The Italian's proposal

Chapter 4

Melody stood still watching the man in front of her, she had no idea that such specimens existed in real life. She was used to seeing them in vanity magazines, those magazines that only showcase rich and beautiful men, sheets and sheets of pure masculinity, wealth, and luxury. Men hand in hand with women who wore clothes more expensive than a car.

“Hello? Can you speak?” the man made her react with his heightened level of sarcasm. “Can I have my coffee now, or are you going to stare at me for ten more minutes? If it’s the latter, let me know so I can sit down.”

The man was irritating.

Was nothing in life perfect? Melody blinked a couple of times and watched as the man smiled.

With perfect, white teeth, typical of someone who exuded so much power and money.

“Your coffee will come out when I’m done with the others,” Melody turned back to the machine and waited for the small shot of coffee.

She had to call Doyle back to get a technician, otherwise they were going to lose customers.

The coffee shop had a lot of regular customers, the kind you could tell just by looking at them, they were repeat customers, old men visiting old Doyle’s business.

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Whenever a man because he has money wants to walk past those already on shift.”

The customers still at the bar looked from one to the other, as if it were a fight.

Although Melody was awfully close to going over the giant’s head with a demolisher.

She smiled at her own wild thought.

“Great. Now she’s laughing to herself,” the man spoke again, and Melody couldn’t ignore him.

It was automatic with her; she always had an answer for everything. That’s why she’d had so much trouble with her parents. She’d been a talkative teenager.

“I laugh at your pushiness.” It wasn’t true, but at least she could still incentivize the man to get upset.

The Mr. Money, for some reason irritated her son immensely, and if the saying that who you hate in pregnancy, like him your child will turn out, would that be true, for Melody would love for her son to have those beautiful eyes.

She delivered the last of the coffees and packed up the order of butter rolls and muffins and dispatched two of the customers at the counter.

“I did not come with arrogance. You, young lady halfway through puberty, you’ve put me in this mood,” he squinted, and Melody watched as tiny wrinkles set in the corners of his eyes.

Melody’s life was based on going back and forth from work to home, if anything going to the supermarket or pharmacy for a pill for her puking, which had never worked out for her, and yet she kept shopping for them in hopes to stop expelling everything that touched her stomach, there were times when food didn’t even make it to her stomach, it just came back up from her throat.

So, when that Mr. Money walked into the cafeteria, Melody had unconsciously decided to have some fun at his expense and in the process, refresh her eyesight.

“I’m not a young girl halfway through puberty,” she refuted, pouring his coffee.

The chauffeur or bodyguard, or ass licker, whatever, was still standing behind the rich guy watching the door, as if a war were going to break out at any moment, it would be funny to see a pregnant Melody

hitting the rich guy with a butter bun.

“That’s what it looks like. Can I have my coffee now? If you keep looking at it like that, it’s highly likely to explode on you.”

“I’ve been dealing with this stuff for a while. I’m not going to let you...”

Just as she finished the sentence, as she handed him the coffee, Melody felt a cramp in her belly, and automatically dropped the coffee to grab where it hurt.

The cup with hot coffee fell on the bar, splashing everything around her including the immaculately ironed shirt he was wearing.

“What the hell is wrong with you, crazy bitch? You’ve ruined my shirt! I have a meeting in less than half an hour!” he exploded peeling off the shirt stuck to the flannel he was wearing underneath.

But Melody wasn’t thinking about that at the moment, all she could do was think that she was going to die from the pain, that she could lose her baby, that she was hurt like hell and she had no one to help her.

“Sir, are you okay? Are you burned? Do you want us to go to the hospital?” Melody listened as the driver spoke to the man, worried, and upset. She could determine those timbres of voice, as her father did the same. Concern and anger at the same time.

Melody walked over to the cream-colored phone hanging on the wall, it wouldn’t dial calls outside the coffee shop and the only number she could call was Doyle’s, at his apartment.

Melody punched the speed dial and waited for her boss to answer, while the man cursed in what she determined was Italian.

After the horrible months she had been through, she couldn’t believe she was going to lose her son, she was getting nervous, she could feel the cold sweat coming down her forehead and the Italian behind her didn’t help. The man had gone silent and she could swear he was mentally cursing her.

“Yes?” she let out the air when she heard Doyle’s voice.

“Doyle, it’s me,” she stammered.

