Page 74 of Theta

"What?"

"No Carabinieri? No passoporto? You are…merda. Trouble? You have troubles?"

"Oh. Honestly, yes. But not the police."

His eyes scan me, and he frowns. Before I can stop him, he tugs up the hem of my shirt, revealing the tactical vest. Which, as Story predicted, is hot as hell and chafey as fuck.

He just laughs. "Sì, sei nei guai." He taps the vest over my chest with a knuckle. "But no police, hey? I don't know what problems you are having, but me and my tio, we don' want any of it."

I don't dare mention Pugli's name. Either it won’t mean shit to him or it will; either way, it stands to reason he’d just take my money and leave us stranded here. Or worse.

"Nah," I lie. “Nothing like that. We lost our luggage, and we're running from her parents."

He just laughs, clearly not believing me. "Okay, American."

"Hey, it's almost the truth, and you really don't want to know the actual story."

He holds up his hands, palms out. "No, no. No say to me. I don' want to know. Ho già abbastanza per conto mio." His eyes flick away from me, and he juts his chin at me. "Stasera. Mezzanotte. Your lodging. Now you go. I have business to do."

I take the hint and saunter off as casually as I can; I pass the pharmacy on the way back—or whatever they call it here. Drug store? Chemist? I pop in and let my feet carry me to the, um, family planning aisle, wondering if I'm getting ahead of myself here. Best to be safe, right? I grab a box and a few other needful, easily transportable items, cash out, and then make one more stop before I return to the hostel: dinner. While we were in the lobby waiting, I read part of one of the takeaway menus, which advertised "American-style cheeseburgers," and the restaurant in question happens to be on my route back.

I carry the bags upstairs and tap on the door; there's a rustling, and then a very, very faint click. "Who is it?"

"Fred Rogers," I answer. "Let me in, Ethel."

The door swings open inward and then closes behind me, revealing Story clad in her panties and bra and nothing else, looking sleepy.

"Hey, you," she says, leaning to kiss me like we've been a pair for years. "You were gone a long time. I got sleepy."

I cast a hungry gaze over her semi-nude form. "I see that. And hot."

"It's nice when the breeze is going, but otherwise, it's stuffy as heck in here." She sniffs, nose wriggling. "Cheeseburgers?"

I hand her the takeaway bag. "Yes ma'am. And fries, and ketchup. No ranch, though. I asked and they didn’t know what I was talking about."

"Oh, no. That's not a thing outside the states. The USVI are American enough that it's easily available down there. Or…over there, I suppose, from here."

She's already got a plastic clamshell open and pops a fry into her mouth, groaning. "Aw, heck, baby. You win. This is the best. French fries in my mouth, thank you sweet baby Jesus.”

I can't help but laugh. "You really like fries, huh?"

"You have no idea. If anything except genetics has kept my ass this big, it's the tacos I mentioned, and French fries. I just can't help myself."

The "baby" is getting me. "Now I know the way to your heart, huh? Tacos and French fries?"

She widens her eyes. "Not even a joke." She eyes the other bags. "What else did you get?"

I save the pharmacy bag for last, and hand her the stack of clothes I got for her. “Best I could do. I saved the receipt, and the shop isn't too far. But if you do want to exchange, we'd have to go soon, before they close, because we won't be here tomorrow."

“You found us a ride?"

"I did."

She pops another fry into her mouth as she shakes open the pale blue shirt, holds it up to her torso, and nods. "Good. Can’t go wrong with a plain old solid color tee. And it's a V-neck. I like the color. Good job." The hoodie is next, a baggy forest green pullover hoodie made from thin, athleisure material rather than thick cotton. "Big enough that it'll hide the vest, and I like the color and fabric. Two for two." She kisses me, and then eats another fry. "You're really batting a thousand so far, babe."

“Now for the real test," I say. "I had to sort of visualize you and hope."

"Good thing you've got a lot of practice visualizing me, huh?"