An Apartment in Venice (14 page)

“That’s a familiar story, too,” Giulia said.

“He beat the shit out of me and my brothers at times, but to hit a woman! A woman you claimed to love? One good thing about him, though, he was a great teacher.”

“Teacher? I thought he worked in a factory.”

“He did. He taught me how NOT to be.”

“Oh Chuck, I’m so sorry.” She turned to face him and gently touched the sides of his cheeks.

“Don’t be,” he said and looked out the window at the marshes and tidal flats of the Venetian basin as they chugged toward Padova and Vicenza. “It’s over. A long time ago.”

She was quiet, wondering if something like that is ever over.

He took her hand and held it between both of his, “I thought it was over until I met you,”

“What do you mean?”

“When I knew I wanted you, suddenly I was scared I’d turn into him.”

“But you’ve been with other women. Your were even married and—”

“Yes. But I never felt the same jolt until you ran into me.”

Giulia was speechless.

“Sorry, Micina. Didn’t mean to come on so strong.”

“No. I’m… I’m honored that you felt comfortable to tell me about it.”

“Not overwhelmed?” he asked looking into her eyes.

“A little. Not because of the information about your mom and dad, but that you told me. Not many share with me. Maybe because I’ve closed myself off. Even as a child. And you know, Psych 101 preaches you have to share to get others to share. What have I ever shared with you?”

“Did you forget about your abortion?” he whispered.

“But you treated that as if I’d mentioned a fender bender.”

He pulled her toward him. “Sorry, Micina, I do know it was more than that.” He tipped her head up to look into his eyes. “But what happened doesn’t make you wrong. And it was a long time ago, too.”

She turned back toward the window. He folded around her again and she felt safe and warm.
Could I share my worst with him?

She flinched as a voice boomed from the speaker directly over their heads announcing the approach to Vicenza.

The sun was brilliant as they approached her apartment. Giulia was eager to be in her own place again. She needed alone-time to process all that had happened during the last week. Botteri and Nonno Tony and Chuck. With Chuck, she had no regrets—none. Still, she wanted to discover how she felt away from him. No matter how gentle he’d been with her, he
was
a force to deal with.

Her musing was cut off when Chuck suddenly dropped her bag and pulled her close. He’d seen a crime-scene tape across the bottom steps to her apartment. Then she saw it and looked up to see her glass doors boarded over.

“Let’s go to the front and find your landlords.”

* * *

The police had come and gone, Luciana explained, as she handed Giulia coffee with hot milk and sugar. Giulia never used sugar but drank it without complaint. Saturday afternoon a passerby had noticed the windows smashed and called the police.

“The break-in must have happened during the rainstorm on Friday night,” Luciana said. “The police have already surveyed the damage, and no one is allowed to enter, not even you, Giulia, until the police are here. They boarded up the glass doors, hung the crime tape, and told us to call them as soon as you arrived. Gino is going down to meet them now.”

Giulia and Chuck waited in the sitting room of the pensione.

“Chuck, I don’t want the police to know about Botteri,” she said, “even though he may have sent someone to do this.”

“It might be considered obstruction of justice, but with his possible Mafia connection, I have to agree with you. Seems best to treat this as random vandalism. Maybe it is.” He put his arm around her.

“What about the people at the base? How much will they have to know?”

“Very little, I’d guess. They may not ever be informed except as part of a routine police report for statistical reasons.”

“Statistical reasons?” Her face screwed up into little lines of anxiety.

“Yeah, like maybe quarterly or annual reports as to crimes in the city that affect non-citizens who work at the base. Hell, I don’t know. Italians are known for loads of bureaucracy and God knows the military is. But, you can’t hide where you work, love. Just answer their questions. No need to embellish.”

“Right,” she said, sighing deeply. “Will you stay with me?”

“You need to ask?” He settled her into the hollow of his shoulder.

Two plain-clothes men arrived, introduced themselves and showed their credentials Luciana served more coffee and left the room. The detectives switched to Italian when it was obvious both Chuck and Giulia were fluent in the language. After the questions were over, they all moved to her apartment.

It was worse than she had imagined. Cushions were torn, objects thrown down, drawers emptied, books and work papers strewn about, dishes and glassware smashed. In the bedroom, her clothes were thrown on the floor, some of her underwear had disappeared, what was left was ripped and torn. In the bathroom, cosmetics were deliberately spilled into the shower stall—even a couple of books and loose papers were soaked.

“My copy of Harold Bloom’s
Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human!”
she cried holding what was left of a large reference book with ripped-out pages. “Why would Botteri’s thugs do this?” she said in a low voice.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Chuck said.

