Dirty Secrets (16 page)

Robynne cleared her throat and pushed out her chest.  Her belted cotton dress had the first few buttons undone.  Her cleavage sat high and perky under her upturned chin.   All teeth, Robynne’s smile brightened the dark foyer.   Cesare, however, was not smiling; in fact, he looked to be cooking on the inside.  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

“You don’t belong here.”  He directed his verbal lashings at Adele while fixing the lapel of his suit and swiping a pale hand through his rapidly graying hair. 

Robynne moved in front of Adele defensively like a mother bear protecting her brood. 

“Belong where?  This castle?  Italy?  This world?  You know what I hate more than an asshole, an indirect one.” Adele pushed her friend out of the way. 

“What she said.” Robynne pat Adele on her back. 

Magically reappearing before Adele could finish telling Cesare off, Ambrogio strolled back into the room.  

“You can leave,” Ambrogio said.

“I must apologize for my behavior earlier.  Join me for lunch, so I can explain myself.”  He motioned for them to follow him. 

Grand statues of angels, lions and water fountains dotted the path to the restaurant, La Bella Donna. 

“How’s Felicità?” Adele said trying to break through the tension.

“Felicità is Felicità.  She moves with the wind,” he said. 

A waiter poured water in their glasses.

“What kind of answer is that?  Has she gotten better or worse since St. Lucia?” Adele asked.

“Define worse?” He asked with his nose buried in a newspaper.

“Let’s table that conversation for now.  What happened in St. Lucia?”

“What do you mean?”  Ambrogio asked.

“The night you left.  Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You’re acting like a child.  Some things had to be taken care of.”  He said.

“Don’t use your business to excuse your rude behavior.”  Adele said.

“This cannot be the same person you’ve been crying over.”  One side of her mouth curled up in displeasure any time Robynne looked at Ambrogio. 

“You’ve been crying over me.”  The cockiness in his question lingered long after the words had left his lips.

“I wouldn’t call it crying.”  Adele kicked Robynne under the table.

I must have made quite an impression on you.  If you want, we can relive our time there.  Of course, Robynne you’re welcome to join in,” he said. 

“Are you on drugs?”  Robynne’s bottom lip trembled.   She was about to explode.

“Let’s just order.  What do you suggest?”  She remembered how carefully he had explained the menu to her in St. Lucia.

“What can I say?  Everything is good,”  he said.

  Adele ordered ravioli for her first course and chicken with roasted potatoes for her second with Robynne following suit.  If expectancy was a drink, they all sipped on it eagerly, waiting for someone to address the elephant in the room.  

Forks scraped China and ice rumbled inside glasses.  With caution, Adele  placed ravioli in her mouth; subsequently, dropping a dollop of sauce on her chin. 

“Perhaps we should have given you a bib?” His gaze dropped to the tomato sauce on her face.

“Why are you acting this way?  Cocky, yes, but an asshole?” Adele abandoned all grace taught to her by her mother by wiping at her sauce-stained cheek with her finger.

“My apologies.  It seems as though I cannot control my tongue around you.  Maybe I can express myself better in private,” he said. 

“I’ve had enough of this.  I can’t watch him treat you this way.”  Robynne had gotten a hold of Adele’s elbow, intent on yanking her out of her seat. 

“It’s not a good time.  You must understand.  Business…Felicità,” he said.

“You just said she was fine,” Adele said.

“Did I?”

“Why did I come here?” Adele’s hopelessness cast a shadow over her face.

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question,” he said. 

A momentary lapse in judgment, similar to the one that brought Adele to Italy in the first place, propelled water from a well-aimed glass into Ambrogio’s face.

Robynne clapped.  Adele stalked off and Cesare appeared out of nowhere with a towel in hand. 

Between the fevered clicking of her heels against the marble, Adele heard Ambrogio bark at Cesare to find them a driver. 
Them
.  He hadn’t said the word with any anger.  In fact, his tone was quite even, yet the sting of that particular pronoun raised welts on Adele’s skin like a strike from a belt.

