23. Who is Troy?
TWENTY-THREE
WHO IS TROY?
Lake
The concept of “Sunday scaries” relies on the fact one dislikes, or at least dreads, their job. This means the person spends their Sunday feeling uneasy over the upcoming work week. It’s a type of anxiety I’ve never experienced during my travel writing job or during the weeks I’ve spent teaching Leo.
This doesn’t mean I don’t worry today. My worry comes from other sources. Such as Alessio and Antonio’s phone call, which Alessio took into the office.
He’s sitting behind the desk, the phone glued to his ear, his blue eyes fixed on me.
The night Alessio and I hooked up, Antonio was the bartender who took me home from the hotel. He’s the man Alessio tasked with my care. Just hearing his name gave me anxiety because Antonio saw me walk into my apartment.
I know this because I waved at him before I went inside. This means he knows I didn’t get mugged on the street. Luckily for me, during my homeless beach days on the island, I catastrophized several scenarios of how Alessio would call me out on my bullshit, and one of the scenarios I had to find an answer for was Antonio’s time with me.
What if Alessio asked Antonio what happened? I came up with the lie that I dropped something and had to go back to look for it, and that’s when I got mugged, and if they called me out on it for whatever reason, I would admit that people broke into my hotel room and threatened me. This would be an ideal answer since it’s the truth, but I fear the line of questioning that would come next.
Unfortunately for me, I’m not an expert in covert operations or lying this much with stakes as high as my uncle’s life and likely the lives of many other people.
Oh God, my poor uncle. Briefly, I close my eyes and pray he’s alive.
“Hey, Lake, you okay?” Leo asks.
I smile. “I’m fine. Perfect. I’m sorry I was late for class this morning.”
“It’s okay.”
“You should call me Ms. Wilder.”
“I don’t want to.”
I throw an arm over his shoulders and pull him closer. “Why not?”
“Because I like saying your name. It’s so cool.”
“Thanks, buddy. I like my name too.”
Leo props his chin on his hand. “Who named you?”
“My dad. He and my mom conceived me during a camping trip at Lake Tahoe, which is a lake in Northern California. Do you remember where California is?” One of my major assignments as a governess is teaching Leo US geography and history. Alessio will send Leo to the States for education and wants him to know everything there is to know about it. Alessio himself is a Fort North graduate.
Since the Fort is a military academy, I thought it only accepted US citizens, but upon doing some research, it turns out that foreign nationals can enroll if they’re sent by their governments. Fort North accepts about a hundred international students each year and charges five times the amount they charge a US citizen for tuition, and so a large part of the school’s funding comes from friendly, wealthy foreigners.
“California is on the West Coast of America,” Leo announces as if at a recital. “The body of water it’s on is called the Pacific Ocean, and it’s very cold compared to the Mediterranean. It has waves this tall.” Leo stands up on his seat and raises his hand above his head, his face glowing. “People ride the waves there. It’s a sport called surfing.” He sits back down and whispers, “Maybe one day, when I’m big, I will go to California and learn how to surf.”
“That sounds fun,” I say, though I bet his uncle won’t think so.
“Do you surf?”
I shake my head. “I’m not a great swimmer. I’d probably drown.”
Leo laughs. “I’m a good swimmer. Even faster than Troy when she raced me in the pool.”
I clear my throat. “Troy?”
He nods. “Troy from Tenssie. Ten…zee.” He frowns, struggling with the pronunciation. “I’m not saying it right. It’s a state in the United States.”
“Tennessee?”
Leo’s eyes brighten. “That one. How far is Tennessee from California?”
“Pretty far. At least a two-day drive.”
He frowns. “I won’t drive, silly. I’ll fly on my jet.”
There’s that. “How do you know Troy?”
“She’s my uncle’s girlfriend. They had a baby. If you ask nicely, maybe my uncle will show you pictures of Miralynn. She’s cute, and since I have no siblings, my uncle says she’s my baby sister, and when I grow up, I’ll have to look out for her.”
My belly churns. To prevent myself from throwing up, I press a palm over my mouth and look in the direction of Alessio’s office. He’s still watching me. Our eyes lock.
Oh my God, this man has a girlfriend and a baby. Did they break up before we slept together? Are they still together but long-distance? Is Alessio a cheater? I hate cheaters, and I’m not the type of a girl who would take another woman’s man. And the baby. Jesus. I was not prepared for this.
