5. ILLEGALITY
GIOELE
Don’t think I haven’t researched it. See, it boils down to your family and how they feel about shit. We’re from Italy, second generation, and in the old country it’s not that unheard of to find your soulmate in your cousin. In all of Europe, there isn’t a single law against it, and I’ve tried to make Silvina understand this. That was years ago, when she wasn’t yet indoctrinated by la famiglia.
They anchor their rejections in birth defects. I’ve tried to show Silvina the statistics, because it really isn’t that bad. Between two and three percent of regular couples have a risk of birth defects in their children, while for first cousins marrying, it’s increased to between four and six percent depending on the studies.
“Ina mia, just read the articles I sent you. Simply having children with someone from your own race, hell, from the same city as you, increases the chances of birth defects. Plus, I don’t actually care. This isn’t about babies.”
Silvina cried. She covered her ears and shook her head. “It’s not right, Gioele.”
“What can possibly be more right than you and me?”
I took her in my arms, then, when her tears turned into sobs. She linked her arms around my neck and pulled herself close. Nose winter cold, she nuzzled behind my ear. “I can’t. It’s illegal for a reason. And the clan doesn’t approve.”
“Because of a single incident,” I growled.
“Don’t call Oscar an incident. If I were his mother, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself. Everything is wrong with him. Hunchback, cleaved lip, mentally challenged. Allergies no one had even heard of in the family before. What if, just because we gave in and indulged ourselves, we doomed our own child?”
I huffed out my stress. “We wouldn’t. It’s not like that.”
“No? What’s it like, then? We’d be shunned by the family, and— and—” She hiccoughed.
“Shhh.” I tucked her head under my chin and stroked her back. “You take this too seriously. We have all the time in the world. Let’s just be together, you and me. I don’t need anyone but you.”
“But it’s even illegal to… do what we’ve done. Spend nights together.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is!”
“Okay, but only in a few states in America.”
“And you don’t think they have a point?”
I hate it when her voice changes, when concern grows so thick it turns to panic. Even so, what I hate most is to not be able to comfort her. I was always that person to her, the one she trusted with everything.
“Four to six percent,” I repeated, kissing her head. “That means four to six babies out of a hundred, and it could be the tiniest shit that’s easy to fix. And if you want babies and don’t want to have them with me, we’ll fucking adopt. I don’t care.”
“I’ve read up on it too, you know.” She pulled air in through her nostrils, moisture causing a quiet rattling as she did. “It’s illegal in twenty-four states, Gioele. That’s not ‘a few states.’ Mom is right. Zia Carola’s right. Do you realize that if we traveled in those twenty-four states, we wouldn’t even be considered a legal couple? If they knew, we’d not be allowed to sleep in the same room! What kind of life is that?”
Silvina was eighteen when we had that conversation, and I’d just turned nineteen. I still recall where we sat, between warm, green walls, at a table with a white-and-red-checkered table cloth. My mother’s kitchen is Italy-in-America down to the olive pattern of the salt-and-pepper shakers and the black-white wall hanging of women stomping grapes in a big wine barrel.
My parents were out for dinner, and we’d come home early from a movie. I fed her ciabatta with fresh cheese and red wine on the side, but I couldn’t stop her tears from falling.
“You know what that means?” I whispered. “That over half of the American states approve of us loving each other.”
“Twenty-six states.” She looked up at me with big, deep, beautiful, dark eyes, and it stabbed me that I was to blame for her pain. Why hadn’t I been born into one of my friends’ families?
They say family is everything. Since “the talk,” it’s been everything bad for me.
“You know what that means, though,” I said, holding up her cheese and olive focaccia so she wouldn’t forget to eat. She broke off a piece, inserted it between her lips, and chewed without pleasure.
“Tell me.”
“It means over half of the United States agrees with us: what I feel for you is good. What you feel for me is valid. It’s okay. Perfect. Fucking legal.”
“Please.” Her chin began to tremble again, and I stilled it with a finger.
“And not only that, but all of Europe is fine with it too. Where do we live again?” I nudged her with my shoulder. Then, I leaned in so I could run my nose up the side of her face. Silvina’s eyes shut, enjoying our connection as much as I did.
