Page 57 of Capuleto

Romeo had asked me to handle Dante's burial.

When you're in the mafia, death is no stranger. You often talk about it. Both of us knew what our friend wanted for his funeral. None of his family would attend because they were all dead.

Dante's parents died five years ago when a drug addict attacked them before they could set up their fruit stall.

That lowlife grabbed his mother from behind and slashed her throat with a knife. His father tried to confront him, and she ended up with her jugular severed. When he tried to help his wife, the addict stabbed him repeatedly. Fifty euros of change was what separated them from life.

Fortunately, a camera recorded it, and as soon as Segarra leaked the face of the bastard, Dante went after him and exacted his own revenge.

We left the hospital well into the early hours. I didn’t feel like going home, just drinking. San Juan didn’t mind accompanying me. We ended up in a dive bar that Dante would have loved, the kind with rock music and bikers. After the round of beers, we had one of tequilas. I remember licking salt off my new friend's hand. Don Giuliano's man didn’t punch me or anything like that. He smiled with bright eyes, squeezed the lemon between his lips, and filled his mouth with tequila before pouring it into mine in a tangle of tongues seeking solace.

The next day, when my bedroom door was thrown open without warning, that reproachful look made me blink several times and focus on the point where it was centered. A naked San Juan, in my bed.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" was the first thing that came out.

It had to be a fucking nightmare. Andrey couldn’t be standing there like a damn ice block. So handsome, so sexy, so fucking untimely.

"Koroleva told me to catch the first flight, that you needed me. I see she was mistaken." His sharp words were thrown like a damn grenade. San Juan turned and stretched. I diverted my gaze from Andrey to him, who put his hands behind his head with a fully erect cock.

Fuck his shameless attitude! That guy had no qualms about being caught.

"Enjoy your morning; it seems you’re up for another round. Don’t worry about me; I’ll find another place to stay. In this house, there’s a lack of space and an excess of people."

After that scathing remark, he closed the door and left.

I got up, shouting his name, but the door didn’t open.

24

Fuck trip

Andrey

Rage consumed me from within. How wrong I was, and how fucked up expectations versus reality can be.

I spent a fortune because the only available flight from St. Petersburg to Malaga, with a layover and urgently, was in business class. I had spent ten damn hours from the moment I left Koroleva's house until I reached Aleksa's fucking room.

Six hundred minutes spent racking my brains, trying to figure out how to console Aleksa and control the words that threatened to spill out at any moment. Because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my heart from racing with every thought of him. I had never obsessed over anything so much. One thing was clear: I needed to find the right moment to be honest with him. However, I would be patient. After losing Pavlik, I learned that when you love deeply, the mourning is long. Aleksa was very fond of Dante, always spoke highly of him, and they were very close, as was he with Romeo.

These were the kinds of friendships that endure over the years, that take root and become a part of your very being. Your essence merges with theirs, and no matter how much time or distance passes, it doesn't matter because you are already part of the same whole. That was what was starting to happen to me with the Croatian-Colombian. Every cell of mine missed him; he had infiltrated every damned neuron, sending impulses of all kinds to my brain. Sometimes, it was through songs, scents, or memories. The fact was, he was everywhere, and when I cautiously opened the door to his room, the last thing I expected was to find him with a naked guy.

Nikita assured me he was devastated, that he needed me more than ever, that I should drop everything and come back. She knew about us, and I just needed a good reason to return and stop fooling around with him. In my mind, I envisioned a sweet, tender reunion, filled with kisses. Instead, I walked into a porno festival to which I hadn't been invited.

I should have held back, said nothing, left without a word. But I couldn't. It hurt me, especially since I'd spent the flight blaming myself for not being there in his darkest hour. And a dark hour he surely had, but on his knees on the floor, taking thrusts from the fencer.

I didn't stop when I heard his shouts. What for? I grabbed one of the company cars and took off. I didn't give a shit about the looks from the other guys who didn't understand what the hell was going on. If I had stayed, I would have done something stupid in front of everyone, which wouldn't have been good for either Aleksa or me. We didn't fuck around with guys, or at least not openly, only in the broom closet.

I floored the accelerator and headed straight to my boss's house. When I arrived, she wasn't there. The cook told me she had spent the night at the hospital and had personally taken Adriano to school with one of the guys patrolling the neighborhood.

I asked her to get some clothes for Koroleva, as well as some personal items. My boss would appreciate it; she always said you need to project who you are, and for her, her appearance was as important as a venomous snake's colorful patterns.

My phone hadn't stopped ringing since I left Aleksa's place. I could have turned it off or silenced it, but I didn't. I wanted him to know I was ignoring him on purpose. Knowing him, I knew he wouldn't stop until I answered, and now that I had calmed down a bit, I was ready to do so while waiting for the clothes.

"What?!"

"Stubborn damn Russian! Why the fuck did you leave like that and not answer sooner?!"

"What did you expect? That I would get in bed with you two and join the fun?" I heard him curse.

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