Omg, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot about this cause I got caught up in Voltron. Hopefully I'll remember to keep this on a consistent updating schedule from now on since it's largely done but please don't be angry if I forget again. Please enjoy.
The next day I skipped class and hung out with Alfred at his place with a bag of salt and vinegar chips on my stomach as I slouched on his nice grey leather couch and American flag throw pillows.
Alfred sighed as he plopped down beside me with a coke ice cream float in one of his vintage glasses and took a huge bite of his grilled chicken sandwich. Swallowing, he said. "Are ya sure you don't want to stay at my place with me? I could always clear out the spare room. Or if you want, I could convince my neighbor to take ya in? She just got back from visiting family in Mexico; I'm sure she'd like you well enough."
Pausing from sticking another chip into my mouth, I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. "Thanks but no thanks. Besides, we all know the moment I open my mouth it'd be a warzone. I've seen the way you two argue when she tries to sneak in and she thinks you won't notice."
Grumbling, he took another angry bite. "She keeps trying to say that my room gets better ac but then she eats all my food just to spite me." He sighed. "But yeah, I see what you mean. You've both got strong personalities. I just really don't like the idea of you being all alone with him while you're fighting. I mean what if the people who took Feliciano come back for you? The police aren't even doing anything and I—oh… I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bring it back up."
Alfred said somberly, giving me a sad look through his blond eyelashes. Patting his arm, I sat up. "It's alright, Al; I know you didn't. Anyways, I haven't given up hope just yet. I've still got a few cards up my sleeve left."
His eyes narrowed at me. I could tell the gears in his brain were turning. Alfred's not as dumb as some people like to think—he's actually one of the cleverest people I know. "Chiara, what are you planning?"
Screwing my face into a stubborn expression, I stuffed a handful of chips into my mouth and said nothing.
Groaning, he half slammed his float he'd just picked up back on the coffee table and shifted so he could face me fully. "This isn't a joke; whoever took your brother is serious business if the police are too scared to do anything about it! I won't have you dead in a ditch." His eyes, the color of crystal clear sea water, were serious, something not very common for this fun loving golden boy with a hero complex. When Alfred gets serious, not many can stand in his way.
Swallowing, I tried to calm him down. "I'm stronger and faster than that. This is something I have to do; I can't just let them do this to him. He deserves better… besides I'm not doing this alone, I'm getting help. Oh, don't give me that look! It's professional help!"
"Professional? But the police don't want to help." He furrowed his eyebrows, an adorably confused look in his pretty eyes.
Seriously, his _ amazes me. "Alfredo, you disappoint me. I thought you had a love affair with all things 50's and noir." The muscle car he was saving up for and the Elvis Presley records he inherited from his grandfather are proof of it. He even works at a diner.
He was silent for a moment but I could see the gears ticking. Right when he looked like he was about to have a fit—he's pouting pretty angrily, it's hilarious—a light bulb dinged behind his eyes. He eyed me suspiciously. "A private detective? That kind of professional help?"
I nodded as I looked back at the scene on television. I swear we can both be such couch tomatoes. "Investigator actually but yeah. It took a bit of convincing; there was a macho white potato there who tried to throw me out but I convinced one of them to help me." I so did not want to tell Alfred about how he'd taken me to the bistro/café after seeing my mini meltdown outside.
It was embarrassing enough he'd witnessed it, I wasn't about to relive the moment by hashing it out with Alfred. Plus he'd get all weirdly protective.
Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and heaved a sigh. "Alright but let him do the work. Don't try and get yourself involved. Leave it to the professionals."
"I'll try."
"Chiarina!" He moaned before falling silent. "So how's it going in chemistry class?"
I scrunched up my face. Three weeks in and I was still struggling.
He chuckled. "You gotta get a tutor; this is your third time taking that same class."
"I wouldn't have to if this stupid University wasn't so hard! I swear if I have to hear nonno try and tell me why I'm having trouble and should switch majors, I'll bust a cap!"
"I still don't get why he thinks switching majors would mean you didn't have to take that class. It's a ge after all."
"Who knows what goes on through that crazy cobweb filled head of his."
We went on like that, watching the movie and chatting about small things but we didn't return to the topic about Feliciano and the private detective. It wasn't until it was nearly four thirty that I decided to head out before nonno starts to wonder where I am.
It wasn't exactly a long way from Alfred's apartment building to our relatively large house, it was just a hidden in a very nice cul de sac.
Our house layout had the garage to the right of the house with a door that leads into the kitchen. Then there's the small gate nonno had installed in front of our lawn with the fancy scroll. Nonno may have lost it all once but that doesn't mean he didn't manage to gain at least a fraction of it back. Instead of starting another vineyard, he worked at a wine company for a little while until he got enough money to put the down payment on a museum/art gallery. It really took off and we live a relatively comfortable life now.
Or that is, we did.
Making sure I closed the door as silently as possible, I kicked off my shoes and grabbed them before started to make my way upstairs. I didn't want another confrontation—it wouldn't be right, we're all we have right now. Even if he is a stubborn old man too set in his ways.
"Bambina, would you come to my office? I need to talk to you." Nonno Roma called out.
How did he know I was here? Cringing, I dropped my shoes with a loud plop and headed back down stairs. To the left of the entryway was the living room but his office was in the back right room with the double doors in the wall under the stairs.
"I need to apologize to you. I should have never said what I did to you. With Feliciano gone and all the pressure I've been getting, I've been a little harsh with you. There's no excuse to good enough to justify it. I just don't want to lose my precious granddaughter; I'm sorry."
I stared at him for a moment, my gut clenching at the slight guilt that marred my relief and elation at his apology. I can't believe I'm going to do this. Looking down at my fiddling hands, I spoke in a low apprehensive tone. "I'm sorry too." I looked up sharply at him, my heart beating fast and narrowed my eyes. "But you shouldn't have provoked me!"
A hearty laugh rang out as he tilted his head back. "That's my bambina! A real firecracker as they say."
He pulled me into a hug and squeezed me hard before letting go and resting his palm on that puzzle box of his. "I promise I'll try to be more open minded and I won't make you take on a bodyguard but."
I groaned.
"As long as you promise to call or text every hour on the hour while you're out. And you have to let me know where you're going."
Annoyance flared but I could see he wasn't going to budge. "I'll text but you can't get angry if I forget."
He stared at me for a moment before grabbing the box and fiddled with it. "Okay, I promise. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish up filling out this proposal before dinner. I have meeting with some important people tomorrow. What do you want to eat?"