Michelle and Helen announced to James their plans for the night. He suggested they visited “Enrique’s”, a fancy Italian restaurant in Glendale, maintaining that Michelle would not attract attention in a much smaller city than Los Angeles. The young singer loved his idea. By no means did she want to sign autographs, on her first night out in the East Coast. Michelle simply needed to have some fun with her friend and, as welcome as her fans’ nice comments were, she didn’t desire to become the center of attention that night.

The silverware sparkled under the ample chandelier light, as “Enrique’s” restaurant welcomed the two friends. It was rather empty, giving Michelle a chance to choose a table in the bottom left corner, as far from the glass façade as possible.

“What an excellent choice.” Helen’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “We’ll be able to see each and every waiter coming out of the kitchen.”

“I’m only doing this for you.” Michelle explained. “We’d take a risk sitting closer to that façade.”

“Either way, thanks a lot for this.” Helen attempted a more mellow tone. “I needed to get out and this place looks fantastic. It smells pretty good, too.”

“Please, don’t remind me about the smell.” Michelle requested. “I have to stay away from carbs.”

“Are you kidding me?” Helen laughed. “We’re in an Italian restaurant and you’re not going to have pizza? Or pasta?”

“Nope,” Michelle chirped. “I need to watch my diet.”

“Don’t tell me you want to lose weight, too.” Helen said, leaning over her.

“No. I like my curves.” Michelle winked at her. “I just don’t want them to get any bigger.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Helen said, with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I’d be more careful if I was dating someone, but now? No, sir; bring on the pizza.”

“Can you please stay away from the whole ‘dating’ topic?” Michelle’s second request puzzled her.

“Why?” Helen asked, curiosity written all over her face.

“Because: I can’t date anyone right now.” Michelle’s response was sharp. “I need to focus on my career.”

“No food, no men…” Helen smirked. “Sounds like torture to me.”

“Sometimes, it does feel like one.” Michelle admitted with a bitter smile on her face. At that moment, a waiter arrived at their table.

“I’ll have the biggest, greasiest pizza you have on the menu.” Helen’s statement wiped the polite smile off his face, as Michelle bit her lower lip.

“I’ll have a salad.” She requested, before putting her fingers over her mouth.

“Coming right up,” he stated and gave them a firm nod.

“Oh, my God!” Michelle burst out laughing, burying her forehead into her friend’s shoulder. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“I eat a lot when I’m upset.” Helen confessed.

“It’s good you’re not upset too often.” Michelle chuckled, leaning back, as her friend turned to her.

“I’m sorry.” Helen said with a sigh. “I wish I could laugh, too, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“It’s alright.” Michelle assured, attempting a more serious tone. “But I’ll need you to do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Back in Shandaken, I met this…” She paused, “… happy girl. She smiled at everybody; she had a great sense of humor and a big zest for life. Have you seen her anywhere; 5’7”, blonde hair, big boobs?”

“She’s right here, Michelle.” Helen spoke in a lazy voice. “She just needs to get her mind off Marcus.”

At that moment, the swinging door to the kitchen burst open. Michelle tore her gaze away from her friend, but, the sight that greeted her forced her to open her eyes wide.

“That might be a little harder than she thought,” she whispered. “He’s here.”

“Who: Marcus?” Helen squinted at her. “Where?”

“Eleven o’clock.” Michelle replied. Helen glanced up, only to catch a glimpse of the door swinging.

“This is not funny.” She grumbled.

“I’m telling you, he’s right here.” Michelle insisted. “Why don’t you go in there and see for yourself?”

Helen did not speak. Intrigued by her friend’s words and her obvious surprise, she rose from her seat. Her heart beat faster and faster, as she walked towards the door. Eager to discover whether Michelle was right or not, she burst through it. Her jaw dropped, as she laid eyes on one of the men in the kitchen. It was Marcus, and, to add to her surprise, he was the head chef.

“Oh, shit…” he hummed. “Boys, give us the room.”

