Say Ye (5 page)

“Thanks, Lee gave it to me last Christmas.” She placed her hand on his chest and almost floated it over him. He salivated, as if anticipating a delicious meal. “Yours too. I guess we both like fine things.” She shivered when his eyes locked on hers. She wanted him.

“Lita, Lorenzo, are you having a good time?” Lee asked and the moment was lost. Lita smiled while Lorenzo assumed a detached air.

“Yes, thanks, and you?” Lita said.

“Good. Do you remember Tina, from my office?”

Lita said hello, Lee introduced her to Lorenzo. He ignored Lita now, feeling guilty for his thoughts. He reminded himself that he hadn’t just warned off Rich last week so he could move in on Lita himself. She stood next to him and he tried to show her his flirtatious looks and words meant nothing. He used them on plenty of women. She walked away.

After an excruciating half-hour, Amy, Lee’s girlfriend, called them together to sing “Happy Birthday” and served the cake. Lorenzo took a small piece, but he wouldn’t eat it. He’d hoped Lita would make one of her buttery, moist cakes, but this was from a bakery. He wended his way to the trash can. Lita giggled, her sweet small laugh frothy as the foam on a cappuccino. She approached him. They both dumped their cake and walked away together, laughing.

“You didn’t make that, I know.”

“No, Amy wanted to use the new bakery everyone’s talking about.”

“Doesn’t compare to your cake.”

“Thanks,” Lita said as he gazed at her. If he could be alone with her, his world would right itself. She noticed his cup. “Coffee?” He nodded as she leaned closer to him. “Still drinking it black? I thought you really liked it creamy and sweet.”

He returned her sly smile. “My favorite is cappuccino--frothy, with hidden, sweet depth. But I’ve sworn them off.”

“Why?”

“I might ruin it if I indulged too much.”

“If you were careful, I mean about what else you did, you could have one every day.”

“Maybe I should reconsider.” He had control. He could take her home and just hold her. One kiss. It would be enough. No one could get hurt from sharing one kiss.

“My two favorite people again,” Lee said. He put his arm around Lita’s shoulder.

“Don’t let Amy hear you say that.” Lorenzo shifted his feet. Did Lee suspect something?

“I speak the truth.”

“This is why I don’t introduce you to anyone,” Lorenzo said.

“And here I thought it was because you didn’t want the competition.” Lee squeezed Lorenzo’s shoulder and winked. Lorenzo’s secret was safe. How many more would he need to keep?

“This calls for a photo,” Lee’s cousin Emma said as she walked up, camera in hand. “You in the middle, Lita. Better composition that way.”

Lita obeyed and Lorenzo snuck his arm around her waist and leaned into her. How her sugary, homey scent could draw him in mystified him. Amy walked over and they broke apart.

“Lita, sweetie, shouldn’t you be getting home? Lee says you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Amy said.

Lorenzo wanted to tell her off, especially when Lita’s face reddened.

Lita put her hands on her hips. “It’s Lee who needs rest. Maybe you should be going too?”

Lorenzo grinned. Damn, even when she was angry she was sexy.

“I think that’s for Lee to decide,” Amy said.

“I think we need to talk,” Lee said, turning serious.

“How about I walk you ladies out? Happy Birthday, Lee. Thanks for the invite.” Lorenzo gave Lee a conspiratorial look. He knew Lee needed everyone to leave so he could have his break-up in private. Amy would be the fourth girlfriend in a row Lee dumped because they all got bitchy with Lita eventually. Probably they all figured out Lee cared more about his sister than anyone and they resented her for it.

Lorenzo helped Lita with her coat; she leaned into him as he held it out for her. He put his hands on her shoulders, but removed them when Emma tapped his back. He waited and walked out behind Emma, who took Lita’s arm and glanced back at him. She knew something was going on and wouldn’t let him get close to Lita. When they reached Emma’s car, he opened the passenger door for Lita, who paused and studied him.

“I’ll take you home,” he said. Lita stepped toward him with a smile. This was too easy.

“No need,” Emma said. “I’m spending the night there anyway and it’s out of your way. Come on, Lita.”

He shrugged but kept his eyes on Lita. Emma trotted to her door and slammed it shut. Lita started at the noise and broke their gaze. She brushed her hand over his as he held the door for her. Something light and hopeful surged through him. He gripped the cold metal doorframe. As Lita slid into the seat, he leaned down, his body tried to mutiny against sense.

“See you,” Emma said.

He shut the door. Lita looked away, her hands clasped. He would have to wait.

Wait he did. He didn’t know how other guys waited so long for women. It had been two weeks since he’d seen Lita at Lee’s party. He hadn’t even had sex all that time. Seemed like a lifetime. It was the longest he’d gone without since he was a teenager.

He rose from his desk in the office. Faint echoes of music and people talking drifted under the door. They weren’t open yet, but most of the staff were there. Glancing down, the picture of him, Lita, and Lee at Lee’s party caught his eye. He moved it from under the blotter and picked it up, touching a finger to Lita’s face. The door slammed open.

“Lorenzo, what do you mean firing Del?” his father bellowed. He crashed the door shut and strode to the desk. Grabbing the photo, his father studied it before handing it back. His eyes glinted. Lorenzo shoved the photo into a drawer.

“He came to work drunk.” Lorenzo eased himself into his chair and leaned back. His father remained standing.

“Even drunk he’s a better bouncer than anyone else. You’re losing your edge.” He leaned over the desk, his face a foot away from Lorenzo’s. “You think moving into Nick’s and making up to some young woman is going to save you from yourself?” He chuckled.

Lorenzo crossed his arms and stared at his father.

