Page 47 of Shark Bait

I press a hand to my forehead. “I’m thinking bad thoughts again.”

Shark leans in. “Pass them on so I can think them for you.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. The smell of him comforts me while Alessio waits patiently for me to summon my courage and tell him about Falena.

“Take off your jacket,” I say.

Alessio’s eyebrows shoot up.

Shark makes a noise in the back of his throat, and I lift my head. “What?”

“You have to explain this request,” he says.

“Falena had blue eyes and wore a similar jacket. I can tell by the hem on this spot there.” I point at the pocket. “On the pocket. There’s a double thread. Gold finish. I remember it well.”

Alessio shrugs off his jacket and shows me the brand logo on the inside. “From this designer?”

I nod.

“Blue eyes. Diliberti suit, so I presume he’s wealthy.” Alessio says. “Anything else?”

“Dark hair. Slightly longer than yours, styled on the side, blow-dried daily at the salon on the ground floor.”

Shark pats my hand as he stands. “Tell Alessio about this place with the ground floor. BRB.”

“BRB?” Alessio asks.

“Be right back,” Shark says with a nod. “Keeping up with…the kids.”

“Oh no, you didn’t,” I protest.

Shark winks. “I have jokes too.”

I swallow as his warm presence leaves the table, but I’m smiling nonetheless.

“Your friend is nice to me,” I say.

“I expect you to return the affection,” Alessio says, and I feel like a whip sliced the air.

“Yes, sir.”

Alessio clears his throat. “Tell me whatever you can. Dump it all on us. Let us carry it.”

I nod. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to for I fear that if I don’t tell Alessio now, I’ll hide it all somewhere and eventually lock it away, never to speak of the man again. If I don’t say something now, the weight of what I’ve seen will never leave me, and I don’t want to hold this sadness and rage inside me when my baby comes into the world. I want it all out of me before he arrives.

“Saying his name is hard for me,” I tell Alessio.

“That’s what we have pronouns for,” he says.

“Okay.” I inhale, then start talking. “He would go downstairs to get his hair done each morning after his shower. Then he would be gone until lunch. He would come and feed me for lunch, then leave again until about afternoon. The hotel blackout curtains stopped slightly before hitting the other side of the wall, so I could tell if it was night or day by the line of sunlight allowed in the room.”

Shark returns with a large piece of paper and a box of crayons. He grabs a black crayon. “Would you say he looks like Alessio?” Shark asks. “Or more like me? Or maybe you can think of a celebrity lookalike?”

“Alessio. But his nose was narrower. Lips too. He was also more feminine. Sometimes would address me in a girly voice. He was…unstable. Violent.” I twirl a fork. “Sometimes I felt bad for him. Bless his heart. Mmhm, bless his heart.”

“Mercy is a misplaced feeling neither Miroslav nor I suffer from, so you are safe here. Go on. Falena,” Alessio says. “Is that the name he gave you?”

“He said it differently. With an Italian flare. It means something in your native tongue, I think.”

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