Chapter Nine #2
Giac offers to walk me home and I don’t protest. My plan is to sneak him up to my room, hoping the solid walls of the villa will be enough of a sound barrier to keep our tryst secret.
I’m not exactly in the mood after our dinner conversation, but I can muster up the energy.
Nothing makes me less horny than talking about my old life, but I can rally.
He walks me to the front door and before I open it, I turn to him. “Thanks for joining me tonight,” I say. “It was fun.” I twiddle with my set of house keys, stalling.
“It was,” Giac says. He claps his hands together, rubbing them like he’s nervous. “Izzy,” he says. He licks his lips. “May I—” My stomach swells. This is the moment. Giac cocks his head. “May I use the restroom inside?”
“Oh!” I say, opening the door. “Of course.”
I show Giac the first-floor powder room and walk to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I can still salvage the evening. Giac is fun. Giac is cute. I’m fun and cute under the right circumstances.
When he gets out of the bathroom, we’ll share a nightcap and see where it goes. I’m wearing a red lacy bra, goddammit.
“You’re up late,” a voice booms out. I nearly drop the glass into the sink, shattering it into a million pieces, but catch myself.
I turn and see Benito walking into the kitchen. His hair a stress-mess as per usual but he’s in a well-tailored suit and shiny dress shoes. “Jeez,” I say. “Stalk me much?”
“Sorry,” he says, suppressing a smile. “Did I scare you?”
“Yes, I thought you were one of the ghosts that haunt this place.”
Benito stares at me quizzically. “This house has no ghosts.”
“It absolutely does,” I say.
Benito loosens his tie and walks over to the cupboard for a glass, filling it from the tap next to me. “What’s with the suit, 007?” I ask.
The right side of Benito’s mouth twitches upward. “You think I look like James Bond?”
My cheeks flush. “No,” I say quickly. “He’s just a guy who wears suits. Often in Europe.”
Benito smiles. “I was at a dinner. Official mayoral duties.”
“Ah,” I say. I haven’t seen Benito since Valeria’s revelation the other day. Meaning I haven’t had time to give him shit about Valeria’s revelation the other day. “Working hard on ousting all the women-owned businesses in town.”
Benito’s eyes flit up to me. “What?”
“Valeria told me,” I say. “In your little development deal, the businesses that will have to close are mostly women-owned. I think it’s interesting that the people who stand to lose the most in this so-called revitalization of La Musa are the women who’ve been keeping it afloat in its downturn.”
Benito looks at me severely. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, Izzy. Believe me.”
I look into his eyes, which I instantly regret, because there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that convinces me he’s being truthful.
Like with me, he’ll always be truthful. My mind flashes to lying next to him in that bed in Rome, the heat of his body warming my cold, dead heart.
It wouldn’t take much to kiss him, a thought intrudes.
I could just lean in and put my mouth on his.
“Izzy, thank you.” I hear Giac’s voice, but my eyes are still fixed on Benito’s. I watch as his pupils grow to the size of a pinpoint. I turn to see Giac standing in the open doorway to the kitchen.
“Giac,” Benito says, but he’s still looking at me. “How nice to see you.”
“You recognize him by his voice?” I ask.
Benito’s nostrils flare. He’s in no mood for me. “There aren’t many other young men in La Musa who are old enough to drive but too young for laugh lines,” he says softly.
“Giac and I just had dinner,” I say, feeling like I owe him an excuse, though I’m not sure why.
Benito nods. He takes his glass of water and starts toward the kitchen exit. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he says. “Good night.”
He walks past Giac, looking back at me one more time before he leaves.
“Good night,” Giac says, grinning affably as ever. “I should be going.”
“Unless you want a nightcap?” I ask. I walk over to my cupboard and pull out a bottle of grappa.
Giac agrees and I pour. We take our glasses outside, since the night is comfortably breezy and not too cold.
I sit on a love seat on the patio and Giac sits next to me.
It’s dark, dark outside. My city person sensibilities are still caught off guard by the sheer number of stars visible in the sky, the whole universe reflected back at me.
It’s easy to feel insignificant but also easy to understand that one tiny movement won’t rock the entire galaxy off its axis.
I lean into Giac, my shoulder flush with his.
I cross my legs so my top leg is resting over his thigh.
I lean in ever so slightly, waiting for his lips to meet mine.
After a moment where he doesn’t take the hint, I lean in another centimeter forward, then another, slowly moving toward him until my lips are only a breath away from his. Giac pulls away.
