave and as though sensing my apprehension, he kissed me again, before we left the house and he drove me home.
There was a police car in our driveway, a policeman was speaking to my father. Taralynn and Clark were also present.
"Do you think Carson - " I began and he said, "I don't think Carson would be that stupid."
My father looked up in surprise when Angelo parked his truck.
"Oh honey!" Rosemary, our faithful housekeeper exclaimed the minute I got out with Angelo behind me. She enveloped me in a fierce hug. "We've been so worried about you. Don't ever do that again!" she said reproachfully.
"Where were you, young lady?" my father Jackson Shepherd asked sternly.
"I was with Angelo," I answered and looked at Angelo who was standing by my side, "he brought me home."
"Oh thank you!" Rosemary said to him and he offered her a warm smile.
Taralynn came up to me, "I was worried sick, girl! I saw you leave with Carson and when you didn't come back I thought something awful had happened."
"Well I told you not to worry," the police officer said to my parents. They thanked him and he left.
"And where were the both of you?" asked Dad, sizing up Angelo.
I blushed, " Angelo took me to his house."
"I see," he said coldly and turned to address Angelo, "and was that any respectable way to treat a lady? Take her to your house alone?"
"I'm sorry sir," Angelo apologized, "I ought to have brought her home."
"We'll just be going now," Taralynn said and got into Clark's car before they drove away.
"Well let's all go inside then, Rosemary, Madison," Dad said brusquely. I noticed he didn't extend the invitation to Angelo and I felt embarrassed.
"Can I have a minute please, daddy?" I asked.
"No you may not!" he said sharply, "Get into the house at once Madison." I looked up at Angelo and he smiled ruefully.
"It's alright, my darling," he said softly, "Go with your father."
"Madison!" my father said warningly. Angelo touched my cheek tenderly before walking back to his car.
"Who was that boy, Madison?" my father demanded the minute I walked into the house.
"Angelo," I answered, "Angelo Tallerico."
"I don't like the look of him," he said firmly, "what kind of boy takes a young girl to his house at night?"
"He's not like that -" I began to say but he raised a hand and cut me off.
"You look dreadful! What in the world happened to your dress?" his face darkened, "Did that boy do that?"
"No!" I shouted. "Angelo didn't do it. It was Carson."
"Carson?" asked Rosemary in shock, "Carson McQueen?"
"Oh don't be ridiculous!" scoffed Dad, "Carson would never do a thing like that."
I stared at him in disbelief. "Daddy it's true!"
"Well Henry just called me," Dad said coldly, "He and Elena are very upset. Carson showed up at home beaten up badly and he says that some boy named Angelo beat him up."
"Of course Angelo beat him up," I said hotly, "Angelo saved me from Carson. He was drunk."
"Well what would you have me believe, Madison? I have known Carson McQueen his whole life and then you show up with this Angelo character that beat the poor boy up. He's lucky the McQueens aren't pressing charges against him."
"He was going to rape me!". I shouted angrily. "He was drunk, daddy and if it wasn't for Angelo he would have raped me!"
"Stop being so melodramatic, Madison," he said in annoyance, "and don't expect me to believe you when you show up with a delinquent like that boy."
"His name is Angelo!" I shouted in frustration and ran up to my room. I was so angry and I collapsed on my bed. I hated Carson so much! How dare he spread these lies to my father about Angelo. He had deserved the thorough beating he got.
Angelo.
Just thinking about him made me smile. He was a gentleman contrary to what my father thought.
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