“We live in California.”
“And is California on the yay or nay side for us?” I murmured.
“On the yay side.” She let out a quiet chuckle. My Silvina’s chuckles sound like small bells tempered by cotton. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, and it made me want to punch the air in victory.
“Yes,” I whispered, collecting her from the chair and into my arms. She chuckled again, and my chest wanted to burst open. She was light. She’s always been light. With her arms around my throat, I could’ve taken on an earthquake.
“Where are we going?” Her legs jiggled over my arm as I carried her toward the stairs.
“Nowhere. Just to my room. I want to make you happy.”
“I am happy. What if Zio Evodio and Zia Carola come home? We’re not even supposed to be together without supervision.”
I scoffed, and she didn’t pull away when I found her mouth on the way up. “We’re too smart for them. Plus, we’re in California, and we can do what we want. There’s no stopping love!”
She giggled, dainty fingers massaging me and causing goosebumps to rise at my nape.
“My parents are out for the night. You know how they are. When they’re at Mintrer’s with Il Signore, they don’t return until late. He’ll treat them like royalty and serve them a full eight-course Sicilian dinner.”
“Le Otto Sorelle,” Silvina said, accepting each one of my kisses. Halfway up, I ran into the wall with her, which made her laugh more.
“Ouch. Yeah, Le Otto Sorelle. ‘And no skimp on the meat!’” I copied Il Signore, the owner of the restaurant’s Neapolitan accent.
“No skimp-eeh on the meat!” Silvina said. “All the garlic, because gli di Nascimbeni amano the garlic!”
“Yes, yes, we do love the garlic,” I joked, inhaling her flowery scent while I sank her to my bed. It has an old-fashioned, dark wooden frame with a headboard picturing Il Silvestre—the man turned wolf from the old legend of Lake Como. He howls at the moon over a love long lost. My mother found it so beautiful she had it shipped back from Italy after one of their trips.
“But more than garlic, we love women.”
“You do.” Silvina’s breathing sped up.
“You know what I love most, though?” I opened one pearly pink button at a time down her shirt. Once I was done, I spread the shirt open so her simple white bra was the only thing covering her beautiful little breasts. Between them, her ribs showed, small ridges lifting and sinking while she waited for my next move.
I let my eyes run over her, starting with her eyes, moving down to the center of her chest. I strayed to the left, right above the rim of her bra, and saw what will always make the world fade around me.
Her heart.
Steadily speeding up, it thudded against her ribs, meeting me with the worship I felt for her. I ripped my shirt off. Leaped to the door and locked it. My urgency made her laugh, and I loved, loved making her laugh.
“You’re killing me,” I whispered. Slowly, I lowered myself until I fitted my heart against hers. Heavy, I kept us joined, my heart absorbing her rhythm. We breathed together, and kissing her neck, I reveled in the sensation of her love against my skin.
“Do you feel me?” I asked. With my lips, I tickled her ear. I moved a lock of hair away with my tongue, making her husk out a laugh again.
“You’re obsessed with hearts,” she whispered, funny. Serious.
“Can you? I feel you.” I thrusted my cock against her thigh. Too low, I didn’t hit her core, but that was okay. I’d do that soon anyway. For now, it was our hearts that concerned me. I wanted us to share this. Her rhythm thrummed through my chest, and I wanted it to carry into every bone of my body.
“You make me breathe too fast.”
I pulled up to look into her eyes. Mischievous, they backed up the blush of her cheeks.
“You like me on top of you. Admit it.”
“Okay.”
“I heard that. You’re panting.” I pulled her lower lip into my mouth, and she arched her back from the mattress, meeting my thrusts.
“Give me more.” Her words were the hottest sighs stirring each ounce of me into action. Still, I held back. There was nothing like those seconds of insanity, of knowing the pleasure to come with the one person that was made for you only.
My Silvina. My Ina. Ina mia.
“See, I can’t do that. There are rules, you know,” I said.
“And what are those?” Always in sync with me, her voice was playful too.
