“Not yet. I say we let it ride.”
While Dante sips his wine, Juliet has her hand on his leg and who knows what she might be doing with it under the table. The two of them are insatiable at times.
Bread and a plate of olive oil arrive at the table. I take a roll, tear off a piece, and eat it, realizing I’m hungry. But some little Albanian has me hungry for more than food and water. Much more.
Juliet leans in to tell me, “I’ve ordered the mushroom cap appetizer and calamari.”
Her hair and nails are always perfect. She’s wearing an outfit cover with some large G’s on it, that I haven’t seen before and a thick gold band on her forearm with our family crest and an M in script overlay. Someone’s been shopping.
“Nice bracelet, Juliet.”
“A wedding gift, I couldn’t wait to give it to her,” Dante volunteers.
“I love it.” Juliet runs her slender fingers over the top of it and smiles at her fiancé.
“I’m enjoying the condo you decorated for me. It’s so perfect, I leave nothing laying around, not even my slippers. It would feel like I’m ruining a piece of art.”
“Marchello, you can’t be serious, I just put a few things together that matched.”
“Well, you did a hell of a job if I’m impressed.”
Dante interjects, “Yeah, says the man with fifty pairs of shoes including those obnoxious basketball sneakers you love. Why you waste your money on vintage Air Jordans, I will never understand. Are you going to run around looking like a tourist next?”
“You’re just jealous I’m younger than you, fuck off,” I joke.
We all have a chuckle.
Dante is refilling the wine glasses, when a woman approaches our table. She’s well dressed, in her early forties, silky smooth dark hair, so dark, it has a blue undertone. I’m guessing she’s Egyptian or Sicilian.
“Juliet, nice to see you here,” her dark eyes soften when Juliet recognizes her.
“Ms. Loren, so nice to see you.” Juliet smiles. “This is my husband to be, Dante,” she says, nodding her head towards Dante.
“Nice to finally meet you.”
Christ, the event planner at the wedding.
Dante turns to me. “My brother, Marchello.”
I stand and shake her hand. “Pleasure.”
“So, what brings you all out on such a rainy evening?”
“Just catching up,” Juliet runs a finger up and down the stem of her wine glass. “Do you live around here?”
“Oh, heavens no, I’m in San Frediano. I love walking by all the workshops here and checking on the work produced by the local artisans. It’s so quaint. Not to mention the Santa Maria di Carmine is one of my favorite churches. In fact, the Christmas Mass there is beautiful, you should go one year.”
“We’ll have to,” Dante agrees as he leans back in his chair and drapes an arm on the back of Juliet’s chair.
“Don’t let me keep you from your dinner. I’m sure it will be divine; this place has the best food. It’s a shame the busses don’t bring tourists up here anymore, but it keeps it Italian.”
“That it does.” Dante chuckles as he nods in agreement.
“Ciao.” She waves and joins a woman around the same age before leaving.
“Early happy hour?” I ask.
“She’s just a bit dramatic.” Juliet pretends to drink from her empty wine glass, playfully hinting maybe Loren was over-served.