But it’s obvious his wink doesn’t come from a cheerful place.
Salt leans toward the mirror mounted on the wall near the bathroom door and carefully lines his eyes with a thin stroke of eyeliner. His energy grows even heavier, like a storm cloud threatening rain.
Our eyes meet in the mirror’s surface. His mismatched one seems just as dark now.
"Sugnu attrattu di tia."(I'm attracted to you.)
Salt winces. "It’s unfair. You can speak in that silly AO growling thing and in your Italian thing too, and that leaves me sounding like an idiot who only knows basic street English."
"It’s Sicilian."
"Not the same as Italian?"
"Not the same. In Italian it would be: Sono attratto da te. At home we spoke Sicilian, sometimes blending it with Italian. My great-grandfather was from Caltanissetta, in the Sicilian interior. My dad’s family was from Ragusa, which added even more Sicilian to the mix. Only my cousin Ennio preferred to speak Italian, so we often switched fluidly."
Salt is silent for a moment, his eyes still on my face as reflected in the mirror.
"Attrato. Sounds like attract."
I don’t respond.
He slowly turns toward me, then leans back against the mirror. Gradually, he angles his head so his cheek presses to the cold glass surface and puffs out air, leaving a small foggy ring.
"You want my body?" he says in a husky voice.
I wince, since I’m not here to play games, and I can feel that vibe coming off him. "We should go, Salt."
He snorts, rolls his eyes, and pushes himself off the mirror using only his hips.
"Boring answer."
"I wish my life was boring," I grumble, turning away with my brow furrowed.
I head toward the door, and Salt follows, his lips forming something like a small, involuntary pout.
When we reach the beach plaza, the staff from Sector C have already set up tables with food. Two grills are working at full capacity, and the bar is serving guests, offering surprisingly good beer.
Some people have already started eating. They cluster around the grills, talking, laughing, while music plays loudly. There is a round dance floor set up, where those who feel like it sway to the music, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. The vibe is either playful bouncing or quietly cuddling.
I have never danced in my life. Not even once. When I stayed with Uncle Albert, his husband Darien tried more than once to get me to dance at various family gatherings, but I consistently refused. I was always low-key unhappy, and I think that blocked my physical expression, at least the kind that wakes up and flows through dance.
So when I see the numerous swaying couples, I cling to the hope that dancing is not mandatory here.
While I head over to the grill to grab a few steaks, Salt lines up at the bar. A moment later he turns toward me, carrying a tray stacked with mugs of beer.
That’s when I notice two figures moving in our direction. Miller and Sidorov. My brows knit instinctively.
The crowd seems to quiet down a notch when Sidorov appears, as if he carries some kind of heavy gravity with him. Miller stays half-hidden in the shadows behind him, but Sidorov strides straight up to Jeff and Shane’s table, offering them congratulations that sound strange, his tone pompous and faintly aggressive at the same time.
Jeff smiles back, clearly pleased. Shane doesn’t. He keeps his head turned slightly away, pretending to watch the couples dancing nearby.
He pointedly ignores the warden, and the second Sidorov moves on, Shane’s face relaxes, the unease clearly draining out of him.
Sidorov isn’t tall. He’s a few inches shorter than Salt, and a bit round, yet there’s something about him that feels intimidating to everyone he approaches. When he exchanges a few words with the staff by the grill and the sound system, I notice how their eyes flick away or drop to the ground, avoiding his gaze altogether, clearly eager to end the interaction as fast as possible. Interesting.
When Sidorov finally sits down at one of the tables, it’s just him and Miller. No one else comes near. It’s as if an invisible shadow hangs around them, a darkened zone no one wants to step into.
With a quiet sigh, I push his presence out of my mind for now and focus on enjoying myself.
