Home > 365 Days (365 days # 1)(54)

365 Days (365 days # 1)(54)
Author: Blanka Lipinska

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the mattress in the bedroom with Massimo next to me.

“You’re giving me more reasons to kill that guy than he has himself,” he hissed angrily. “If not for the fact that you left your medicine here…” He trailed off, clenching his teeth.

“Let me talk to him,” I said, sitting up. “You promised me. I trusted you.”

Massimo kept quiet for a while before calling out in Italian. His men walked out through the doorway.

“All right, but I’ll be here. You will talk in Polish, so I won’t understand anyway, but I’ll be sure he doesn’t touch you.”

I pushed myself up and slowly, groggily went back to the living room, where Martin was waiting on the couch, fuming. After he saw me, his glare became less hostile. I sat down next to him, and Massimo took the chair by the aquarium.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, worried.

“Want to hear the truth? I’m furious with both of you. I want to kill you both,” I retorted. “What were you thinking, Martin?”

“What do you think I was thinking? I’m fighting for you. Isn’t that what you wanted? Didn’t you want me to fight for you? Give you more attention?” he asked. “Besides, I think you owe me some explanations. For example, who are those armed men, and what is that Italian prick doing in my house?”

I dropped my head, resigned.

“I told you it was over between us. You cheated on me, and I can never forgive that. And the man sitting in the armchair there is my future husband.”

I knew those words would hurt him, but it was the only way to get rid of him and ensure he lived. Martin pinned me with an angry stare, grimacing.

“So that’s what it was all about? You wanted to get married? And I didn’t propose, so you found yourself some Italian gangster and now you’re going to be his wife? You took your man on vacation only to find yourself another one? That’s fucking evil.”

Martin’s mocking, derisive tone rubbed Massimo the wrong way. The Italian pulled out his gun and placed it on his knees. My fury with the both of them boiled over then. I’d had enough of all this. It was too much.

Switching to English so they both understood, I screamed at Martin, “I’m in love, get it? I don’t want to be with you anymore! You cheated on me and humiliated me. You acted like a bastard on my birthday. Nothing is going to change that anymore. I don’t want to see you again. And I’ve had it with you both now, so you can kill each other if that’s what you want!” I turned to Massimo. “But that isn’t going to change a thing. I decide about my life. Not either one of you. So, fuck off! Both of you!” I screamed, and stormed out.

Massimo called something to the men in the corridor and they followed me. I was faster, though, and knew the neighborhood better. I reached my car and drove off, tires screeching, leaving them behind. I knew normally they’d start shooting, but they couldn’t.

My phone kept buzzing, the screen displaying “unknown number.” I knew it was Massimo, but talking to him was the last thing I wanted right now, so I switched the phone off. Praying she was home, I drove to Olga’s. I rang the doorbell, and a minute later the door opened. Standing in the doorway, Olga looked like she had an epic hangover.

“You’re alive,” she said, plodding back into her apartment.

“Come on in. My head’s going to explode. I got totally trashed last night.”

I closed the door and followed her to the living room, where she fell to the couch and wrapped herself in a thick blanket.

“I’ve partied with that blond guy from the club since Saturday. I think the poor bastard fell in love or something. Can’t seem to stop calling me.”

I sat still, saying nothing. It was dawning on me that I had left the two men with a gun and told them to kill each other.

“You’re pale like Dominika’s calves. Remember? That girl we used to go to school with?” Olga said, but seeing my expression, she added, “What happened?”

I shook my head, shooting her a glance. If I didn’t tell her the truth, all the secrecy might kill me.

“I’ve lied to you.”

She faced me, grimacing.

“I don’t live at a friend’s apartment. And I didn’t meet just anyone in Italy.”

Telling her the whole story took me the better part of two hours, and when I was finished, I fished out my engagement ring from a pocket and put it on my finger.

“This is the proof,” I sighed, leaning my head back. “Now you know everything.”

Olga gaped at the piece of jewelry with shock on her face.

“Holy fuck. What you said was something straight out of a thriller. An erotic one, at that. What happened to Martin?” Her eyes flashed with excitement.

“Jesus, girl, I don’t even want to think about it! Why are you asking me this?”

We both grew silent for a while, but after a moment’s hesitation, Olga reached for her phone, dialed a number, and put the thing on speaker.

“We’ll see.”

The next few seconds seemed to take ages. I knew whom she was calling.

Martin picked up after five long rings.

“What do you want, you nymphomaniac?” he asked in a low voice.

“Nice to hear you, too, darling. I was looking for Laura. Do you know where she is?”

“You’re not the only one looking for her. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to have anything to do with her anymore. Bye.” He hung up, and we both exploded with laughter.

“He’s alive, at least,” I said, trying to stop my nervous giggling. “Thank God.”

“Even the Sicilian Cosa Nostra was no match for him,” Olga added, pushing herself up from the floor. “Well, since everyone’s alive and well, and I finally know what’s happening, you can stay at my place for the night. Maybe it’ll do your fiancé some good to worry a bit before you go back.”

I sighed with relief and nodded, but was immediately on alert again as someone knocked on the door.

“At this hour?” Olga asked, puzzled, walking across the living room to open it. “That’s probably just the blond guy. I’ll get rid of him in no time.”

She opened the door and fell silent, taking two steps back, followed by Massimo. He pinned me with an icy glare, stopping in the doorway, as if waiting for something.

“Well, well, this is beginning to look like a proper mess,” Olga said in Polish. “Will you keep sitting there, making him wait? Or should I leave you two?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you find me?”

“The car has GPS tracking in case it gets stolen. Besides, I know where your best friend lives. I haven’t introduced myself,” he said, turning his head to look at Olga. “Massimo Torricelli.”

“I know who you are,” my friend replied, shaking his hand. “Laura told me, and the way she described you leaves no room for interpretation. So. Will you two just keep ogling each other, or do you want to talk?”

Massimo’s expression grew softer, and I fought off the urge to laugh. This whole situation was so ridiculous… Just like everything else that had happened to me during the last few weeks. I got up from the couch and grabbed the keys to the car, walking up to my friend and kissing her on the forehead.

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