Chapter Six #2
He places it on the island and takes out a carton of ice cream—half pistachio, half chocolate—with a pack of chocolate chips and a can of whipped cream. Saint Fly, just added to the ecclesiastical register.
“Ice cream is Satan’s loyalty reward points,” I giggle, already imagining the sweetness on my tongue.
Fly chuckles, then pulls out an electrical toothbrush, an ice mask, a family-size pack of pretzels, and a nail care kit.
He holds the bag open to show me packs of my favorite candy, pretzels, and chips.
I don’t tell him Luca filled the cupboard with them already, because the reason behind it still confuses me a little.
“Where’s my dildo?” I move the packs around but don’t see a silicone phallic-shaped dick among them.
He turns red while setting his black leather bag on the island as well. “Marco thought it was mine…you have no idea what I had to go through because of it.”
Ohhhh. I can imagine it. “You are welcome, bro.” I send him a flying kiss.
He blushes even more and then starts rummaging in his bag. “Bear with me,” he tells me as he continues looking.
“Don’t I always, Mary Poppins?”
“No, you don’t,” he counters, taking out a wooden frame with no photo and setting it on the stone surface. A cute white cat figurine follows it, then two raw potatoes and a dog bone. Doesn’t he have a cat?
“Let me.” I try to pull the leather bag my way, but he stops me.
“Looking inside a man’s purse is like looking up his shorts,” he scolds me.
“I never looked up your shorts. But I’m wearing one of your custom-made panties.” I lightly slap my ass. Bad move, it reminds me of Luca’s spanking, the rough, hard, hot weight of his calloused hand on my skin. I’m at serious risk of losing it—my balls too.
“Ha! Found it.” He waves the sizable red dildo in the air.
“And the charger…for the dildo?” I raise my voice a little just in case Marco and Luca are eavesdropping on us.
Fly hands me the charger—for my phone—and I put it near the dildo in the bag.
“I brought more lingerie, too.” He passes me a cute tote bag with a honey jar and a fly drawn on the front.
“Is it from your online shop?”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “You were right. This is a good marketing idea. Thank you.”
I told him a while ago to make tote bags so that people would use them when going out, making the name of his online shop more visible.
“No need to thank me. Your products are fabulous. It’s all you!” I boop his nose while grabbing the tote bag with anticipation.
“I’d have brought clothes too if I knew you needed them.” He looks at my bare feet, red shorts, and Luca’s t-shirt, which I’m wearing as usual with a knot on the side.
“What’s in that bag?” Luca’s voice reaches us. I knew it. He was checking on me the whole time. The thought reassures and excites me at the same time. Until he yanks the tote from my hand without even a smidge of courtesy.
“Things for Art,” Fly says, crossing his arms. “Go easy, please.”
Luca’s hand slides in and out, and hanging from his index finger is a meticulously crafted lilac garter belt with small beads embedded here and there that makes me gasp in awe.
No surprises since Fly’s lingerie is always of a supreme quality, exquisitely executed.
Artfully made. That’s it, I can’t think of anything else to describe how fucking good he is.
“Satisfied, honeypot?” I sneer at Luca.
Fly raises his sweater to show me the lilac belly chain around his narrow waist. “Twinsies!” he sing-songs sweetly. So cute!
Luca growls a what the fuck!
“What?” Fly lets the sweater fall. His gray eyes are filled with innocent confusion, not showing any fear toward the mafioso’s reaction.
“Yeah, what’s the problem, sugar? You think I would use it to strangle you?
” I taunt him while my gaze is communicating that if he says anything insulting toward Fly’s hard work, I’ll bite him again in a more sensitive area this time.
Too difficult to read from a mere gaze? Well, he can get the gist from my teeth in that case.
“Honeypot, sugar.” Marco snorts as he stubs his cigarette in the ashtray before making his way to us. “What’s with the ridiculous nicknames?”
“They suit him. Don’t you think?” I tease. He doesn’t call me by my name, so I’m just returning the favor.
Marco hugs Fly from behind and pushes him against his chest—lowering his sweater further down in a possessive move. “Oh, they really do,” he says, smirking at Luca.
He lets the garter fall into the bag and tosses it unceremoniously on the sofa.
Fucker! I turn my attention to the couple.
I was a little worried when Fly told me about his history with Marco and his present interest in the thug.
Fly is such a sweet soul, and Moretti is…
the opposite. But it worked out really well in the end.
I don’t care about Marco’s dealings as long as he makes my friend happy. And Fly surely looks it.
“What’s with the waving cat figurine?” I ask him as he’s putting it back into his leather bag.
“Oh, it’s a maneki neko. My brother brought this back for me from his honeymoon in Japan.