Then Giulia looked up at the mirror and her face paled to see “
Puttana”
scrawled on the mirror with lipstick. Whore. She shrank in on herself.

Chuck saw it at the same time and pulled her close saying, “The bastards! Don’t let them get to you.” But she couldn’t stop a few tears from gathering.

The police asked again and again if anything was missing, but she couldn’t think. She mumbled she didn’t think so. She had little jewelry of value. The small, black-velvet music box with a little jewelry drawer, given years ago by Nonno Tony, was unbroken. With shaking hands, she opened it to the tune of “Somewhere My Love” from
Doctor Zhivago.
Her pearl earrings and Nonna’s ring lay in the drawer. Clutching her only real keepsakes, Giulia managed to pull herself together.

“Commissario?” Chuck said to the detective who seemed to be in charge, “could she give you a more detailed report later?”

He agreed. “What about a computer?” the other asked.

“Oh, I forgot. I do have one, but it’s with Roberto, the landlord’s son. It jammed on me, and he thought he could fix it.”

“When did you take it to him?”

“Around noon on Thursday before I left for Venice. He must still have it in his apartment.”

At last, they left, and Giulia crumpled. “What now? Where do I start?”

“We lock up—for what that’s worth—and find food. Then we’ll come back and make lists.”

“I couldn’t eat a thing,” she said picking up and putting down one damaged item after another.

“Yes, Micina, you could. I’ll feed you if necessary. Remember what’s important.”

“What?” she said hearing a whine build in her voice.

“You’re safe. Thank God you weren’t here. All the rest is only stuff.”

After eating a small dish of pasta with tomato sauce and drinking a little red wine at a nearby trattoria, her face took on more color. When Chuck broached the idea of going to his studio apartment in Vicenza for the night, she agreed without protest. It was obvious she wasn’t up to making any other decisions. He’d follow up later and try to convince her that now was the time to move in with him in Venice. If not on Wednesday, for sure by the end of the week. She couldn’t stay in the pensione’s apartment with that worthless balcony door. In fact, he wouldn’t allow it.

Whoa! Listen to the caveman.

* * *

After her classes on Monday, it didn’t take long for them to finish going through the wreckage of her apartment.

“Giulia, what about your passport and other important papers?” Chuck asked while he piled broken furniture and crockery in a corner.

“In the bank. It’s an old habit, I guess. All the years I traveled here alone, I kept IDs, credit cards, even my return tickets, in my money belt. I always thought of it as my portable deposit box. That way I had necessary documents with me no matter what happened to the rest. So, the first week I was here, I opened an account and stashed that stuff in a real deposit box.”

“Good. We don’t have to worry about identity theft.”

“I don’t think so.” She sighed. “Botteri might learn my real name from my books and guess that I teach at the base. Oh Lord!” She turned to him. “Do you think he’d go that far to get at me?”

Chuck put his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Calma. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to tangle with the U.S. Military. If he was the one that sent people here, I’d guess they were looking for diamonds. Think of the ripped cushions and all.”

She grabbed him and seemed to be trying to crawl inside his skin. He pressed her closer and rubbed his hands in circles on her back. She took a big breath, pushed back and said, “I’m ready to leave.” As they left the apartment, she said, “Wait, I need to check on my computer. Hope Roberto’s home.”

He was. Her computer was not “sick” anymore, he’d said smiling. That was a relief because her notes for classes were on it. They made little jokes about him being an excellent doctor, but when she tried to pay him, he claimed it was nothing. He asked her to tell people on the base about him. She assured him she would. Finally, they left for Chuck’s studio apartment. She’d return later and settle up with her landlords. The police had her cell number and she didn’t intend to divulge another piece of information.

After spending most of the day helping Giulia, Chuck was back at the post taking care of his own business. She took a long, hot shower and tried to rest but no luck. Her mind raced from one worrisome idea to another. They’d leave for his larger place in Venice tomorrow, Tuesday, but then she remembered they had to report to the police one more time. They’d already given their fingerprints for elimination purposes, but there were a few loose ends, the detective had said. She smiled, policemen really did say that. Surely tomorrow night, she and Chuck could go back to Venice.

Too restless to sleep, she called Nancy and brought her up to date, telling her all about the destruction of her apartment.

“Ah Squirt, I’m sorry your place was trashed, but look at it this way, you’re staying with Chuck.”

“I do feel safe with him. My sweet apartment—it’s a scary place now.”

