7
“What do you think of my empire, Giovanni?”
I’ve taken him on a private tour of my bottling plant, which is a short walk from the harbor where shipments of oil arrive weekly from Greece in large stainless-steel drums. He’s now perusing the gift shop, specifically the section reserved for cosmetics. A few years ago, Valentin suggested we purchase the property next door and build out the warehouse to include a storefront with a gift shop and café, in addition to offering tours to the public. It’s been a boon to our sales and has helped marketing efforts tenfold. Word of mouth is something you cannot buy.
“I never realized olive oil has so many uses,” Gio says, spraying his inner arm with a tester bottle of scented moisturizer.
“Of course,” I respond enthusiastically, as this is my area of expertise. “Good for your hair, good for your skin, keeps you looking youthful, lowers blood pressure, prevents cancer… the list goes on and on.”
“No wonder you practically bathe in it,” he teases.
“You know what else it’s good for?” I say, then poke my finger through a circle made by my other hand.
“Sir,” he says, laughing, and swats at my arm.
“Is it not true?”
“Yes, but we’re in your place of business, surrounded by your employees.” He glances around to the few people observing us with interest while pretending not to.
“If only they knew the many ways we’ve experimented with these products.” I wave at the display. “Get whatever you like. They give me a discount here.”
Giovanni takes his time shopping, carefully selecting items to place in his little basket, while I lean against the checkout counter and chat with whomever of my employees happens by. We are a tight-knit group—we typically only hire on a recommendation from existing staff—and jobs at my plant pay well. Valentin told me early on to invest in people, not things, and his advice has benefited the business greatly.
“Shall we give your guest the family discount?” Allegra asks. My marketing manager is a savvy and impeccably dressed woman in her early forties who gives tours of the facility and has been with the company for years. I’ve never seen her without heels and full makeup. She sometimes chides me for my very casual business style.
“Yes, please. You can charge it to my account.”
“Very well.And how is your mother liking Ischia?” She knows that I moved her out there some months ago to help with Valentin’s care.
“She’s very involved with the church, has a flock of women with her wherever she goes.”
“Which church?”
“All three. She likes to stay busy.”
“And is the young man the reason you’ve been spending so much time on the island?” she asks with a telling smirk.
I smile at her wily ways. I introduced Giovanni to my workers as my friend and roommate, but those who know me well, as Allegra does, can surely divine the true nature of our relationship.
“Yes, he is, and I inherited my brother’s property, which is a lot to maintain.”
It’s not lost on me that in some respects, I inherited Giovanni as well.
“He’s a very handsome young man,” she says with something like approval. “A gentle spirit.”
“He is both of those things. I care for him deeply.”
It’s freeing to admit my affection to someone outside my close, personal friends. I do not fear the judgment of my staff or even strangers for that matter, but if there are stirrings of homophobia, and there sometimes are, I’d rather not have to deal with it in my place of business.
Giovanni joins us then and asks a few questions about the products. Allegra gives her advice, then rings him up herself, even though we have a cashier for that. Gio and I then proceed into the café where we’ll be having lunch.
“Fortuna Brothers Olive Oil,” he says in his thoughtful way, one finger tracing over the gold foil label, which shows two men in profile with their backs to each other, modeled after my brother and myself. “How lucky am I to have known both so intimately?” he says.
“I tried to convince Valentin to use our cocks as the logo, but he said it was too lewd. I think we both know it’s because mine’s bigger.”
Giovanni’s laugh is an unexpected eruption. Sometimes I catch him by surprise and am treated with his unbridled joy. A few months ago, I thought I’d never hear this sound again. My heart swells.
“He is with us,” Giovanni says with a soft smile. I lay my hand atop his.
