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"My Switch?"
"That's right."
"Did Casimiro confess to you I was bored out of my mind and pestered him with questions?"
Dario looked at me. "What did he tell you?"
"Oh, just this and that," I replied with a smirk. If he thought I was going into details
"Gia."
"What? You don't tell me everything either."
"Because you will not be here long enough for that to even be relevant."
"Now that I know about all this stuff, I can’t ignore it in the future, can I?"
Dario leaned forward to eye me. "What do you hope to gain from this knowledge?"
In principle, the answer was obvious, and I also believed that Dario already knew it anyway. He probably only asked me because he wanted to hear it from my mouth.
"Honestly? A little action. You could offer me a job, maybe then you won't have to talk about my apartment like that."
"A job with the mafia," he repeated and laughed. "What are you capable of? You're not suited for killing people. Your nerves flutter when you're in dangerous situations. Every second of our lives is dangerous. Have you ever had a proper job or anything?"
Dario gave more and more of himself, but after he brought up my job, which I no longer had, I stopped listening.
I had been aware that Dario was not an empathetic person. He walked around on the direct side of life and didn't bother with sugar coating things. Basically, he was right. I had achieved little, had only ever kept my head above water with sporadic jobs, and even those I could never hold long enough to call them worth mentioning.
I bit my lower lip and nodded. "I didn't expect you to offer me a job as a bookkeeper or anything like that. Your club has dancers. I can just about move with half grace." There was a bitter undertone in my voice as I spoke and rose at the same time. "But I think you'll find an argument against that, too."
Before he could say anything to that, I grabbed my gym bag and left the living room. There was no place to retreat to outside of this apartment, so I went to the kitchen.
Perhaps it had not been right to see a chance in the almost fateful meeting with Dario. After all, he was not responsible for helping people with a hopeless future.
If the Frenchman had drowned and the police confirmed it, it wouldn't be long before I could return to my old life. I would restore the apartment to its original state, secure the door better, and tell all the naughty brats who loitered on the street in front of my home every day that they had no business being near the building. Just as had been the case up to now.
"You can't dance around half naked in front of me every night." Dario's dark voice came from the doorway in my direction.
"Why not? Your rule was very clear." I stretched to prove how little I cared.
"Maybe I've changed my mind."
"Why? You don't look like a man who breaks his own principles." Besides, I had had enough time today to come to terms with the idea that I wouldn't end up in bed with Dario more than once. That was perfectly okay– one-night stands like this one kept forever as insanely splendid memories, after all.
"Who knows how long you'll be here? In that time, it's too much trouble for me to look for other women. Someone has to watch over you at night."
"Casimiro and I had a delightful conversation. If we have a little more time, we might even become friends."
Dario laughed, but I continued to keep my back turned. "I doubt that."
"Why? He's funny when he comes out of his shell a little."
"He has no personal life."
"How do you know that?"
Dario pulled the chair next to me out from under the table and flopped down on it, resting his arms on the table. "Because I took it from him."