“It’s strange to me that this Botteri guy and his henchmen would care about your books and papers. I can understand jerks playing with your underwear, but your Shakespeare? Doesn’t make sense. But, Squirt, I need to change the subject I have more details on the rest of your Aunt Loretta’s bequest.”

“The rest? I thought the money she left me and the twins was it.”

“It seems her husband had a bunch—I mean a bunch—of Fiat shares accumulated over the years from when he worked in Turin. And your aunt Loretta left all of them to you.”

“To me?” Right away Giulia felt alarmed. “How are my brothers going to feel? And Dad? He might not like it that his sister left it all to me. And he’ll assume I won’t know how to manage a big influx of money.” Then Giulia’s backbone stiffened, and for the first time, she felt indignant—even angry—with her dad, about his lack of faith in her. She had demonstrated over and over she could manage her money just fine. She put herself through school and grad school, but the boys got help all through their schooling, and as far as she knew, were still in debt.

“Guess your dear auntie figured since they were male—your dad included—they’d always be the favored ones. They’ll have to accept her wishes, kiddo. It’s a solid legal document.”

“Oh Lord. This is overwhelming. Not so much that Lettie would want me to have it—she knew my dreams about Venice—but how do I handle my family?”

“Relax for now,” Nancy said. “The shares haven’t been worth much for several years. Fiat’s had its problems, but rumors indicate that the company’s coming together fast with their re-tooling of the popular
Cinque Cento,
Five Hundred, and that cute Fiat Punto.”

Giulia thought about Chuck’s little yellow Punto.

“You may be a rich heiress yet! This windfall ought to come in handy when you’re ready to invest in Venice.”

“Got to find something first. That’s what I’ll be doing while I stay with Chuck. He’s already been helping me look for a place even though I’m pretty sure he wants me to settle in with him.”

“‘Of course he does. Oops! Got a call. Have to take it. Keep me informed.”

“Love you,” Giulia said.

“You, too. Byee.”

Shew! Too much. Can’t think about Fiat shares now. Yes, she was glad to be staying with Chuck, but, she’d make it absolutely clear it was temporary. No matter what developed between them, she still had to have her apartment in Venice. After that? Time would tell. And then, would she tell Chuck everything?

“I still want you in my bed every night,” Chuck said, squeezing her hand as they walked into his apartment. “But this second bedroom is yours to use however you want.” He carried most of his stuff out and left a few things on a closet shelf too high for her to reach anyway.

He’d seemed surprised that she agreed so easily to move in with him. She smiled. Should she have put up more of a fight? No. No games. But she did make it clear this arrangement was temporary. He just pulled her into his arms.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said leaning back to see his face.

“Micina, I do. But you’re here now.” He began sliding the vest off her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this damned thing you wear to work.” And he tossed it on a chair. When he started unbuttoning her blouse, she responded by working on his shirt.

“You’ve had a helluva week. I know exactly what you need,” he said.

“Let me guess,” she grinned. “You’ll toss me onto your monster bed and have your way with me.”

“You’re going to have a Swedish massage.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

“Disappointed?”

“Of course not.” He was teasing again and she loved it.

“Good. My license isn’t current so I can’t charge a
monetary
fee.”

“But you’ll collect another way?”

He ignored that but his dimple did deepen. “In heavy combat situations, the best relief from tension and fear often comes by relieving pressure on over-taxed muscles. I felt good helping men in my unit, and a few of them learned how to help others. Massage can release extra adrenalin too.”

As he talked, he continued to remove her clothes and eased her onto the bed. “On you, I’ll use a few sliding and gliding strokes unless I find extra tight knots. Then maybe a little kneading. Sound good?”

“Sounds divine.”

“I hope so.”

“And later?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about later. If you unwind into sleep, go for it. I’ll collect my personal fee another time.” His voice was husky and he leaned over for a kiss. It started as a light kiss, but when she responded, he probed her mouth with the tip of his tongue and slid it along the sensitive underside of her lip. He felt shivers dance through her body. She was now totally nude, and he barely managed to break away. “Now turn over on your stomach while I warm this oil.”

Stripping down to his black briefs, he straddled her body and picked up a bottle of oil, pouring a small dollop into the palms of his hands. He began rubbing them together, and the fragrance of lavender filled the bedroom. She inhaled deeply and sighed. Before touching her shoulders, he could see the tension loosening in her small body with its perfect, round bottom. He knew this would be a self-imposed test because seeing her lying there, so trusting, was a huge turn on. Already he was hard as stone. He concentrated on naming the muscles in the back.

