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LORENZO
Fuck me, she is perfect. Realistically, I know she isn’t a perfect human being, neither of us are. If we were, we wouldn’t have so many damn problems. We’d live like a true married couple, at least.
She fits me in every way that matters.
That thought winds its way through my head as I sit on the bed watching her sleep. We fucked twice more after we got back from the soon-to-open Sinner’s Playground off Bourbon Street. It’s not that we don’t sleep together back home, because we do, and often, but this is different. I’ve never gotten to be in her presence this long, this often. It’s a good different feeling than what I’m used to.
Part of me wants to prolong the reopening in fear of losing this when we go back home, yet I miss New York. I’m not meant to live in the South. No offense. The humidity sucks the life out of you. It feels like I’m closer to the gates of Hell with the stifling heat that never wanes. Give me a blizzard any day over this shit.
I run the tips of my fingers down the spine of her bare back. Her breathing continues to be even as she slumbers on her stomach in my bed. I could watch her like this for hours; so peaceful, no stress lines marring the skin between her brows.
And I would, but it’s my chest that’s heavy tonight. Dom is right. I need to make things right again with my sister. The only way to do that is to make her talk to me before she returns home for Kennedy’s funeral.
Standing, I leave Sasha asleep and go in search of my twin’s whereabouts. The compound is bigger than it looks from the outside, and my sister, being the bitch she is sometimes, took one of the guest rooms on the ground level that’s the farthest from the rest of the bedrooms upstairs.
After the trek to her room, I come up empty. She isn’t there, so I check the home gym that was sparse when we arrived last week. That isn’t the case anymore. If we’re here, we have to have someplace to workout, and none of us have time to search for a gym. This was better. If Dad would let us use his back home, it would be a luxury I’d jump at now that the cat’s out of the bag and everyone knows about Sasha and me. Before, I used to have to workout with Si and then workout with Sasha after my classes.
I can’t say I miss skipping this semester. It was a break I didn’t know I needed from law school. Between living a double life and cramming everything in my head, I was exhausted. After we make it back home, Dad and I will have a long talk. I need to know how long he’s known and why he never said anything. The guilt alone was eating me alive.
While she isn’t in the gym, I find Krishna instead, which means Dom is somewhere close. My brother and Krishna often square off or train together. They both have a black belt in Krav Maga and are at an E5 level. You only make high instructor level by being invited to test. Neither have the rank of master, and seeing as that number is in the single digit range, they may never get there. I’m a brown belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, but it’ll be years before I make it to black. My aim is high, though. I want multiple black belts in BJJ. The only way to get them is from another black belt.
I stop a couple of yards from Krishna, where he’s doing the kettlebell snatch. Judging by the sweat pouring from his face and soaked T-shirt, he’s been at this a while. He’s the only one I know that can go at this for hours. That shit will wear your ass out. But I guess with him, it’s a Russian thing. His Dad probably had him doing kettlebell swings from the time he could walk. Mischa Nikolayev seems like that type of father. Not that it’s a bad thing. I’m not knocking the man. He made his son strong, the same as my dad did with us.
“Have you seen Si?” I ask when he doesn’t stop, only stares. If I were intimidated by a man other than my father, it would be Krishna. He stands six feet, six inches tall. He towers over us all.
“They left three hours ago,” he says in a tone like I should have already known.
“Left where?”
“Jesus, Caputo. I’m not your fucking secretary. New York. Where the fuck do you think?” He doesn’t pause or slow with each squat, swing, and snatch as he continues to do rep after rep with the kettlebell.
“Their flight wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow,” I bite out.
“Well, your sister was missing her boy toy or something like that. They took the jet. They’re probably close to landing if they aren’t there yet.”
“And no one thought to give me a fucking heads-up?” I say, my voice raised but I’m talking more to myself than him.
“You were too tangled between my sister’s legs to care,” he quips.
“Could you not?”
“Get over yourself, Caputo. No one cares that you and Sash are fucking like rabbits, or that you need marriage counseling this early on.”
“We don’t need counseling.” We might, but that’s only because my wife doesn’t listen to anything I say, but I’m not going to tell him that or anyone else.
“Since you’re going to keep telling yourself that, could you leave? You’re ruining my peaceful routine.”
“Whatever, man.” I pivot, not giving him a backward glance as I pull out my cell phone and type a text.
Me: Way to fucking bail without so much as a fuck you.
They’re obviously not in the air any longer. Almost immediately I get a reply back.
Sienna:Fuck you and your pole whore.
I’m not responding to that. It’s bullshit and will only serve to piss me off.
Me: We are talking when you get back
