Note From Author: Back to Bosco's thoughts again. Firstly I want to thank you all for your really nice responses but especially to Tahirih22 – thanks for your help and advice. I didn't think you were a horrible critique at all; I found your input really useful:-) Thanks again to everyone. Xxx
"We try are lives away, yet stumble to the grave. We cry and still they say the past won't go away, the story of my life." Kristian Leontiou – Story Of My Life.
I up the speed of my 69 Mustang, driving down the freeway at a rather reckless pace if I'm honest. I over take a huge truck, and the driver hits his horn. The loud noise startles me and my immediate reaction initially is to give him the finger. I regret the decision in the instant I carried out the gesture and hit the brakes, slowing down to a more respectable speed. After all I am a friggin' cop, for all the good it's done me. I keep thinking on what she said back in the locker room, how forward she was. She was honest. A little too honest in my opinion. I've never seen her like that before. My Faith, the Faith I knew, was more self-controlled. She would've never gone on an incoherent rant. But then again things had changed a lot since I got back. Maybe I didn't know her as well as I thought I did.
My mobile buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to screen the call.
'Faith Calling' flashes on-screen.
I don't answer. Instead I hit the off button, powering it down. Letting out a long sigh, I throw it on the passenger seat, placing both hands back on the wheel. Did she really mean what she said? She couldn't. She's just confused and lonely. And for some reason I'm the guy she needs to take it out on. She didn't mean a word of what she said. I know in my heart she didn't. The look in her eyes is what really unnerves me. It's not something I've ever seen before in her. I knew she was mad, ok fuckin' infuriated, with me but there was something else there. Frustration? Is that the right word? She's frustrated with me? Or is she frustrated with herself? Another sigh. Jesus Christ I don't know. After twelve years I still can't figure her out.
I indicate to filter off the freeway, heading back into the city. I'm sure as hell not going to get anywhere by running away. Ok, it might make things seem easier but the nagging inside my head won't stop.
I keep driving, my head mulling over the places I could go to escape my misery. A bar seems like a great idea but rationale tells me to stay away from Hegarty's. Instead I head to that little 24-hour diner Faith loves so much. I don't know why I want to go there but I do. Maybe it had something to do with the familiarity of the place. God knows nothing in my life is familiar anymore. Take Faith for example. She's suddenly turned into this attractive woman. A woman of complexity and emotion - yes, but still a woman. And I've never noticed that before in her. Not that I didn't realise she was a girl, and a pretty girl at that, I just never realised the extent of her femininity. I still think I don't realise just how fragile she is. For years I've looked at her as my partner and friend. Why should things be different now? I don't want them to be. I want to go back to when it was easy. Back to when things seemed simple. I don't want these feelings. They're just a burden. I don't want my heart to skip a beat when she smiles at me. I don't want to get lost in her eyes everytime she looks at me. I don't want to have the need of brushing the hair from her face when it falls down. I don't want any of it anymore. I want for Him upstairs to take it back.
I pull into a tight space at the front of the diner, nearly taking my wing mirror off from trying to squeeze in. Faith would've told me to get a better spot on the other end of the lot and walk my lazy ass across the car park. Well she's not here today. She'll never be here ever again.
I sit glued to the seat watching as the rain outside beats down off the ground, my windscreen steaming from the moisture. I make a resolve to get out of the car, my hands still gripping the bottom of the steering wheel.
"Right," I breathe biting on my upper lip. I hate the rain. It's so…depressing. Faith on the other hand loves it. She says she prefers rainy days to sunny days. Sunny days mean an uncomfortable heat and a lot of sweating or so she says. She refuses to look at it from any other angle. Stubborn woman.
I reach out for my steel door handle pulling it open and step out into the rain, which has now turned into a muzzy drizzle. I shiver when a cold breeze runs through me. I can't even be bothered to go back to the car to get my coat. I'm up at the door of the place now anyway.
Stepping inside, I'm greeted by the familiar smell of greasy fry-ups, potatoes, and coffee mixed with the scent of the newly painted yellow walls. I slide into a booth, my damp clothes eliciting a squeaking noise as they rub against the cheap red leather of the seats. "What can I get you darlin'?" a voice asks. I look up at the middle-aged woman and smile. She's in her forty's with curly brown hair, and tanned skin. She reminds me in many ways of my ma. Her exterior is gruff and unkempt, her hair tied back in a poorly secured ponytail, dark rings circling her deep brown eyes, and her hands are aged and wrinkled.
"Just a coffee thanks," I reply. She frowns slightly.
"A young man like you shouldn't do without a proper lunch," she says handing me a menu from the bar, "You have a look at that and I'll come back with your coffee. You can tell me what you want to eat then."