“So…” Helen began, folding her arms across her chest, as the waiters walked out of the kitchen. “This is why James wanted us to come here. I swear to God, I’m going to kill him.”

“He didn’t say you were coming,” Marcus maintained, sauntering towards her. “The waiter that took your order was pretty shocked. He said something like ‘this gorgeous blonde wants to devour our biggest pizza’. I got curious. Imagine how I felt when I saw he was talking about you.”

“It can’t be worse than how I felt last night.” Helen stated firmly while glaring at him. “That’s not a way to treat a lady. You humiliated me. You made me feel like a cheap tramp. Goodnight.”

Helen tried to turn around, but, as she did, she felt his firm grip on her wrist.

“Let go of me!” She said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry about last night.” He whispered calmly, as he leaned closer to her, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Really? You think?” Helen’s voice was reeking with sarcasm.

“You don’t understand me.” Marcus uttered, loosening his grip. “I don’t expect you to, anyway.”

“Why don’t you help me understand?” She said in a voice filled with frustration. “One minute, we were having sex and then you wanted me to forget we ever met?”

“Look, I can show you.” He put a little force in his baritone. “But, before I do, you have to promise me something.”

“I’m listening.” She nodded.

“Promise that you’ll stay away from me.” Marcus said in a stiff voice, furrowing his brow at her. “It’s for your own good.”

“You’re scaring me.” Helen whispered.

“Promise me.” He urged, intensifying his stare. In an instant, she found herself in a difficult position. Helen was extremely curious to know why he had treated her so badly, but his request puzzled her. At the same time though, she couldn’t deny that knowing would give her closure.

“I promise.” She mumbled. Simply nodding to her, Marcus took her by the hand and headed towards the service door in the upper right corner. Seconds later, the two of them were outside, making their way down the stairs that led to a basement. By that time, Helen’s curiosity had peaked; her heart was racing and she was sweating badly. Marcus unlocked the door and pushed it open, before pressing a light switch on the wall. There were articles from newspapers pinned on the wall across from them. One of them stood out. The headline read:

Four US Marines were killed in a raid that busted up local crime rings allegedly dealing in illegal drugs, stolen military gear and cars, the Department of State announced on Monday.

The suspects had been videotaped selling goods to civilians, including cocaine, methamphetamine, bullet-proof vests, night-vision goggles, and more than 5,000 rounds of ammunition, said Department of State spokesman, Admiral Curtis Rockwell.

The four heroic servicemen are the following:

Bryan Connors (Colonel)

Marcus Donovan (Lieutenant)

Eric Humphreys (Sergeant)

Tom Hicks (Corporal)

Another, much lengthier article to the right read:

Nearly twenty of the four troops’ closest friends and family members tried their best to say ‘goodbye’ to them at the Cypress Hill National Cemetery in New York. “My only wish is that my son is the last name of the list of casualties,” David Donovan told fellow mourners at the funeral on Sunday, June 12^th.

Helen didn’t have to read the rest of the article. Slowly, she turned around to face Marcus.

“Your last name isn’t ‘Hurst’, is it?” She said, her voice barely audible, as she looked up at him.

“No.” Marcus shook his head sideways.

“Why did you lie to me?” Helen asked, clenching her jaw.

“That’s just the official version.” He pointed up at the article. “That’s not how things happened. The only one dealing drugs over there was Colonel Connors. I found out. I told those two guys. They agreed to help me expose him. We caught him red-handed. He pulled a gun on me. I…” He sucked in a deep breath. “I killed him. We all testified on the event. A couple of days later, we were returning from a routine mission outside Mosul, when those two told me that they had been forced to change their statements. They said I shot Connors in cold blood. I tried to ask them why, but then, Captain Simmons executed them, right in front of me. I jumped out of the truck. I got lucky. We were pretty close to the river Tigris. I jumped in.”

“Dear God…” She whispered: she dropped her face into her hands; tears welled up in her eyes.