Stoic, Adele ignored Cesare’s knocking on the car’s window, only to come face to face with him when the driver let the window down. 

“You should wear a cow bell or something.”  Robynne said.

“Mr. Argentero would like you to take this scarf,” Cesare said.

Adele took the blue and white silk scarf from the assistant’s hand, determined to fling it back into his face.  “He cannot buy me off.  I’m not a whore.”

“He has no intention of buying you off.  None of Mr. Argentero’s women leave La Borgata without a souvenir. 

Adele closed the window in Cesare’s face.  The momentary satisfaction she gained from the insult wasn’t filling.  

Robynne wrenched the scarf out Adele’s hand.  “It’s silk.”

“So,” Adele said.

Robynne rubbed the material across her face.  “It feels like heaven.” 

Adele left La Borgata an inconsolable mess.  Back at the hotel, Adele packed her bags. 

Chapter 24

“I’m not leaving.”  For every item of clothing Adele placed into her suitcase, Robynne removed two.

“I’m not staying.  It’s like Ambrogio split into two people.  I met the sexy, alpha male with the heart of gold in St. Lucia, and his evil twin here.  I just want to go home.  You can stay,” Adele said.

“When I slap the taste out of your mouth, know I’m doing it out of love.  Ambrogio isn’t the only game in town.  We’re in Italy.  There’s a million Ambrogio’s here.  We’re not leaving.  You owe me a vacation.  Remember the cruise?”  Robynne overturned the contents of Adele’s suitcase onto the bed. 

The morning greeted Adele with her eyes practically swollen shut.  She took it as a sign and voiced her desire to leave to an unmoved Robynne.  Forced to get up, shower, drink an espresso and eat a Brioche (a tiny piece of pastry which passed for breakfast in Europe), Adele sulked all the way to the Santa Maria Novella train station in the center of the city.

“Your eyes look much better.  I told you slathering a handful of cold cream on each eye would make the swelling go down.”  Robynne said.

Adele grunted, not feeling like talking at the moment. 

“You need to forget Ambrogio.  Look around, enjoy the sights.  We’re in Florence for fuck’s sake.” 

“How can I forget him when your wearing the scarf he gave me as a get-the-fuck out-of-my-life present.” 

“It does look good on me doesn’t it?  Don’t get any ideas. Now, can we have some fun?” 

Adele knew that although she was very annoying, her friend was right.  They had made it to the train station without getting lost once.   A feat they celebrated by eating gelato. 

Adele and Robynne marveled at the modern design of the station, which stood out amongst the gothic architecture of the surrounding buildings.  Adele was most astonished with it’s impressive metal and glass roof. 

She wondered how the skylights appear to be suspended by nothing more than a wish and a prayer.  The red and white striped marble gleamed with pride as it reflected the light from above.  The global conglomerate, McDonald’s, was just one of the many storefront’s vying for traveler’s money. 

Despite it’s refreshingly open air design, Adele felt confined, trapped in her own mind.  Ambrogio, her captor, prevented Adele from enjoying her surroundings.  She cursed the day he was born. 

Robynne stomped her foot like an irate kindergartener.  “You’re pity party for one is raining on my parade.” 

“I can’t help it,”  Adele said. 

“According to this pamphlet, Santa Maria Novella has a memorial here in honor of the Jews deported from Italy during the War.  Let’s go see it,”  Robynne said.

“No, you go ahead.  I’ll wait for our guide.  We’re supposed to meet him in front of the pharmacy.  I don’t want to miss him.  I’ll call you on your cell when he gets here.” 

“I know your hurting, but you can’t let Ambrogio ruin your life or my trip.”  Robynne said. 

“I’m nursing a broken heart.  You could at least offer me some friendly advice,”  Adele said.

