Acrobat (7 page)

She laughed, and I saw the way her husband and son looked, the warmth in their eyes, the smiles for me.

“My mother,” Danielle told me later as we were having oranges in marsala sauce for dessert, “she has cancer.”

“Oh.” I caught my breath because it was hard news to hear.

“No.” She shook her head. “She’s in remission now, and we’re all okay right this second, you know?”

I took her hand, and she leaned sideways into me.

“But when you sit here and make her laugh, well… we’re gonna look at you like that, okay?”

“Okay.”

Something was said rapidly in Italian, and when I looked back at Carmen, she was shooing someone away from the table before she retook her seat across from me.

“What was that about?” I asked her, looking at the very attractive blonde woman sashaying away.

“My niece, Angelique, she thought you were very handsome when you came in, Nate, but I told her no, you are gay, so she has no chance to have your baby to get a ring.”

So many things at once. “First, how’d you know I was gay?”

“Michael told us when you were in the bathroom. I asked where your wife was, such a handsome man, and he said you were gay but that you and your best friend made a child together.”

It had been a lot if information for him convey in a matter of minutes. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Thinking I’m cute,” I teased her.

“I said handsome, and you are.”

“And your niece?”

“Is a whore.” She smiled. “And even if you liked girls, I would not let you near her.”

I nodded, and she reached out and put a hand on my cheek.

“This is for what?”

“What are we talking about?”

“This beard, this mustache, why do you hide?”

“Makes me look scholarly, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s time to get rid of it. You have a good face; we should see it.”

I grunted.

“So like a man.”

I took her hand in mine, and her smile was dazzling. It was easy to understand why her family wanted to see more of it. “I was actually thinking of getting rid of it, but shaving every day is a pain in the you-know-what.”

She shrugged. “Tell me, how did you get the bruises on your face?”

I pointed at her husband.

Her laughter was there again, and her husband leaned forward to look at me.

“What happened really?”

It was fun to explain about the night before and the mugging I had stopped.

“Now I feel worse,” Ray told me.

“Good.” I smirked. “’Cause I think I need some Tylenol or something.”

“Or another cappuccino?” Johnny offered.

“Both, please.”

As I watched his son leave, I saw Ray’s smile. He liked me. His whole family liked me, and feeling Michael’s knee wedged next to mine under the table, I knew my being there had helped.

“So, Casanova,” I said, smiling, “what did we learn?”

“Not to skip basketball practice when you’re trying to get laid?” he said under his breath, having leaned close to my ear.

“You’re a riot.”

He bumped my shoulder, and I asked how his grandmother was when he saw her the night before.

“She’s fine. She’s getting out today.”

“What was it?”

“They had to put a stent in her heart.”

“But she’s okay.”

“Yeah, they said she could go home.”

“How is your uncle?”

“He’s okay; he was sort of weird last night after, but I think that’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“He was really upset you got hurt.”

I shook my head. “You’re mistaken.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Michael, who’s your uncle?” Johnny asked.

“His uncle is Andreo Fiore,” his father told him.

“
Figlio di puttana
,” Johnny said under his breath.

“Johnny!” Carmen yelled at her son.

“I’m guessing that was bad?” I smiled at Michael.

When we left after lots of hugging and goodbye kisses from Carmen and Danielle, with a doggy bag that looked more like we had been shopping at Walmart, I asked Michael in the car what it was that Dreo actually did.

“He works for Vincent Romelli.”

“I still don’t know who that is,” I assured him, turning at a light, “but I’m guessing from everyone’s reaction that Mr. Romelli is some scary guy.”

“Yeah, I think he’s a scary guy, and so most people think Dreo is too. I don’t know; I don’t ask. Dreo carries a gun, and he’s never left it at home, even when he goes out on dates. I am never, ever, allowed in his room, but for all I know that’s because he’s got a shitload of porn in there. He’s a really good guy, but I can’t vouch for what he doesn’t tell me.”

Which made sense.

