“They want to make deals with Giorgio. It’s always been about that.” I glance over my shoulder. “I know how these things work, Nona.”
“You just said it,” she tosses back at me in a soft voice. “By the way, Giorgio was supposed to arrive on Sunday.”
“Giorgio Gallo always does what he wants, which never stops people to try to get in his good graces.”
Shrugging, I drop the cotton ball into a small container and pick up a clean one.
“We’re still running this part of Sicily, I suppose. So there’s that,” I murmur. “Other than that, nobody cares about me.”
Her silence prompts me to meet her eyes in the mirror again.
“Why wouldn’t you be ready on time then?” she asks. “You could’ve been done with it by now and let them spend the night talking about their business.”
I plop the second cotton ball down and turn to her.
“It doesn’t matter what I do. I won’t hide in my own home. I won’t get rushed to my own birthday party. And I refuse to be accountable to anyone.”
“It’s not about––”
I flick my hand up, cutting her off.
“I know what it's all about. You want things to unfold smoothly. I want that, too, but it doesn’t matterhowwe accomplish that.”
I push to my feet and grab the lapels of my robe.
“If you don’t mind, I need to take a bath.”
Her eyes look downcast as she’s studying my face.
“What’s bothering you now?” she asks, reading into my behavior more than I’d like.
“Nothing is bothering me,” I say, keeping my robe on and heading to the bathtub.
I turn on the faucet, let the water run, and turn to her.
“Have you heard frommy father?” I ask her straightly, not a muscle moving on my face.
I never called myrealfather "father."
I never called Julian’s father my father, but I’ve calledhimmy father a couple of times just to fuck with everybody’s brains.
I can’t do it in front of him these days since he avoids me like the plague. But I still like to rub it in his face whenever I see him and get the chance.
Calling him that truly gets to him.
I also hope it makes him hard, the way it gets me tingly and needy and makes me want to check myself into an asylum.
“I’m just asking,” I say, moving my focus away from her.
I pick up my favorite shampoo and conditioner bottles and stack them on the edge of the bathtub.
“I’ve heard Giorgio talking about him,” she eventually says.
I freeze before turning to her slowly.
“As in…?”
“He’s in town, but I don’t know if he’s coming.”
