Strawberry Wine Chapter Five
Only when he strolled home approximately two hours after sharing hot cider and old stories and jokes with Tifa did Reno even think about the situation he had blindly smooth-talked his way into. He had lied. And lied bad. The cleanliness of his apartment was debatable—while he thought a few strewn shirts here and there and some magazines and empty cans of beer on every horizontal surface in sight was tidy, several of his guests did comment on the apartment's state. His motto was always: if it didn't smell bad, it wasn't dirty. But after seeing the spotless place Tifa called home, he regretted every word he had said. And cooking! The blue moon shone in the sky whenever he had something edible in his refrigerator or cupboards, and pigs flew if they were finished before their expiration dates. And Heaven forbid the non-perishables lacked the words somewhere on their labels. Reno groaned. What did I just get myself into?
* * * *
Patiently, he waited for someone on the other line to pick up, running his fingers along the smooth mold of the black PHS. After about four rings, his prayers were answered.
Hey, Phoebe! the woman on the other end sounded somewhat surprised. Wow, it's been a while. Look, I was wondering if you— the Turk paused, lifting an eyebrow at a sudden wailing in the background on Phoebe's end. Is that a kid I hear? Oh yes, that's my little dovey wovey. He's three and such a little angel. Just li—JASON BYRON MANN, IF YOU DON'T PUT THAT SALAD SHOOTER DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT, SO HELP ME GOD So much for his left eardrum. Did I call at a bad time? Reno asked, quietly. Oh no, of course not. The shifts in Phoebe's tone and mood frightened the Turk somewhat. He knew her to be a little on the moody side, which was part of the reason he never pursued a relationship with her in the first place, but he never experienced something quite like this. So, anyway. I was in town and I figured we could join up for one of your home-cooked meals at my place. Nothing serious, just the two of us, you know? His intentions were to prove otherwise. He had planned to have her come by and cook for him, then escort her out shortly thereafter with the excuse that someone he knew had a bachelor party, or something along that line. She'd forgive him. Phoebe was weird like that. Oh! I'd love to! When can— Again, the conversation was interrupted by more tantrums and yelling from Phoebe's toddler, accompanied by the sounds of something, perhaps furniture, crashing. Hold on, Reno. Phoebe inhaled. JASON, I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN FROM THAT CHANDELIER AND GET READY FOR DAY CARE, I AM GOING TO POUR GASOLINE ALL OVER YOU AND LIGHT YOU ON FIRE!! Reno cringed. call you later, Phoebe, he hastily said before depressing the end' button of his hand-held phone. He concluded that a life stranded in the center of the Midgar Marshes with several Zoloms would be more pleasant than having to deal with an old flame and her troublesome young son. He ran his index down the length of the pages of his black book, skimming through name after feminine name. The majority of names he did not recall, and he found himself attempting to just pick a random one from the bunch and calling the number. It was nearing noon. He didn't have all day to and before his six o' clock meeting with Tifa. He decided to do just that, noticing his finger stopped at a particular name: Monica. She had two asterisks by her name in red ink. That had to mean something good, right? He dialed in Monica's number and prayed she'd pick up. The phone rang only once before a breathless female on the other end practically squealed, harming Reno's right eardrum. Reno was stupefied, and maybe even scared, to know that someone whose face was wiped out from his memory predicted his call. Um, hey Monica! he said with feigned enthusiasm. How did you know it was me? I have my PHS programmed to ring a particular way for when you call me! Oh, that'sneat. Listen, I no longer live in Junon, I— You live in Kalm City in the apartment building right across the street from The General's Pub on the third floor! Monica finished for him. Reno turned pale. He had the sudden urge to rise from his couch and close the window curtains. Baby, anything you need, I'll do it for you! Monica sang. Just call off that restraining order you have on me and— The conversation with Monica ended right there. He hung up on her without a second thought. Reno slid the dark blue curtains of his living room to a close and retreated into the cushions of his couch, shivering. He remembered why he had put two asterisks by her name: to avoid her. Monica was fanatical and psycho, and she scared the living daylights out of him. Sighing and slumping back onto his couch, Reno flipped open the address book and looked through the names, reminding himself to avoid all sorts of names in with asterisks. A name stood out from all the others on the same page, particularly because it was circled. Asterisks meant the girl was crazy. What did a circle around her name mean? Only one way to find out. The seven digits of Rachel's phone number proved to be in service and Reno thanked his lucky stars silently, waiting for her to answer her line.