Once we were back, he followed me to my door, and when I told him to go home, he laughed and said that he was going to take a shower and come do homework at my house. It was fine, I didn’t care, and I told him the door would be open because I had to take a shower myself. I needed to get the day off me.

When I emerged, Michael’s books were spread out all over my coffee table. He had poured himself a glass of apple juice, and he was watching some hockey game on ESPN at the same time. I went to my kitchen table, deciding to work out there instead of in my office to keep him company, and we sat in companionable silence except for the game. It was in the third period when the doorbell rang.

Answering it, I found Dreo there in the hall, brows furrowed, looking upset and concerned at the same time.

“Come in,” I offered, stepping aside.

He wasn’t alone, and when he didn’t move, I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

“Did your friends want to come in too?”

“Just for a minute.”

“Sure.”

Five men, not counting Dreo, walked into my living room, but when I moved to shut the door, he stopped me.

“They’re not gonna stay. I just wanted them to meet you.”

It was strange, but I plastered on a smile and offered the first man my hand. “Nate Qells.”

They all shook my hand, and I met an Anthony and a Gianni and a Frank and a Paul and a Sal.

“I always wanted to meet a Sal.” I grinned and was surprised when he smiled back, even giving me a hard pat on the arm.

“You got hurt there, huh, Professor?”

Funny that they knew what I did. I wouldn’t have thought that bit of information important enough for Dreo to share with them.

“Some guys by the park yesterday,” I told him.

“Yeah, we heard about that.” Sal nodded. “But maybe when you walk by there tomorrow, you won’t see those guys no more.”

“No,” I assured him, “they’re always there.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

But it was doubtful.

“We heard something else happened tonight too, huh?”

I chuckled. “You mean Mr. Tulia?”

“Yeah.” Dreo coughed softly, his deep dark eyes flicking to Anthony. “Tulia.”

“That was just a misunderstanding,” I soothed. “But we’ve got it all figured out now. No need for you to even get involved.”

“Hey,” Michael called from the couch, not moving.

Dreo gave him a head tip, and then his eyes, dark and bottomless, were back on me. “So this man, he hit you?”

“Just a love tap. He fed us.”

“Fed who?”

“Me and Michael. We have leftovers.”

“The good kind of leftovers!” Michael vouched for them from the couch.

“Are you hungry? Any of you?”

“Oh, no, Professor,” Frank, I thought, said to me, smiling. “We’re gonna go. Thanks, though, that’s real good of you to ask. I’ll bring you by some of my mother’s carbonara tomorrow.”

“Friday,” I told him.

“What?”

“Carbonara is a favorite of mine, and I bet your mom’s is fantastic, so I would love to take you up on your offer, but tomorrow I’m taking Michael to the opera, and Thursday I have a date. So Friday, if that’s okay?”

He nodded. “You’re on for Friday. What opera?”

“
La Bohème
.”

“Nice. Give the kid some culture, huh?”

“That’s the plan. Plus he needs the extra credit.”

“Okay.” He smiled at me, turning to look at Dreo. “We’re good here. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dreo nodded, and all five men said good night to me and then left. Dreo locked the door behind them and then turned back to me, eyes locked on my face.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said flatly.

“Okay. Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“If you want to just go home and relax, I can send him later.”

“No, it’s nice over here.”

And I knew he liked it, as many times as he’d given me compliments.

“What you’ve done to this place… the hardwood floors and the ceiling all exposed with the pipes, all the stone by the fireplace.” He shrugged. “It beats the hell outta mine.”

“All right, then, take off your coat and sit down.”

I started back across the room.

“It smells good in here too.”

“Oh yeah?” I teased, walking ahead of him. “Does it smell like the grilled cheese that I made earlier?”

“No,” he said, and I felt his hand on my shoulder, so I stopped and turned to look at him. “It smells like fire and vanilla and something else.”

“Is that good?”

“
Sì
,” he said softly, and I saw those melting eyes of his narrow in half.

After a minute of his scrutiny, I smiled. “I think he wants to talk to you,” I told him, and he understood that I meant Michael.