They must’ve broken up. It would make sense, since Alessio’s baby mama, Troy, I think Leo said was her name, stayed with Alessio before. Now she’s not here. This sounds about right since I can’t imagine Alessio in a long-distance relationship with a woman when he can’t even allow Leo and me to have a day at the beach on an island he owns and controls.
Leo’s not lying, but I can’t make sense of what he told me either. And there is no way in hell Alessio would allow his baby to live so far away from him.
But wait, the other day on the phone, Alessio referenced a small town in the States. Was it a small town in Tennessee?
I swallow bile. I think this Troy woman Leo is talking about is related to the man who was on the phone with Alessio. But why would Leo call him his uncle? Does Alessio have a brother?
“Lake, you don’t look okay,” Leo says.
I drink a sip of orange juice. “I’m fine, really. Just ate too much.” I can’t ask about this woman anymore because I don’t want Leo to be my informant. It’ll kill me if I pull information from him. But if I don’t, it’ll kill my uncle. This sword is double edged, and every which way I turn it, the blade will cut.
I force myself to move on with our day. “Since we started with geography, let’s continue in the study room.”
Leo frowns. “But we’re leaving soon.”
I open my mouth to ask Leo where we’re going when I hear the unmistakable clatter of my suitcase’s wheels rolling over the courtyard. Rosalba enters the kitchen through the mud room and walks past us, pulling a black suitcase behind her. Since travel suitcases can be difficult to tell apart, I tied a green ribbon and a frog-shaped traveling tag on the handle of mine.
I rush after Rosalba, but Leo gasps, sensing my alarm, so I turn and kiss the top of his head. “Nobody told me we’re traveling, that’s all. I need to have a word with your uncle.”
Leo shakes his head. “I told him to tell you as soon as you woke up.”
Awww. “I wish he’d listened to you.”
“He said he wants to surprise you.” Leo crooks his finger, beckoning me. When I bend toward him, he whispers, “My uncle likes you.”
“What about Troy?” Oh no! It just spilled out of me like water out of a broken dam.
Leo leans back, his face adorably confused. “What about her?”
I can’t stop now, but if I don’t have an answer, I might erupt in tears and admit I’ve lied, and then Alessio will kill me. “You said your uncle is with Troy, and they have a baby.”
Leo’s eyes widen. “I wasn’t talking about my uncle Alessio. If he had a baby, he would be married, and I would have another aunt. Do you like him back?”
Okay, see now, this makes sense, but also, I’m not sure how to answer the boy, so I chicken out.
“I’ll be right back.”
I move toward the foyer. Alessio likes me? I tuck my hair behind my ear. Really likes me? That’s nice to hear.
In the foyer, I spot two large suitcases and one smaller one with a blue letter A engraved on a picture of a toy airplane. Clearly, the three of us are traveling. But we can’t travel, because I need to deliver the gun tonight. The woman will have her cronies murder my uncle if I don’t.
Without knocking or giving a rat’s ass that Alessio’s on the phone, I rush into his office. I cock my hip, rest my hand on it, ready for the throwdown. “What’s going on?”
“We’re traveling to Paris.”
Life is so unfair. Paris. The city on my bucket list. I shake my head. “I can’t go to Paris.” Two months ago, if someone had told me they’d be taking me to Paris, I would have screamed in excitement. Now, all I want to scream is: We cannot leave this house!
Alessio’s eyes widen. I think I might’ve shrieked. Oh no. Did I? I’m so stressed out that my thoughts might’ve slipped past my mouth filter.
I dislike confrontation, but this man…oh, this man is infuriating. Still, I clear my throat so I don’t sound like a sick canary. “I’ve planned lectures for Leo, and we must stay here for those. All our supplies are here. We have art lessons this week.”
Alessio comes to lean his backside (his ass is as fabulous as the rest of him, by the way) on the desk. He spreads his legs and rolls his shoulders. “You’re saying you don’t want to go to Paris with me because you’re teaching my nephew art. Is that your argument?”
The excuse sounded pathetic even as I said it, but now that he’s confronting me about it, it sounds damn near stupid. I have nothing against Paris. God knows I would love to go there. And I can’t think of a single reason besides the real reason not to go there.
I can’t tell him that sadistic people who may’ve killed my uncle last night want me to deliver the gun from Alessio’s desk drawer, along with the name of a man he spoke to on the phone the other day. This man might very well be a father to a newborn baby, so now I have this newborn I don’t know about weighing on my conscience.
As if I needed to feel worse about spying on this family.
“I have no passport,” I say.
