Over the next few days, Ella had plenty of time to ponder what her new life on the beach in California would be like. Staring out the window while Rome drove, or letting her mind wander while she was behind the wheel and he dozed in the passenger seat, there were lots of opportunities for her to daydream about all of the possible outcomes if she tried to stay hidden away in the house, versus letting her parents know she was alive.
In the end, she couldn’t imagine how guilty her father would make her feel when he found out the truth, that she’d faked her ow
It was late afternoon when Rome pulled up to the fence at the end of a long winding drive that led up the hillside toward the new house. They’d stopped overnight, as Ella had assumed they would, and driven into LA slowly, in a roundabout manner, never quite entering the city. Instead, Rome had taken back roads and side routes to Abalone Cove, and now, here they were, going through the gate and sneaking up the driveway, as if they might have to turn around and drive back out again. The gate closed with a sharp snapping noise behind them. At least they could be certain no one would be following them in unless they knew the code.
The beach wasn’t as beautiful as the one she’d left behind. Ella walked along the shore, trying to concentrate on the positives. The water was beautiful, even if it wasn’t a teal blue. The beach was warm, even if it was rocky and the sand wasn’t as white and soft. Some interesting foliage grew in the cracks, even if they weren’t large palm trees.“What do you think?” Rome asked, walking along behind her. “You don’t like it here, do you?”
Four days after they arrived back in LA, Rome stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, tying his tie. In the mirror behind him, he could see his wife, anxiously chewing her bottom lip, her bare feet sliding along the wooden floor, back and forth, her fingers digging into the floral blue bedspread.“It’ll be fine,” he assured her, catching her eyes in the mirror. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The hum of the wheels riding the road drowned out almost all of Rome’s thoughts as he stared out the passenger window of Bart’s car, watching the suburbs turn into cityscape. The sun was setting, casting the world in a soft orange glow, reflecting off of the metal surfaces of cars and buildings, creating a warm ambience that might’ve been a comfort to Rome if he was headed anywhere else.Neither man spoke much at all as they made their way toward the restaurant where Rome’s parents would meet them. He’d already spoken at length to Bart ab
Amelia’s was a five-star restaurant where the Hollywood elite mingled with LAs movers and shakers in nearly every industry. It was fair to say not a single person dining in the Italian restaurant was worth less than a few million dollars, except for maybe Bart. Rome wasn’t sure what photographers were making these days, but he didn’t think it was that much. As he stood on the threshold of the impeccably decorated establishment, he took a few deep breaths and tried to still his raging heart. He could do this….“Ah, Mr. Verona. It is nice
The night was unusually quiet. Ella sat on the sofa in the living room, staring out the window at an ocean that continued to cover and uncover the sand, but the hypnotizing crashes she’d grown used to hearing seemed absent. Only an occasional rogue wave, larger than the others, would meet the shore with such velocity that the resulting sound would hit her ears.Her phone sat on the coffee table in front of her, the blank screen looking up at her as a constant reminder that she had no idea what was going on. Rome had offered to leave his phone on in his pocket so
“I am very sorry for what happened to Ella Sinders. It was a tragedy,” Monty Verona began, finally setting his wine glass down to respond to Rome’s statement. “She was a beautiful young woman with her whole life in front of her. I have to say, though, son, I think it is for the better that you had disassociated with her. She clearly wasn’t stable.”Anger began to seethe below the surface, but Rome fought it. So much of what his dad had to say made him want to yell, to reach across the table and punch his own father in the mouth. &ld
Fresh air was a welcome greeting as Rome lifted his face to the sky and took in a few whiffs of the LA street. Fresh might’ve been an exaggeration, but at least the heavy floral perfume his mother wore and his father’s pungent cologne, along with the stifling weight of the conversation he’d just left, were behind him now. Bart hurried him toward the parking garage, neither of them speaking, which Rome thought was for the best since they had no idea if any of the people they were passing on the street were his father’s associates.And there was