“You don’t know?” I licked along the fleshy tip of her lower lip, dipping inside and finding her tongue. I sucked on her mouth, savoring our kiss until she moaned out her impatience with me. God, I loved her impatience.
I rolled her over so she was sprawled on top of me. “The rule is that our hearts have to beat together.”
“They do. They do. Come on, baby.”
“Your heart beats perfectly against me, but you haven’t felt mine yet.” I pressed her closer, aligning us, sneaking one hand inside the rim of her skirt, wiggling it under the lining of her panties. I pressed downward until I had one delicious ass cheek cupped in my palm. “God, I love you so much.”
“I feel your heart every day.”
“Only when you sleep on it. But now. Feel it now.”
She squirmed, and I loosened my arms so she could shift downward like she wanted to. The top of Ina mia’s head reached my chin, and the bliss-filled pain of her shifting downward made me groan.
Winded, she puffed out her amusement, and I forgot to breathe as she stilled over me, ear flat against the left side of my chest. Exhaling quietly, she listened, and in that moment, everything I felt for her congregated like a pack of dynamite in my chest.
“Anything?” I whispered.
At first, she didn’t answer. My hand moved, enjoying the dip between her thinnest, softest rib and her waist. I closed my eyes. It wasn’t the first time we’d worried about our future. It wouldn’t be the last. But it might have been the first time I realized each moment together could be our last.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Your heart is talking to me.”
“What’s it saying?”
“All the things.”
I let out a snort. “All the things, huh? Is it happy? Sad? Mad? Oh, it’s mad.”
“Nah. Your heart is in love.”
“Really?” I collected the long, thick strands of hair spread over her back in a makeshift ponytail. Then, I angled her face toward me. “With what?”
“With mine.”
“Che sorpresa.”
Raul’s at the door. Large and even-tempered, he’s been my best friend since elementary school. He knows all there is about Silvina and me, not because I’m big on sharing, but because he tends to hover nearby. The guy’s big on lazy grimaces too, showing how he just can’t believe my issues.
“One of these days, you’ll find your downfall. Some girl’s gonna shake you up, and you’ll be all…” I’ll illustrate with a finger twist against my temple.
“So far so good, Nascimbeni.”
Tonight, he’s thinking we need to drink, and I’m thinking he’s right. It’s Tuesday, and Silvina’s studying. As long as she doesn’t claim my presence, I can get as plastered as I want.
She never claims my presence lately. Much too long ago, I took her to my room in Hidden Hills and loved her. She hasn’t caved in to me since then, and that is a long-ass time to be around the only fucking person you want and not get to make her happy.
I hate to admit it, but I really don’t make her happy the way we are.
“So The Lodge?” Raul asks, voice as cool as ever. He’s third generation Spanish in the States, family from Madrid, with no connections to the Italian mafia. He knows some shit, but for the most part, we’ve managed to keep him out of the loop.
“Yeah, sounds good. I’m feeling a hell of a lot like Irish coffee at the moment.”
He raises a hand at the cab and shoots me a side-glance. “Seriously? You planning to go down fast?”
I just shrug.
The Lodge is what it sounds like. With a front façade constructed by honest-to-god round timber, you walk inside and find a dark, cozy room with a fireplace, a few deep armchairs, and the rest of the space filled with tall tables surrounded by barstools. The bar counter isn’t that impressive. It’s on the shorter side but holds everything you’d dream of beyond its string-lit wood. Behind it, there are always cute girls working, some with the kind of glossy lipstick that reminds me of bubblegum. In the right mood, I’ll get lost staring at their lips when they smile.
Ralph saunters in, smirk low on his face. Raul and I love that his name’s Ralph, considering how he’s the most prone to do exactly that—ralph—when he gets drunk. He’s a newer friend, one of those blond dudes with long Viking hair the girls like to play with. Raul’s his opposite, handsome, but with short, dark hair cropped tight against his scalp, steely eyes, and a subtle five-o-clock shadow that makes women find him alluring and dangerous. Between the three of us, we can cause some damage when we want to. Tonight’s going to be one of those nights.
