Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (18 page)

"Is that the Italian way of dealing with things?" I ask, a little too bitingly maybe.
 

He smiles again and winks at me. "Consider it done."

We go to a nearby pub for a drink afterwards, sit in a garden that smells of honeysuckle and summer, but I just want to go home. Pack my bags and wait for Saturday.

Leo walks me home about an hour later. It's only ten, but he doesn't argue. He has his flight home tomorrow night.
 

"I'll email you my contacts in Italy," he says, as we're standing at the end of my driveway. I'm afraid he'll try to kiss me, so I look away into the trees, twirling my key ring around my finger.

"Great, and I'll send in my application tomorrow." I'm kind of hoping I won't be accepted, kind of wishing I will be. I'm so sick of this confusion.

He doesn't do more than kiss my cheeks, and Scott's smell explodes in my nose again, won't leave for hours. Though maybe that's just because I've been fixating on it. Like I don't want it to go. Which is so stupid. So damaging. Especially after I realize that I've been thinking about Scott for most of the night, and hoping that I'll dream of him tonight. One of those nice dreams, where we hug and kiss on the beach, make love in some secluded corner, brine and honeysuckle mixing in the breeze caressing my naked skin.

Dad's apartment in Geneva is huge and feels more like a hotel room than a home. He works long hours, but at least we manage dinner two or three times a week.

The first few days after I arrived were fun, and all the new things to see and do, did drive Scott out of my mind for awhile. But after about a week, I started wishing he was there with me, and no amount of shopping, sightseeing or just walking around until my whole body ached chased it away completely.
 

"So you have your train ticket?" Dad asks when he gets home the night before I'm leaving for Venice. I have to take two trains to get there, and it'll take all day. But I love trains, and I plan to spend the whole ride there finishing up the assigned reading list.

"Bought it this morning," I answer, draining the spaghetti. "Sit, dinner's ready."

"And Leo is meeting you at the train station when you arrive?" Dad asks, loosening his tie and sitting down at the kitchen table. There's a large dining room in the apartment, but we never eat there. It's strewn with Dad's work files and my books anyway, and way too large for just the two of us eating alone.

 
I don't like how happy Dad sounds mentioning Leo, so I just nod, afraid I'll say the wrong thing if I actually speak.

"I'll take you to the station in the morning," he says, ladling spaghetti onto his plate.
 

"I don't really know what to expect from this program," I say, doing the same. "It seems to be aimed more toward Europeans."

"Nonsense, it's a great program. Very specialized," Dad says, stringing spaghetti onto his fork. "I've asked around. It could open some doors for you. Then maybe you could come work here after you graduate."

He sounds so excited as he says it that I positively can't burst his bubble. But living in Geneva is something I've pretty much already decided not to do.

He helps me clear up after dinner, and then we watch a movie together. We each get a sofa to ourselves and there's an empty one where Mom could sit. The thought jars me, brings hot tears to my eyes, and I can't stop seeing her there for the rest of the movie, even imagine some of the comments she'd make. I'm so glad I at least have something to do for most of July.
 

"I like your new haircut, by the way," Dad says as the commercials come on.
 

My hand shoots to my hair. I had it cut this afternoon and it now hangs to just below my shoulders. "It was getting too long."

I almost cried when it all came off, sure Scott would hate it. He really liked my long hair. And here I go again. Thinking of him, when there's really no point. Because who cares what he'd think. Likely we'll never see each other again.

Fast forward to June. Which is exactly what happened. I can't remember much of May, and April is such a distant memory it might as well have happened ten years ago. I sleep, I eat, I work out like six hours a day, play video games the rest of the time, and boost cars. About three weeks ago Vlado started inviting me over for drinks at his apartment. It's just the two of us most of the time, drinking expensive ass cognac and him asking my advice on jobs. Which I gladly offer. Not because I'm flattered, but because things are as they are, and I'm supposed to be doing the best I can.
 

Mike calls just as I'm getting ready for another visit with Vlado.
 

"You going to see him again?" he asks, his tone all biting and cold.

"Yeah, you coming too?" I ask, bending over to tie my shoe. It's meant to sting even though I say it casually, because he's never invited, and it works.

"Maybe you should spend some time with your own family for a change," he barks, breathing heavily.

