“No problem,” I reply, deciding that I need to find something to do today, like finding some new clothes.
Ava has so many trendy outfits, my wardrobe pales in comparison. Maybe if I got some newer styles, I’d have the college guys asking me out. It wouldn’t hurt to window shop.
Yeah, I’ll go out and look in the fancy shops today, and if I like something, I’ll put it on my credit card. Then I’ll have to get a job to pay it off. I know it’s wrong, but what better motivation than to shop first? Besides, I doubt I’ll find anything that looks nearly as cute on me as the red minidress Ava is wearing, the one that screams ‘make love to me now’.
Ava turns so I can zip up the back of her dress, then turns back again so I can see.
“You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. So, what are you doing today?”
“I think I’ll check out the clothing shops. Standing next to you makes me feel as plain as . . . I don’t know. Plain.”
Ava stares at me, her mouth agape. “Oh my god, don’t say that! You’re gorgeous, your hair is so dark and shiny.” She runs her fingers though the ends of my hair. “You’re like two sizes smaller than me and can rock a pair of skinny jeans. I can’t even get them over my ass. You just need to look at men like you want them. You don’t really look at guys, you know, look in their eyes.”
“I don’t feel like they see me, for me,” I falter, and she’s right, I have a bad habit of avoiding men and I don’t understand it. I like guys.
“It’s easy to fix. Don’t go bankrupt today.”
“I know a few places that aren’t tourist traps.” I smile.
“Yeah, yeah.” She smiles as she sits, applying makeup in front of a mirror with special lighting.
“We’ll see. I might get a job. I saved up a lot working at my parents’ restaurant, but I’m running out of money and I don’t want my parents to buy my clothes and stuff.”
“That’s good of you. Where I’m from, kids expect it.”
“Lots here do too, but I’m not that way.” I close my sketchpad and put my supplies back in their boxes.
I put on a pair of low heels, so I feel sexier in my jeans, before grabbing my purse that holds essentials and slide my cell phone inside next to my small wallet.
She looks up from applying the lip liner. “Have fun, I’ll see ya tonight . . . probably.”
“Have a good time.” I scoot out the door.
The streets still look wet from the rain and noisy Vespas zip around like flies at a picnic. They’re still the cheapest form of personal transportation and I swear they outnumber the people.
I think about where I’d like to work and wonder if I’d get a discount working in a clothing store. Then again, most sell high-end designers who, even with a discount, are still unaffordable. I have loads of waitress and restaurant experience and I’m personable, so maybe I’ll fill out applications at a few restaurants if I see that they’re hiring.
The tweeting birds mock me. It’s mating season for them, and it seems to be the same for everyone except me. Mr. Sexy Eyes comes to mind, and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. He looked older, yeah, definitely older. Maybe that’s my problem. Suddenly occurs to me. I’m looking to date men my own age, and maybe that’s a mistake.
I need to expand my horizons. I’m guilty of looking at guys who are goofing off and I feel like I’m their mother, not their peer. It probably wouldn’t hurt to smile more and wear a shorter dress. You’re only young once and my body won’t look this good forever.
7
Dante
My bedroom shutters are fully open as I stand at the window and gaze at the olive grove behind my house. It’s still early, but the morning is warming up quickly. It’s going to be a hot day with no breeze. The windows need to be closed soon and that’s why I’m so happy to have Rosario, who lives in the tiny house in the back, to take care of everything for me, especially when I’m not here.
Riccardo will be here soon to drive me to the airport. I love having my own jet. We could take the train, but let’s face it, I’m me and I like to get in and out quickly. Plus, I don’t have time to waste. And of course, it’s safer.
Riccardo shows up with a hot cappuccino, which I gladly accept. I will be carrying a briefcase with numbers inside to show Conti. I just hope this isn’t a setup to even old scores. I have men on the ground who have overheard that becoming a grandfather has softened him up a bit.
The jury is out on that, but how safe can I really be outside of Tuscany and central Italy where we are in control? Even on a good day and during good times, yeah, I can walk the streets, but I can’t be caught mingling with underworld figures. That would risk a strike.
I understand. I would do the same. It’s usually not personal when someone needs to be handled. With a don, well, a warning message would be sent first. Maybe a capo would suffer an untimely death. It’s not like we don’t know what the other families are up to or planning to do. The criminal world has its food chain, and everyone knows someone. If not, we have ways to make them talk.
It’s like office politics, but the consequences if you aren’t good at the game can be a lot more permanent.