Blood in the Golden Palace

Chapter 8: Penny-4

“It comes and goes,” Angelo answered. “Just depends on how much trouble we’re in at the moment.”

“Are you in trouble now?”

“Trying to stay out of it, more accurately. We kinda got caught with our pants down, so we’re doing everything we can for damage control.”

“Hm.” Penny wanted to press further, but got a feeling Angelo wouldn’t give up details. So instead, she changed the subject. “I like your tattoo. On your back.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“What is it? It’s pretty.”

Angelo hesitated, and for a while, only the white noise of the shower head broke the silence between them. He finally answered. “It’s the Roma flag.”

“Roma? Is that like Rome or something? In Italy?”

Again, Angelo was quiet a moment. “Not quite, but…” There was a splash, and Angelo cleared his throat. “Hey, I think I want some time to myself. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.” Penny turned to leave, but paused. Her eyes lingered on the open door of Angelo’s bedroom, and she glanced behind her. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Last question, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“Uh…I could eat, I guess. Why? You want me to order us something?”

Penny smiled. “No. Just enjoy your shower.” With that, Penny left the bedroom and headed out to the kitchen, where the recent delivery of groceries sat waiting. Since Angelo was out of the house for long periods at a time, Penny had asked Hank to pick up some basics. Which was how Penny wound up with a better and more expensively stocked fridge than she’d ever had in her life. Addressing the kitchen, Penny took inventory of what they had. Rice, milk, eggs, butter, bread, pasta, a half container of beef, some unopened chicken, a couple cod fillets, fresh tomatoes, carrots, Brussel sprouts, a whole bowl of assorted fruits and citruses, a brand new selection of spices, five whole garlics, potatoes, three different kinds of cheeses, mushrooms, green beans, and finally, those two little cartons of ice cream, still mostly full from their poker night.

After a quick hand wash, Penny set to work.

First came the Brussel sprouts. After washing them and coring the ends, Penny sliced them into quarters and tossed them with oil and spices. Once a frying pan was hot enough, in they went, where they met the skillet with a satisfying sizzle. She then added a few cloves of garlic. Something she learned early on: despite what recipes often called for, putting garlic in too early burned the cloves, seeing as that they cooked fairly quickly. With a squish, peel and mince, two thirds were set aside for the vegetables. The other portion was reserved for the chicken. With the oven preheating at a nice 375° F, Penny butterflied two choice chicken breasts, covering them with salt, pepper, a little thyme, the extra garlic, some fresh rosemary, and just a hint of lemon juice. Once they were properly seasoned, Penny stuffed each chicken with slices of tomato and mozzarella, adding in some freshly chopped basil on top. Folding them like sandwiches, she wrapped each chicken with parchment, setting them on a baking sheet. The oven was ready by the time she finished. She set the egg timer for about twenty minutes, and then returned to the sprouts. Seeing how they were browning nicely, she turned down the heat, added a fresh pinch of salt, and deposited her garlic. While everything cooked, Penny was quick to clean. The spices were returned to the cupboard, the chicken cutting board and knife washed quickly and thoroughly with hot, soapy water.

By the time Angelo was out of his shower, Penny had just finished plating everything on the kitchen island. With a towel still around his shoulders, Angelo regarded the plates with pleasant surprise. “What’s this for?” he asked.

Penny shrugged. “You had a long day. And I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I’m hungry, too. It’s kind of a big lunch but hopefully you like it.”

Angelo smiled, seemingly at a loss for words. Swiping his fork and knife, he sawed off a piece of chicken and took a bite. His smile fell, and for a moment, Penny was worried he didn’t like it. However, when he looked back up, he did so with delight. “Holy s**t,” he said, his smile returning. “Holy s**t this is good. Where did you learn to cook?”

Penny smiled, trying not to appear too pleased with herself. “I’m mostly self-taught,” she said. “I had to be creative a lot growing up or I wouldn’t eat. I found out I really liked working in the kitchen.” She started in on her own food.

Angelo took another bite, this time accompanying his chicken with his Brussel sprouts. “Jesus Christ, this is…I mean, like, no joke, this is f*****g delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.”

“Seriously?” Angelo nodded. “Well, I don’t have anything else to do around here, so I guess I can start cooking more.”

“Please.” Angelo mopped up some of the tomato juices with his chicken and took another huge bite. “Have you ever thought of going to school for it?”

Penny smiled sadly. “Thought about it,” she admitted, “but never had the money. Even with scholarships and stuff, I couldn’t pay for rent and tuition with no job. And moonlighting on top of long days in a kitchen would kill me.”

Angelo wiped his face with a napkin. “Well hey, when this is all over, maybe I can pull a few strings, work something out for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that for me,” Penny protested.

“It’s the least I can do. Besides, if this is you as an amateur, I want to know what you can do at the top of your game.”

Penny blushed, picking at her Brussel sprouts. “That’s…very kind of you to offer.”

Putting their conversation on hold, they dug into their food. When they were done, Penny reached out for Angelo’s plate, but Angelo snatched them both before she could. “Cook never cleans,” he said. He headed over to the sink, but before scrubbing the plates, he turned around. “Hey, I know how this is going to sound, but thank you for making the best out of a bad situation. None of this is fair, I know that, but it puts a lot less stress on me if I can trust that you’re not trying to dig your way out or something.”

Guilt hit Penny like a freight train. “O-oh. Well um…you know. It’s not exactly Azkaban.”

Angelo blinked. “It’s what?”

“Never mind. What I mean is, you’ve been a lot nicer to me than you needed to be and I…appreciate it.”

Angelo smiled kindly. His eyes were thoughtful. Pushing up from the sink, Angelo approached her. Immediately, Penny’s face was hot as an iron, and she tried her best not to shrink in his presence. Although, she realized, it wasn’t fear that gave her the adrenaline rush. It was something…warmer. With a gentle hand, Angelo cupped the back of Penny’s head, and leaned in to kiss just above her brow. His lips lingered, and Penny felt a whirlwind of butterflies twist her stomach in all kinds of delightful knots. When they parted, Angelo said nothing. Instead, he turned to the sink, and whistled as he began washing.