When more time than necessary elapsed without Tommy’s reappearance, Angel exchanged a comical glance with Jessi.
Tommy popped up like a jack-in-the-box. He held the fork toward the ceiling like the Statue of Liberty while he swiped the hair out of his face with his free hand. “Got it!” he proclaimed, and then continued to eat with the same fork.
“Tommy, that’s dirty!” Angel exclaimed.
Tommy shrugged, unconcerned, and continued shoveling . . . something . . . into his mouth.
“What are you eating?” Angel stepped closer to view the contents of Tommy’s plate and let out a horrified gasp. It wasn’t the fried eggs atop Angel’s leftover homemade beef ravioli and spicy tomato sauce that nearly gave him a coronary. Nor was it the side of arroz con maize and pork croquettes that Tommy smothered in the tomato sauce. It was the china. “You’re using the Astbury Black Wedgwood plates? Are you insane?”
“We’re rich,” Tommy said, around a mouthful of food. “Why save it?” He picked up the plate, and it tilted at a dangerous angle, causing a splatter of sauce to land on the marble. “It’s nice, and we never get to enjoy it. We need to start living in the moment.”
Angel took a deep breath and held it. “Please put the plate down.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to drop it?” Tommy smiled mischievously.
“Please, Tommy. Just put it down.” Angel held up his hands and cautiously stepped forward.
Tommy stood and took a step backwards as he let out a maniacal laugh and shifted the plate from one hand to the other. Some of the runny egg yolk and a wet ravioli landed on the floor, causing Tommy to sidestep quickly. The movement, and Tommy’s lack of coordination, made the plate slip through his fingers, and he juggled it in his hands as he tried to hang onto it.
Panic ripped through Angel as he watched, horrified. For a moment, he thought Tommy had a grip on it, but the magnificent china tumbled toward the floor. Angel held his breath and felt as if his heart stopped as he waited for the inevitable. But, somehow, the plate bounced off the cushioned seat of the stool and Tommy managed to catch it in the air. Although there was food splattered everywhere, the plate seemed unharmed, and Angel almost collapsed with relief.
A hysterical laugh flew from Tommy’s mouth as he clutched the plate to his chest, smearing tomato sauce and egg yolk on his T-shirt. “Oh, shit! I almost dropped it!”
While Angel’s heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm and he recovered, Jessi took the plate from Tommy and set it down on the island. She chuckled slightly. “I see you had a good time tonight.”
He looked at her as if he just realized she was in the room, then sort of melted. “Jessi. You’re so pretty.” He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
“You’re covered in food!”
He looked down at his T-shirt, startled. “Fuck!” Then a laugh bubbled from his throat. “I’m a mess!” He pulled the T-shirt over his head and stuck it in the dishwasher before returning to what was left of his meal. “Mmm.” He chomped on a croquette. “You’re an awesome cook, A. You should go on one of those TV shows you always watch. The one where you make something out of the ingredients they give you.”
Jessi’s mouth opened with shock. “That’s exactly what I said earlier!”
“You did?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“We still got it, hon. You and me.” He pointed to his head and then toward Jessi, motioning back and forth between them quickly with his index finger. “We’re on the same wavelength.” He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away again.
“You’re drunk,” she said, with a laugh.
“At least he’s a happy drunk.” Angel smiled at Tommy’s antics as he retrieved his much-loved china plate and examined it thoroughly for any nicks or chips. Thankfully, it was unscathed, and he let out a huge sigh. “Tommy Blade, you are one lucky son of a bitch.”
The constant tug of war going on in Angel’s head was taking a toll on him. One minute, life was wonderful. He cherished this uninterrupted time with Tommy, Jessi, and the kids and wished time could stand still. The next, reality slapped him in the face. Each day that went by brought the inevitable closer, and, as hard as he tried not to think about it, it constantly wormed its way back into his mind.
Today was a bad day. His stomach was in knots and his head hurt. His heart throbbed with anxiety and worry. The future was still a crapshoot, and his career hung in indefinite limbo. Even though he told Damien and Jimmy that he’d move on with a replacement guitarist after the Rockstars’ Ball if Tommy didn’t change his mind, he didn’t think he could do it.
He decided to take a walk through the garden to clear his thoughts and stop worrying. He concentrated on his family life, which was wonderful. Family was always the most important thing to him. Familia primero, as his father always said. Family first. It was more important than anything. He remembered what Tommy said the other night about living in the moment and decided that’s what he’d do. He’d worry later, after the Rockstars’ Ball. Right now, he was going to enjoy the closeness of his family, and it brought a small amount of contentment to his troubled heart.
He continued along the garden trail and found himself inhaling the beautiful scents from the fall flowers. Feeling more at peace and his emotions less volatile, he let out a cleansing breath. He noted the herb garden, happy that the gardener took excellent care of it while they were away, because these beauties were still thriving. He prided himself on using only homegrown organic herbs in the dishes he prepared, which meant growing enough to last the winter. Thanks to the extended summer they were having this year, he’d get one more harvest from his plants, probably in a few days.
In the past, he tried his hand at garlic and onion, but they didn’t fare well. Perhaps he should have a conversation with Kira and Brett. They have a magnificent garden on their Southern California property which was self-sustaining. Angel wondered if maybe he should have a greenhouse installed so that he could grow herbs and vegetables all year long. He decided it would be a lucrative indulgence and wondered why he never thought of it before.
Further along the path, he admired the immaculately manicured lawn and shrubberies, then noticed Jessi in her workroom through the French doors. He made his way over to them and spied through the windows to see if she was working on something for him.
She was hunched over her worktable looking at her Tablet. Bolts of fabric were unraveled all around her. He tapped on the glass to get her attention, and she looked up at him.
Eagerly, she ran to the French doors and waved him inside. “I’m working on some fabulous designs. I was so inspired while we were on vacation. I have a slew of ideas that I can’t wait to fabricate.”