I watched as he pulled off the trench coat he was wearing and the suit jacket underneath and laid them both on my love seat, loosening his tie as he walked to the couch. He cleared a space before he sat down on my coffee table across from his sprawled nephew.

The red-and-blue print tie was pulled off and folded and put down beside him as he leaned forward to look at Michael.

“What can I get you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Come on, leftovers? Grilled cheese?”

“The grilled cheese was the best thing I had today,” Michael said softly, turning to look at me over his shoulder.

“Better than Johnny’s ravioli with the spicy marinara?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It reminded me of when my mom used to make it.”

I really hoped that was a good thing.

“God, I can see everything you’re thinking right on your face.” He smiled. “Yeah, Nate, it’s a good thing.”

I shrugged before looking back at Dreo. “Apparently my grilled cheese is good? Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t wanna be no trouble.”

“I really want to feed you,” I told him.

He sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to cook, but if you wanna heat something up for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Coming right up.”

After a few minutes, he joined me in the kitchen, leaning on the counter while I moved around.

“I think this is the most we’ve ever said to each other at one time,” I commented.

“I know,” he groaned. “It’s because I never know what to say.”

“You could just talk. I don’t bite.”

“Yeah, but you’re real smart.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I’m brilliant all right.”

He shrugged. “Smarter than me.”

“Hardly,” I assured him. “But we should talk more. I mean, we’ve got that kid in common and all.”

He nodded. “Yeah, we do.”

“I’ve known you a long time.”

“Yes, you have.”

“So?” I pressed him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ll talk already.”

I chuckled. “Don’t make me twist your arm or anything.”

“You’re kind of a smartass.”

“Which you would have never known if you weren’t chatting me up.”

He grunted.

“Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

“Red?”

“With marinara?” I teased. “Of course red. You want a Chianti or… oh, I have a really good Côte de Beaune as well.”

“The Chianti.”

“Coming right up.”

I made his plate, filled a glass for him, and carried both to the table where I was sitting. He was still standing in the kitchen when I turned.

“What are you doing? Come sit down.”

He levered off the counter and crossed the room, sitting down next to my laptop.

I passed him the napkin and the fork and told him to go for it.

The look I got when he tilted his head back was lost. If it hadn’t been, if he had thanked me or smirked or done anything else, things might have been different. But his gaze, full of need, like he was hurting a little, slammed into me hard.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” I said, hand in his hair, pulling the heavy glossy black mane back from his face.

He tensed, and I realized what I’d done. “Shit, sorry.” I dropped my hand and took a step back from him.

His fingers curled around my wrist fast, and his grip so tight, he’d leave marks. “I’m not a little boy.”

I squinted at him but didn’t try and tug free. “I know that.”

“You don’t need to take care of me like you do Michael.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He stared up into my face.

“Could you let go?”

He said something, but I didn’t get it.

“What?”

His eyes lifted to me. “
Ho una gran voglia di baciarti
.”

The words had almost been whispered. “I don’t know what you said.”

Quiet grunt from him as he let go and went back to eating.

“Dreo, I—”

“No,” he cut me off, shaking his head before he looked back up. “I’m sorry, I was an ass. I overreacted.”

“Okay.”

“Sit down and talk to me, tell me everything that happened.”

“Fine, but you have to give Michael a pass on the lecture. I already did that.”

Heavy sigh. “
Sì
.”

“I like that.”

“What?”

“When you go back and forth between Italian and English.”

“Do you?”

“It’s pretty.” I nodded before walking to the kitchen to get my own glass of wine. “It must drive the women wild, huh?”

He didn’t say anything, but when I turned, he was studying me.

“Just tell me,” I said playfully as I returned.

“Perhaps.”

“I knew it.” I exhaled, sitting down, elbow on the table, head on my hand to look at him. I explained about Michael ditching basketball practice and bringing Danielle home with him. By the time I got to where we were on our way to take her home, he was shaking his head. “So Mr. Tulia hit me, as any father probably would have, because if I was home, I should have called him and his wife to make sure it was all right that their daughter was with Michael.”