Alessandro
I jolt awake after another dream. Mama hung in his office, dangling lifelessly. Swinging back and forth. Just like Kat.
Holly hanging lifeless and bald from the canopy above my bed. My father, laughing. Laughing that won’t stop. And he has handfuls of her hair in his hands.
My head is throbbing. Too much fuckin’ bourbon. Or not enough.
The sheets smell like her and suddenly, I need her in my arms. I’m such an asshole. Ignoring her last night. After her being here for me any time I allowed it. I glance at the clock on the table beside the bed and it’s 5:45 pm. I get up and take a shower.
I see Holly’s peach body lotion on the countertop and it feels like something stabs me in my dead black heart. I spy my unpacked clothes and my shaving gear. I get into track pants and a t-shirt and I shave.
I lift my phone from my suit pants pocket and listen to the voicemail Zack left me last night.
“All’s well, Lex. It’s time to move on, man. Enjoy life on your terms. Your terms. You’ve got the girl, you’ve got your health. It wasn’t easy. There were far too many casualties, man, but you’re free. And you earned it. Call me. Let’s go for a beer soon. Ciao.”
Free? Am I?
Earned it? Have I?
I’ve got a text from Tommy telling me to call if I need his help with anything.
I spent hours and hours in interviews going over all that I’d done to close shit down and bring my father to me. They were fine to let me walk, per our agreement, but they wanted to be sure I wasn’t gonna keep my father’s business going. Or take a pay-off by handing it over to someone else.
I showed them everything, all the steps I’d taken to end things. Yeah, there are people pissed at me, likely wanting my head on a platter, but they might also let it all go if they see that the business is gone and find out he’s about to get dead. He had a lot of enemies. Maybe they’ll leave me be. Maybe not. We’ll see. I have resources to help me disappear if that’s what it comes down to.
Rocco is gone, a big fat check in his hand. He’s moving to Argentina, he says. He’ll keep in touch, he says. He’s a good man. I owe him a lot. I probably won’t keep in touch. He deserves to be able to move on.
I have to let Dresden’s assistant know my whereabouts and keep the guy updated. I don’t fucking like it, but Zack tells me it’s just standard, not to worry. Dresden will retire in a year or two. Maybe sooner, since this is gonna hit the news and get him all sorts of accolades. And then I won’t have to update anyone.
I’d gone to the mortuary that has my mama and talked briefly to the coroner. We’re waiting for results, but I already called Jimena and gave her all the news. She told me that it’s already hitting the airwaves, that Pablo Alejandro Romero was arrested and is being held pending trial for a long list of charges. Jimena sounded so relieved. It was good to hear that in her voice. She’s been through a lot, too. She told me that based on my father’s description to her, it sounded like my mother had cancer. Advanced stage. I told her that the coroner hinted it was looking like that.
Sandro the Butcher? He was a cancer. He was the reason she rotted from the inside out. Her life was spent in constant worry. Life with a maniac took its toll. I hold responsibility, too, because how much time did she spend worrying about me running that empire, my soul turning black?
I’ve asked Zack to arrange for her ashes to go home, to Cagliari. To her family. When the time is right. When the news comes to light and someone has told them that Sandro the Butcher was who had their daughter the past 29 years.
He asked me, the day before, if I wanted to go to Italy to tell them. I shook my head, no. I want them to have peace of knowing what happened to her, and for them to know how brave she was at the end. But, I won’t taint their lives with my shit. I won’t throw it in their face that their daughter was brutally raped over almost thirty years and that I’m the only thing left of her.
Zack told me that Wes is flying there to talk to them. I texted Wes and told him not to do it. Let the local authorities do it. He hasn’t answered.
I don’t know where I go from here yet. I spent so much time planning for the day when it would be done that I haven’t gone beyond that yet.
My mother was fuckin’ brave to take him down like that. That’s why she had a smile on her face when she closed her eyes that final time. I can’t find the joy in that yet but maybe one day I will.
He brought her home not just because I took away all his options, but to use her illness to try to bring me in line.