His large hands moved slowly and firmly around her neck and shoulders, down her spine, over her buttocks onto her thighs and calves and lingered at her feet. He massaged each foot separately, toe by toe, before working his way back to her torso and upper back where she carried most of her tightness. He shifted to one side of her body and began the glide strokes across her torso in a gentle, horizontal pulling motion. She sighed again. Continuing with more emphasis on her shoulders and neck, he concentrated on each arm and hand. He was about to ask her to turn over, when he noticed she was sound asleep. He muffled his laugh and inched off the bed, laying the cover over her.

As the door closed, Giulia stirred. She lay indulging in a heavenly out-of-the-world sense of euphoria. Without opening her eyes, she turned on her side, yawned and stretched to reach for him. Not there. She sat up. Was that the shower? And another sound? Almost like an animal in pain. She threw on his discarded shirt and went looking.

She peered into the bathroom and saw Chuck’s shadow in the shower stall. He was groaning softly. She slid the shower open and felt icy drops spraying. She stuck her hand in the water.

“Why are you standing in cold water? What happened to the hot?”

“Did I wake you?” he said, shutting the water off.

She noticed his cock and guessed the problem. Dropping the shirt and stepping inside, she took his cold penis in her hand. “Does this want my attention?”

“It’s in dire need and may never come to life again.”

“Hmm. Maybe we can resurrect it, but let’s get you warm first.” She switched the handle to hot. They soaped each other, played awhile and when he showed excellent signs of recovery, she gently grasped his cock and led him toward the bedroom. He stumbled after her, laughter bubbling up in his chest.

She turned to him. “Do you have any of that special oil left?”

“I do. You like?”

“Oh yes. My turn, though.”

“I’m ready.”

Chuck enjoyed her efforts at massage. When she asked him to turn on his back for a thorough oiling, as he did so, he whispered, “Climb on.” He lifted her onto his erection, and inch by inch, she began a slow descent, adding quirky little circular motions.

“Oh - my - God,” he said.

“Goddess. Remember to whom you’re speaking.”

“You imp.” He rolled her onto her back. “Now you’re going to get it.”

“Promise?”

He thrust and retreated slowly. Penetrated and withdrew, then thrust again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and shuddered. He sensed her body being claimed by wave after wave of ecstasy. In a ragged breath, she called his name. He had meant to wait until the last pulses of her orgasm faded, but that wasn’t going to happen. He plunged once more, and a hoarse cry tore from his throat. Then a hot rush of golden pleasure coursed through every vein in his body lasting for what seemed an eternity of bliss. They both fell asleep.

Later, however, she woke to him groaning, twisting and flailing. She rolled off the bed and slipped around to the other side watching his suffering in the dim light slanting through the blinds. When he calmed somewhat, Giulia crawled on top of him stretching out full-length. She put her face in the hollow of his sweaty neck and crooned softly, not wanting to wake him abruptly. He groaned once or twice more, then taking her with him, he rolled onto his side, curved around her, sighed and slept.

* * *

When they woke, the grey light in the sky had faded into night. She didn’t mention his earlier distress.

“Hey there,” Chuck said raising up on an elbow to look at her. “Was that your stomach or mine?”

“Mine for sure,” she said. “What time is it?”

“It’s only eight fifteen. Do you want to try an osteria not far from Fondamenta del Vin?”

“Del Vin? Hmm. Is that near the Rialto where they string colored lights over café tables for tourists?”

“Yes.
Osteria al Diavolo e L’Aquasanta
is down Calle Madonna, one of those narrow paths going off the Del Vin quay. Ever been?” He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger and watched the silky curl slide away.

“Never. Intriguing name, The Devil and Holy Water.”

He nodded. They don’t take reservations. People are willing to line up in all weather for a table. This is one place,” he snorted softly, “where even The Marc can’t get in without waiting.”

“The Marc? Do you call him that to his face?”

“Of course.”

“What does he call you?”

“Can’t say.”

“Hmm. You do know you’ve thrown down a gauntlet?”

“I’m not worried. He’ll never reveal what he calls me—on pain of death.”

“You’ve got something worse on him?”

“Something like that.”

She laughed. “Is Diavolo outside like those tables on Del Vin? Shall I wear heavy layers and warm socks and boots or do I need to freeze my feet in more stylish shoes?”

“Neither. Diavolo is small and cozy, but we may have to wait outside a few minutes so do dress warmly. The temp’s supposed to drop tonight, and I don’t want to be attacked by someone’s icy feet later.”
I sound like an old married man.
Then it struck him. Married to Giulia might not be such a bad idea. Wait a sec. Is this the same guy who swore he’d never commit again?