Hey Rachel! Is this Reno? The one and only, baby! Lis— FUCK OFF, SLIMEBALL! -click- The Turk stared at his PHS, appalled. The circle meant she was pissed off at him, probably. Frustration took over disbelief, and Reno threw his black book across the living room. It landed in a heap of old papers and documents from work along with some magazines and books. Within that pile he spotted a very thick and very bright yellow book. The Kalm Yellow Pages phone directory. A sneaky smile curved his lips as he trotted over to retrieve the book.
****
A series of harsh knocks startled the redhead Turk while he was busy with stuffing his laundry into the hallway closet along with the books, the unpacked boxes, and the jackets Uh, who is it? he called out, even if he knew full and well who was on the other side of the door. It's me. Tifa. Just a second! Using his hip to push a reluctant pile of clean bed sheets into the closet, he quickly retreated from the heap threatening to spill out and closed the door to prevent it from doing so. And when he got to the main door of his apartment, he stopped to check himself in the door side mirror; he had it there for the few, deciding minutes before he had stepped out of his place for a date or before others stepped in when the date was over. He gave his reflection a once-over and deemed himself to look presentable. After his quick shower, he had put on a simple close-fit and ribbed long-sleeved black shirt with a v-neck, and charcoal gray pants. His damp hair was worn in its usual flamboyant style, a few wisps of red dangling here and there. The tips of his fingers ran over his smooth, clean-cut face. No five o'clock shadow. Weapon set and ready. Before Tifa could wait any longer, Reno swung the door open and presented his lovely guest with a fawning grin. Heh, sorry about that. He looked her over. You look great. Why thank you, the modest young woman said. She wore a pair of dark blue flares that hugged her shapely thighs and loosened some about her ankles; a red turtleneck peeked out from the crevice of a matching dark blue denim jacket. Come in Come in A smiling Tifa led herself into his apartment and immediately began scrutinizing the place. She glanced this way and that, her silence making the otherwise cool and casual Reno turn into a cat on a hot tin roof. Um. What's the matter? he asked her as she removed her jacket. Ohhhhhh nothing, the brunette nearly sang her reply. So Uh, let's eat, mm? Reno figured food would get her mind off of his apartment's cleanliness. From the looks of it, however, it wasn't. Before Reno could step into his quaint kitchenette, Tifa was espying the area around his couch. Please don't look behind it, he pleaded in his thoughts. Please don't look. She looked behind the couch. Damn it! Oh, so you keep your comforters behind your couch, Tifa declared, teasingly, while pulling an olive green comforter from its hiding spot. She held it up with her fingers. They teach you this in Neo-Shinra? Har. Dee. Har. Har. Reno grumbled and snatched the blanket from her, setting it onto the couch. He'd sleep on it later. Can we eat now? Wait, wait, Tifa then tiptoed over to the hall closet. A wide and mischievous grin, the kind children displayed when they were about to open their Christmas presents several days early played about her face. This I have _got_ to see No, Tifa, wait It was too late. By the time Reno started his warning, Tifa had already opened the closet's door. The piles of clothes and blankets and other paraphernalia stumbled out of their tiny confinement and onto the floor. Tifa merely gazed at the junk with a smirk. It was as if she expected such a thing to happen. She looked to Reno. A very discomfited Reno. he began, rubbing the nape of his neck, the maid is on vacation. Are you sure she's on vacation? Tifa gesticulated to the mountain with a hand. Maybe she's trapped somewhere underneath all of this. Fine. We'll clean this after we're done eating, okay? Reno suggested.
He watched as she doubled over and grabbed an armful of clothes. Oh come on! Don't tell me you want to clean this _now_. Tifa mused, Yes. I do Now, where's your bedroom? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can eat. Reno stared at her in disbelief. You're serious, he muttered. She tipped a brow, expecting him to respond to her. Then he sighed. Second door on the left.