Robynne rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hip.  “You want some friendly advice, well, here goes.  Ambrogio’s an asshole.  Guess what?  Some guys are scum of the earth.  You haven’t met your quota yet, believe me.  At least you didn’t marry him or catch him screwing your bitch of a boss.  You don’t have the monopoly on pain or suffering.  I suggest you suck it up, go do some pushups, and enjoy yourself.” 

“I’m sorry.  I think I just need to be alone.  I will cry, get it out of my system, and tomorrow we can start this trip over.”   Adele said.

“What about the tour?  Since you booked it using your credit card, you are the lead adult, I’m just the plus one.  What if they won’t let me take the tour?”  Robynne re-tied Adele’s scarf around her neck. 

Adele reached into her purse, pulling out the printed reservation for the tour. 

“Problem solved.  Just give the tour guide this and say you’re Adele.  If he asks for an ID, say you forgot it at the hotel, but the trick is to bat your eyes and push out your breasts while you’re saying it.”  Adele said.

“You had a bail-out plan hatched, I see,” Robynne said.

“No, I just can’t do it today.” 

“Fine, you owe me one.  We’re going to do something embarrassingly touristy tomorrow,”  Robynne said.

“Ok.  Did you bring your ID?” 

“No, I forgot it at the hot--?”  Robynne grabbed the print-out. 

“See, typical dumb tourist,”  Adele said.

“You’re pushing it.” 

Adele returned to the hotel alone:  exhausted from the excessive walking, the Ambrogio doldrums, and the world’s most persistent allergy attack. 

Chapter 25

A vivid dream involving Ambrogio and some whipped cream had Adele tossing and turning in bed.   Now on her side, she tried to sleep again, only to be frightened by a grinning Ambrogio.  Adele smacked him dead center in the forehead.  It hadn’t been her intention, but she was quite pleased with the result, nonetheless. 

“You’re sexy when you sleep.”  He rubbed his reddening forehead.

“Get out.  If you hadn’t guessed earlier, I never want to see you again,” Adele said.

He grabbed her and pinned down her arms.  “You never gave me a proper greeting, so I came to collect what was owed to me.” 

“Get off me.”  She felt helpless against his wall-like embrace. 

Adele nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, noticing how even his scent had change in Italy.  The clean freshness of the ocean was gone.  She bit into his skin, and when he let her loose, she ran. 

Down a set of gilded steep stairs, Adele ran through a sitting room filled with dusty old antique furniture, and then straight into the lobby where nameless faces stared at her. 

“Leave me alone.” Adele said.

“Is there a problem?”  A man accompanied by his wife’s his wife and child said.

“Do you see a problem here,” Ambrogio reached into his breast pocket for a pack of cigarettes.  He lit one and inhaled deeply. 

“Mr. Argentero, nice to see you.  Have a good day,”  he said scurried off with his family in tow.

“You can’t smoke in here? “ Adele said

“I can smoke anywhere I please.”  He flicked ash onto the floor.

“Apparently, why do people quake with fear around you?  You know what, I don’t care.  Just leave me alone.”  Adele went outside.

“I was fully prepared to leave you alone.  It was you who followed me, remember.” He followed her outside. 

“And I couldn’t be more sorry.
It was you who followed me to my hotel after I threw my drink in your face,” Adele said. 

She watched a motorcyclist maneuver his way up a sidewalk and around a delivery truck. 

“Such a pity for such a beautiful woman to be so desperate,” he said.

A strong gust of wind sent goosebumps down her arms.  Their words were temporarily drowned out by the rumble of a delivery truck ambling down the street.   Ambrogio stepped in the street and closer to her so he could hear. 

“You followed my desperate ass back to this hot--,”

A screeching vehicle careened down the street--it’s intended target, Adele.   The approaching headlights rendered her immobile.  With her words cowering in her throat and her eyes closed, she braced herself for the impact.  It never came.  Instead, she felt herself being lifted and then tossed like a rag doll.  The concrete broke her fall.  She groaned in response to throbbing in head.   

“Cara, stai bene?
  Adele?”  A familiar voice said from somewhere above her.