“You should ask her out.” Davy said. “She’s all you’ve talked about for three days now.”
"No.” Micky shook his head. “She’s not my type.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Mike looked up from the newspaper. “She’s trouble.”
“Michael, that’s not very nice.” Peter frowned. “You don’t even know her.”
“Just stay away from her, Mick.” He folded the paper.
“Why, Mike? I mean, I know she’s not my type, but I’m sure she’s a nice person and she is our neighbor.” He looked at his roommate. “I was thinking about inviting her to our party on Saturday night.”
“Micky, that’s Annabelle Spano.” Mike pointed next door. “Don’t you know who her father is?”
“No, who?”
“Anthony Spano.”
“Who’s Anthony Spano?” Davy asked.
“He runs the mob in Los Angeles.” Mike replied more quietly. “And that chick next door is his one and only daughter.”
“Oh, come on, Mike.” Micky chuckled. “I’ve seen this girl, there’s no way she’s Anthony Spano’s daughter. And even if she is, that doesn’t mean she’s anything like her father. That would be like saying that you’re like your father.”
“That was a low blow, Mick.” He scowled.
“I’m sorry, Mike.” Micky gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean it. All I’m saying is we don’t know this girl.”
“Fine, invite her to the party.” He shrugged.
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Micky walked over to Annabelle’s house and knocked on the front door. There was no answer and he was just about to walk away when he heard a crash and a scream from inside. “Annabelle!!” He tried the door and found it unlocked so he ran inside. “Annabelle, are you alright?” He found her in the kitchen with her hand wrapped in a towel. “What happened?”
“I’m fine!” She glared at him. “I broke a glass and cut my hand. How did you get in here?”
“The door was open.” He went to her and carefully took her hand, unwrapping the towel. “It doesn’t look to deep.” He turned the faucet on and placed her hand underneath the cool water.
“Ouch!!” She tried to jerk her hand away but he held it firmly.
“I know it hurts but we have to clean it out.” He said gently. “Did you cut yourself anywhere else?”
“No.” She watched him as he dried her hand and wrapped it in the towel again.
“Do you have any bandages?” He could see the tears in her eyes that she refused to let fall.
“In the medicine cabinet.” She brought her hand closer to her body.
Micky went to the bathroom and got the bandages then came back to the kitchen. He led her over to the table, took the towel off of her hand and fixed the bandage on the cut. “There, all better.” He brought her palm to his lips and kissed it softly.
“Thank you.” She pulled her hand away. “Why did you come over?”
“Oh!” He remembered. “We’re having a party on Saturday night. I was hoping you would like to come.”
“I’m…um…I don’t know.” She could feel her face turning red.
“If you don’t want to…” He started.
“No, that’s not it.” She sighed and then smiled. “What time?”
“Around seven.” He tired not to look too hopeful.
“Can I bring anything?” She asked.
“Just yourself.” He winked. “Take care of that hand, Belle.”
“I will.” She walked him to the door. “Thank you.”
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Continue to Part 3
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