“Scarlett Fausti?TheScarlett Fausti? No. Not since she was last on stage.”
“What is it,fratello?” Rocco put his hand on my shoulder.
“I can’t find Scarlett.”
“She is not in her dressing room?”
“No, I looked there—everywhere.”
“I will speak to the men.” He snapped his fingers for a man to come closer.
I couldn’t keep still. I started searching places that I wouldn’t have expected her to be. An older woman, hair full of white, who had a phone in her hand, stood outside of a door, looking to the left and to the right. Something about the set of her face made me think the she was looking for someone and that she was concerned. She kept patting at the cross around her neck with her free hand. Before I could make it to her, she called out for me, but was looking in the opposite direction, at two people walking away from her. “Brando? Brandoooo? You Brando?”
“What is it?” I said.
She started, clutching the cross. “You Brando?”
“Sì.”
She started rambling off in almost incomprehensible Italian. I took her by the arms and made her look at me. She lifted Scarlett’s phone, shrugging her shoulders. She didn’t know how to use the phone to call me. The woman must have known she was not making any fucking sense, because instead of trying for words again she stabbed a finger at the door behind her.
The room was empty and dark, but the haloing lights from outside brightened the shadows enough that I could see my wife on the floor, on all fours, her hips swaying left to right. Her head was down and sweat plastered the tiny pieces of hair that escaped from her bun to her skin. Perspiration dripped, falling in splats on the floor.
A low mewling sound came from her, before her breath hitched up and she moaned louder.
I fell to the floor before her. She looked up at me and almost collapsed. I held her up by the arms, and all of her weight came down.
“Brando. Oh God. She found you.” She bit into her lip and then squeezed my arms, rocking from left to right again. “I don’t know what happened. I was dancing and then—” She made a sound that made my blood run cold. Tears dripped from her eyes from the pain. Her entire body shuddered with it. “I started to—” She lifted her gown, and her thighs were stained bright red, blood starting to run in rivers down her legs, turning black when it puddled on the floor. The hot smell of metal met my nose; it was so strong that I tasted it on my tongue.
It took me a moment to realize that I had touched her, that my hands reflected her thighs, warm blood outlining the lines of my palms, glistening like melted rubies.
“Brando—oh God!” She groaned. “Please help me.”
“I’m here, baby.” I forced my eyes away from the blood, from her. “Signora! Signora!” I roared.
The lady peeked her head in.
“Call an ambulance! Now!” I spoke in Italian.
“I don’t want anyone to see me this way,” Scarlett cried. “That’s why I came in here. Please, Brando. Don’t let them see—” She moaned again, pinching my arms in reaction to the pain.
The woman stood there, staring. She was too afraid to move. I spoke to her only in Italian, since it seemed to be her only language. “Get my brother. Rocco Fausti. He’s right outside. Tell him to run and get Tito Sala.” I had been trying to keep my voice even, but firm, not to scare Scarlett. “My wife has a blanket in her dressing room. You run and get it after. Rush!”
The woman couldn’t take her eyes off of Scarlett, uttering prayers, holding tight to her cross.
“Adesso!” I snapped.
The woman blinked before she moved. Seconds later, she conveyed the message to Rocco in a hushed tone outside of the door and then feet shuffled.
“I won’t.” I held tighter to her, kissing her head. “I won’t let them see, my baby.”
“What—what’s wrong with me?”
She started to move back and forth again. She let out a noise that made every hair stand at attention on my body. She went still for a moment that seemed to last a hundred years.
Blood seeped through my pants, a hot, steady pulse. It was coming faster, and her energy drained out with it. Her entire body went slack and I held her in my arms, pulling her tighter to my chest.
The bruise on her stomach bloomed like a poisonous rose across her snowy skin, and then her blood turned the clear water red, before it went black as a starless night.
