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“Where did you two meet?” Katrina asks, putting out her cigarette on the edge of the table.
“His garden,” I say without thinking, distracted by the ice cream melting down my knuckles. When her brows furrow, I add. “Party. His garden party.”
“Ah.” She purses her lips skeptically. “I thought he was a recluse.”
“They were small parties.”
A slow smile tips the corner of her mouth. “Lucky you.”
“He’s coming tomorrow night,” Rachel announces loudly, dragging Victor back by the arm.
“Thank God,” her sister drawls.
“Victor,” I say warningly as he slides down in his chair and rests his head against the back, staring up at the sky.
“I can’t wait.” His throat bobs as he speaks.
Rachel does exactly what I’ve been wanting to do all afternoon, ruffling her fingers through his hair until the untidy curls start to reappear. “Seriously though, our local dealers, they’re super nice, super cute. We’ll have to buy extra shit for you, so can you make them happy? Get us a discount?”
Victor blinks at the cotton-puff clouds passing overhead. His voice is almost slurred, like he’s falling asleep. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
“Unless,” Katrina shoots me a conspiratorial look, “your boyfriend doesn’t—”
“Nah. He doesn’t give a shit.”
Nauseous and aching all over, I get up and throw away my half-eaten cone. I walk to the gelato stand and buy a bottle of water. As the owner fetches it from a cooler, I turn to study Victor stretched out in his chair, fidgeting the silver ring on his thumb over and over, defenseless, his wariness turned into apathy. He just nods as they talk about whoring him out to strangers, then closes his eyes, his lashes sweeping against his cheeks.
“Signore.” The shop owner taps the water bottle against my arm, sounding annoyed. “You are sleeping?”
Putting the cold, damp plastic against the back of my neck, I look back at the two girls leaning toward him, hands all over him, his still, still body. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Victor
Oh, God.
Please let me wake up.
Please tell me they’re not here.
Please don’t do this to me.