“I know you better than you know yourself. You’re twenty-seven. Time to accept the fact that all you care about is having good food, fine wine, expensive toys, and beautiful women. Your mother tried to make you soft. Those damn DeGrazias. Think they’re better.” His father’s face reddened as his voice became louder. “Take what you want and make no apologies. You think they don’t? Ha. And that Nick…no one is innocent. At least everyone knows where they stand with me.” He jabbed his finger at his chest then waved it at Lorenzo. “Your mother and Nick weren’t just friends. Ah, you guessed, did you?”

“She should have left you.”

His father laughed. “You wish he was your father.” His tone mocked in a sing-song. “That would be some revenge, eh? All these years pretending you’re mine, molding you, keeping you from your true family.”

Lorenzo gripped the edge of the desk and stood. “Bastard.” Vincenzo patted his cheek, like Lorenzo’s mom used to. Lorenzo grabbed his hand.

“You’re not.” Vincenzo wrenched away his hand. Sweat beaded across his forehead and dampened his upper lip. “I had a test when you turned twelve. You’re mine. They all tried to take you from me, but they can’t. You’ll never escape who you are. Ask Nick, Enzo, ask them the truth. They’re no better than we are. Take what you want, no apologies. So people get hurt. They’re adults. They know what they’re getting with us.”

“I’m not you. I quit.”

His father’s laugh turned to a barking cough. “And live on what? Your mother was too weak to make sure to leave anything to you. And you’re too weak to stand on your own.”

Lorenzo strode to the door. “I quit. I know what I need.” He could get a job somewhere. He had a business degree, years of managerial experience. Once he proved himself worthy of her…

“You need this!” His father shouted, waving his arm before he clutched it to his side. He crumpled against the desk. Another ploy. Lorenzo scowled.

“Go to hell, old man.”

His father slid to the floor. His head thumped against the desk. Vincenzo Calabra lay prone and unmoving. This was no act. Lorenzo ran and knelt beside his father. His throat closed. His father still had a pulse. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he dialed 911. As he spoke to the dispatcher, he grasped his father’s hand. Vincenzo squeezed Lorenzo’s palm but didn’t open his eyes.

“You’ll never escape.” Vincenzo’s face paled, grey like the ash of a snuffed, smoldering fire.

Lorenzo dropped the phone. No breath. He checked again before starting CPR. As he compressed his father’s chest, he gritted his teeth.

“Not now. You won’t die now.”

He was still trying to resuscitate his father when the paramedics arrived. Dead. His father was dead. At some point, Pete drove him to the hospital. His father already had everything arranged, like he knew.

A few hours later, Lorenzo sat in his office at the club, the almost empty bottle of vodka still open on the desk. He drained his glass and stood. He should talk to someone, though why he wanted to talk about his father’s death puzzled him. He couldn’t possibly be sad about it. Probably it was the newness of it. Maybe he could find Lee, maybe Lita would be there too. Just to see her would help. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t seen her. A knock rapped loudly. He picked up the bottle and drained it as his cousin Pete came in, the noise following him. Always so much noise.

“Please tell me you didn’t just drink all that.”

“No, it was over half gone, mother dear.”

“Shut up. You need me to drive you to Grandpa Enzo’s?”

“No, my friend Lee’s.” He told Pete the directions as they got in the car. He rolled down the window to cleanse himself of the odors he’d walked through: sweat, booze, cheap cologne. The house wasn’t Lee’s home anymore, but he might be there with Lita. He hoped Jane wasn’t there.

He knocked on the door, wondering if anyone was up. He needed to talk. He shook his head. He needed to see Lita. She opened the door. Low light glowed behind her, illuminating her fresh face, almost as pink as the light pajama bottoms and fine knit tee shirt she wore.

His dreams about her flooded in on him. He stood still a moment, queasy. Lorenzo said hello and walked into the living room. He sat on the couch. The room was quiet. The old refrigerator buzzed in the kitchen and a sofa spring creaked when he leaned back. Sweet smells drifted in the air: vanilla, cinnamon, peaches, buttery pastry.

“Sorry, know it’s late, but is Lee here?” He studied his palms.

“No, he’s at his place.”

“Oh. Your mom in bed?”

“No, she’s in Peru with my Aunt Cass and Uncle Tim. Didn’t Lee tell you?”

“Yeah, right,” he said. He pressed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He remembered now. They were alone.

“Is everything okay? It’s not like you to come over this late.”

“Everything’s great. I’m finally free of my bastard father. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Oh, Lorenzo.” She sat beside him and put her hand on his arm. Her touch was gentle, as it was in his dreams of her. Maybe he dreamed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? He was a lousy husband and father who managed to yoke me to a business I hate.” He cradled his head in his hands as he bent forward. Lita smoothed her hand up and down his back. He shivered, his body awakening.

“I know you didn’t always get along, but I’m sure he loved you and you love him,” Lita almost whispered. She leaned toward him, her inviting scent enveloped him.

Lorenzo pressed his hands to his eyes again and sat up. The shabby room faded and all he saw was Lita. He grasped her other hand in both of his and gently traced her fingers. They would just hold hands. Her small smooth hand in his was enough. But when she squeezed his palm, the pressure of her touch coursed in his veins. He turned his body toward her, encircled her in his arms, and told himself to stop. But his arms wouldn’t release her. They prickled like they’d been asleep.

She met his gaze and tensed, as if she held her breath, but anticipation and longing lit her eyes.
She’s a woman, she won’t break
. He pressed himself to her and kissed her with the fierceness and force of the years’ yearning for her.

Her hands slid up his thighs onto his chest. The sharp, awful need rose in him. His fingers twitched as he eased them over her hands. The sleek heat of her skin stilled his movements. She glided her hand over his neck and cupped his chin. Their lips explored each others. Her kisses made every pore and hair on his body tingle. Yet something was different, not just her angelic sweetness or her stirring softness or her gifted kisses, but some feeling in him.