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I get our coffees and drag my feet over to the long bar table by the glass wall at the front of the shop where Mila is perched on a stool, studying me.
“Both of them are hot.” She smiles at me as I sit beside her and I exhale. Maybe she’ll let me off the hook.
“That they are.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“Okay, boss, are we going to take the job or not?” She holds her cup between her hands as if she’s cold. “And before you answer, I have a confession to make.”
Shehas a confession? Mila takes a sip, then puts the cup down and fidgets in her seat. She bites her lip and I frown, concern rising inside me. She is clearly uncomfortable, which is so unlike Mila.
“I never told you why I left LA and I’m not ready to do that—just like you’re not ready to tell me what happened in high school with the chef—but I really need this job. I’ve been pretending I’m doing well and working, but I’m not.”
“You haven’t been working all this time?” I’m shocked, to say the least, and immediately worried about my friend. Shit.
“Not really. I’ve picked up a small project here and there, but not enough. I’m running out of savings. Hell, since I’m confessing, I’ve run out of my savings already.” She takes the cup again and sips, staring out the window as the silence descends on us and I wonder what to do.
“Why don’t you pull out one of your disguises?” I smile as Mila’s face lights up.Thank you, she mouths at me.
Every time we take on a new client, Mila books a table at their place under an alias and we dine there in disguise. A game we enjoy a lot. Mila mostly for the clothes and wigs. Me for the opportunity to be someone else for a couple of hours.
This time, I’m not sure if pretending to be someone else would bring me any joy. There is a lot that could go wrong here. At least one life, if not three, could be destroyed if I hang around Massimo for too long. Time will tell if I’m strong enough.
ChapterSix
Massi
17 years ago
“Ibrought you something.” I opened a small bag and pulled out a smooth, transparent jar.
Blue’s eyes widened in excitement as she picked up the glass. “You got me yogurt?”
She sat at the tiny kitchen table in our rented studio, books strewn all around.
Our place was the size of my closet back home. I hated it. The ad had said “cozy,” which practically translated into dingy and disappointing in all sorts of ways. The only thing of worth here was my beautiful Blue.
We didn’t want to use my mother’s gift or any further assistance she’d offered, so for the past four weeks, since the wedding, we’d been living in a shoebox apartment in Brooklyn.
“Yogurt?” I shook my head in a mock dismay. “I made you a panna cotta.”
“I thought those are white.” She popped the jar open and sniffed.
“This one is blue. For you.” I smiled and turned to grab a small spoon from a drawer behind me. The kitchen corner was so cramped I didn’t need to walk to get it.
She dug in and narrowed her eyes as the spoon connected with her tongue. She swallowed with a moan. “Oh my God, Massi, this is amazing. This is my favorite dessert from now on.” She took another spoonful, closing her eyes and instigating several dirty thoughts in my mind. “Did you make only one?”
I grinned. “Greedy.” I kissed the top of her head. As I straightened, I noticed she protected the jar with her hand and I laughed. “I’ve been perfecting it for weeks now. Tonight I finally felt it’s worthy of you. Now that I know you approve, I’ll make you one daily. If you promise not to pretend you like it more than me.”
She jumped up and kissed me. “You’ve been creating a perfect dessert for me? I don’t even know what to say.” The corners of her eyes brimmed with tears.
I took the spoon from her and fed her another spoonful. She smiled, licking her lips. God, I loved her so much.
“I signed us up for tango lessons.” Blue sucked on the spoon as if she could squeeze more cream out of it.
Shit.
“I can’t take tango lessons.” I wanted to refuse gently. Mostly because I wasn’t interested in dancing, but the time commitment was another issue. That was the one I focused on, because my reaction immediately brought sadness to her eyes.
“Blue, baby, a line chef at Modigliani’s has come down with something and I need to pick up his shifts. Plus, I took shifts at the Four Seasons. I’m stretched already as it is. We’ll dance when we get old.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair with both my hands, overwhelmed by the emotions I felt for this woman. Everything felt better when I was with her, yet I seemed to constantly disappoint her.
