“Have you seen, Dior?” I asked. Tomasso immediately grabbed his forehead and began rubbing it.
“No, did you somehow lose your fuckingmoglie(wife)?”
“It would appear that I have,” I replied, which made my father rub his forehead even harder.
“I swear to God, Buddha, I wonder about you sometimes. Didn’t you stay back to meet up with her?” My father moved out of the way so I could come inside his room.
“I did meet up with her, and then guess who I saw?” I stood in the middle of the room as my father went to sit on the bed.
“Who did you see? Who can you see here in Italy?” I took a deep breath because I knew my father wasn’t going to like what I was about to say.
“There was a teenage boy on the tour that Dior attended; he was one of the tour guides.” Tomasso was looking at me with an uninterested expression.
“Why are you telling me about tour guides?”
“Because that tour guide, whose name is Enzo, is Catalina’s son.” My father’s head pulled back, doubting he heard correctly.
“What? Catalina? As in Edwardo’s Catalina?”I nodded my head to let him know he was right.
“Are you sure?” Tomasso asked, looking at me with a suspicious expression.
“I saw her.”
“You saw Catalina? Here in Florence?” I nodded my head again. Tomasso kept looking at me as though I had imagined the entire thing.
“So, all this time she has been living here, and you say she has a son with Edwardo?” My father was trying his best to piece together each word I was saying.
“I said she has a son; I never said it’s Edwardo’s.” I left breadcrumbs for my father to follow so he would get what I was saying. He looked at me and then narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
“No, no, no. The boy is yours?” My father whispered in disbelief.
“According to Catalina, he is,” my father stood up from the bed and began pacing the floor.
“No, this is impossible. Are you sure? I mean, did you protect yourself every time?” My father stopped pacing to question me.
“I was nineteen, Tomasso. What the fuck do you think?” I replied, knowing he would not like my answer.
“This is likedeja fuking vu. We can’t take her word for it. You need to get a DNA test on that boy.” Tomasso said, wagging his index finger at me.
“Yeah, alright, but why will she lie?” I asked, taking my phone out and dialing Dior’s number again. I felt my blood pressure skyrocket when it took me straight to voicemail again. I had to go and find my wife.
“Why will she lie? Because that’s what women dofiglio(son). They fucking lie. Let’s keep this between us when we get back home. Jesus, the last thing we need is Victoria finding out,” Tomasso said. I exhaled loudly as I walked to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find my wife,” I answered without looking back, closing the door behind me. As I walked by Francesco’s door, I mashed brakes with my heels. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the door and waited. Francesco and Luca were sharing a room as if they were attached at the fucking hip.
“Phillipe,che cosa succede(what’s up)?” Francesco asked as he opened his door. I wasn’t quite sure why I even stopped here.
“Umm, have you seen Dior since you’ve got back?” I asked, looking over his shoulder into the room.
“No, I have not. Is something the matter?” I pulled my eyes back to the man I really didn’t like.
“Nah, it’s all good. Um, where’s Luca?” I asked, realizing I didn’t see his son in the room.
“He went out. There’s a bar or something not too far from here; it’s like walking distance,” I rubbed my chin as I recalled Dior saying Luca made her feel uncomfortable.
“Thanks, Francesco,” I said, walking off. I patted my sides, realizing that I didn’t pick up my gun before leaving the room. I didn’t have time to go back for it. I headed for the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.
