Chapter 14
Ringo
Trouble. I was in it deep. I should have ran Johnny over.
It would have been messy, and difficult to coverup, but the job would be done.
I could hear Don Manca’s voice in my head berating me for the missed shot.
Just like he’d yelled at me when I missed the first time we went hunting.
That was so long ago. The lesson imparted, he made me try again.
It took me two days to run down my quarry, but I killed it on the second try.
For that, I got one word. “Good.” You’d think I was a fool for taking that single word of praise and making a career out of it. But that was more than any parent, teacher, or authority had given me before. It was validation. I wasn’t a waste. I wasn’t a fuckup. I had purpose.
Ellie was lost, too.
Cold, frightened, alone… she was all the things I’d shoved away.
Which meant I was the world’s worst choice to give advice.
I fell back on what I knew. Those words Don Manca spoke to me over cold nights on rooftops when the world waited to find a pattern to exploit.
I learned that, too. Find the pattern. See the gap. Work your way into the cracks and wait.
I hated waiting. I hated being small.
And worst? I hated being alone. That’s why Mario and I worked together. Alone I’d eventually implode. He kept me sane. His dedication to method and order created a safe space I could depend upon when the chaos I attracted became overwhelming.
Ellie’s sister was that for her.
It’s no wonder Mario and Allie found each other. They were magnets. Attracting the pattern and honing it into perfect symmetry.
Which begged the question, what would happen if two chaotic, lost souls clung to each other? Would they find a perfect fit, or would they repel the other with such force that they’d both shatter?
That’s what I was afraid of. It’s why I sat in the darkened living room of the penthouse, staring at the flames from the artificial fireplace.
The night sky was bright and cold. The reflection of it shimmered on the lake.
It reminded me of camping on the bluffs in winter.
Although, I doubted Sardinia ever got this cold.
“I think I used all your hot water.”
Ellie had a towel wrapped around her hair, and the rest of her body was engulfed by one of the universally sized bathrobes supplied by the staff.
I motioned to the couch next to me and pulled the blanket from its folded perch on one arm of the sofa. “Sit here. You’re probably still cold.” An adrenaline dump and crash would do that.
She slid into the spot I indicated and didn’t stop until she had plastered herself at my side.
Carefully, I shook out the blanket so it could cover us both. Then I tucked the edges in around her to trap the heat.
She squirmed a little to pull out her left hand. Once free, she held it out, palm-side up. “Teach me.”
“It took me ten years.”
“Teach me,” she insisted.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes met mine. “I want to understand. And, I want something to grab onto. Something that won’t let me down.”
Funny. That’s exactly what I’d been thinking.
I stroked her hand. “Did you know that before man invented sextants and astrolabes, they used their hands and the stars to navigate?”
“You’re making that up.”
“No. I was told this by a really old fisherman in Isola Rossa. He must have been ninety.”
“He made it up then.”
I shook my head. “The way he told it, his ancestors were one of the original sea people in the Mediterranean. They navigated by luck, wind, and stars.” I held out my hand, placing it behind hers.
“You find Orion’s belt. That’s one of the easiest star clusters to find.
And you put it right here.” I pointed at the mount under my ring finger.
“Line up your thumb with Betelgeuse. That’s the really bright star.
Sometimes you have to twist your whole arm to get it just right.
Once you get in position, look at the angle of your arm to the horizon.
You know exactly what month it is by that angle.
When you’re turned all the way around like this,” I paused to position it just right, “it’s time to sail home so you’re not caught in winter storms. Your pinkie finger disappears under the horizon. ”
“How does that help you navigate?”
“Easy. The angle, plus the direction you’re facing, against the line of the horizon works to tell date, and compass.
But each day the compass moves a little east or west. Sailors learn how to do this with their left hand so they can steer with their right.
Both hands work together to guide your travel. ”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why not used something fixed?”
“Because you can’t always see it. Like the North Star? It gets lost in the sky if you go too far south. Too far north and you lose the Southern Cross.”
She pondered that for a bit. “I suppose that’s important.”
“Each hand works together.” I wove my fingers between hers. “Your fingers each represent a truth. The thumb is life. The index finger, it’s honor. Clarity you might say. The middle finger—”
“That’s the ‘fuck you’ finger.”
I laughed. “Discipline.”
She frowned. “You mean, it’s the ‘I can fuck you up’ finger?”
“That’s right.” I moved to the next digit and stroked it, thinking about its meaning.
