Chapter Sixteen #2
When I was a kid, I could talk my way out of trouble or into anything I wanted.
It was a skill so powerful my father eventually sat me down one day and explained how I should only use my mastery of language for good.
There were two paths well suited for me career-wise, politician or scam artist, he told me.
He said I could end up in jail or president, and the paths to either were narrowly split.
An odd thing to tell a nine-year-old but still, I heeded his advice and doggedly pursued the White House, never once looking back until now.
How different life would be if he’d told me I’d make a good accountant.
I hear the creak of the front gate and run to my window.
Benito’s back. The anticipation energizes me.
I snake out of my clothes and throw on the red lingerie set.
By the time I tie my robe across my waist, there’s a light knock on my door.
I basically sprint to open it and grin when I see Benito on the other side, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Hi, you,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep my smile from taking over my entire face. “Hi.”
It’s only a moment or two more before we collide into each other, falling into bed and picking right back up where we left.
A frantic knock at my door frightens me out of a dreamy nap. It takes me a second to readjust to the waking world and realize my pillow is Benito’s bare chest. I groan. “Who could that be?”
Benito strokes my hair. “It’s probably my mother.”
We both look at each other and then sit up straight. “Shit,” I say, jumping out of bed and throwing my robe back on. “She knows.” I pace around my room, looking for my underwear. “She’s going to think I’m some kind of American tart.”
“No, she won’t,” Benito says. “Because it’s not 1956.” This doesn’t stop him from also getting up and pulling on his khakis.
We hear another knock. I look at him panickily. “What do I do?”
“I think you answer it?” he says.
“Ok, you hide.” I point toward the corner of the room.
“Seriously?” he asks. “We don’t need to hide from her, we are grown adults.” I glare at him. He swallows, reconsidering. “We can tell her we were watching a movie.”
I keep pointing until he finally obliges, his back up against the wall and out of view of the door as I open it. I have to hold in a gasp when I do not see Anita on the other side, but Sutton.
“Sutton,” I say, trying to hide my stunned expression. “Hi.”
She’s in a pair of crisp white pants and a coordinating linen blazer with a pink scarf tied chicly around her neck.
I feel self-conscious about the thinness of my robe and my sex hair.
Isn’t she supposed to be back in London?
“Sorry to just drop in like this,” she says.
“I felt the need to apologize in person for throwing you to the wolves like I did the other night.”
“In bocca al lupo,” I mutter. Sutton looks at me with a quizzical expression. “It means good luck in Italian, but it literally translates to in the mouth of the wolf.” I smooth my hair with my hands. “I’m just realizing how apt of an expression it is, that’s all.”
Sutton stares at me blankly for another moment then blinks. “Right, well, will you let me buy you a drink? I fear we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and it doesn’t sit well with me.”
I study her face, which is so completely frozen by Botox, I wouldn’t be able to tell if she had any emotions about her and Benito’s breakup becoming officially official. “I thought you’d be on your way home by now,” I say.
Sutton shakes her head. “Not quite. Please let me make it all up to you before I go.”
She’s up to something, that much is clear. But I’m kind of curious as to what her play is. “Sure. Why not.”
She grins. “Good. I know I’ve sprung this on you, so why don’t I give you time to freshen up”—she eyes my appearance—“and I’ll meet you at Bar Musa in an hour?”
I close the door behind her and wait until I hear her footsteps fade down the hall. I turn to Benito, who sheepishly creeps out of his hiding space. “The fuck was that?” I ask.
“You don’t have to go,” Benito says. He walks over to the bed and sits, propping himself up with his right arm. The vein in his forearm pops, and I resist the urge to run my fingers up it. “She’s like a bee: You ignore her, she goes away.”
I sit next to him. “Or you let it sting you and it dies later, learning an important lesson about karma.”
Benito raises his eyebrows at me. “Jesus.”
I tap his hand with mine and stand up. “I need to see what she’s up to. Maybe it’ll help.”
“Help?” Benito asks.
I run a brush through my hair. “With La Musa, with your father, with everything.” I lean and plant a quick kiss on Benito’s lips and shoo him out of my room.
I change into a pair of wide-legged jeans with a white bodysuit.
Most of my clothes are thrifted or at least bought on sale, important during my campaign considering my politics, but now I wish I’d taken up the offer from the fancy Hollywood stylists who offered their services to me.
I don’t want to feel inferior to Sutton. I have no reason to.
When the clock tower chimes 6 p.m., I find Sutton already on the patio of Bar Musa, sipping on a spritz.
She stretches her hand into the air and waves at me as I enter.
“Izzy! Good. For a moment there, I wondered if you’d changed your mind.
What’s your drink?” She reaches her long arm back into the air and gets the attention of a server. He happily bounces over to us.
“I’ll take a glass of the pinot grigio,” I say.
Sutton shakes her head. “No, Izzy. Please, we’re celebrating.”
“We are?”
“It’s on me,” she says with a wink.
I rack my brain for a suitable replacement, but truthfully, I just wanted wine. “Glass of prosecco, then,” I say.
Sutton nearly jumps up. “Brilliant idea. Make it a bottle,” she says to the server. “Due bicchieri.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
Sutton twirls her straw in her drink and finishes the last few sips. “Hm?”
“You said we’re celebrating.” The sun has not yet dipped below the buildings, but I take my sunglasses off so she can see my eyes.
“Ah, yes.” She claps her hands together. “We are celebrating because I realized you and I have the same goal.”
My eyebrows narrow. “We do?”
“Yes.” The server returns and pops the bottle of prosecco, pouring us each a glass. “I was thinking about you all wrong, Izzy. I saw you as competition and I’m sure you can see why.”
My mind flashes to Benito. “Because. . .?”
“Because you stood in the way of the development deal. You have Benito’s ear, as well as the women business owners, and their reluctance is our biggest complication.”
I wait for the rest. That sounds more or less exactly what the situation is. “Is that not it?”
Sutton throws her head back and laughs. “No, of course not. I thought it was to rebrand yourself, which is why I thought the ad campaign would work, but that’s not it. Your goal, really, is to make a place for yourself in La Musa.”
I take a long sip of prosecco, certain there’s some other bomb she’s going to drop any second. “I guess that’s the truth, but how is that your problem?”
Sutton takes a tiny sip of her drink and smiles slightly over the top of her glass. “Because the answer to your goal is the same as the answer to mine.” She sets her glass down and leans back in her chair. “I’ve got it all worked out.”
“Have you?” I ask. I’m starting to get the sense that the apology she promised is never coming and I won’t like the alternative.
“You should be the mayor.” She takes another sip of her drink like it’s as simple of a suggestion as “I’ll let you freshen up.”
I laugh. “What?”
“You should be mayor,” she repeats. “Think about it. It gives you a place in La Musa. You have the experience. You’ll have a hand in saving the place. It’s perfect.”
I wait for her to tell me she’s kidding. That her grand plan is actually for me to buy out the local panetteria or be crowned princess or something else that makes more sense. “Benito is the mayor.”
Sutton smirks. “That’s where what I want comes in.”
A bad feeling rises from my gut to my chest, the bubbles of the prosecco burning my esophagus as they travel back upward. “I thought you said what we want is the same.”
“It is. I want you to be mayor.” She taps her fingers on the table, her long nails making a clicking sound. “Because I want Benito back in London with me.”