“Tell me where she lives.”
“Tell me the resemblance is strong.”
“Tell me, when do we meet her?”
“America, no, and hell no.” I waved my hand again, my cheeks scorching hot. “She’s a snake, a sneaky, sneaky viper in the grass. She’s a wickedstrega!”
“So are you,” Romeo reminded me with a grin. “A wickedlybellissimo strega.”
“Besides,” I said, trying to change the subject. “She’s married.”
“Happily so?” Dario said, tilting his head.
I sighed.These men.
“She’s a traitor. She’s untrustworthy. She’s asnake,” I said more forcefully, since they seemed to miss that tidbit. “She’d sell you out for a Gucci purse.”
The three sat back, nodding seriously.
“Unfortunate.”
“Sì. Such a waste.”
“A wickedstrega.”
I squeezed the phone in my hand, angry thoughts on the loose. After I had caught her and Nick in the pantry, she had the audacity to tell my mother about my secret stash of sweets. I refused to tell my mother where they came from, so she sent me away to England for two weeks with my Russian ballet teacher and Maja Resnik.
Charlotte had wiggled her fingers at me as I left. I didn’t tell on her, though, because I didn’t want to be the person she was.
The phone vibrated. It jolted me out of the fuming stupor, my fingers dropping the phone by reflex. Rocco picked it up and handed it to me.
“Onebellain our world is enough,” he said, winking.
I smiled, thanking him. My smile grew wider when I read the text.
I met an old woman from Calabria in the market one day when you asked me to pick up chicken. She told me this:Chi ha pochi soldi conta sempre; chi ha una bella moglie canta sempre. Who has little money is always counting; who has a beautiful wife is always singing.
I wrote back:You never sing.
I do, just not loud enough for you to hear. You make that dress. You make this man want to come home every minute of every day.
“How?” I looked back at Rocco, who had a cat that ate the canary expression on his face. “You sent him a picture of me?”
He waved his phone back and forth. “Si 'vo viriri nu masculu valenti, mentinci 'na fimmina ravanti.” If you want to find out the worth of a man, put a woman in front of him.“It would be a sin to waste such beauty on men who cannot appreciate it the way he can.”
My phone lit up once more.
She also told me that if I married a beautiful girl, I’d have nothing but trouble on my hands. So far this has been true. Keep my hands empty tonight, baby.
“Come,” Rocco said, offering me his hand. “It is time to go.”
* * *
I couldn’t stop crying. Rosaria’s voice was so sharp that it cracked a heart in two, and then mended it with her tenderness.
Rocco handed me his handkerchief, every so often glancing at me to make sure that I wasn’t weeping into a puddle.
He leaned over and put his lips to my ear. “She has immortalized herself here tonight, but my favorite is still Tosca.Love Changes a Diva into an Assassin.” He pulled away slowly, meeting my eyes.
