WANTED: Love of my Life

46. Smelly Courtesy

“Giaocmo?” I interrupted his rant.

“Yes?” He looked down at me fearfully.

“Will you shut up please?”

“Scusi?”

“Shut up and let's get going.”

“What?” He scrutinized my face. “But as I said, Angela, if you do not wish to come, you do not have to. I simply thought...”

“Giacomo, you silly, super-gorgeous sad basket case. I've been dying to know where you disappear off to ever since I've had to say good bye to you under the street lamp that first night.”

He blinked.

“You have?”

“Yes, I have! Why do you think I've been pestering you with questions all the time! I want to know more about you! I want to know all there is to know.”

For a moment, a shadow passed over his face, but then it was replaced by a mischievous smile.

“And you really think I'm... what was it? Super-gorgeous?”

My ears burned. I really had to learn to watch my mouth.

“Well, what if I did?”

“If you did,” he breathed, bending down to me, “then that would make me very, very happy.”

And then he kissed me. Really kissed me, like I had wished for him to do from the start. His lips moved against mine with a gentle passion that surpassed anything I had ever experienced in my life before. My heart was hammering so fast, it felt like it wanted to win this year's Blacksmith World Championship. And not just because this super-gorgeous (yes, I admit it) guy was kissing me with enough fervor to make me dizzy and desperately craving for more. No. I was excited because I was going to see where Giaocomo slept! Finally, he had decided to let me into his life! It made me think that in spite of everything, in spite of the problems we'd always have to face, in spite of the fact that everything between us must always be secret, I could, perhaps feel something for him that went beyond affection. Something like lo-

“Of course,” Giacomo said, breaking free of my lips and smiling, “It probably won't be what you're expecting.”

I grinned back. “I am counting on that.”

“No, I mean...” He still smiled, but there was also a deep sadness in his eyes. “You know I'm homeless. The place where I stay... It's not much.”

“And why should that surprise me?” I said, and thought 500 Dollars a bottle.

“Because I so wish I could offer you something more,” he replied, looking at me sadly.

“Well, let's have a look, shall we?” I linked my arm with his and pulled him back towards the city. “If I don't like it, I can always bring a vase and flowers along next time. Or a rug. Would you like a rug?”

He laughed.

“All right. But you're going in the wrong direction.”

I looked at him, puzzled. Then I looked back at the city, then at the ocean behind him.

“But... Giacomo... It's the only direction. Or are you going to tell me that you've got an underwater hideout? Like a James Bond villain?”

He laughed again, and the untroubled, deep sound of his laughter made my soul sing with joy. “Not quite. But you're not too far off, either. Follow me.”

He lead me down to the edge of the water, to a massive lump of foul-smelling seaweed. I wrinkled my nose.

“Yikes! You sleep in that?”

“Your guesses aren't getting any better. Why don't you just wait and see?”

“Okay.”

He grasped the seaweed – I made a mental note to tell him to wash his hands before I let him touch me again – and pulled it aside. Underneath was a longish plastic thing, with glinting metal at the end. I squinted to be able to identify the object in the darkness.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“How should I know? What do you think it is?”

“A.. boat?”

“Very good,” he said, earnestly. He reached out for my hand, and I sprang back.

“I was just trying to be polite and help you aboard!”

“Baloney! You were trying to get disgusting seaweed-goo on me! And I'm I'm not having any of it. I'm emancipated, I can climb on board perfectly well on my own, thank you very much. And in case you want to be polite again, go and wash your hands first!”

“Certainly ma'am!” he said with a mock salute and went to wash his hands in the ocean. I climbed into the small boat and tried to find a spot that wasn't dirty to sit on, while my brain was working like mad. What did this mean? Where could he possibly plan on bringing me? An island? An abandoned oil platform? I had seen way too many movies for my imagination not to get out of control. Only one thing was sure: tonight I would be getting more than I had bargained for.

Should I ask him not to do this tonight? After all, it would be cold and wet, right? I hadn't brought the right clothes for a trip like this. It would be reasonable to ask to postpone this, so I could bring a raincoat and stuff against the cold and the wet.

But as Giacomo came back and I stared into his handsome, torn, determined face, I realized that the only things really cold here were my feet, and that if I backed out now, I would never get another opportunity. He sprang into the boat and started the motor as if he'd never done anything else in his life. And then we were speeding across the water out over the Golden Gate, the lights of other ships twinkling around us.

Giacomo didn't sit down as I had done. He stood at the... what was it called? The pointy front end of the boat, like Washington on this picture I saw in my history schoolbook. Only he looked a lot handsomer than a guy with a white wig. Where was he taking me? What would I think of him when we arrived? I didn't know. But I was dying to find out.

Faster and faster the boat moved across the Golden Gate, with the Bridge looming above us in the distance. Neither of us noted the other boat that detached itself from the shore soon after and started to follow us.