Pearls for Jimmy Read Free Page B

slackened; he continued to hold me tight. He looked at my friends and his gaze was steady and determined. He repeated to them exactly what he’d already said to me: “I will not allow it.”
    He said it with such leadership and finality that it left my friends flabbergasted. We’re not the kind of women who take kindly to being issued orders – especially by men we don’t even know.
    Not knowing if they should be outraged, fearful or compliant, my friends searched my face for direction. A sense that something was happening that was possibly larger than life, mysterious, and remarkably romantic prevailed so they bit their tongues, kept their claws retracted and waited. The call was mine, and mine alone, but I knew they would back me up with a vengeance if they heard me tell this guy to go to hell.
    So, there we stood for a suspended few moments in time, faces illuminated by candlelight and sporadic flashes of lightning: the five of us who’d known each other for forty-plus years and one foreign-born man none of us knew from Jack… but who had just firmly and resolutely announced he would not allow me to leave his restaurant in the storm.
    I slipped an arm around Jimmy’s waist and, now intertwined, rested my head on his chest and looked at my friends and smiled.
    They understood and so did he.
    Jimmy repositioned his arm from my waist and placed it protectively over my shoulder; then he tucked me under his strong arm like a big bird would tuck a chick under its wing.
    Naturally, my friends wouldn’t leave without having the last word.
    Sue spoke for everyone when she glared at Jimmy like a cold-blooded sociopath and said in no uncertain terms, “We know who you are. We know where to find you. If anything happens to our friend we will hunt you down like a rat in the street.”
    It made perfect sense to Jimmy; he would have expected nothing less.
    ~ ~ ~
    Jimmy walked me through the dark, empty restaurant to a table against a wall. He lit several more candles and poured wine.
    I learned his baptismal name is Dimitri, which is James in Greek; he learned I am Catherine.
    “Catherine…ah, Catherine” he repeated my name several times. “I like Catherine very much.” Jimmy explained my patron saint was St. Catherine of Alexandria and Ekaterini is Catherine in Greek.
    “It means pure” he said as he picked up my hands and brought them to his lips. “But some say Ekaterini could also derive from Hecate, the mythical Greek goddess of magic.”
    He overturned my hands and blew on my palms. “I think, Ekaterini, ” he said confidently, “your magic is pure and sweet.”
    Under the circumstance, being compared to a saint known for her purity seemed a bit of a stretch so I suggested I might have more in common with Hecate and teasingly whispered, “I’d like to show you some of my magic.”
    “If you could turn me into anything you want with your magic, Ekaterini, who or what would you change me into?”
    It was such an odd question. “I don’t want you to be anyone but you.”
    “How can I please you then?” he asked. “Right now. Right here. What can I do to make you happy?”
    “Where do you live? Can you take me there?”
    “But of course.”
    ~ ~ ~
    Jimmy owned the entire building housing his restaurant. He turned half of the living space into rental units and the entire top floor into his own luxury apartment. His apartment was huge; a modest suburban home could fit in it nicely. The electricity was still out so he gave me a tour by candle light. He had created a sanctuary for himself filled with fine art, a vast collection of books, and tasteful furniture; it was truly a sophisticated and cultured home.
    He lit more candles and we stood together in front of a large picture window overlooking Chicago. Powerful, jagged arcs of lightning tore through the dark stormy sky and the sharp crackling noises of lightning continued to compete with the deep reverberating booms of thunder.
    Jimmy wrapped himself