“What’s wrong? Too many customers?”

“I need to go,” she couldn’t say anything else, she couldn’t find anything her brain could generate in a hurry, shifting her weight from one foot to the other several times, as if ants had taken over her nerves.

“Leave? It’s barely nine in the morning girl, you can’t leave me in the lurch. I need you down there...” As Doyle talked about commitments and responsibilities, Melody took a deep breath, letting the air out often.

“Doyle,” she called for him to stop. At that point she was no longer in pain, no more than a menstrual pain normally hurts, but, still, she wasn’t going to neglect herself and stand there, not knowing if her son was all right.

She couldn’t call her mother, she couldn’t because she had been locked out of her family’s home. The only one she kept in contact with was her older sister, the only one who since she had left, had called her twice concerned about the situation she was going through.

“Doyle!” she yelled at him already annoyed by the man’s chatter. “Listen to me! I need a cab, call a cab company... or I don’t know... I have to go; I have to go to the hospital. Something’s wrong with the baby.”

Pronouncing it was even harder than she could have imagined, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back, still holding the phone to her ear.

“I’ll take you.” © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

It was the Italian.

“No,” she said.

“Melody? Who’s with you? Hold on, I’ll be right down. Don’t go away.”

Doyle closed the call and Melody placed the phone on the wall.

“Let me take you”, the man said again, his eyes were bright, darker, and Melody had the luxury of thinking they were the prettiest eyes that had ever looked at her. It wasn’t just the color, but the concern they expressed to her.

“No. I can’t put him in that position,” she looked down at the coffee-soaked shirt and blushed, she had ruined his suit, his impeccable suit. She was sure it must be worth a fortune; one she didn’t have the money to pay for. “Oh, gosh! I ruined your shirt! I’m really sorry!” this time, she was being completely honest.

“I have ten more shirts like this, it doesn’t matter,” he said taking the weight off what happened. “You seem more upset instead. Let me take you to the hospital.”

“I can’t put you on that. You already said you have a meeting...”

“I’ll cancel it right now.”

Melody watched him dumbfounded, so easily he had gone from being a despicable man, to becoming a prince with a steed.

Or maybe he just wanted to throw her out of his car while it was in motion.

“Clark, call Bruce and tell him I’ll be late. Have them go to work without me.” The driver/assistant made the requested call and nodded when all was affirmative on the other end of the line.

“I didn’t tell you that I accepted. I’m not going with you to the hospital. I don’t know you at all. I don’t know who you are. I appreciate the offer and the trouble, I can even take your shirt to the cleaners, although I’m sure as you said yourself, you must have a million of those...”

“Do you always talk non-stop?” he asks interrupting her and smiling amused at the situation.

“What are you laughing at? Do I have a red ball on my nose or what?”

“Coffee stains you do have, but a red ball I don’t see.”

Melody looked at herself, indeed she had her white blouse stained with coffee droplets, which had splashed from the bar.

“Great.”

“A few little drops of coffee are nothing compared to my shirt. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not making any...” Melody put her hand to her cheek which was starting to get wet.

Fantastic, she had started crying from a few drops of coffee on her blouse. She didn’t know what was worse, crying over it thanks to the pregnancy hormones that were driving her insane, or having the Italian look at her like a crying little girl.

“So what? What are we waiting to go? Look I’ve already cancelled my meeting for you. The least you can do is let me give you a ride.”

“Don’t mess with my head sir,” Melody couldn’t remember what the hell the driver/assistant had called him when he arrived. A name like díaneto or ganetto.

The little bell on the door rang and Doyle walked in through it.

“Melody, what the hell is...?” Doyle let the question hang in the air as his gaze fell on the Italian, Melody watched as his expression changed from confusion and concern to panic. “But what? Timothy? What happened? Did Melody get your coffee all over you?”

“Hey!” she exclaimed offended.

“No. It was all a mix-up. Now if you don’t mind. You can tell her to let me take her to the hospital. Apparently, she’s pregnant.”

“I am pregnant,” Melody emphasized every word. The man had spoken as if he was questioning her condition.

“She’s pregnant,” Doyle corroborated.