It’s a lucky charm, it should bring money to my business, since its right hand is up.
When the left is, it brings friends and love—but I already have that.
” Fly’s smile is filled with so much happiness.
I’m really happy he found his brother…alive.
“So, the reunion went well?” I ask him, even though I can see it did.
“More than well. I actually want you to meet him and his husband, Aki, but…”
“An Enzino meeting a Yakuza member. That’s a recipe for mayhem and chaos.” Luca sniffs. The insufferable bastard has to be right this time. My father fucking hates any Asian Mafia. He thinks they are beneath us. Misogynist, homophobe, and racist, a real catch.
“I know, it’s not such a great idea, though.” I smile sadly at Fly. I fucking hate my family. But the disappointment on my friend’s face feels worse. Need to change the subject. “Answer me this, teacup poodle or teacup pig, who would win in a fight?”
I can feel Marco’s and Luca’s annoyed looks heavy on me while Fly takes a few seconds to ponder it. “Do I get a little background on the pets?”
I grab the ice cream carton, ready to open it. “Well—”
“Let’s just order pizza,” Marco kills the conversation and halts my movements. Lucky for him, my stomach usually decides for me.
“You aren’t staying that long,” Luca tells them rudely.
“They are. I haven’t seen Fly in ages! And I’m hungry,” I retort, pulling the lid off the carton.
He takes hold of my wrist, not tightening his fingers, though. “It’s not up to you to decide. Stop forgetting how you ended up here.”
I take a step closer to him, feeling ballsier than usual with Fly present. Luca wouldn’t do anything in front of him. Right? “I ended up here because one of you bozos must have let our location slip out.”
“Or maybe you did!” His gruff voice and warm breath aren’t making me feel all tingly. They aren’t!
I let out a bitter laugh. “With what? Smoke signals?”
“How-how do you want your pizza?” Fly’s nervous voice reaches me, but Luca’s next words rile me up.
“Since you keep whoring yourself out to my men, maybe you used them to do your dirty work.”
“Whoring myself? You are the one who left me chained to a tiny sofa for hours to go fuck someone else!” I grab his red silk tie and pull, but he doesn’t budge. He is humongous. What does he eat—babies? Cool Ranch babies? When did I eat Cool Ranch chips last?
“How about pepperoni and bell peppers? Yum!” Fly pulls me away from my chip-related happy memories.
“He doesn’t like bell peppers,” Luca replies, still staring at me. Is he talking about me? I don’t like bell peppers, he’s right. Now I kind of hate that he knows all these things about me, when I know so little about him.
“Who?” Marco asks with a smirk.
“Oh right, sorry, Art. I forgot.” Fly sounds all apologetic. It’s okay, he can’t keep up with all my likes and dislikes. While Luca does…
“How did you know he doesn’t like them?” Marco questions Luca, while Fly orders the pizzas on his phone.
“It was written all over his face,” Luca clarifies.
My face? How did he…?
His booming voice shakes me off my pondering. “Let go!” The commanding tone urges me to call the whole chorus of Angels, begging for patience or a flaming sword.
“You first,” I equally demand.
A few tension-filled seconds pass before his hand releases my wrist. I do the same, adding a little flick of my fingers to push his tie to the side. Petty, I know, but this wacko just drives me absolutely crazy.
“I ordered four pizzas,” Fly declares as he hangs up the phone.
“From where? Cantuccio?”
“No, Rosario’s.”
“Amore mio, I told you Rosario’s pizza is Neapolitan style. The crust is too thick.” Marco’s words are chiding, but he’s all googly-eyes for him—as much as a cutthroat mobster can be—as he pulls him in his arms…again. Is there a magnet between them that forces their bodies to collide?
“Cantuccio is closed on Tuesdays.” Fly cups his face, and he kisses his bearded chin while the mobster’s palm slides on my friend’s ass.
Really? Am I the only one left to hang dry here?
“Is it already fucking Tuesday, my Butterfly? Time flies when I’m with you.”
Fly giggles at the lame joke. “How can it not? You are so handsome.”
I proceed to put the half-melted ice cream in the freezer when the kissing sounds start. I’d normally be into watching, but not when I’m so pent up.
“Do they make Purell for ears?” I ask the universe.
“Like a damn married couple already,” I hear Luca muttering. “You two want to be alone? Then get out!”
“Are you wearing an asshole suit or is it coming from deep within?” Fly turns to Luca.
“Aww. That’s what I told him, too!” I smile at him. We move toward each other—Fly a little slower since Marco doesn’t let him go easily—and we hug.
“Jack Enzino’s son is Fly’s friend.” Luca’s yesterday’s news sounds incredulous.
“You thought it was a lie?” I aim a glower his way.