"Nah, Mike they're all yours," I say, straightening up. I haven’t spoken to either Dad or Derek since that night I told them to fuck off. Andrew called a few times, but I’m ignoring him too, and I only speak to Janine about once every couple of weeks.
 

It’s better that way. No strings. No attachments. To anyone. Ever again. The next person who gets hurt because of me will be me. No one else. I just wish I could bring myself to get my other number disconnected. But I’m not ready to sever that last connection to Gail. Though I'm getting there. Maybe in another month I'll manage it.

"Was there anything else you wanted to say?" I ask, since Mike's just breathing into the phone. He hangs up. It's how most of our conversations end these days. I still pester him about taking back his threat against Gail from time to time, but I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause. Besides, I'm in too deep with Vlado, and there's no room for Gail in this life.

My heart's beating way too fast when I finally reach Vlado's place, thumping against the inside of my chest like someone's beating a drum. It's exactly how I felt that night in May when I walked away from a job in the middle of it, caused everyone else to abandon it too. But it didn't feel right. And I've decided to never go against my intuition ever again. If I'd just gone with it from the start, Gail wouldn't be in danger now. And, who knows, maybe we'd even still be together.

I chase those thoughts away with the first thing that pops into my mind. Which is the memory of the night after the failed job, when I rode this elevator up to Vlado's place with the others. The metallic taste of fear erupts in my mouth just from that memory now. The guys with me were speaking in rapid, clipped Serbian, one of them huddled into the corner of the elevator and actually shaking. I was certain that night would be my last, that I'd spend the rest of my fucked up life strung up on a meat hook in the warehouse, Vlado cutting off pieces of my flesh.
 

But somehow I managed to talk my way out of it, claiming I have a really good sixth sense. Vlado took me into his confidence afterwards, tighter than even Mike is right now.

"Scott," he says as I enter the penthouse. "How was the drive?"

I'm still tasting fear. Vlado's eyes are always colder than deep winter in Alaska. I figured out early on that I have to be very careful about what I say to him. Most days, the slightest disagreement is enough to send him into a rage.
 

The room smells of a woman's perfume, the flowery scent I sometimes smell when Greg comes over, before he starts smoking. Vlado's platinum blonde girlfriend comes out of the kitchen just as I sit down on the sofa. She smiles at Vlado and ignores me completely.
 
Her smile disappears as soon as her back is turned to him.
 

"Fire and ice, that one is,” Vlado says after she’s gone, and goes to the bar to pour us drinks.

I shrug and don't say anything, since I think this is one of those times I need to stay silent. Vlado's eyes are gleaming like sunlight reflecting off ice.

He clears his throat and hands me my glass.
 

"I am planning a big job," he says and starts pacing by the windows. I don't like it when he's high strung like this. "The biggest yet. And we will be stepping on some toes."

The words, "Let's not do it then," are right on the tip of my tongue, but they're exactly the ones I must not say.

"What is it?" I ask instead, and he proceeds to explain about a shipment of cars ordered and paid for by one of his rivals, that would be easy, but very stupid to steal. It sounds like something that could get us killed, not just arrested. I'm getting nauseous just listening to him.
 

"I want you to take someone reliable and do some research," he says, finally sitting down across from me. "Maybe Gregor."

"Not Mike?" I ask.
 

Vlado shakes his head, squeezing his glass so hard the muscles on his forearm bulge out. "Mike has been getting into trouble again."

My heart starts racing again. This is the first I'm hearing of it, and judging by the tight expression on Vlado's face as he tells me, it's bad. I hope he hasn't gone and murdered someone. Some poor escort. I should call Amber later, see if she's alright.
 

I've been ordering her from time to time, not to fuck, just to keep up appearances. There's only so long I can go refusing to participate in Vlado's orgies before I'm seen as a freak, so having a regular escort is a good idea. And it's done a lot to get Mike off my back too. Though Amber just comes over to watch TV or study.
 

"Did you understand?" Vlado asks, and by his cringing I'm assuming it's not the first time.

I nod, ask for more details. Which he gives. But I understand something else too. Mike's not the golden boy anymore. Though it's way too early to hope again. Because crushed hope is the last thing I need, ever again. But maybe with Mike out of favor with Vlado, a way to get Gail out of his grasp might actually be possible.