“Not at all. It’s a Patten phone.” His certainty keeps me from asking more. No doubt, his explanation of their high-tech security would fly over my head.
“Listen, my mom had to borrow a lot of money during the pandemic. She needs me and if the salon falls, my future goes with it. Please, I’m begging you.” Tears well and as I wipe them away, his face hardens.
Mouth in a grimace, he refuses to talk as he drives us up Route 17, the strip-mall capital of the world. Tall men’s shoes, cell phones, futons, and every product under the sun line the sides of the highway but the stores remain dark, their parking lots empty.
Like Pilgrims, no one can shop, except for groceries, on Sunday and because of these blue laws, there’s no traffic. Soon we enter New York State and merge onto I-95 north.
“Everstone, everbutt, everfuck… I don’t know. Jeesh. The harder I try, the more I can’t remember. Let’s change the subject. I know. How about we talk about the blond you brought to dinner.” As I hoped, mentioning her makes his jaw tic.
His brows furrowed, he steps on the gas, and enters the fast lane. “She’s a friend.”
“With benefits?” As an image of him naked and sliding into her plays out in my brain, my clit twitches.
If Joey hadn’t interrupted, I would’ve done the deed and wouldn’t be wondering what Wheels feels like inside of me.
He flicks his eyes off the road and catches me staring at his handsome face. “Me and Jeannie haven’t been together for some time.”
“She looked eager enough last night.”
“It’s over. How about you and your date? How’d that go?”
I shrug. “He reminded me too much of he-who-shall-not-be-named.” This sounds so much better than I suck at kissing.
“Why do you give him so much power? Just say his fucking name. What is it?”
“Paolo.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? He’s no evil sorcerer.” He makes it sound so easy. The person who married Mr. Stephano was a bright-eyed girl. The woman who divorced him is broken beyond repair.
“At twenty-one, he was the first man who took an interest in me. He was Italian, handsome, swept me off my feet with little notes, texts, flowers… He was the most charming of Vinny’s blind dates.”
A good listener, Wheels glances over and catches my gaze. "He sounds perfect. How long were you together?” He flicks on a blinker, enters the slow lane and drives by a Mercedes Benz on the right.
“Almost ten years.” In a sad parody of my life, Mr. Magoo goes about thirty-five miles an hour, unaware how the rest of the drivers pass him by at eighty.
My heart heavy, I sigh, wondering why I remember some things so clearly. “We dated, got engaged and married within a year. The honeymoon over, he took me home to Sicily. I learned Italian online. I cooked, I cleaned, I was the perfect wife. I did everything he asked.”
“So, what happened?”
“It all boils down to I grew up and he didn’t. While I found work, he spent his time partying with his friends or playing tennis. Long after we were divorced, I learned he had no job other than an occasional murder for a local crime boss. Most of my evenings I remained alone. Once a week, he brought me to church followed by a visit to his mother’s house where I was mostly ignored by the huge gathering. Like any young wife I tried to shop, take care of him, and do normal things but he criticized me at every turn. I wondered if I was going crazy.” Reliving the worst moments of my life, my voice cracks.
“Eventually, I gave up trying to please him and begged my mom for plane tickets home. Then, while I was here in the states, I met someone, and cheated on my marriage. When Paolo found out, he asked for a divorce.”
I thought Wheels would be understanding, but judging from his shocked expression, I was dead wrong.
Chapter 13
Wheels
She’s a cheat? Holy fuck-o-la. I never would’ve guessed. I have very few rules about the type of women I sleep with, but an adulteress is a hard stop. Thank God, I dodged that bullet. Liars lie. It’s what they do. The roofie makes a whole lot more sense and the cat dancing on the keyboard? Highly unlikely.
A part of me shouts inside my head.Go for it. Fuck her. You’ll never need to worry about a long-term relationship. She’s a divorcee. Just have at it. She’s willing. You’re willing. You’re both adults.
In the past, I might’ve thought about scoring, but it feels wrong. Maybe it’s because she’s my friend’s cousin-in-law. Maybe it’s the tears running down her face. Surely, they indicate remorse. Everyone makes mistakes.
My inner cynic balks. What if Rose knew Sam was on the dark web and purposefully entered a meeting? It’s more credible than Catrina miraculously rolling on an exact set of function keys that let her in. What is she up to and why has she dragged me into it?
Everyone warned me. Even her family said hands off. I should’ve listened.