There’s a new redheaded bartender on duty. She’s tall and skinny, green eyes flirty as all get-out. She’s on me, making sure I get another round of Irish coffee before my first drink’s finished.
“My treat,” she purrs, and she really doesn’t have to do that. I’m easy. If I’m still standing when she gets off work, I’ll take her home to this bed I have, where Silvina has never been. And that’s a pisser if there ever was one.
My phone buzzes. It’s my brother. Considering the last thing we talked about was how much I love Silvina, I’m hesitant to pick up.
“Gioele.”
“Isaias,” I counter, already slurring a little. It’s what, eleven? Before I leave here, I hope to get in a fight. There’s nothing like a bar brawl to shake off a bad mood.
“Where are you?”
“Where are you, bro?” I say, which makes Ralph snicker. He’s easier on the laughs than Raul. Serious-ass Raul and his eye-rolls. At the moment, he’s showing pictures of his horse farm outside of Madrid. It’s not really his. It’s his uncle’s. The girls around him seem impressed though. Can see him ending up with a threesome tonight. He enjoys those.
“I’m at home with my girlfriend,” Isaias answers smoothly, and I think of him up there in Hillside, with perfect-ten Tatiana and her milky-white complexion by his side. She’s pretty bad-ass. Hot as hell too. Not my pick, though. My only pick is Silvina. Anyone else is just whatever. “So what’s the deal? Gianni told me you’d called him.”
“Gianni?” I clear my throat, gaining time.
“Don’t do this. Gianni Alexie, my director.”
“Director of…” I swallow another mouthful of Irish coffee after lamely trailing off.
“You want to play this game? Fine with me. I’m Isaias di Nascimbeni, son of Il Lince, owner of Lucid—the biggest adult entertainment studio in Los Angeles. And Gianni, one of my directors, just informed me that my brother, Gioele di Nascimbeni, had called him and let him know he wants to audition for a contract with my company. As a porn actor. That clear enough for you?”
“So? Do you have anyone better than me?” I explode. “Yeah, I’m ready to work for Lucid. Shit isn’t exactly going my way at the moment, all right? Silvina is driving me crazy. She fucking wants to date, Isaias.”
“As she should.”
“Shut your hole. And I’m not the slightest bit interested in my classes. I’m…” I start to chuckle. “Turns out I’m not that interested in law. Who knew, right?”
That makes even Raul chuckle. He squints at me, stare full of the humor I find in my own statement, because come on: a mafia prince interested in law? Only Isaias doesn’t laugh.
“You’re drunk,” he states drily. “I think you should go home and sleep off whatever it is you’ve downed. Then, why don’t you finish the semester and see what you get out of it?”
“O-oh, good idea. Isaias’ the smartest,” I tell Ralph, who grins back at me. “I should keep up the good work at school. Get closer and closer to becoming a lawyer. You know Dad wants me to be one, right, so I can help him get around the law?” I really put emphasis on “around” so my meaning isn’t lost on anyone.
“But mm-yeah-no! I’m great at sex. I’m a beast, okay, bro, so that’ll be how I’ll earn a living next.”
“Forget it. I’m not hiring you. Listen, why don’t you just try a modeling agency instead? They’ll take you.”
“My brother’s downgrading me to eye candy,” I tell the guys. Shit gets funnier and funnier for each swallow of Irish coffee I take. Ralph high-fives me at that, and the redhead behind the counter rounds her eyes and nods.
“Nah, man. That’s not how I roll. It’s all or nothing. I’m not just going to stare into the camera in a smoldering way. I’mma stare into chicks’ eyes that way, and then I’mma get them done too. It’ll be hot.”
“Will you stop it? You’re at The Lodge, aren’t you? Get the hell out of there and go home. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
I snort, getting Irish coffee stuck in my nostrils, and Ralph slaps my back.
“Are you all right?” the redhead simpers, and I bob my head, eyes tearing up with amusement and discomfort.
“You know what, bro?”
“Gioele. Don’t even.”
“If Lucid Entertainment won’t have me, guess who will? Harmony Femme. I’mma be your competition’s kick-ass new talent. I’ll make all their girls cream.”