Chapter Seven

Dinner With Friends

Cristina studied the sturdy brunette standing on the other side of the door, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The woman was tanned and toned, with light brown hair and light eyes. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Cristina held onto the side of her door.

"Can I help you?" she asked. The woman on the other side smiled and extended her hand.

"I'm looking for Cristina Lucia. Is that you?"

"Si. You would be?"

"I'm Eve Torres. I work with Mike." Eve hoped that dropping Mike's name would ease Cristina's mind a little. For a little Italian woman, Cristina had an intense aura. Cristina did not move to the side to offer Eve into her apartment, but Eve noted that something had flashed in her eyes.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry – this is going to sound creepy. I looked you up in the phone book. It was kind of a long shot, but it paid off. Mike and Alex told me all about you this week, about how you came here from Italy and you're here by yourself, and I just...Mike and Alex are good and all, but I thought you could use a girlfriend."

Cristina blinked. Eve was relieved when the suspicion on her face disappeared, and the warmth that Mike always spoke of became visible. She stood to the side, smiling. "I am so sorry, Eve. Would you come in? I am sorry for being rude."

"It's fine. I understand I caught you by surprise. I would love to come in." Eve walked inside and Cristina shut and locked the door behind them. Eve looked over the small apartment. It didn't have a lot of decorations or knickknacks, but Cristina had turned the little apartment into a home. She turned to Cristina. "Mike said that you write for a music magazine?" she asked. Cristina nodded.

"Can I get you anything? I have water, soda, milk, wine..."

"I'll go for a soda, thanks." Cristina disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two cans of Sprite. She handed a can to Eve. "Thank you. Mike said that you've been a bit lonely since coming over here. Where are you from in Italy?" she asked.

"Milan."

"Your English is pretty good. Mike said you're teaching yourself?" she asked. Cristina nodded. Eve rounded the couch and sat down. Cristina joined her, sitting down on the other end. "Welcome to America. Has it been a good experience for you so far?"

"Good and bad," Cristina confessed. She told Eve of the times she had been bullied and mocked for her accent. Eve watched Cristina speak, feeling a pang of sympathy when her eyes welled with tears, her cheeks turned pink and her voice shook when she recounted how someone had told her to go back where she came from. She could tell Cristina was a proud woman, that the idea of asking for help was something she hated, but it was necessary while she got familiar with her new surroundings.

"I'm sorry to hear that happened to you," Eve told her. "Unfortunately, you're always going to run into these types here. But there are some good people here, Cristina. You'll find them more than the bad ones."

"Oh, I have met good people here."

"Mike?" Eve asked. Cristina nodded, blushing and smiling. "How did you meet him?" she asked. She listened, smiling, when Cristina told her about the bad day she had, how she got lost trying to find her interview spot. Eve shook her head sympathetically when Cristina talked about spilling coffee and ruining her favorite white shirt and breaking a heel on her shoes.

"Michael...he showed up like an angel and helped me. I needed it."

"That's so sweet," Eve commented, unable to keep the giddy tone out of her voice. She found the woman already far more pleasant than the woman Mike was currently involved with. "Do you see Mike a lot?" Cristina shook her head.

"We message each other, Alex, Michael and I. But he is busy." Eve studied Cristina, not at all lost on the similarities that she shared with Maryse – an immigrant working for the good life, finding her own way and teaching herself the language so she could fit in – yet the two of them were so very different. Cristina had yet to lose herself in the trappings of Hollywood the way that Maryse had. There was something about Cristina that was ethereal; she was humbled, thankful for every friend she made. Months after arriving in America, Cristina was still overwhelmed by certain things.

"You've met A-Ri?" Eve asked. Cristina nodded.

"And now you've met me. We will have to do a girl's night sometime."

"Girl's night?" Cristina asked. Eve looked at her, stunned.

"Don't tell me you've never had a girl's night before – when you get together with friends and binge and do makeovers and dance..." Cristina's face darkened even more.

"Binge?"

"You eat lots of junk food," Eve replied. Cristina's mouth formed a silent "O" of comprehension. "I think we should. What do you think? Would you be up for that?"

"Si. That would be great." The conversation soon shifted to Eve's life, how she became a WWE Diva. Eve put her phone number into Cristina's phone, telling her that she would keep in touch with her while she was on the road, the same way that Mike and Alex did. The thought of having her own group outside of work made her smile; it was something she didn't think would ever really happen.

Mike and Maryse began arguing almost as soon as they walked through the front doors of Mike's home. With his concussion, the shouting hadn't helped anything. Infuriated, Maryse had picked up a crystal vase and thrown it at his head. Mike ducked it, narrowly missing being hit in the head. It hit the back wall before falling to the floor and shattering. Flowers floated towards his bare feet as Maryse stormed out of the house, cursing in French and screaming before peeling out of the driveway with tires squealing.

What had they been arguing about? Mike wasn't sure. He felt like she was picking fights over the little things lately. This time, Mike vowed that he wasn't going to go out and buy her affection. He was quickly growing exhausted by the constant back and forth they seemed to be trapped in.

Now he was standing in front of Cristina's door. He should be at home, cleaning up the broken vase, but he needed to get away. He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer, shocked when Eve opened the door. His eyes narrowed. "Eve? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eve told him.

"Michael, did you find me okay?" she asked, coming into view. Eve watched his face light up as Cristina entered his line of vision. She approached, her smile fading to concern. "How is your head? Do you need some aspirin or some ice?" Mike shook his head.

"No, no. I'm okay. I appreciate the offer, though," he told her. She moved beside Eve, surprising him by reaching out and touching his ear. Her fingers were warm and soft.

