“Daughter,” he replied and I winced.
My father was easy to read. Most men were, different as they might be. He’d either call me Gianna (he only ever used the proper name, no Gia for him), add my middle name or simply refer to me as Daughter. Those greetings had become my own personal Defcon levels in order from content, ire and anger. The harsh tone, the rasp in his deep voice added blaring sirens to sell the warning level.
“Why are you in Italy right now?” he continued then let the words hang in the thousands of miles of air between us.
“Celebrating graduation?” I replied, decibels above a whisper.
As much as I hated the sound of my voice when I answered the phone, that response topped it on the list. His scolding tone sent me back through time. I sounded like I had at seven, unwilling to admit I’d snuck into my mother’s vanity even with her lipstick smeared on my lips and cheek.
“You should have told me,” he sighed, more disappointed than angry. “I would have been happy to send a few of my men to keep you safe.”
“Keep me from having any fun, more like it,” I muttered too loud.
It had to be the drinks, or maybe Katie’s nugget of wisdom. No, the whole idea of the trip had been defiant. I didn’t need liquor or my BFF to grow a little backbone. They helped prop me up though, while it grew.
“To protect you.” Another sigh followed. I used to count them in his lectures though they hadn’t gone into double digits since I was seventeen. “Even if that means protecting you against your own bad judgment.”
A third sigh faded into silence. At this rate, I might have to add another entry into the record book. A part of me, fueled by the grappa, pushed me toward that goal.
“I can feel the paternal warmth from here, Father.”
My whole body froze after I spoke. For the first time in the conversation, it was my silence left hanging. Not that it helped. My pulse thundered through my neck. Had I really challenged my father?
Silence reigned and my heart refused to slow. I seesawed between panic and elation as my father failed to reply. Finally, he gave the fourth sigh. It tailed too long for the record. It was his ‘wrap up the conversation’ sigh.
“I guess I can accept a little celebrating,” he said and I mentally notched the fifth sigh, “you are due a youthful rebellion or two, but remember, school’s out. Time to grow up, accept adult responsibilities. Oh, and stay away from Sicily, keep to the mainland.”
The line clicked dead but I didn’t move an inch. I didn’t even breathe or blink. Only when my eyes stung did I snap out of it. Had I won a verbal spar with my father? Now that was worthy of celebrating with another drink, but hopefully something better than the paint thinner.
I frowned at the door to the bar. Katie had said she was getting more drinks. The door opened, pushed by someone’s shoulder, but not hers. A guy spun around when he stepped through. He carried a glass of grappa in one hand and a half empty beer in the other. A smile brightened his face when he noticed me sitting alone.
“Are you Gia?” he asked in heavily accented English. “Your friend asked me to deliver your drink. She’s inside with my friend. They seem to be getting on. Might be a while. Can I join you?”
Katie took being a wing woman seriously and didn’t waste time. Still riding my high from the conversation with my father, I cast my critical eye at the newcomer. Taller than me by only a few inches, he was thinner than I preferred. Handsome, with a strong jaw, bolstered by a well-kept short beard. I’d rather have a clean shaven man. He was perfect.
My BFF might have laughed at the idea I’d fall in love with someone, but that was no reason not to take precautions. I’d let my new friend show me a good time, maybe. After, I’d walk out of the perfectly imperfect man’s life for good. No way I’d fall for him, unless he had a hell of a personality or sense of humor.
“I shouldn’t be surprised she got distracted.” I motioned for the chair Katie had vacated. “You already know my name, what’s yours?”
“Marco,ciao,” he replied, setting the grappa down and extending his hand.
“Ciao.” My arm rose, hesitating for a moment before accepting the handshake.
He twisted our clasped hands and brought the back of mine to his lips. They feathered over the skin before he let me go.
“You are even more beautiful than Katie described you.” Marco flashed a rehearsed smile then motioned to the drink he brought me. “We should toast. You two just graduated, yes?”
I did want to celebrate with a drink. Like I had with the others, I snatched the glass up and almost downed it. Only Marco holding out his beer stopped me. He shook the bottle and I clinked my glass against it.
His head dropped back when he took a swig. I didn’t move. My grappa-addled mind finally heard the warning the more sober parts of my brain had been blaring. I didn’t know Marco or where the drink had been. If Katie handed me a drink, I’d trust it because I trusted her. Not Marco.
He frowned at my full glass when he finished his beer. Even if he hadn’t spiked the drink, he’d probably get angry if I refused it, affronted at the accusation, tacit or spoken. Men were simple though. Easy to fool.
I tensed my neck and squinted, jerking my head back. An expelled breath mimicked a sneeze. In my tipsy state, the glass slipped from my fingers. The grappa soaked through the checkered tablecloth. Marco jerked back and to his feet.
“Oh no, I can be such a klutz when I drink,” I said, before grabbing napkins to blot up the spill.
“Everyone sneezes.” Marco flashed his lothario smile. “I need another beer anyway. I’ll get you another.”
