That’s probably her code for ‘it’s so unlike you to wear something like this’, but I’ll take it as a compliment because I can’t remember the last time I had one.
It’s Sunday and the church bells are chiming as a mass is starting around the corner. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed in Italy. Thank God something has stayed the same, even if these days the bell-ringers have been replaced by electrical timers. It’s still a comforting and familiar sound.
I’m also sure it’s one of the last things tourists will forget when they get on the plane bound for home, laden with their physical souvenirs.
“I don’t know why I bought this dress, Ava, I have nowhere to wear it.”
“So, we’ll have to go out to a club!”
“All right. We have to be careful though, they can be dangerous.”
“So I’ve heard, but we’ll be together.”
“Yeah,” and I realize I haven’t been out in months and that I need to kick up my heels.
“Well, I’m grabbing a coffee with my date from yesterday, so I’ll be back in a few hours.Ciao.”
“Sure, have fun,” I smile. I love that she has started using ‘ciao’.She’s sweet, and I hope she doesn’t get her heart broken. Italian men do that all the time.
I put my new dress on. I’m not sure why except it’s a shame to spend so much money and have it hang in my closet. I’ll just go walking down the strip and maybe grab a sandwich at my favorite shop. I’ll follow up on the jobs tomorrow.
I take care to apply makeup like I’ve seen Ava do, but not using nearly as much, and I definitely don’t put on mascara to make my lashes appear long and alluring. Mine are way too short.
I do, however, take time to outline my lips before applying red lipstick and am pleased at the difference it makes. Then I strap on my low-heeled sandals, grab my tiny purse and phone, and walk to the courtyard.
I’m in my own head and bump into the gorgeous stranger from the other day as I’m zipping my purse shut.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Ah, I met you a few days ago.”
“Yes, I remember. Mister . . .” I pause as I’m terrible at names.
“Micheli, but you can call me Dante.”
“Dante.” I let his name roll off my lips like it’s melted gelato. Of course, he would have a sexy name to go with that smoking physique and smoldering eyes.
“Juliet, Juliet Accordi.” I extend my hand as it seems appropriate.
“Yes, I remember. How could I forget?” He takes my hand in his slender one and I notice he has a tan and that his hands are soft. His touch stirs my body in places I’m not familiar with. Now, they’ve suddenly let their presence be known.
“I was just stopping by to see my friend, but I realize he’s probably not here today. I mean, I didn’t call ahead. Would you like to grab a coffee?”
“Sure,” I say, mesmerized, and I follow him out into the street, where he leads the way.
We walk down a street I’ve never been on before. It’s not very populated. The lizard part of my brain says this street and situation might be dangerous, but my body is telling me to follow this man to the ends of the earth.
“Are we almost there?”
“Yes.”
Before I even know what has happened, I find myself with a mesh coffee sack over my head and I’m being stuffed inside a vehicle. I thrash out in full-blown panic, throwing my hands and legs around, trying to kick anyone and get to freedom until I feel a stab in my arm and my eyes grow heavy. I try to stay awake to figure out where I’m headed as my head slumps against the back of the van’s metal wall.
When I come to,I have a blinding headache. As my eyes focus I can see I’m in an amazing wine cellar that looks more like a comfy den than a basement. Even the original cement floor is nicely tiled. I feel zip ties around my wrists, and my ankles are tied to a wooden chair.
As my consciousness tunes in, I can hear men talking behind me softly and I listen, shifting a little in the seat to get more comfortable, but they hear me.
“Hello,” a man says to me as he lifts water to my lips.