My head isn’t any clearer by the time I park the car and walk up to Rafa’s front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell when I hear Clara’s flirty laughter coming from the back of the house. I walk around, opening the gate quietly as I do.
But it’s not quiet enough. Rafa’s no fool.
Before I’m two steps in, he’s come around the corner, pistol in hand, his face hard.
I’m not surprised by his sudden, armed appearance. It’s one of the reasons he’s my right-hand man.
“Rafa,” I say, seeing him with different eyes.
He uncocks the gun and tucks it into the back of his jeans. “Stefan,” he starts, and I note that he is surprised. Anxious even. “What are you doing here?”
I walk toward him. I can feel how hard my expression is and I need to concentrate to keep it level.
“I wanted a drink,” I say.
In the time it takes me to answer him, he’s schooled his features and now gives me an easy smile. At least it’s meant to look easy. Now that I’m paying attention, though, I see it’s not. Not really.
“Well, then I have a surprise.” We walk around the back of the property and I find Clara sitting on the patio.
“Tada!” she announces, standing, stretching her arms wide.
“Clara dropped by out of the blue,” Rafa says.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say, kissing each of Clara’s cheeks when I get to her. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in Syracuse?”
“Ugh, Stefan,” she starts, sitting back down and picking up her glass of wine. “Syracuse is the most boring place on earth.”
“I offered to move you to Rome.”
“I’d rather be here, in Palermo. With my two favorite cousins,” she says, smiling up at Rafa who is still standing.
“You’re alone again?” Rafa asks. His tone is so opposite Clara’s light one.
I nod.
“I told you. You can’t do that, Stef. There are people who…” he trails off.
“I can take care of myself, Rafa. And besides, you’re here. I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “What can I get you to drink?”
I see he’s drinking a Peroni. “Beer’s fine.”
He disappears into the house.
Clara sits back, taking a cigarette from what I assume is Rafa’s pack and lighting one. She folds one leg over the other and studies me as she exhales smoke.
“Now that you married her, can I come back?”
“You’re already back. You clearly don’t need my permission.”
“I was just visiting. Dropping in.”
“It’s quite a drive to drop in.”
Rafa comes outside then, sets a bottle of beer in front of me and has a second ready for himself. He finishes the open bottle and picks up the second.
Using my wedding ring as a bottle opener, I pop the lid and drink a long swallow. I watch the two of them.
“You know what I miss,” Clara begins, setting her cigarette on the ashtray and leaning forward toward me. “Us.”
“Us?” I’ve always known Clara to be more cunning than Rafa may choose to see. It’s never bothered me before. It bothers me now.
“Us,” she says, standing. “Together.” She reaches back to unzip her dress and a moment later, she’s standing in a bikini.
I thought she’d have been naked under there and I mentally berate myself for thinking it. For thinking her so deceptive. I’ve known her all my life. She’s family.
But then she gives me a wicked grin, reaches back to undo her top and drops it to the ground.
I look at her. At her heavy breasts with their large, dark nipples.
And she’s not done yet. I wonder if she’s encouraged by my silence because she hooks her thumbs into her bikini bottoms and pushes them down slowly, bending deeply as she does, giving Rafa an eyeful.
“Clara,” he says, her name a command.
She cranes her neck to look at him, remaining bent over all the while.
“Yes?” she asks coyly.
“Put your clothes back on.”
She turns to me, straightens, cocks her head to the side.
I slide my gaze down, down to the bare slit of her sex, to the pussy lips just visible to me.
“Do you want me to put my clothes back on, Stefan?” She turns in a circle, faces me again. “You used to prefer me like this.”
I sip my beer, let my gaze slide over her once more, then meet her eyes. “That was past. Get dressed.”
Her expression changes, hardens. “That sad little virgin bride of yours can’t be giving you what you need.”
“You don’t know what I need, Clara. We had our fun, but I’m married now. Things are different.”
“You were forced to marry the spoiled brat. Everyone knows that. No one would judge you.”
“I could give a fuck about anyone judging me. Get dressed. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Her eyes turn to slits and she looks to Rafa.
He gestures to the house. “Go inside. Close the door behind you.”
She grits her teeth, bends to pick up her discarded clothes and, surprisingly, does as she’s told.
Rafa watches her until the sliding glass door is closed fully.
“You fucking her again?” I ask him.
He nods once.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, she shouldn’t.”
Silence falls again. Rafa picks up his second beer, drinks half of it.
“I actually came here for a reason,” I say.
“I don’t mind you coming just to have a beer. We used to do it a lot. I miss it.”
“Me too. So much has changed. But I want to repay your father for his help in finding Gabriela. For that beautiful wedding gift which I’m sure cost a fortune.”
“He doesn’t expect anything. I’m sure—”
“I want to organize a dinner. You can bring Clara if you want. You should. If you’re a couple, Gabriela’s going to have to get used to it. And Clara’s going to have to get used to Gabriela.”
“We’re not a couple, Stef. It’s not like that.”
“You’re just fucking her.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll leave it up to you.” I finish my beer, stand. “Saturday. A dinner to honor your father. To show my gratitude. It’s time this family came together as a family.”
Rafa stands. Nods. “That’s a good idea, Stefan. It’s past time.”
“I’ll see you Saturday.”
Rafa walks around the table and we look at each other for a long moment and I try to see him as he was. Because now, what I see is the face of a traitor. How sweetly they smile.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“You’re like a brother to me. You know that, don’t you?” I don’t know why I say it.
No, I do.
His betrayal, it wounds me. Because what I say is true. He’s always been like a brother to me.
He studies me, and what I see in his eyes isn’t the expression I expect. There’s a deep sadness inside him.
“You are a brother to me, Stefan,” he says. He leans in to hug me, kisses my cheek. And once again, I’m left thinking of Judas in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Of the kiss that nailed Christ to the cross.