Trying to stop thinking about Scarlett liking my mouth, I walked to the dresser. “Already done. Sal likes order.”
Since Scarlett felt guns were the proper answer to mere misunderstandings, Sal and I felt it was time to give her a few lifesaving tips. By lifesaving, I meant ours. Since we were only at the end of our second week with Scarlett, Sal and I were positive we were bound to make more mistakes and preferred to live through them.
Standing in the slanted driveway surrounded by trees and serene nature, Sal wore his suit, looking totally out of place, holding up his Magnum for Scarlett to see. “As beautiful as she is, Tesla is deadly.”
I rolled my eyes. Naming a gun was ridiculous.
Scarlett, barely needing bandages anymore, questioned, “Deadly?”
Sal cringed while mumbling, “This 101 could’ve been too late for me and the dishwasher.” Shaking off his near-death experience, he straightened his shoulders. “Okay. Yes, deadly.” His shoulders caved again as he asked himself, “How do I explain deadly?”
On the tree next to me, there was a caterpillar crawling upward. I pointed, “Scarlett, see this alive caterpillar?”
Scarlett smiled. “Oh, yes, he is lovely—”
I slammed the bottom of my fist into it. Moving my hand, I showed her the splattered insect. “Now, it is dead.”
Sal stood there, gaping at me. “What is wrong with you? Are you deranged?”
I shrugged. “What?”
“Can you please leave the teaching to me?” He suddenly noticed Scarlett had moved over by the tree. “No! Don’t touch it!”
Smiling, she showed me her finger. “It is gooey.” Then she eyed my fist as if it were magical and inspiring. “Angel, your hands are deadly?” She examined my fingers in awe.
Ego? Check.
As I was being touched, I grinned at Sal. “Deadly. And I smell wonderful.”
Sal’s nostrils flared. “Can we get on with the lesson now?”
I pointed to the captivated woman still caressing my hand. “She’s a little preoccupied with greatness right now.”
After firing off a few rounds, Scarlett seemed to comprehend guns were not the answer to kitchen mishaps. I wasn’t convinced she understood the magnitude of murdering someone or even truly understood death, but it was progress. I decided to accept her not knowing death as a merciful blessing. Maybe that was one crime she didn’t have to witness where she had lived.
No word from Italy during our third week in hiding had me preoccupied with worry. What if they were trying to find us? What if Mr. Rossi needed Sal or me?
Scarlett didn’t mind that I was distracted. She had the atlas Sal had found for her and was glued to the book. Apparently, her mother had taught her to read children’s books, so she knew a select amount of words. Pointing at a page, she asked, “Sal, how do you say this place?”
He peered over the back of the couch where she was snuggled with blankets fresh from the dryer. Okay, we may have been spoiling her a bit, but she was a Giordano. What did it matter? She was soon going to have a full staff to continue doting on her when we were done.
That thought made me shudder. I wasn’t sure I trusted anyone but Sal to help with her.
Sal read what she was pointing at, then said, “That, my dear one, is Mother Africa.” After a sigh of admiration, he rushed around the couch to a remote on the coffee table. “Let’s see what Netflix has with anything on Africa.” He was all excited. “Scarlett, Africa has giraffes, elephants…”
With the large book in her lap, she stared at the TV as if already witnessing Africa’s beauty. “Wow.”
Sal was right to call Scarlett “dear one.” Her gratefulness was sincere and captivating to witness. That had my stomach twisting even harder. “I’m going to take a shower while you two go on a safari.” I think I was hoping the water could cleanse me and guide me. The stress of not knowing what the future might bring for us was mounting.
Walking toward the hallway leading to my bedroom, Scarlett squealed in delight, “Sal! Can we make soup while watching Africa?”
“Of course!”
Before I turned a corner, I saw Sal walking to the kitchen with the remote in hand, scrolling through a Netflix menu.
“I actually have a surprise boiling for you. Come on. You are about to learn how to skin a potato.”
“Wow.” Scarlett left her blankets and book behind, following Sal while still wearing his undershirt.
In the shower, I rolled my tight neck, hoping the hot water could ease my stress as worries played over in my mind. I kept seeing large grey eyes staring at me. It was like she was asking, “Why did you leave me tied to this stove, you fucking coward?”
Deep down, I knew all the victims were still trapped in the Hell I had left them in.
Finally turning off the water, I stood there, in silence… until I heard a scream.
With gun in hand, I ran, naked and dripping wet, only to find those two in the kitchen again. Apparently, the noise of the immersion blender had terrified Scarlett.
Apparently, Scarlett’s scream had terrified Sal.
It looked like he had jerked the machine out of the bowl while it was still on. Globs of mashed potatoes hung from everywhere. He shrugged. “I was only trying to make her mashed potatoes.”
As if that experience hadn’t been enough to scare her, loud roaring echoed from the TV to my left. Scarlett looked up.
Then she screamed in horror.
I jolted and looked to the TV to see a pack of lions ripping into some poor little gazelle. Can this get any worse? I started running to the kitchen for the remote. “Sal!”
“On it!” He was already fumbling with it in his mashed potato-covered hands. “Oops.”
He dropped it in the bowl.
Dear Mother of God, this fool. “Sal!”
“Angel! Angel!” Scarlett screamed for me to save the little creature being eaten alive. “Shoot! Shoot!”
Believe me, I was tempted to send bullets into the flat screen that was throwing her into a complete panic, but replacing it would be timely and costly. “Close your eyes, Scarlett. Close your eyes.”
Trembling, she stood there with stressed fists and eyes slammed shut, while I dug into sticky potatoes.
Once the TV was off, I went to her. “It’s over. It’s over.” I pulled her into a hug.
She melted against me. “Why is Africa so deadly?”
I glared at Sal.
He winced. “She is a fast learner?”
Scarlett now understood how violent death could be.
Wishing some lessons could be easier for her, I exhaled but stopped when Sal coughed to get my attention. Looking at him, my brows bunched in question.
He pointed down.
I was butt-ass naked, holding a Giordano.
Like I said. Dead Man Walking.
Sal had meant well and wanted to add to Scarlett’s now veggie soup diet. The mashed potatoes were a hit! Scarlett loved the taste and texture. They even made her cry—which left me and Sal both quite baffled. But her stomach wasn’t appreciative of the butter.
Poor Scarlett laid in her bed in the fetal position. “It hurts.”
I sat next to her, rubbing her back. “We will go back to soups for a while.”