Art chuckles, his eyes move to the window. “Maybe I should start practicing shooting again.” He points the muzzle at a tree out in the large garden at the back of the house. “I think the crows’ disengagement was all a tactic.”
“Again?” Fly is frowning at him.
“Do you see me holding churros?” Art feels the need to explain the whole bird situation.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, earning a pinch on the back of my hand, which I return to his side.
He keeps going. “I dropped the bag of churros on the street, and bang, those flying rat thieves were on it a second later.Thatwas a massacre!” He looks at Marco.
“Of course they fucking were, they’re birds.” He huffs, sipping his wine.
Art ignores him. “My churros died a heroic death.”
I grab my glass and take a long gulp.
“Birds are tiny dinosaurs with little beady eyes.” Seb fucking agrees with him?
“Exactly! And the bird revolution is coming.” Art puts the gun back in the box.
“And when will this revolution happen?” I can see Marco is fucking with my fiancé.
Art seems to ponder his answer. “It’s like pornography, you know it when you see it.”
I snort, hearing similar responses from the others. He’s fucking insane, but he’d never have chosen me if he wasn’t.
“Thank you, Boss,” he tells Seb, touching the box.
“Thank you, Arturo,” he says back, glancing at me.
Before I can take another sip of wine, Art takes it out of my hands and drinks it all down.
“You have a glass.” I point at his full one on the desk.
“What’s yours is mine, right?” He thinks he’s taunting me, but I actually fucking like that.
A small knock on the door makes us both turn around.
“Come in,” Seb exclaims.
Nicola, Seb’s son, appears on the threshold. He’s short for a nine-year-old kid, or maybe I was too tall at that age. His big eyes move around until they stop on his father.
“Done with your homework?” he asks the boy, who nods at him.
Nicola hasn’t uttered a word since Don Massimo died a little more than a year ago. I told Art about it, and the way he’s looking at the boy for the first time is filled with affection.
“Oh, Nicky, you are wearing the bracelet we made. Me too!” Fly shows him the braided one on his wrist, similar to the one Nicola has.
The kid gives him a small smile, lifting his arm happily.
“Cool! Can you guys teach me how to make one?” Art asks.
Nicola looks at him, but then his eyes fall on Nacho. The dog is sitting near the window, under the sun. Here the libido beast behaves, while at my place he tries to fuck everything in a ten-foot radius.
“That’s Nacho, my doggie, and I’m Art.” He leaves my lap and moves closer to Nicola. He offers him a Cheeto, but the kid shakes his head. As soon as he kneels on the floor, the dog goes to him.
“Look,” he tells Nicola. “Nacho, kiss.” The dog lifts his body on his back legs and presses his nose on Art’s cheek.
That makes the kid grin, showing a missing front tooth.
