I knew Warsaw pretty well, and I liked to drive around it at times, passing streets and avenues, mindlessly turning here and there. An hour later, I stopped by the house of my best friend, whom I hadn’t talked to for weeks. I couldn’t go anywhere else, so I just tapped in the entrance code, went upstairs, stopped at her door, and rang the doorbell.
We had been friends since we were five. She was like a sister to me. Sometimes younger, sometimes older, depending on the occasion. She was a hot brunette with an attractively curvy body. Men loved her. I don’t know if it was because of her vulgarity, her promiscuity, or maybe her perfect face. Olga was definitely a beautiful woman with an exotic charm. She was half Armenian, and her Eastern genes gave her sharp facial features and—which I envied her the most—an olive hue to her skin.
Olga had never worked. She liked to make maximum use of the effect she had on men. Always a proponent of breaking stereotypes, especially those saying that a woman with many partners is a whore, she had a peculiar deal with men: she gave them what they wanted, and they gave her money in return. She was not a hooker—more like a mistress to men bored with ordinary, stupid girls. Most of her partners were deeply in love with her, but she didn’t know what love was. She didn’t want to change that, either. Olga was currently seeing an influential man, an owner of a big cosmetics company who didn’t have the time or inclination to form any sort of serious relationship with anyone. So she accompanied him to official parties and dinners and massaged his head when he was tired. He, on the other hand, provided her with all the luxuries and comforts she could think of. From an outsider’s perspective, it was a real relationship, but neither of them would ever admit that.
“Fuck me! Laura!” Olga exclaimed as she saw me in the doorway. “I’ll kill you one of these days! I thought somebody kidnapped you. Come in, what are you waiting for?”
She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside.
“I’m sorry… I had to…” I stammered, and my eyes watered.
Olga froze, looking at me, terrified. She wrapped an arm around me and led me to the living room.
“Somehow I feel you could use a drink,” she said, and a moment later we were sitting on her rug with a bottle of wine between us.
“Martin came to see me,” she said, sending me a suspicious look. “He was asking for you. Told me what happened. That you disappeared, leaving him a letter. And then you came back before him and took all your stuff from his apartment. Jesus, Laura, what happened there? I wanted to call you, but I was sure you’d do it yourself as soon as you wanted to talk.”
I watched her, sipping my wine and growing certain that I couldn’t tell her the truth.
“I just had enough of all that ignorance. Besides, I fell in love.” I raised my eyes and sent her a look. “I know how that sounds, so I don’t want to talk about it. I need to get my shit together.”
I knew she knew I wasn’t telling her everything, but she was my friend and she always understood when I didn’t want to spill everything.
“Okay,” she snapped, flustered. “So, how was it? Everything in order? Do you have a place to live? Need anything?” She spewed questions one after the other.
“I’m renting a place from a guy I know. A large apartment. But he had to leave in a hurry and needed to leave it to someone he trusted.”
“Cool, that’s settled, then. How about work?”
She wouldn’t back down that easily, it seemed.
“I have a few options, but I need to focus on myself for now,” I muttered, playing with my glass. “I need to get some things in order first, but it’s going to be all right. Can I stay the night? I don’t want to drink and drive.”
Olga burst out laughing and hugged me.
“Sure thing. When did you get a car?”
“I got it with the apartment,” I replied, pouring us another glass. We sat and talked about the events of the last month late into the night. I told her about the charms of Sicily—the food, the alcohol, the shoes. After downing half of the second bottle, Olga asked, “All right, how about him? Tell me something about him. I’m going crazy here, pretending I’m not curious!”
Flashes of all the times I’d spent with Massimo whirled through my head. How I saw him naked for the first time, when he joined me in the shower. Our shopping spree and the moments on his yacht. Our dance at the banquet and that last night, after which he disappeared.
“He’s,” I began, putting my glass down, “special, commanding, haughty, tender, handsome, and very caring. Imagine your typical alpha male, who can’t suffer any disobedience and always knows what he wants. Then add in a protector and guardian, with whom you always feel like a little girl. And finally mix in the fulfillment of all your sexual fantasies. And if that’s not enough, he’s six three, has not an ounce of fat on him, and looks like a sculpture made by God himself. Small ass, huge shoulders, wide chest… That’s Massimo,” I concluded, shrugging.
“Holy fuck,” Olga said, “that sounds perfect. But, what about him?”
For a while I wondered what to tell her, but nothing smart came to my head.
“Well, we need time to think this through. Nothing’s simple with him. He’s from a wealthy Sicilian family. All traditional. And they don’t normally approve of relationships with outsiders,” I replied, grimacing.
“You’re in over your head,” Olga said, gulping her wine. “When you talk about him, you light up.”
I didn’t want to talk about the Man in Black anymore. Each memory hurt, because I knew we might not see each other again.
“Let’s go to sleep. I need to go to my parents’ tomorrow.”
“All right, but promise you’ll go somewhere with me on Saturday.”
I frowned.
“Come on! It’ll be fun. We’ll spend a day at a spa and go to town in the evening. Party! Party!” she cried, jumping up and down.
Her glee and excitement only made me feel guilty about leaving her alone for so long in the first place.
“It’s Monday today, you know, but okay. Let’s have it your way. I’m reserving the weekend for you.”
CHAPTER 12
The drive to my parents’ took only a short time, despite the more than ninety miles that divided us. I didn’t even have the time to think of what I’d say to them. I decided not to upset Mom anymore and just go with the lie Massimo had come up with.
I parked in the driveway and got out of the car.
“You vanish for a month and return in a car like that? How much do they pay you back there?” I heard my dad’s amused voice. “Welcome home, honeybee,” he said, hugging me tightly.
“Hi, Daddy. It’s a company car,” I explained, returning his embrace. “I’ve missed you.”
Feeling his warmth and hearing his voice, so full of love, made my eyes water again. I felt like a little girl all of a sudden. I guess I still was one, deep down, and always ran to my parents with all my problems.
“I don’t know what happened, but I’ll listen if you’d like to tell me,” he said, wiping away my tears.
Dad never pushed. He always waited patiently until I came to him and told him what bothered me.