"What happened to your ear?" Cristina asked. Mike touched his ear, by the area where her fingers had just been. He was surprised to find crusted blood on his earlobe. He assumed the vase had clipped him. "Here. You come with me now," she told him firmly, grabbing his hand and leading him into her small bathroom. Eve stood in the doorway and watched them. Mike sat down on the toilet while she grabbed peroxide and cotton balls.

"What happened – did Maryse throw something at you?" Eve teased, leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. Mike looked up at her. Eve looked at him, horrified that she had been on the money. "Mike, that's horrible. You have a concussion."

"I'm fine. It's just a small graze."

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Eve asked. "Because Maryse went out." Cristina worked in silence, listening to the two of them talk about Mike's home life.

"I came to see my friend," he informed her tightly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Your girlfriend...she did this?" Cristina asked. Mike shot Eve a look and then hung his head. Cristina threw out the bloody cotton ball and put the peroxide back into the cabinet. She turned to Mike, her stare moving between the two of them. "You two will stay for dinner, yes?"

"Yeah, sure. I think that sounds like a plan," Mike told her. The last time he had eaten a home-cooked meal had been when he was at home with his parents last year. Eve nodded, telling Cristina dinner sounded lovely. Eve watched Mike, shaking her head. When Maryse found out where her boyfriend was, she knew that it was not going to be pretty.

"If you would like, Michael, you can call Alex," Cristina offered. Mike smiled.

"I'm going to have to. If I leave him out of a home-cooked meal, he'll kill me," he said. The three of them shared a laugh. He stood, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and calling Alex. Mike moved past Cristina and Eve, making the invite to Alex and giving him directions to Cristina's apartment. While he spoke, Eve watched Cristina, who was looking past Eve to Mike, her face a mask of concern. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, her eyes sad.

"Can I help with dinner at all, Cristina?" Eve asked. She shook her head.

"No, no – you are a guest. Relax." Eve went into the living room and forced Mike to sit down on the sofa. He hung up and announced that Alex was on his way, that he was going to bring dessert with him. Eve couldn't help but laugh at Mike's excitement at the prospect of a home-cooked meal.

It was ten minutes before Alex arrived, armed with a small caramel custard log cake that he bought from the bakery by his house. Eve had answered the door, since Cristina was busy in the kitchen making her mother's world-famous baked ravioli that was stuffed with three cheeses and spinach. She had a Caesar salad that she was preparing, complete with homemade dressing. In the fridge, Cristina had a bottle of red wine three-quarters full to go with dinner.

"Are you sure that you don't want any help, Cristina?" Mike asked from his spot on the couch.

"Si. You relax, Michael. You are hurt. Dinner is almost ready."

"Can I help?" Eve asked. Cristina laughed.

"Everything is fine. Sit at the table. Dinner will be ready quick." Mike, Alex and Eve sat down at the circular glass table. In the middle, Cristina had lit a scented candle, the scent of vanilla. Cristina emerged with three wine glasses and the bottle of wine. She followed with the bowl of Caesar salad. After a few moments, she came back with two plates of baked ravioli, serving Mike and Alex first. Returning with the plates for herself and Eve, Cristina took her place at the table between Mike and Eve. "Oh, I forgot the cheese..." Cristina began. Mike was up in a flash to get it, moving before she could. He returned, handing her the shaker. "Grazie, Michael. I hope you all like this. It is my mother's recipe."

"The sauce is incredible," Eve commented, cutting a ravioli in half. "You are going to have to teach me how to cook like this – my boyfriend isn't going to know what hit him."

"This might be the first time a woman who isn't my mother has cooked for me," Mike commented. Alex agreed, the two men laugh. Eve shook her head. "I'm a little bit jealous – is this what I've been missing out on?" he asked. Cristina blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Mike's laughter was a little too loud and he instantly felt a bolt of pain in the back of his head. Cristina put her fork down, doting on him immediately.

"Michael?" she asked.

"I'm okay...I'm fine..." Mike stood, shaky. Cristina was up in a flash, holding onto his arm.

"Where do you need to go?" she asked. Alex stood to assist Cristina.

"Outside. I just need some air." Mike tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling suffocated. Cristina cocked her head towards the balcony door and the two of them led him outside, staying close in case he collapsed or fainted.

"Do we need to take you to the hospital?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I'll be okay, Cristina," he assured her. Eve stood in the doorway, smiling at the way Cristina was doting on Mike. Alex turned his head, locking gazes with Eve. She nodded at him. Cristina asked Eve to watch Mike while she rushed to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

"I'll drive you home, Mike," Eve replied.

"After dinner." It took a few minutes for the feeling to pass. Cristina left the door open when they walked back inside, taking their place back at the table.

When Mike returned home from Cristina's apartment, it was late. He found his Mercedes parked in the driveway, and he knew Maryse had come back. Inside, the lights were off; Mike realized that she was probably in his bed, fast asleep. He wasn't in the mood to go right to bed, so he went into the living room and sat down in his armchair. Mike settled on Comedy Central, where a South Park episode was on. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but coming home had put a damper on his mood. Even though his home was at least six sizes bigger than Cristina's tiny apartment, the atmsophere made him want to be there more than anywhere else. Upstairs, Maryse slept peacefully, but Mike knew they were going to be stuck in the same hellish cycle when she awoke in the morning.

He smiled, thinking about his night away from Maryse. Cristina was funny, smart, beautiful and caring, everything he thought Maryse had been in the beginning. After dinner, everyone sat in the living room, listening to music and talking about their lives. He learned about Cristina's family over in Italy, her parents and her brother and stepbrother. He touched his earlobe, recalling the concern and care she had shown for him earlier. It touched him to know that someone cared.