Definitely reminds me of Ma. I put the menu down and gaze out the window. Steam rises from the sills framing the edges of the thick glass. It's not a cold day – in fact it's quite warm. In here, the temperature seems to have gone up to a hundred degrees and I shift uncomfortably under the heat, tugging at my collar.
"Hello Bosco."
I close my eyes recognising the voice immediately. I don't even need to look.
"Cruz."
She slides into the booth across from me, a wide smile plastered across her beautiful face.
"Haven't spoken to you in a while," she says leaning back in the seat. I continue to stare out the window, trying my best to ignore her.
"Well that's what happens when you try to kill my best friend," I reply simply. She lets out a throaty chuckle and I look towards her. Her black hair curls against her face, damp from the rain, and her mascara runs slightly across her eyelids. I can't deny it; I know how to pick them. Cruz is bloody gorgeous. But with that beauty comes the stigma of 'bitch of the century'.
"Now, now Bosco. Play nice," she says, lowering her tone seductively. I roll my eyes and rest my forehead on the windowpane. "Did you and your wife have a fight?"
I frown and sit back up straight. "What?"
She smiles, amused by my bewilderment. "You and Faith. Did you have another one of your 'things'?"
"Fuck you Cruz," I snap. She grins crossing her arms across her chest.
"You already did Bosco."
I scowl and turn my head away again.
"Maybe you should do the same to her. I swear she's been like a bear with a sore head all mornin'. Maybe you should see to that."
She's taken it one step too far. The cup of coffee that the waitress had at one point left down for me, flies to the floor and breaks into pieces. She still maintains a mischievous smile, never taking her eyes away from me.
"Temper, temper," she whispers, grinning.
"Go to hell Cruz," I hiss, through clenched teeth.
"It was just a suggestion Boscorelli. You need to chill a bit."
I take out my wallet and withdraw a handful of notes placing them on the table. That should cover the broken cup I suppose. I throw her one last withering glance and storm off, out of the building.
I hear her follow me outside. The rains beating down again, and it runs down my skin, trickling down my collar.
"Bosco!" she calls. Her voice grates slightly, and I turn to face her. Her deep red top clings attractively to her body, her black jeans soaked through with water. Her hair, drenched with rainwater hangs loosely over her shoulders. She approaches me slowly, her breathing piercing the air with a misty appearance.
"What?" I say barely whispering. She reaches up pulling me down towards her lips. I can't believe this. At first I stand unresponsive as she hangs off my neck, her mouth working against mine. And for one brief, devastating second I react, kissing her back with little force. I quickly realise what I'm doing and push her back. She stumbles on her heels and smiles playfully.
"For old times sake," she yells over the rain. Her eyes fall past me and I turn to follow her gaze. Faith stands in the middle of the gravelled parking lot, staring at me wide-eyed, and innocent. Her jaw contracts and her eyes never leave mine as she shakes her head, gives me a wry smile and turns back for her car.
"Faith wait!" I call. I hear Cruz laugh as I chase after Faith, catching her easily by the wrist.
"No!" she screams at me, "Don't even Bosco!"
"I'm sorry! She kissed me!" I protest. She steps back pointing her finger at me.
"I came here to apologise for earlier! For me acting like a bitch! For not being your friend! When all along you were the one betraying my trust!" she screeches pulling at the roots of her hair. "She shot me Bosco! What is your obsession with her? Are you always going to choose her over me?"
"I don't…Faith! What you said earlier confused me. I…"
"It confused you! What about me Bosco! I've never even thought that way before and suddenly it comes out! How do you think I felt?"
"I don't know. You won't tell me! You won't tell me anything anymore! And then when you do decide to talk to me, you ask me to…Jesus Faith! What is wrong with you?" I bark.
Her blonde hair sticks to her wet skin and a tear escapes her eyes, leaving a rivulet stain of mascara down her cheek. "You're what's wrong with me!" she retorts, gesturing wildly. "Why can't we stop fighting? What the hell is wrong with us?"
"Maybe we can't be friends anymore," I say, sighing. She steps back defeated, her head hanging low.
"But in the apartment…we said…we made up."
"Did we? Or did we just buy some more time?"
"This is your fault," she states, her voice trembling. She turns to her car door throwing it open, with force.
"That's right. It's all my fault Faith. Nothing is ever yours!" I yell as she slips inside. She revs the engine, pulling out sharply, nearly knocking me over as she does.
I gaze after her, watching as she pulls away, driving with the same carelessness as me earlier. I turn back to find Cruz still standing there smirking like mad.
"Well done Bosco. You really have messed up this time," she calls out stepping back to the diner. Both women head off in different directions and for the first time in my life I'm too tired to follow either one of them.