Chapter 3 #4
Without a word, Rocco finished packing up the things in the unit, then grasped my hand, leading me out into the bright sunlight. He kept me by his side while he loaded the SUV, but instead of putting the box with the letters in the back with the rest of the things, he buckled it into the back seat.
We barely spoke a word to each other on the ride to the rented house in the French Quarter, and once we arrived, we got dressed for dinner.
In a daze, my mind working overtime about the letters, I did my makeup, using more dramatic colors than usual, and settled on a black sweater dress that landed at mid-thigh, a thick faux leather belt to give my waist definition, and knee-high black boots.
Fall hadn’t made it to New Orleans yet, but there was a breeze in the air that held a slight smoky tinge, and I was going for it.
Rocco was drinking whiskey, waiting on me, already dressed in all black—black, collared button-down, black slacks, and expensive black shoes. His eyes were almost glowing against an all-black ensemble. His wedding band too. His cologne seemed more poignant in the air for some reason.
So did his mood.
The song I had played for him on Aria Island, a country tune, played in the background of our rental, and when he saw me for the first time, he made a motion over his heart, like it was overreacting, and pulled me in, bringing me out on the balcony, the city spread out in front of us, crowds moving below us, and danced with me.
He moved like a man who was comfortable with his body.
Because he was—it seemed like his bones had settled confidently into his skin the moment he’d been formed.
For our date, he surprised me by bringing me to my favorite hamburger joint in the entire state, The Port. It was not that far from our place on the outskirts of the Quarter.
“Are my eyes deceiving me…” the woman behind the bar said, blinking at me like I was an apparition as I entered the dimly lit restaurant “…or is that Aria Bella I see?”
“Thandie,” I said, and at the same time, we went for each other.
She lifted the bar partition and we hugged, rocking back and forth.
She pulled away from me so she could get a better look at me.
I was looking at her too. Her hair was curly, giving her a few inches in height, and her dark Black skin glistened under the tender lights, her deep, dark eyes accessing me.
The sight of her made me breathe out a sigh of relief.
“You still look the same,” I whispered. “But even more beautiful somehow.”
She lifted my hands, glancing at my rings, then met my eyes again. “How many hamburgers you plan on buying this time, girl?” Then her eyes took in the over six foot tall, all muscle and sharp lines, Italian man standing behind me, his hand protectively on my shoulder.
I laughed. “Thandie, this is my husband, Rocco Fausti. Rocco, this is Thandie.”
“Just call me her hamburger dealer,” Thandie said.
We both cracked up. Thandie was the closest thing to a friend I had in the city, and instead of telling all my problems to a hairdresser or bartender, I would pull up a chair at The Port and lay them on her.
I refused to tell her about my stalker, though, because I didn’t want to pull her into anything shady.
I didn’t even tell her I was leaving, so when she asked where I’d disappeared to as she set our plates down, I gave her the simplest version of the truth.
“I took a summer job in Italy that required me to leave right away.”
She glanced at Rocco, and from the side of her mouth said to me, “Looks like you took on more than just a summer job.”
If that wasn’t the truth, I didn’t know what was. I took on an eternity with the soul next to mine.
Thandie breezed by one time and said in casual passing, “Mustang was in here almost every day after you left, asking about you.”
Rocco’s face was set forward, and even though it didn’t seem like he was listening, he was.
“Old news.” I waved it off like it was nothing but an irritating fly.
After dinner, as we were walking out, she screamed out, “Thank you!” I wasn’t sure how much of a tip he’d left her, but it sounded good.
“You gave her enough to buy a house, didn’t you?” I asked.
He only grinned at me, squeezing my shoulder. His grin faded when a bunch of guys started walking toward us, their eyes on me. Not for long. The look on his face sent a clear message—you want to keep those eyes, look away. They got the message and heeded his silent warning.
At the rental, I decided to take a long, hot bath in the clawfoot tub. We were leaving the next day, and it would be nice to relax before we left for the small town Brando and Scarlett were from. Juliette too. Rocco was going to visit Massimo.
Before I even undressed, a feeling of emptiness plagued me, and I went in search of my husband, who usually joined me for baths.
Two soldiers stepped out of the shadows and blocked the front door.
I narrowed my eyes at them and crossed my arms. “Where’s my husband?” I asked.
“Signora Fausti is to stay inside until Signor Fausti gets back.”
“Where did he go?”
“We do not know, Signora Fausti.”
“No use in trying to ask them,” Carmen said, appearing behind me. “You’ll only waste your breath.”
She took my hand and led me outside.
“They’re programmed with prerecorded answers, unless you zap the shit out of them, and then it lessens to a sound. Ungggg.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“If history is repeating itself…your husband has gone to duel in your honor, in Fausti language. Our husbands go to bear witness to it. It’s very romantic—in their eyes. How do you think I met Dario? On a night just like this one.”
“Remy,” I said, and almost slapped a hand over my mouth. I thought maybe if I didn’t think about him, for certain not saying his name out loud, we’d leave and forget about what happened at the bar.
I should have known! Rocco was in such a good mood, his eyes sparking the entire night at dinner. It wasn’t the hamburger, like it had been for me, but thoughts of the night ahead!
A whistling sound came from the yard next door. I looked at Carmen, and she grinned.
“They’re purposely keeping us apart,” she said. “Scarlett and Juliette are on that side. You and me on this side. If we get together, we’ve been known to…overpower the soldiers.”
A second later, a paper airplane came flying over the side of the fence, hitting me in the head. I opened it to the prettiest scrawl I’d ever seen. A script that belonged to a ballerina. It was almost whimsical.
We should all be together, at least to have a drink and wait this night out. We’ll be over in a few minutes.
True to her word, Scarlett slid over the fence first, then a whisper-laughing Juliette. She had gone over too fast and slid right down on her ass. We all took chairs and waited by the pool. Scarlett said nothing as she took my hand and held onto it, like she understood.
There were not enough words in the world that could make this better.