“I have absolutely no intention of telling anyone. It’s your personal business,” I said. Officially, there weren’t any gay Made Men. It was ridiculous. Boys learned to hide it if they liked other boys or they got killed. That was the only reason why there weren’t any gay men in our circles. “But Cassio knows.”
I could practically see Elia’s thoughts racing as he tried to get me off track. “If he thought I was gay, he’d kill me. The mafia doesn’t tolerate fags.”
I smiled. The insult was a nice touch. It didn’t work. “No, unless you don’t make it public. And sometimes it comes in handy to have gay soldiers, especially if someone’s as jealous as Cassio seems to be.”
Elia didn’t say anything. I could see that he was completely thrown off. “This is—”
“Ridiculous? Yes, it is. Did Cassio ask you to come on to me to see if I would bite?”
Elia ran his hand through his hair. I’d backed him into a corner. It was obvious that neither he nor Cassio had expected me to catch onto them. This made me even more furious than the fact that they’d tried this trick at all.
“I’m your bodyguard. I’m meant to protect you. You should talk to Cassio if you think I’m doing a bad job.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe you should go to the staff room now. I really don’t feel like being lied to at the moment.”
Elia inclined his head and left. He’d call Cassio the second he was in the back room. I leaned back against the headrest, closing my eyes briefly, feeling drained. My shirt stuck to my sweaty back. A hot snout nudged my arm. I opened my eyes to find Loulou on the couch beside me. Was she trying to console me? I’d read that dogs could pick up on human emotions, but I hadn’t expected Loulou to act on it.
She probably wasn’t allowed on the sofa, but I didn’t care if Cassio would approve or not. I patted my lap and she curled up there.
Daniele put down his tablet and approached me. He climbed on the sofa and sat beside me. His little legs didn’t even reach the edge. I smiled at him. His eyes conveyed questions that he didn’t voice.
“I’m fine, just tired. Loulou is trying to console me because she can feel that I’m tired.”
Daniele nodded slowly. I stroked his head carefully, seeing if he’d pull back, but he didn’t. I felt the knots at his back. I’d seen how he struggled when Sybil or Cassio tried to comb his hair. From the way it felt, I doubted combing would work. “Loulou looks cute with her short hair, right?”
Daniele gave a nod.
“Will you let me cut your hair a bit? Not much, just a bit, so Loulou doesn’t feel alone with her short hair?”
An even smaller nod was his response. I gently put Loulou down on the sofa and went to get the scissors. When I returned, Loulou was curled up on the sofa and Daniele was sitting very close, but he wasn’t touching her even though I could see that he wanted to.
“Can you sit on my lap while I cut your hair?”
Nod.
I lifted Daniele and positioned him on my knee as I sat down. I stroked his head gently before I began to cut the hair at the back of his head. He didn’t move, only looked at Loulou. I shortened the hair on the sides too, only left the hair on top as it was. “You look really cool now.”
Daniele remained seated on my leg, and I kept stroking his little head.
“I hope you’ll talk to me one day. I’d love to hear your voice. You can talk to me about everything. I can keep secrets if you need me to. Okay?”
He looked over his shoulder, really looked me in the eye, and in that moment, he seemed so much older than almost three. “Your dad loves you.”
Daniele looked away and slid off my leg. He sank down on the floor with his tablet once more.
Cassio wasn’t home in time for dinner. It was a little past eight when I settled in the comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace in the living room, reading one of my favorite books. I’d considered doing Pilates or finishing my recent painting, but then I hadn’t found the energy to do it. My phone lay on the small side table, hoping for a message from Cassio. Friends from school had messaged me, but I could already feel that our friendship wouldn’t survive the distance. We’d never been the close friends you shared your darkest secrets with anyway. Maybe I should send Cassio a text to ask when he’d be home, but even though I had his number, we hadn’t texted yet. I’d considered sending him a photo from the dog park, but never did it.
An idea crossed my mind. I got up and went over to the liquor cabinet to the left of the marble fireplace. It was filled with several bottles of scotch, gin, bourbon, and all kinds of other spirits I didn’t know the first thing about. Remembering Cassio’s words that I wasn’t supposed to drink, I picked the most expensive looking scotch bottle with a name I couldn’t even begin to pronounce: Laphroaig, a limited edition. I poured myself a generous amount and took it back to the chair with me. Settling back down, I took a whiff and coughed, surprised at the smoky aroma of the alcohol. I sipped at it then coughed even harder, tears springing into my eyes. “Oh God.”
Why would anyone drink this by choice? Maybe it was a man thing. After I’d composed myself, I took my phone, lifted the tumbler to my lips, smiled challengingly and took a selfie. I sent it off to Cassio.
Laphroaig is keeping me company while you work
He saw my message almost instantly. He didn’t reply.
Annoyed, I set the tumbler and my phone back