And he was so much less than he’d been before he’d taken off and had me fake his death. He turned up with just two men. And about five minutes after they got news he barely had two pesos left to his name, they would’ve bailed. If they hadn’t been shot in the head by Tommy Ferrano. They might’ve shot Sandro in the head themselves, considering he must’ve made some grand promises to keep them with him all that time. Or, to come back and help him take back his throne. Whatever way it went. It no longer matters.
It was obvious to me that at the end, he had no plan. Yeah, he punished me with the dead girl that he knew Holly would see over the bed, but that was all he did. It was weak compared to the shit he’d pulled before. Life on the run, watching his wife fading away, having me buck against his rules and him losing power because he’d put it all in my hands? I knew it’d be easy to end it two minutes after I entered my house.
I wanted to kill him. Fuck, but I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. If Holly hadn’t reminded me of the justice that needed to happen, I would have.
And now, I’m here with her. On the other side of this shit. And I don’t know what the fuck to feel.
I’ve spent so much time pushing the feelings I didn’t have the luxury to feel away. Now, I don’t want to let the floodgates open. I don’t know what’ll happen when I do. They opened an inch when Mama died. But now, I’m numb. I’ve been feeling like I’m dead inside. Until I saw her lotion.
I’m lying here, looking at the ceiling. The sun is going down. And I hear footsteps. The door opens. I see her in the doorway, her hair glowing like a shiny aura around her in the dimness of the hall.
“Can I come in?” she asks, timidly.
And suddenly I’m not numb. I fucking need her.
“Come here,” I say.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?”
“No. Get over here.”
She’s moving toward me but it’s too slowly.
“I made some food last night I… if you’re hungry I can warm it up.”
She’s being so timid.
“Come. Here,” I demand.
She puts a knee to the bed and climbs in. I pull her to me and I’ve got her face in my hands.
She’s blinking at me. And she looks frightened of me.
“Holly?”
She’s listening. Chewing her cheek.
“You okay?” I ask, rubbing my thumbs over her cheekbones.
She blinks. Shocked.
“Yes. Are you?” she asks.
I take a breath, “No,” I breathe out.
“What can I do?” she asks.
Of course she asks me this. This fucking girl.
“You can be real. Don’t tiptoe.”
“Okay,” she relaxes, but only marginally.
“Still in character?” I ask her.
Her shoulders slump, “Maybe.”
“I told you not to come out of character until I gave the word.”
She thinks about it and nods.
“You can come out of it,” I say.
“Okay.” She breathes and relaxes a bit more.
“Can you?” she asks after a minute.
I shrug. I don’t know if I can ever come out of character. I’ve been sure that this is me all this time. Now? Now, I don’t fucking know.
I stare at her. She still seems a bit shell-shocked but really, she just fucking amazes me.
Before I calculate the move, I’ve turned over and pinned her to the bed. I’m on top of her, devouring her mouth with mine. My hand is on her throat. I’m feeling her pulse against my fingers. I put my other hand to her heart and breathe relief into her mouth when I feel it beating strong against my hand.
She’s here. She’s mine. I’ve treated her bad over and fucking over and she’s done nothing but try to give me what I need. I can’t give her what she needs. A happy husband. Someone to live a full and happy life with. Someone to laugh with. Fuck, but she deserves that. She’s not gonna get it from me.
I’m ripping her clothes off. She’s in sweats. I get the pants off and rip the underwear to shreds. I’m sucking and biting on her throat and running my fingers through her beautiful long hair. She’s shivering under me and opening her legs.
I have handfuls of her beautiful soft hair while I’m devouring her neck and her shoulders with my mouth. She pulls my dick out of the track pants I’m wearing and lines it up. I slam into her and feel like I’m home.
“Fuck, Holly.”
“Please don’t leave me anymore. I’ll go anywhere with you. Anywhere. I know you’re sad. I know you’re hurt so much right now, but please. Let me be with you. I’ll do anything to help.”
“You help.”
“I do?”
“Yeah.”