Holy crap, I’m a genius to have remembered that in a pinch. I lift my chin. Got ya, Lord Grump.
Alessio reaches into his pocket and produces a black leather pouch. He holds it out to me.
When I don’t accept it, he says, “Take it.”
“I’m afraid of what’s inside.” A letter of termination of my employment laced with anthrax?
“Nothing that will hurt you, I promise.”
The way he says this melts my heart, and the warmth in his eyes is unexpected. I’m not sure what he’s thinking or who he thinks I am, but the Lake who exists in his head isn’t me.
I’m cornered, and the people I care about are going to get hurt. One way or the other, someone will get hurt. The sadists want it to be Alessio. They want to inflict pain on the man responsible for the gun owner’s death. And if Alessio did do such a thing, he’s the man who would be held accountable.
Thing is, I don’t want to be the one who makes anyone pay their dues. I just want to eat good food, write about the nice places I’m experiencing, and laugh while in the company of people who are kind to me.
I want to be as far from trouble as possible. But I’m forced to accept the pouch he’s handing me with trembling hands.
Alessio traps my hand between his palms and tugs me to stand between his legs. The heat of his body, the size and sheer energy of him, makes me want to surrender. Not only all my secrets, but my body too.
“You can tell me anything, Lake. Anything at all. If someone hurt you, if they even looked at you wrong, I will deliver them to evil. You can count on me.”
Should I tell him? Tell him! Tell him. Tell him everything. Do it now.
“All ready, sir,” Rosalba says quietly from behind me. I step away and turn to see her helping Leo with his backpack.
“I brought our atlas,” he says.
I teach with books and maps and not online. The Angelini family thinks children can learn from electronics later in their lives. The tactile nature of physical materials benefits intellectual development and assists in quicker learning and longer retention of the subject matter.
“Antonio is being tracked as we speak,” Alessio says, his voice low.
“What did he do?” I ask.
Alessio tilts his head. “When he called, you froze. I noticed and asked him if he touched you. He swore up and down he didn’t, but I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, so I asked him to come by the house. He hung up on me, rushed home from the hotel, and tried to escape the island. The men you called SWAT are tracking him.”
“Alessio, no.” I step back. “Antonio took me back to Luigis. That’s all he did. He made sure I arrived safely.”
Alessio assesses me. It’s unnerving to be the object of all his attention, and my heart starts to pound wildly in my ears.
“You seemed scared when I mentioned his name.”
“It’s because…because…” I’m drawing blanks. I have nothing to say, but if I don’t say anything, I’m afraid he’ll hurt an innocent man.
Alessio’s phone rings. I step back and chew my lip, hoping for a Hail Mary.
“Go on,” he tells me.
“Maybe you should answer that.”
“Thank you for the suggestion. If I wanted to answer my phone, I would have. I’m more interested in you than whoever is calling, so explain to me what happened when you heard I was talking to Antonio.”
He won’t drop it. He probably thinks Antonio mugged me or, worse, violated me since he asked him if he touched me. My heart’s pounding so fast, I’m becoming lightheaded. I might collapse from all the stress.
I rest my hand on Alessio’s forearm and squeeze. He covers my hand with his in a reassuring way.
“Antonio knows what we did that night, and I don’t want Leo to find out we slept together. I thought you might mention we’ve known each other, not in detail, of course, but enough for Leo to pick up on the fact that we had a relationship before I came to work here.”
While it’s true I don’t want Leo to think I’m here for his uncle and not him, it breaks my heart that my horrible circumstances are forcing me to take advantage of Alessio’s strong protective instincts.
I continue because I have to convince him to back off Antonio. “Leo already thinks you like me, and I didn’t want him to think I’m here because of you. I’m here for him.”
I need to confess to a priest. Though, at this point, I think even a holy man would reject me.
Alessio nods and dials. When a man answers, he says, “It’s off. Pull back.”
“Thank God.”
Alessio grunts and produces a key from the pocket of his suit. I recognize the drawer key and step back so Alessio can move behind the desk.
“You’re right,” he tells Leo, who’s waiting for us by the front door. “I do like her.”
From the drawer, he takes the golden gun I’m supposed to deliver to that woman today and holsters it under his suit. He closes and locks the drawer.
As he walks past me, he grabs my wrist. With a dip of his head, he whispers, “This time if you try to stall by telling me you have to use the bathroom, I’ll put a diaper on you.” Alessio turns me by the shoulders and taps my bottom. “Move your ass.”