“Love?” she guessed.
“Respect. Love is fleeting. Respect lasts longer, but demands work and effort to keep.”
“Kind of like love.”
I had to know. “Did you love him?”
She tugged her hand away, closing it on itself. “To be honest? No. I thought I found someone who was just bad enough to match my desires and not nearly awful enough to be unsafe. I was wrong. Just…wrong.”
“You wanted to respect him?”
Her eyes shot to mine. “Yes.”
It was easy to raise my final finger and ask, “Do you know what this one means?”
She shook her head.
“The thumb is life, the pinkie is death. It’s small, final, opposite of the first. But it is also not weak.
It’s necessary for a strong grip. I didn’t believe it at first, but Don Manca made me hold my pinkie out and try to squeeze his hand.
I couldn’t do it. Not until I folded that finger down.
It is the force that makes or breaks us.
And it will always be there whether you want it or not.
Kind of like it follows the other fingers when they move. It’s like a shadow.”
I was lost in thought and memories.
She shifted closer, holding me in her arms.
“Everyone has that shadow, Ellie. Everyone.”
“My sister doesn’t.”
Bullshit. “If she didn’t, she would have sent Mario packing the first hour she knew him.” Allie most definitely had a shadow. She may have been as innocent as Ellie thought she was before she met Mario, but death recognizes itself in odd ways.
“So, you’re saying it’s Mario’s fault?”
I should discourage that kind of thinking. Mario wasn’t a man to be toyed with. And he certainly wouldn’t like his secrets known to his wife’s sister. Yet my love for him surfaced in odd ways. “Next time you see him, you try telling him that.”
“I value my sanity, thank you very much.”
Odd. Most people value their lives around Mario. “Your sanity?”
“Yeah. He’s… he’s like Allie. You tease him, and he’ll find twenty-five reasons you’re inaccurate, then lob a zinger at you that explodes like a shit balloon, making you look like an ass for saying anything at all.”
I smiled. That was an accurate observation. I’d made it my life’s calling to find ways to needle him. Some had been successful. Most had not. It might be fun to see how well Ellie fared. “I dare you.”
“You left sanity on the short bus you rode to school in.”
My chest twitched at her insult. I kept my face stoic. “Tell me, how quickly do your parents change the subject when they're asked about you?”
Her mouth fell open. “I’m not as dumb as you look.”
Ouch. “You talk a big game for someone with a 9 o'clock curfew.”
That one made her eyes narrow. “Oh lovely. A battle of wits against an unarmed opponent.”
“I envy people who have never met you.”
Ellie leaned back, studying me from head to toe. “You wanna know the best thing about you?”
This ought to be good. “Sure.”
“You’re biodegradable.”
While losing the battle by laughing, I logged that one to use against Mario. He’d appreciate it. “You win.”
I leaned back on the couch and stretched my arm over the back, encircling Ellie under it. “You know, if you weren’t still rebounding from that asshole—” I cut my words short. Ellie didn’t need to know where my thoughts veered off course.
“I’m not rebounding.”
The sex we had in Venice said different. Hell, she told me herself that I was only a substitute for her disappointment. “Remember what you said to me on that gondola ride?” I didn’t let her chime in. “You said, ‘Ringo, this isn’t permanent. It’s a blip because I don’t adjust well.’”
“Oh, I get it now. I bruised your ego, and you took it out on my phone, right?”
That was part of it. The other part was cutting Mario out of her sister’s conversation before I could gracefully exit Ellie’s life. I’d gotten what I needed. Confirmation of where Mario holed up. I didn’t need Ellie anymore. And she certainly didn’t need me.
Except she did.
Pornstach was still a problem. One I should have eliminated tonight, messy or not. He needed to die. I stood up, tucked the blanket around Ellie. “I’m going out.”
Ellie tossed off the blanket I’d tucked around her. “No!”
Her bathrobe gaped open just a little. My eyes fixed on the glimpse of flesh, that sensuously enticing curved shape.
“I mean, please? It’s late and— Are you staring at my boobs?”
I quickly looked away.
“You were, weren’t you?”
“I’m a guy. Sue me.”
“You still like me, don’t you?”
The way she drew that word out irritated me. “Don’t be juvenile.”
“You’re the one staring at my boobs.”
To prove her wrong, I looked her in the eye. “Are you done?”
Her mouth opened, but she hesitated. “I… I’m scared.”