(Alright! Here is chapter three. Can I just say, writing from Rossi's perspective was really nice? It was a point of view I had never written before, and it was a nice challenge. I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to follow and review!)
Greed: (noun) a selfish and excessive desire for more of something (as money) than is needed
"What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?" Mark 8:36
David Rossi: Greed
"Woah… Sir your house is like, unbelievable. Like this is something out of a movie. Was a movie filmed here? I think I remember this from one of those spy movies with Brad Pitt…" I chuckle at Penelope's exuberant reaction to my home. Granted, she's not wrong. After a long life of serving, first in the Marines, then in the FBI, I had found a small haven in my home.
"Well, I don't think any movies have been filmed here, but to be fair I'm not home much so maybe." I take her coat and hang it in the closet just past the stairs. "I think everyone is in the living room, but Reid may have snuck off to the library. Can I get you a glass of wine?"
"Uh, but of course!"
"Red or white?"
"I'll start off with white, my liege." I point her toward the living room and step into the kitchen to pour her drink. I uncork the Chardonnay and grab a glass from the china cabinet. The oven begins to beep and I quickly don an oven mitt, pulling the pan of appetizers from the bottom rack. I transfer them onto a platter and bring it and Penelope's wine into the adjoining room.
The team is milling about talking. Will and Aaron are standing at the fireplace, talking in semiserious tones. Jen and Emily seated on the loveseat under the window, both consumed with laughter. Derek is occupying the couch opposite them, with Penelope occupying his knee. I walk forward and present her glass and place the fig and goat cheese tapenade in my hand next to the caprese salad and prosciutto flatbread already on the coffee table. Through the french doors I can see Jack and Henry chasing each other around the yard. I don't see Spencer, and can only assume that I was correct in my earlier deduction and he is in the library.
"Dinner should be served in roughly twenty minutes!" I call out to everyone.
"Rossi, how many bedrooms do you have here?" Emily queries.
"I have five bedrooms with six baths."
"Five! What in the world do you need five bedrooms for?" jokes Morgan, his arms wrapped around Penelope's waist.
"What I do in my own house is none of your business!" I return with a grin.
"Can we have a tour? I would love to see the entire house." begs Jen.
"Ooh yeah! And shen she says entire, we mean entire. Even the secret bat cave which I can only assume is accessed through a trick bookcase," injects Penelope.
I hold up my hands. "Okay, I'll take you on a tour, everyone follow me. I lead the group down a short hallway into the library. Spencer is sitting in an armchair in the corner, gently pouring over my antique copy of Alessandro Manzoni's The Betrothed, in the original Italian.
"Rossi this is in excellent condition!" he tells me, turning the delicate pages.
"You're more than welcome to borrow it," I assure him.
I lead the group out of the library, back into the foyer. "Alright upstairs first, or downstairs?"
"Wait your house has three levels?" asks Penelope.
"Where do you suppose I keep the bat cave?" I dead pan. We take the stairs to the upper level and I give a quick tour of the four bedrooms and respective bathrooms. Then I open a door to reveal a small elevator. "We can't all fit at once, we'll have to go in groups."
"Uh, no worries, I'll take the stairs," Morgan hurriedly replies.
"Oh sweetness, I always forget you're afraid of elevators."
"Pretty Mama, I'm not afraid of anything, so you can just get that thought out of your head. I'm just going to save us time by taking the stairs." Derek begins to descend, pulling Penelope after him. Aaron and Will decide that they will also take the stairs and I proceed into the elevator with both female agents.
"When was this place built, Rossi?" Jen asks.
"1983. But the contractor did a wonderful job of instilling old world charm into the place. I purchased it back in 2004."
"Did it come as is or did you do some reno?" Emily runs her hand along the smooth wood paneling that covers the walls of the elevator.
"For the most part it was just how you see it today. I added a few things here and there." We come to a halt and the door slides open. Wejoin the others and I take them through the fifth bedroom, the laundry room, and the garage. Finally I open the door into my favorite room in the house: the den. With it's giant wood burning fireplace and oak panneling, the room is decidedly old fashioned. A poker table dominates the majority of the floor space and there is a permanent lingering smell of cigar smoke.
"This is a great space, Rossi," comments Will, running his hand over the faded green felt on the large table.
"Do you play any poker?"
He gives me a lopsided grin. "I can hold my own in Texas Hold 'Em."
"I'll tell Jen next time I'm having a poker night, I'd love to have you join." I point across the room at Emily. "You however are not invited."
Her mouth drops open in feigned innocence. "What? Just because I happen to be well versed in 7-card stud?"
"Because you'll wipe the table with every single one of us." We proceed back upstairs and through the french doors onto the stone terrace. The boys see us exit the house and come running over.
"Momma I'm hungry," cries Henry, wrapping an arm around Jen's leg.
"Well I think dinner is almost ready," she tells him.
"If you all want to take you places in the dining room, the pasta should be a just a few moments."
We pass a warm evening in the dining room, everyone laughing and talking, my pasta receiving heartfelt praise. However, as the night grows darker and the grandfather clock in the hall chimes off hour after hour, my guests slowly begin to file out. I retrieve Emily and Derek's coats from the closet.
"Are you sure you have to go? You're more than welcome to stay the night. As you pointed out, I've got more than enough room!" I keep my tone light and cheerful, hiding the desperation that is slowly beginning to seep into my core.
"Oh thank you Rossi, but I have to get home to Sergio. Thank you for the wonderful food and a great night." She presses a kiss to my cheek.
"What about you? I'm sure there's some sort of football game playing, we can play it on my big screen. I have a prime 1947 brandy that I've been wanting to break out, what do you say?"
Derek just smiles and shakes my hand. "I'd love to but I have an early morning training session tomorrow, I need to get home to bed."
I smile and concede, and wave them through the door. I watch through the window as they walk to their cars and pull out of my driveway. I flip the lock on the door and engage the alarm, before turning to face the foyer.
Isn't it amazing how much life and vitality friends can bring to a space? During the course of the evening the house had seemed warm and cozy, a peaceful place to be. Now, with everyone I care for retreated to their own homes, the light doesn't seem to cast quite as far and a chill inhabits the empty rooms.
I go to the kitchen and wash all the dishes from tonight by hand. Jazz plays from the stereo in the next room and I hum along. When they are done I wipe my hands and go about shutting down the house. Lights are switched off, candles and fireplaces are extinguished. I turn off the stereo and draw the curtains on the french doors, hiding away the empty lawn. I walk upstairs, running my hand over the cold iron railing. I shrug out of my button down and exchange my slacks for pajama pants. I crawl into bed and stare into the darkness.
'What's the point?' A small voice from the back of my mind asks. 'All of the things you've amassed, this house, your cars, you vintage books and wines, what do they do?'
Nothing, is the sad answer. My heart aches at the cold, empty spot in bed next to me. A whole life spent chasing achievements and wealth and admiration, and I have nothing to show for it but material possessions and three failed marriages. I had found happiness with both Carolyn and Joy, but my ambition had gotten the best of me and left me blind as to how much I needed them. My third wife, Roxanne, hadn't necesarrily brought me joy but it doesn't matter because in the end I lost her too.
I turn onto my side, choosing to stare at the alarm clock on the bedsie table rather than the constant reminder of the life I had chosen. To look at me on paper would find a man who has achieved success in his chosen careers and earned a comfortable position in life. But look in my heart and you wouls find a man bound and destroyed by his own loneliness.