* * * *
Vegetable stir-fry? Reno shrugged and took a hearty sip of his chilled beer (he refused to drink anything else with his dinner). What, you don't think I'm that type of guy? Not really, Tifa replied with a shrug, swirling the vegetables within its own sauce and rice with her fork. I always figured you to be more of a barbecue ribs and pork rinds type of guy. What made you decide to prepare such a meal? I wanted to prepare something that would taste good but not take forever. You know, like that commercial says: Sunday dinner, Tuesday effort'. Carefully, Reno eyed her, awaiting any reactions she might have towards the food. Since they began eating, she remained somewhat apathetic towards the food's taste, having only nodded her head with an impressed look once. like it? Tifa nodded and shoved a forkful of the stir-fry into her mouth at the same time. She thoughtfully chewed. Mm-hm. I'm very impressed. How did you learn how to make such a Wutainese delicacy so well? Is there a recipe out that I'm not aware of? Are you serious? Reno failed to notice her inquiry. Of course. Didn't you learn that honesty is the best policy? Right. So, are you going to tell me? Tell you what? Where did you get this recipe? Tifa pointed to the meager remainder of food on her plate with her fork. The cup of beer the Turk held was set down, its contents long gone. Reno stared at the frothy hops at the bottom of the glass. His jaw was set firm and his slender red eyebrows made a line across the center of his forehead. Promise not to get mad at me? his voice was suddenly soft. Caught off guard, Tifa glanced at him. He was slowly tracing the circular edge of the beer glass with his finger. Depends on what you're going to tell me, she replied, though she was more than curious at his sudden change in behavior. Just promise me.
I didn't cook the food, he blurted out.
The silence she fed Reno killed him. Pack your bags, kids. We're going on a guilt trip. He sighed. The stuff is from a Wutainese restaurant in town. I threw away all of the cartons and bags and used my own plates and silverware. I pretended I cooked the food so So that I could impress you.
I know, I know. That was low. Even for me. But I couldn't help it, Reno went on to say, tugging on the baby hairs fanning his brow in frustration. I kinda talked my way into this with a lie. And then the only thing that I sought to work it out with was another lie And now
GOD. Please! Say something! I hate the Rude treatment! He pulled harder on his hair. The pain did little to faze him, though. He was too preoccupied with the feeling of guilt permeating in his mind. All those years working with the Turks and with Shinra had made him apathetic towards this thing called guilt'. Yet, whenever the topic was relevant towards the ruby-eyed maiden seated before him, this guilt' had a way of creeping up on the Turk. It made him uncomfortable. Tifa's hand blanketed his bicep. It had a peculiar warmth to it, Reno noticed. Don't beat yourself up, she said, we all do our little_things_ to impress other people. I mean, I didn't appreciate being lied to but I see your point. Reno, who had his eyes closed throughout the length of his confession towards her, peeked open an eye at her when she finally spoke to him. Appalled, he opened both eyes and blinked at her, incredulously. He didn't think this honesty' thing so many people, including Elena, had spoken of would work so easily. There _had_ to be a catch. I don't think you heard me right, Tifa. So, I'm going to repeat myself. I didn't— I heard you the first time, Reno. Heh Tifa shook her head, fighting back the urge to chuckle. If you couldn't cook, why didn't you invite me to a restaurant? I read somewhere that women appreciate it more when a guy cooks for them instead of taking them out to some joint. The fork made a musical tingle when Tifa tapped her fork against the edge of her plate. But the thing is, you _didn't_ cook this for me. Exactly. Why is why I'm up shit's creek without a paddle. So why not start over? Reno blinked. Come again? I said, why not start over?'. You know, start anew, clean slate, new leaf. Tifa's hands began moving along with her speech, a habit she picked up from bar tending in Midgar. So let me get this straight, Reno paused to lean back in his seat. A new white cigarette was placed in between his tiers and he lit it with a Zippo. The fresh and minty smoke began to linger about him. You're asking me out he couldn't help the smirk that formed. At this realization, Tifa's eyes widened. Shyly, she tucked a strand of unkempt hair behind the shell of her ear. Yeah. Then she pointed a finger at him, warningly. But I'm only doing this for you. So don't get any ideas! A puff cloud of smoke was released with Reno's chuckle. I won't I won't. He winked at her. So it's a date Yeah. It's a date.
~Fin?~
Disclaimer: All characters here are properties of their respective owners. I'm not making money out of this. Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter up, but with the Holidays amongst us all, it was kind of hard. Especially since I'm in Brasil, for Carnival. I had to find some time here and there to update this on my laptop—that's why it seems so rushed. Sorry about that! A few quick notes and you can review (hint, hint) all you want. Firstly, last chapter, I forgot to give credit to the author that created Reno's surname, Talor. I totally forgot and I apologize for using it without giving you credit sooner! So wherever you are, do not kill me! And yes, the names of Reno's past flings were inspired by a TV Show. ^_~ Thanks to everyone that has reviewed and/or e-mailed me! And Happy New Year, everyone!
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