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Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lorenzo sighed heavily, unlocked himself from our cosy embrace and sat up on the bed.
His eyes bored into me as he tried to gauge whether or not he could avoid divulging the full story, but I had my ‘Fran’ on and gave him theI need answers and I won’t stop until I get themlook, à la Liam Neeson inTaken.
‘Okay.’ He sighed again like he was mustering up the courage to talk about something painful. ‘I try my best to explain in English. So you remember I told you that I broke up with a girlfriend that night before we were together?’
‘Yes, I remember,’ I said as I also sat up in the bed and faced him.
‘Good. So I thought she understood. At first it was okay, because I worked with Taste for another week so I did not see her. You remember, I messaged you on the Friday and was happy? We talked for a long time on WhatsApp, no?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I replied.
‘But then, after one week, when I went home, she came round and said we must try again. I told her I did not want to.’ His voice began to change. He sounded irritated. ‘We argued. I went to the toilet, I came back, I saw she was checking my phone because I left it on the table not locked. She went crazy and asked why I message girls, because she must have seen my messages to you. She hit me, kicked me. She always hit and punched me. All the time in our relationship. Because she knows I am a good man and will not hit a woman. She started to throw things. She went crazy and said I can never leave her.’
‘Fuck, that’s awful, Lorenzo,’ I said, trying to picture some crazed woman attacking him.
‘So I was confused,’ he said. ‘I did not know what to do. She stayed there for a few days. She was calm. But I was worried. I tried not to send messages because I was worried she would find a way to check my phone. Eventually, she left. I was happy. You messaged me about dates. I told you the truth. I was not working those dates. I wanted to see you. It was fine. She had gone. She left me alone. I thought,Good. It is over. But then she came back. I told her to leave because we had finished,’ he said, scowling. ‘But she said we are not finished until I give her money.’
‘What? She tried to extort—I mean, she wanted you to pay her to leave?’ I said, horrified.
‘No, no. It is complicated,’ he replied, wriggling uncomfortably. ‘We were together for two years. When we met, my car broke and I did not have the money to fix it. She said, “Don’t worry, I will give you money for a new car,” as she knew I cannot work for Taste without a car as it is always far, you know, in the country, and I do not live in the city because it is expensive. So it is very difficult to work without a car. And without work, I have no money.’
‘Yeah, I hear that,’ I replied. ‘All the locations for the holidays seem very remote.’
‘Exactly, Sophia. So I asked her, are you sure? She said yes. I asked her later if she wanted me to pay her back. Perhaps a little every month. She said no. I am her boyfriend. It is a gift. No need to pay. I asked her many times, but always she said no. But then, she told me, before it was time for you to come to Florence, that if I don’t give her the money in one month, she will go to the police or take me to court and tell them I stole from her!’ The more he explained, the redder his face became.
‘But could she do that?’ I questioned. ‘What proof would she have? Would they really listen to her?’
‘I do not know, but she knows people. She is a dangerous woman. She has friends in the police and knows bad people. Anything is possible…’ His voice trailed off, as if he was thinking about what she could do. ‘Then she say she would also tell people I attacked her. That I went crazy and beat her. That I raped her. She started hitting herself in the face to show me what she could do,’ he said, whacking his cheek to demonstrate. ‘She told me she will contact Katherine at Taste Holidays and tell her that I am a violent man and should not be left alone with women. She said she would make me lose my job, as most guests are women and they would not want to risk their reputation.’
‘That’s fucked up!’ I said, shocked at his revelations and gently resting my hand on his. ‘Women like that make it so much harder for genuine victims to come forward and get taken seriously. What a bitch! So what did you do?’
‘I had no choice,’ he said, throwing his hands up in the air, causing mine to fall onto the bed. ‘I told her I would get her money. So, I had to call Taste and ask for extra work. I was lucky because another chef was not well and they needed cover, so I took the job. That meant I could not see you. I was sad because Iwantedto see you. I wanted to explain, but I could not. That woman is crazy, I did not want her to know any more about you. It was not safe. I just had to work to pay her the money.’ He hung his head down, staring at the bed.
‘What then?’ I asked.
‘I worked every day. When I was not with Taste, I worked at a restaurant in Florence night and day. For one month. But it was still not enough. I was worried. My mother. She saw I looked tired and sad, so she asked what was wrong. I was not strong. I cried and told her everything. She offered me money. I said no, I cannot take it. But she said I must. So she gave it to me and I gave it to the crazy woman and she left me alone. I was free,’ he sighed, clearly relieved.
I sat there, stunned. I didn’t know what to say. It was all a bit like some crazy film. Violent ex-girlfriend threatening extortion and crying assault and rape? When I’d asked why he’d stood me up, I was expecting a more simplistic excuse, akin to ‘the dog ate my homework’ type thing. But not this.
I looked at him and could tell that even recounting the story upset him. He had tears in his eyes. And just like that, he lunged forward to give me a hug. He then rested his head on my shoulder.
‘I am sorry,’ he said as he lifted his head up to look me in the eyes. ‘I did not mean to upset you. I wanted to meet you, but I could not. It was too difficult. Even when I gave her money, I still worked hard for months to pay back my mother. I do not like taking money from people. Especially my mother. She is a wonderful woman. That is why I could not come to London when you asked. I worked, and I had too much in my head. I could not think clearly. I needed to focus on work and not on women.’
‘So you didn’t go with any women during that time?’
Gosh, Sophia. Is now really the time to be asking questions like that?
‘Yes,’ he replied honestly. ‘One, but it did not mean anything. It was just for—for release. I was stressed, I needed something,’ he said, bowing his head.
‘With a guest?’ I asked. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know.
‘No, no,’ he insisted. ‘I told you I do not do that. It only happened a few times,’ he said.
‘Well, you always look happy in your Facebook pictures huddling up to the guests,’ I said, voice tinged with jealousy.
Oops—just let the cat out the bag. If you Facebook stalk someone, you’re not supposed toactuallylet them know you’re doing it…
