“Ice, Brando. Get me some.Please.”
I left him in the kitchen, meeting Mitch on the couch on my way back to Brando’s room.
“Welcome to a day in the life of Brando Fausti,” he said to me, turning back toward the TV.
I met Maggie Beautiful in the hall. She was singing to herself, en route to the bathroom. Her robe was low cut, and it didn’t hide the bruises like mine did.
* * *
Brando insisted that we take the old but restored Chevy to church. He wanted to talk to me alone. As of yet, he hadn’t done any talking. We sat next to each other but might as well have been miles apart.
My thoughts were still on the bruise that was so tender it hurt for me to sit. There’s nothing quite like another man putting his hands on you to appreciate the one you have. I didn’t understand how Maggie Beautiful could allow someone to do that to her and not feel violated, or extremely hollow after.
Brando could be a gentle lover, driving me to the brink with his patience and intensity, but other times, I enjoyed it when he was rough. I drank the overflow potion every time I thought of how insane I could make him—driving him to his own mad brink.
I would often look down at my thighs, or the scratches from his stubble, and thinkhe was here. And I would look at him, the marks I made on him, and think,He won’t forget anytime soon. But it was done out of love and respect—it was consensual.
Then there was Violet to consider.
She had stopped by before we left. She asked to speak to me alone, but like Brando, she seemed to sit in the silence, trying to find the right words. I was the one who finally broke it, telling her exactly what I spoke to Mitch about during our dance. She didn’t show any signs of life until I brought up Penny.
“Damn it, Scarlett!” she said, her fist pounding on the table. “Why would you tell him to stop seeing her?”
Violet was still as beautiful as ever—long blonde hair, dark, thick eyebrows, skin that shimmered with her Greek roots, and eyes that reflected the clear blue water there. She was thin, but with more curves than before she became a mother. But when her temper flared, so did her nostrils, and she became someone else entirely.
“Why not, Violet?”
“Because.” She fell into the chair, staring at her hands. “Because he uses Penny for her body. If he finds someone else…and he finds more than an escape…”
She couldn’t finish. Instead, she got up and left, and we were on shaky ground once again. I had no idea where we stood.
I couldn’t think anymore. I couldn’t stand the silence. The song in the background suddenly seemed so loud.
“You never listen to country,” I remarked, trying to start a conversation.
“I’m not,” he said. “Change it if you want. Not that you need permission. You always do.”
I smiled at this. And I left the song. It was pleasant enough.
“Explain to me why you’re doing this,” he said.
“Listening to country?”
I couldn’t tell if he was perturbed or amused by me. The tick pulsating in his neck answered the riddle.
“Why am I doing what, Brando?” I sighed.
“Making Lewis go to church. Making sure his tie is straight. The other night at the bar—interfering in his life. You dance with him, but not your husband.”
“He needs it, that’s why. And I would’ve danced with you, but we left.”
“Tell me what I’m missing,” he said.
He refused to come out and say it, but I knew what he was insinuating.
“Do you think that we—” I made a motion between us, even though I meant Mitch. “Do you think that we—” The blood in my cheeks felt hot, and I started to stutter over my own anger at his implied insult.
“Stop saying we. The only we is you and me. The only us.”