I’m moving slowly into her. Her eyes are bright with tears.
She smiles and gives me those dimples.
“But baby… I will keep hurting you. I’m fucked in the head.”
She shakes her head and sniffs and wraps her arms tight around my back until our foreheads are touching.
“We’ll get it un-fucked. We have time. We have forever to find our happily ever after. I don’t need that to happen today. I just need to be close to you. To be there to help you. Please don’t leave me anymore.”
It feels like a knife slices through my chest because I should leave. For good. But, I don’t think I can ever give that to her. I take her mouth with mine and try to fuck the pain away.
I put my fingers between her legs and hold back from letting go, and wait to come until she climaxes. And then I wrap her up close and feel her. I lie there for hours as she sleeps in my arms. Smelling her, feeling how soft she is. Letting my mind wander over all the times I’ve been a fucking asshole to her. And here she is, giving me unconditional love.
I get up to use the john and then wander out to the fridge. I see a covered container that looks like pasta and sauce. I smile a little and pull it out and lift the lid.
She’s made me spaghetti and meatballs. I put it in the microwave and turn it on.
I look to the ceiling.
How mama? How do I give her the best parts of me when there’s nothing left?
I hear Holly’s voice in my head.
“Goodness isn’t finite, Alessandro.”
She comes out, wearing one of my white shirts, her long beautiful blonde hair loose and wild. I’m stuffing my face with the food she made for me.
She smiles and hops up on a stool at the kitchen island beside me.
I swallow and kiss her on the tip of her nose. She beams with joy and then steals a meatball with her fingers and pops it in her mouth.
Can I give her little things like that and keep my shit at bay? Seeing the joy on her face, her dimples, I decide I’m gonna fuckin’ try. My mother liked her. I really really fucking like her.
I fork up another meatball and I feed it to her.
Holly
We’re in bed. He ate a crapload of pasta and then we got into bed and he turned the television on.
We watch, me with my head on his shoulder, his arm around me.
He turns it off after five minutes, but he’s just lying there, not seeming like he’s gonna go to sleep. So, I wonder if he wants to talk.
“Wanna talk?” I ask.
“Not really,” he answers softly.
“Okay.” I say.
Moments pass.
“You wanna talk?” he asks and it surprises me.
I shrug.
“Talk to me,” he orders.
“About what?” I ask.
He laughs. I laugh.
My heart lifts.
“We don’t know one another all that well yet, do we?” I say.
“I know everything about you,” he tells me.”
“Oh really?” I ask, leaning up to look at his face.
I lean over and turn the lamp on.
“Turn it off,” he says.
“Oh.” I do. I guess maybe it’s easier for him to talk in the dark, like it was easier in Tasmania for him to talk into my back.
“What do you know about me?” I ask after a long time.
He touches my hair, “You’ve got the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You believe there’s good in everyone. And you know me better than anyone, except my mother.”
There’s a long moment of silence and then I say.
“Truth or dare?”
He stiffens and he’s probably confused.
I keep talking. “Truth or dare? But truth equals either a confession or you have to answer a question.”
“I get to pick?” he asks.
“Yes.” I tell him.
“Go,” he says.
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
“Dare,” he says.
“Can you pick truth first? I think I need some truths,” I tell him.
“You go first.” There’s a smile in his voice.
I decide to keep things light and fun. There’s been enough heaviness between us to last a lifetime. I want him to see that it can be fun but still connect with him.
“I pick truth. Okay, here’s one. I can’t…” I swallow nervously and then fight off the embarrassment. “come when I touch myself unless the soles of my feet are touching. I come harder in front of a mirror, because you might be watching, even when I know you’re not.”
He chuckles, “Oh, it’s gonna be this kind of game? I’m down. I’m down.”
I laugh. I’ve never heard him so lighthearted.
“Truth or dare?” I ask on a giggle.
“Dare.”
“Alessandro!” I giggle.
“Okay, truth,” he relents.
“Give me one. Gratis. I’m not quite ready.” His lightheartedness has thrown me.
