Prologue
My hands rested against the steering wheel as I took a calming breath. The feeling of anxiousness still sat at the pit of my stomach even after the breath was expelled from my body. I don’t even know why it's there in the first place. Licking my lips, I pressed the button to unlock the trunk while I stepped out. Using my hands to shade my eyes from the sun, I huffed. Everyone claimed that this wasn't a hot summer. Well, here it is now. It's been a week long heat wave. A very uncomfortable and miserable heat wave. One where it's dangerous for kids and the elderly to be outside. Even for the criminals.
Grabbing the groceries from the back of the trunk, with one swipe of my foot the door began to close. Oh how I love technology. The walk to my front door always brings me joy. I'm somewhere stable. Somewhere that doesn't require me to be on my toes all the time. A place of serenity. If someone who knew me all those years ago heard me say any of this. They would automatically think I've gone mad. But today the walk made my hands clammy and my feet itch to get back in the car. Fidgeting with my keys to unlock the door I jumped at the voice of my neighbor. “Mrs. Giordano” I rolled my eyes once I noticed Karen looking over the fence I recently had installed. “Good afternoon, Karen.”
“Yes,It was a good afternoon until I noticed that godforsaken tree in your backyard is still dropping leaves into my yard. You need to cut that abomination down.” oh this again. “Karen, have you ever heard of wind? The leaves are light and the wind blows it. Leave my tree alone. It's trimmed to the neighborhood standards so there is no need for my tree to be decaputed to make you happy.” I say as I twist my keys into the locks. Quickly slamming the door behind me to avoid hearing her irrational response before the keys in my hand become a weapon. Oh how I love the suburbs. I chuckle at my own words.It quickly dies down before the smell of coffee hits my nose. Did I forget to turn off the coffee pot? “Shit!” Rushing towards the kitchen. Groceries in hand I move towards the coffee pot. Which turns out to be off. “Then why does it smell like-”The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Placing the groceries on the counter, I swallow. I try to pinpoint any other changes in the house. To see if anyone is still here. Cigar smoke. My stomach drops. The old me peeks through. With quick and quiet movements I reach behind the eight cereal boxes and take the dusty lock box into my hand.
Taking the taped key from the bottom, I open it and reveal the bronze nine millimeter gun. “
Bella de Rosa
” my eyes glance over the words and a shiver goes over my body. I quickly push the magazine into place and take the safety off. It feel foriegn in my hand but as soon as my finger is placed on the trigger, it doesn’t. My body automatically relaxes and goes into the stance I used over and over again for the majority of my lifetime. I slowly slip off my heeled wedges before I start exiting the kitchen. Following the smell of the smoke. My body shivers once again. My mind tells me I know who it is. But I refuse to believe it or do I really want it to be true. It could just be a ameature robber. I scoff at myself. A robber with these nosy people around.
Swinging my arms around the corner of the living room. I freeze. I freeze at the sight of him. I don't know why. I knew it was him. The smell of the imported Italian cigars is strong. The expensive giovanni cologne. It took over the whole house. My heart stutters at the sight. He’s sitting in the leather arm chair. The armchair I never knew why I liked but I still brought it. The one I or anyone else ever sat in. Now I know why. It was for him. His brod body sat perfectly in the chair as if it was made for him. He was wearing one of his Giorgio Armani suits in a navy blue color with a silk texture. A texture he always used to be against until I persuaded him. His arms laid on the armchair as a king would sit on his throne. While his ankle laid on his knee. I couldn't read his facial expression. I didn't want to. I didn't want to believe I still knew this man like the back of my hand. I wanted to pretend we were strangers. Like we were never one.
“Hiding in plain sight” He moved forward grabbing the coffee mug that ironically says “shh don't tell no one”.
“Don”the words are whispered over the gun I'm still holding. My stance is not wavering. “Put the gun down Zolita.”He says as I move further into the living room, until I'm standing across from him. The only thing standing between us is the glass coffee table. “Don” Is the only word that comes out of my mouth.His eyes watch me as I tighten the grip on the gun. I feel like I'm gasping for air as I stare at him. He doesn't look different. He has a few more gray hairs than he did before. Still has the trimmed and low cut bread I love. My mind screams at me, pull the trigger and run. My heart yearns to jump in his lap and kiss him till he takes my breath away. His eyes narrow and his jaw begins to tick. “Zolita you know I hate repeating myself. So put the fucking gun down now.” My finger began to pull the trigger. Suddenly the sound of glass breaking and a sharp pain hit my shoulder. A scream comes from my lips and quickly stands from his position to grab my gun. As he grabs it he gently pushes me onto the sofa. A knowing smirk graces his face. Tears sting my eyes but I don't let them fall.
It's been a longtime since I felt the sting of a bullet. The feeling of fire moves around my body. Notifying every nerve that we are hurt. I blow out a breath as I lean back into the couch. “Fuck” I yell into the air as I press my hand against it. Don sits back in the arm chair across from me and watches me. I do the same. “Marcus,” I say as I nod towards the window where the bullet came from. He gives me a nod. Fucking hell. Moving my hand from my shoulder. I raise my blood covered middle finger in the air knowing Marcus can see me. A small chuckle comes from down but any sign of amusement vanishes when my finger lowers. Then the tone of the room sets in. Anger, pain and betrayal is in the air. But then again lust, adornment and helplessness is also there. I'm not sure who’s radiating what. I for sure know he’s angry. I feel the words as he speaks. My gut rolls as they leave his lips. “Six years. Six years of looking. Six fucking years of not understasnding what happened and why. To come and find out your hiding in plain fucking sight. Under your married name at that.” his jaw ticks as he finishes. I have the urge to massage the muscle. To tell him to calm down but that's not my place.Since im the one who caused it.
“I always told you to try the impossible before the possible. You never did take my advice on that.” he scoffs and takes out another cigar. I want to tell him not to smoke in my house and around me. He won't listen though so why even try. He lights it and watches me as he takes a drag. He blows it and memories of Rome flash in my mind. Averting my eyes to the grandfather clock on the,I note the time. Twelve forty-six. I got five hours.
“Can you please get me the first aid kit in the kitchen?”I asked, turning my gaze back to him. “No” my eyes narrow at him. “What do you mean no? I have to stop the bleeding.” he takes another drag from the cigar. “You’ll be alright. He didn't hit any bones or important nerves.”he talks as the smoke leaves his mouth. I sigh as I try not to feed into his mood and actions. He knows I love when he does that. It makes me throb. “You and I are gonna have a little talk. The way this talk goes will decide what happens. I want answers and I want them now Zolita.”The smoke clouds the room and makes itself at home.
“So I'm supposed to bleed out till you get your answers.”I scoff as I try to get up. The sound of glass breaking happens again. This time no pain follows. The windows I loved when I first saw this house is really starting to be used against me. I just had to get floor to ceiling windows. “Sit down Zolita. Next time you might not get so lucky.” he words are gritted out. Like he’s fighting the urge to do something. He probably wants to shoot me himself. I wouldn't blame him.
Like a good pet I sit. A moment past before he takes another drag of the cigar. “Why?”
Sucking in a breath, I opened and closed my mouth. “And don't say you don't know Because you fucking do. You know why you left. So spit it out.”
“The answer isn't that easy” I whispered.
“Try me because I have all day.” he said while I took a deep breath. You might but I don't. I have five hours. “Why did you leave me?”
