WANTED: Love of my Life

35. The handkerchief, the name and the fuck you suckers

Somehow managed to drag Giacomo away from the scene of the fight. Don't ask me how, because he wasn't giving me a whole lot of help, and you know, he happened to be a little bit bigger than me. We ended up under a tree, and that's where we stayed, huddled together, into the small hours of the morning. The whole time, he continued to shiver and mutter unintelligible things in Italian.

“Misericordia, padrino. Vi prego, non voglio fare questo. Lei è solo una bambina. Per favore, no!”

“Shh...” I muttered, stroking his soft brown locks. “It's all right. Everything's all right.”

“Non riesco a farlo! Non riesco a uccidere il suo! Ma tradire la mia famiglia... Dio, aiutami!”

“Yes, it's all right. It's all right, Giacomo.”

“Vieni! Vengo presto!”

“Shh...”

I understood that much Italian. He wanted someone to follow him. I wondered where he could possibly be just now, and who he could be with. By the sound of it, he was pretty desperate for him, whoever he was.

“Vieni, Danielle!”

I froze, as liquid ice filled my veins. Danielle? Her, not him. He was thinking of a girl. And it wasn't me. The ice evaporated as red hot jealousy followed in its tracks. Just the thought of him with another girl made me want to scream in outraged anguish. I had often wondered who there had been before me. Never had I doubted that there had been someone. He was so insanely hot that it would have been ludicrous to imagine anything else. It had been torturous, not knowing. And now that I did, now that I could put a name to my fear, I realized that knowing was even more torturous.

Danielle.

What did she look like? Where did she come from? Where had she gone? What had happened between them? And had he told her what I had never heard from him, the three words that had never once passed his lips and that I so longed to hear?

“DANIELLE!”

His Scream was agonizing. He repeated it once.

“DANIELLE!”

Twice.

“DANIEEEELLLE!”

Three times. Each time a piece of my heart broke off. Why oh why could he not call my name? I so longed to hear it. To hear him call me Mia Angela again.

“Shh,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and inhaling the sweet scent of his hair. “Shh, Giacomo. It's all right.”

He seemed to quiet a little, and that was good. I needed him to calm down and be silent, for my own peace of mind now, as well as for his. We sat like this for a while, his breathing slowly calming while I held him in my arms. Finally, I took a look at his face. It was relaxed and peaceful. He was asleep. And it looked as though for a little time at least, he had found what he was looking for. Peace.

All the worry, the anger, the inner struggles that so often reflected on his face were gone, and he looked like what I wanted him always to look like: a beautiful, dreamy, intelligent, and sensual boy. His mahogany mane flowed around his face in such a tempting way... I just couldn't resist. I stretched out my hand and stroked it carefully. My fingers trailed down his neck, over his shoulder, to his muscular arm.

There, they hesitated.

No, I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But it might be my only chance to find out what he had shown those men, just before the fight. My only chance to find out a little bit more about him. My Curiosity warred with my nobler side. Now there was a battle that was lost before it started. Quickly, I grabbed his sleeve and rolled it up.

What I saw was quite disappointing, in a way. It was a tattoo, and not a very impressive one. It didn't show a single pierced heart or skull or something of the kind – the thing men usually put on their tattoos. Just three hands, each holding one corner of a white handkerchief. They weren't even fighting about it. Just holding it up in the air together, as if they wanted to share it. How boring was that, besides being completely unhygienic?

Now that my curiosity had already won, it couldn't be satisfied that easily. I jumped over and hurried back to the site of the fight. I probably should have worried that some of the men could still be there, but they weren't. Somehow, even the leader had managed to crawl off. I didn't blame him. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the look on Giacomo's face in that moment. In the leader's place, I probably wouldn't stop crawling until I reached Antarctica.

Fortunately, I didn't have quite such a long journey before me. My hurried steps took me no farther than the dented bin on which Giacomo had spotted the graffiti. I squatted down, and in the moonlight could just make out the words sprayed on the dented metal.

FUCK YOU SUCKERS!

Well, that was very informative. But, hey, those detectives in the crime series on TV always managed to make the most amazing deductions from insignificant evidence. Why shouldn't I be able to do that, too? I took out a little notepad and a pencil stump I luckily had with me, and scrawled the words on a piece of paper. Next to them, I made as accurate a drawing of the handkerchief tattoo as I could. So! Now nobody could say I hadn't done my best. Not that anybody would have been able to say that anyway. After all, nobody knew I was here. So what? No reason for not being thorough.

I tucked away the notebook, wistfully wishing it could be the kind you need a battery for and not a pencil. I really would look more the modern amateur sleuth part with nice digital equipment. But I'm sure Sherlock Holmes got by without a laptop, too, and that was only, what, a couple of hundred years ago?

My work done, I returned to Giacomo. As I approached the tree under which he was lying, I saw what was carved into it, and I realized what tree this was. I stopped, my eyes filling with tears at the sight of him peacefully sleeping under the heart surrounding our initials. True, this night had scared me nearly out of my wits. He had scared me nearly out of my wits. True, also, I still yearned to know what he was keeping from me. True most of all: I was unsure what, if anything, he felt for me, especially since I had heard her name from his lips: Danielle.

However, in that moment all that didn't matter. All that mattered was him and me, here and now. I took the last steps towards him and settled down by his side, laying my head on his chest. It was uncomfortably hard.

Correction: All that mattered was him and me and my curiosity. Quickly, I opened his jacket and pushed his shirt up, something I had been dreaming of more than once. However, in my fantasies, he had always been awake at the time. Very much so.

My intent now wasn't of the amorous kind, however. And it wouldn't have mattered if it had been, anyway, because after a few seconds, I encountered an unexpected barrier. A vest which didn't seem to have any buttons or a zipper. I frowned. How did he ever get this off? He'd have to pull it over his head, and it seemed to be a pretty tight fight. I continued my search for a zipper, but came up empty-handed. This was a serious problem. It interfered with various plans for the near future, all of which involved finding a way to get his shirt off. Why could my life not be as simple as that of any other girl? First we were set upon by a gang of bloodthirsty brutes, now I had to discover that my boyfriend wore some modern kind of chastity belt. We would have to have a serious talk about that!

I sighed. Well, since when had things with Giacomo been easy? I snuggled closer to him. Strange ceramic shirt or not, he still was the most amazing guy I'd ever met. And in spite of all the fear, the tears and the violence of this dreadful night, as I lay close to him and stared up to the stars, I could actually believe that things were going to be fine.

Did I ever mention that I was a hopeless optimist?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi!

What do you think of the mysteries in this chapter? Nicely mysterious? ;)

Cheers

Rob