“Okay. I haven’t touched anyone but you since the night I told you we were beginning.”
“I haven’t let anyone touch me but you, ever, Alessandro.”
“And you’d better keep it that way,” he warns.
I smile.
“Truth or Dare?” he asks me.
“It’s my turn,” I say.
“I don’t play fair. Truth or dare?”
I sigh. “Dare.”
“I dare you to sit on my face.”
“That’ll be a switch, huh?” I joke.
He grabs me and I do what he instructs.
“Feet against the headboard. Don’t move them.”
Oh wow. That’s hot.
He has my butt cheeks in his hands and his mouth is right against my clit. He sucks. My head rolls back.
Oh God, that feels good.
I moan and rock against his face. He starts lapping and then he’s got two fingers in my pussy and one finger starts to slip in the back door.
I start to convulse and come hard. He flips me over and slides his cock into my pussy again. He puts his mouth to mine and I suck on his tongue. He groans. He fucks me slowly but with power behind each thrust, mouth devouring mine, his hips hitting mine hard.
He finally comes and rolls to his back and I snuggle in.
He’s playing with my hair. I’ve never been so at peace. Maybe everything is gonna be okay after all.
“Ask me,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Ask what you want to ask.”
“Truth?”
“Truth,” he confirms.
I lift my head up and rest my chin on his chest. I stare at him.
I open my mouth.
“Yes, I love you,” he says, before I get a chance to say anything. “I have since the night you leapt out of that burning building into my arms. The way you looked at me? So many times, when you look at me, it’s like you’re ready to jump, because you’re sure that I’ll somehow catch you. I’ve failed you so many times, baby. And I lied. I’ll never find a new flower to replace you. There’s only one you. I’ve known that all along.”
My chin trembles and I take his jaw into both hands, “No. You never failed me. Ever. I told you what I wanted. To make you happy. You’re giving me that chance. All I need is you to let me keep trying.”
He sighs and kisses me on the tip of my nose, “Sleep. No more games tonight.”
“That wasn’t gonna be my question, though.”
“No?”
“Nope. I already know you love me. It’s nice to hear you say it though. Really nice. Thank you.”
He squeezes me, “What was your question, then? You have one, right?”
I nod.
“What, baby?” he kisses me.
“Where are my spaghetti and meatballs on a scale of one to ten?”
He laughs.
“I’m not joking, Alessandro.” I smirk.
“Fine. Uh….” He shakes his head and throws his hand up in the air, “Two, two and a half?”
My mouth drops open and then I close it with a pout, “Oh.”
“So, you’d better make them for me every week until we get them to at least a five or six. And make a huge batch every week because I’m gonna have to eat a lot of them to keep measuring.”
I giggle.
“They’re delicious, baby. The best.” He kisses me.
I snuggle in.
“Make me some more tomorrow.”
“Okay. On one condition.”
“What?”
“Tell me again that you love me.”
“I love you, Holly.”
“Love you, Alessandro.”
“I know, princesa.” He squeezes me. I snuggle in and close my eyes.
“Truth or Dare?” he asks, then whispers, “Pick dare.”
“Dare,” I say.
“I dare you to go on a date with me day after tomorrow. Because tomorrow you’re making me spaghetti and meatballs.”
I smile huge.
“Done. Now go to sleep,” I order and I go to sleep happy. So happy.
***
We spend the next day in bed watching television and we make sweet slow love four times.
He tells me he wants to watch Aladdin. We find it online and download it and watch it on the laptop that Dare and Ang have left at the apartment.
He tells me that it was his favorite movie as a little boy. And I make more spaghetti and meatballs and we eat while we watch. And he’s smiling and he seems happy. I see he’s lost in his thoughts a couple of times so I try to give him a bit of space, but he really seems like he’s doing better. And I don’t want to get too optimistic too soon, since he’s been through a lot, but I’m so, so very hopeful.
We don’t talk about anything heavy. At all. And I kind of think that maybe we should. But the day is like a dream come true. So, I won’t push. We have time.