“I lay low for a few days,” Marcus continued, his voice shattered. “I called my cousin David. He said they told my father I had killed Connors and that they had to take me out. A scandal would hurt the Corps and my father’s business. So, they came up with this…” he faltered, as a tear rolled down his cheek, “… bullshit story. Anyway, David came to Iraq after the funeral. He paid a local to hook me up with a new passport. I’ve been in hiding ever since.”

“Who did your father bury?” Helen wondered, sliding her hands down her face.

“They told him the whole thing happened right outside the barracks fuel storage tanks.” A bitter smile formed on his face as he replied. “They said a few bullets struck the tanks. My body was burned beyond recognition. My cousin said the body wore my watch and a ring with my initials engraved into it. My guess is they killed some unfortunate Iraqi and put my personal effects on him.”

“My God, Marcus…” She heaved a long, heavy sigh. “Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“No,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t prove anything. My country told my father I was a traitor. I know him; he’s a Gulf War veteran. He’d rather believe some Pentagon official than me.”

“What about your mother?” Helen posed yet another question, tension written all over her face.

“She died in a car accident when I was twelve.” Marcus informed. “Now, do you understand why you should stay away from me? If the government finds out we’re seeing each other, you’ll be in some serious danger.”

“Is it bad that I still want to date you?” She made her voice sound calm and sweet, raising her hands to his chest. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Marcus. I really am, but…”

“Helen, don’t.” He interrupted, taking a short step back. “Just go.”

“I will.” She assured him with a nod. “Here’s a friendly piece of advice. Talk to your father. Maybe he’ll understand. Goodnight.”

Helen attempted to move around him, but Marcus blocked her path. Before she could speak to him, he grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her back, pinning her against the wall. Marcus let go of them, lifting his hands to her face as he tilted his head down. Their lips locked in a fervent kiss, as she circled her arms around his neck. His move had stunned her, but Helen would not say “no” to him, especially after his confession. She caressed the back of his neck, feeling his hot breath on his face, as he ran his thumbs across her cheekbones. Still, their kiss would not last long. Marcus slipped his hands up and into her hair, slowly leaning back as he opened his eyes.

“Thanks for understanding me, country girl,” he whispered, gazing into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

“You’re not making this any easier for me.” she complained, her lips still quivering from his intense kiss. “Why did you ask me out in the first place?”

“I liked you. I thought you wanted to have some fun,” Marcus explained, threading his fingers into her hair.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” Helen claimed, dropping her arms. “I wanted more from you. Get out of my way, Marcus. Please.”

This time, he obliged. He released her and took one step to the left, exhaling hard. Helen’s disbelief had turned into pure frustration, as she started forward. Her mind was filled with doubt, but her heart longed for more of him. Now that his motives were finally clear to her, she was desperate to go back and hug him again, but she had to respect his wish. After all, he had a very good point. Dating a wanted criminal could only lead to disaster for both of them.

Upon returning to her table, she came across a sight that put a small smile on her face. Michelle had devoured her salad and three slices of pizza.

“I couldn’t help it.” She spoke too fast. “It smelled so damn good.”

“At least one of us got to try it.” Helen’s voice was riddled with sadness.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you talk to him?” Michelle squinted at her.

“I did.” Helen squeezed her lips. “Can we get out of here?”

“What about the pizza?”

“Nah, forget that.” Helen waved her hand in front of her face. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Thank God.” Michelle laughed, getting up. “Now, let’s go get drunk.”

“I’m not in the mood for that, either.” Helen muttered, as the two friends walked alongside each other. “I need to think. I can’t do that while I’m drunk.”

“He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?” Michelle inquired.

“No. He kissed me.” Helen added. “I can’t talk about this right now. Let’s just go back to the hotel, ok? I’ll tell you what happened, just not tonight.”

“Liv is coming tomorrow.” Michelle stated. “Guess what. She won’t be traveling alone. Gina and Rick are coming with her.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Helen commented. “At least, I won’t have to say the same story twice.”