Giac pulls away.
“Oh god,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Izzy—”
I stand up, draining the rest of my drink. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No! No. Don’t be sorry,” Giac says. He waves his hands fervently.
“I’m a freaking perv, the internet was right.” I move toward the door, but Giac follows.
“Izzy, Izzy.” Giac catches my arm. “You are beautiful and I love our time together. I’m sorry if you thought I was trying to be anything but a friend to you.”
My cheeks get hot. I can’t look at him. “Yeah. Ok, cool—”
“Izzy. I’m gay.” Giac puts a hand on my shoulder, and I am finally still. He smiles as he takes a sip of his drink. “I thought you knew that.”
My face burns. Gay? I have misread all of this.
I quickly flip through my memories of the two of us and see it all in a new light: Giac was being friendly.
He wasn’t flirting with me all those times, he was complimenting me.
He was being nice. I’ve been out of the game so long that I’ve forgotten how to play it.
I’ve forgotten how to know if I’m playing it at all. “Gay?” I ask.
“Yes,” Giac says. “Uh. . . I am attracted to men.”
“I know what gay means,” I say. “But. . . Valeria, she was basically planning our wedding.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I keep my personal life and my work life separate. She probably did not realize.”
“There was the thing with Lucia at lunch. . . about double dating.”
He grimaces. “I thought we were all joking around.”
I turn to Giac. “Are you like, out?” I ask, my voice low. “Do people know?”
Giac laughs. “I’ve been out since I was 15. Yes, everyone I know well knows I’m gay, and that now includes you.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and shows me his background. It’s Giac and a group of friends, smiling and wearing rainbow clothing. “This is from Perugia Pride last year.”
I start pacing. “I can’t believe I didn’t know. I represented West Hollywood, for Christ’s sake. I was in two pride parades last year, I’ve been on Las Culturistas, I was a guest judge on Drag Race.” I run my hands through my hair. “I’m for the gays, Giac.”
Giac lightly laughs, unsure of how exactly to proceed. “I don’t doubt that.”
“I can’t believe I tried to kiss you. I’m so sorry. This is humiliating.” I sigh heavily, leaning my head back, the stupid stars and their endless shimmer mocking me.
Giac swallows his laugh, shakes his head, and grabs my right hand. “I’ll admit this is not the first time this has happened. Do not be embarrassed.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I say. “I’m so lonely and desperate that I convinced myself a gay man wanted me.
Everything they said about me is true. I live in a fantasy world where I’m the hottest person on earth and everyone wants me, but it’s not true.
I mean, clearly. First Levi, now you. I am pathetic. ”
“No, no. You’re not.” Giac strokes my hand like I’m a mewing cat and it honestly does help a little. “And for what it’s worth, if I were going to have sex with a woman, I’d choose you.”
I bury my face in my free hand. “That does not make me feel better. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hit on you. I’m a predator.”
“You’re not!” He jiggles my hand so that I will look back up at him. “I always thought we were on the same page. I always thought we were on our way to becoming good friends.”
A smile forces its way out of me, despite the fact that deep down I am praying for death to find me quickly. “Well, I’d be glad to know I have you as a friend.” It’s hard to look at him, but when I finally do, I see that he is completely unoffended.
“Me too,” he says. “It’s hard to find new friends in La Musa. You know what they always say, hold on, let me translate—if you’re old enough to drive a car—”
“Or too young to have laugh lines, you don’t belong in La Musa.” I join him in laughter and the shame begins to subside with excitement filling its place. I have a friend in La Musa. That brings the grand total to one, but it’s one more than I started with.
I say good night to Giac and walk upstairs to my bedroom. I’m exhausted. I have a thin strip of fabric up my ass and the underwires from the bra are cutting into my skin. I want to take a shower and watch Housewives and go to sleep. I can’t believe I shaved everywhere for this night.
The door to Benito’s room is open and the light is on, no doubt because he wanted to make sure I came upstairs alone. I try to speed walk past his door but since I’ve yet to possess the powers of the Flash, he catches me.
“Izzy,” he says. I stop and turn to face him.
I’ve never seen the inside of his room, and it startles me how much it looks like a child’s room, with bright yellow wallpaper and a tufted indigo duvet on his bed that looks like it’s from the ’90s.
He’s reclining on his bed, his back propped up by pillows with a frilly trim.
He’s on his laptop but he closes it and puts it down next to him.
He’s changed out of his suit and is now in the same sleepwear as the other night.