The man’s brow was still furrowed with wrinkles. Doyle must have been in his sixties by now, his wife had died two years before and his only child had only come back for the summer, he was about to graduate and would finally be able to produce more money to help his father with the coffee shop. The scones, cookies and muffins served there were baked in Doyle’s kitchen from four in the morning and when Melody arrived at seven, she would go upstairs and get them. They both knew that in a few months she would not be able to climb the stairs, but in the meantime, they managed as best they could.

“That point cleared up. Doyle I’m leaving. I’ve been getting a really bad pain in my belly and I need to know the baby is okay.”

“Sure. Go with Timothy. But how are you going to do that if you don’t have health insurance?”

“A young pregnant woman without health insurance?” This time Melody listened as Timothy asked in surprise.

That was none of his business, much less was she going to divulge it.

When Melody’s father learned what her decision had been, he cancelled her health insurance, he had been paying for it even when she had come of age. But now with her decision to continue with the pregnancy, her father had done the unthinkable: he had dropped her from the insurance and to top it off, had her mother call her to inform her so she wouldn’t be embarrassed to go for a check-up. Melody would never have believed that her father could be capable of such a thing, except that she had called the insurance company and they had confirmed it. So much for his resentment.

“I’ll figure out a way to work it out. I have some money at home. I’ll see you in a little while. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she unhooked the coat from the coat rack by the door leading to the employee restroom and hurriedly put it on. “I’m fine now, I just have a little pain. I just want to confirm...”

“That everything is fine,” Timothy completed. “We get it. Clark,” he turned to the driver and said, “Go start the car. I’ll be out in a minute. Young lady, accompany my chauffeur please.” The man stepped aside and pointed with his arm at the door.

“I told you I can get to the hospital by myself.”

“You don’t have insurance. There’s no need to pay out of your money to have you treated if I was the one who caused you to get upset.”

“I told you I can get to the hospital by myself.”

“You don’t have insurance. There’s no need to pay out of your money to have her treated if I was the one who caused her to get upset.”

“You caused no such thing! I was fine!”

Melody folded her arms and shot him bolts of lightning with her steely gaze. Doyle looked at Timothy as if he couldn’t believe he was capable of hurting even an ant.

“I yelled at her because she was being slow with the coffee,” he explained as if it was necessary.

“Were you taking your time with the coffee? There’ s no science to serve coffee, girl.” Doyle then looked at her as if she were dumb, which did nothing but irritate Melody even more who was almost tempted to start kicking like a little girl.

“The machine wasn’t helping! It’s damaged again!” she glared at the Italian as if he were guilty even of global warming. “He started attacking me. It wasn’t even his turn. There were other people before him.”

“Which people? I don’t see anyone else here,” Doyle spread his arms wide and reached out pretending to encompass the entire cafeteria. “It’s empty Melody.”

“Now it is,” she said looking at that indeed every one of the customers had left and she hadn’t noticed. Luckily, she charged them all at the time the order was taken and not when they left, it was a tactic she had read about in a service magazine and she found it quite productive and effective. “A while ago it was bursting at the seams.”

“That’s right,” Don Rich came to her defense and she looked at him angrily. It didn’t matter how much he defended her. She had made an idiot of herself in front of Doyle.

The man had given her the opportunity to stay there in the coffee shop, even though she’d cancelled everyone else, he’d trusted her, and Melody had promised herself she wouldn’t let that trust down.

“Well, that’s it. No more customers. You go quietly I’ll stay until you get back,” Doyle immediately softened at hearing Timothy defend her and Melody immediately wondered what relationship those two had.

“Shall we go then? Look Clark’s been waiting for us for a while now.”

“Go with him Melody. Let Timothy help you. He’s a good man.”

“I don’t know him.”

“But I do. He’s a friend of my son’s. He’s trustworthy. If he says he’s going to take you, it’s because he will.”

“I’m sure he only knows expensive clinics. I can’t afford a pricey consult,” Melody almost whispered those words to Doyle. But it was the truth, she only had a little money left over from her savings. She couldn’t afford to pay for everything at a clinic on the whim of that smug Italian.

“I’ll pay for it. I have contacts at Westside Women’s Medical Pavilion. Stop beating around the bush. I feel guilty, if I’ d known she was pregnant, I wouldn’t have attacked her so hard,” he left the apology implied and Melody watched as Doyle almost screamed at her with his eyes to accept the help.

“I’ll do it just because I damaged his shirt with the coffee.” She headed for the door and said, “We’ll call it even.”