Page 26 of Petrichor

Fly nods. His expression sobers. “I’m small and delicate-looking.”

“I don’t remember seeing such fragility while you were gouging that guy’s eye at Rino’s.” My eyes are caught by a woman walking a few feet ahead of me. She’s wearing the same sweater Fly had on the night I met him. It suits him better. “Or when you kneed him in the balls.”

“Think of it as a little inside joke then.” He pouts, stopping in front of the small ice cream shop door. I push it and let him go first. My gentlemanly manner seems to confuse him, and he sends me a surprised look before walking in. It surprised me too.

He halts his steps in front of the ice cream counter, hands on the glass, fingers spread. Like an impatient kid looking excitedly at the different flavors almost overflowing from the metal trays. There’s at least thirty different kinds of gelato to choose from, but he seems to decide quite quickly.

“One cup, pistachio and Nutella, and one hazelnut and coffee,” he addresses the clerk. He then says without looking at me, “One is for you.”

“I don’t want it,” I tell him, taking out my wallet. He stops my hand before I can slide a ten out. His fingers feel warm on my skin. He removes them quickly.

“But I want to try them all. Can’t have four flavors in one cup.” He points at the sign that says two scoops max for each cup. “Right…Bert?” Fly asks the teen working behind the counter, his name is easy to read on the pink plate over his white polo-clad, skinny torso.

The clerk nods, glancing at me before swallowing hard and avoiding my dark stare. Even a pimply, cherry boy can feel the danger emanating from me, while Fly smiles victoriously instead.

“Carlo? Would you like a cup?” He turns to the man standing near the front door.

“No.”Myreply is final. He didn’t take my previous words seriously. Nothing I do scares him. For now.

It takes Fly a few seconds to find his wallet inside the bag, enough time for me to pay. He thanks me and after we are handed the cups, we go sit at one of the wobbly, plastic tables. The place is empty, and a little tacky. Yellow fabric flowers covered in dust seems to be the theme of the shop, they are leaning inside colorful vases, hanging from the ceiling and decorating the shelves.Together with the flashy pink walls and gigantic neon ice cream sign behind the counter, they turn the place even more tasteless.

Fly moans around a spoon full of green gelato, making my dick take notice. Jesus Christ.

“Why did you come to New York?” I ask him suddenly. Getting information is the reason for all this gelato farce.

His hand freezes midair, spoon hovering near his parted lips. He lowers it in the cup again before replying. “Why the sudden interest?” He looks cautious, almost wary.

“Shouldn’t I be?” I counter.

“I was looking for…someone,” he offers me, looking straight into my eyes.

“Did you find them?” I slide my hand inside my suit pocket to grab onto my pack of cigarettes. But then I remember I can’t fucking smoke indoors.

He replies with a wistful smile, “I found the next best thing.”

Who is he talking about? Not Jerry, since best and that fucker’s name will never be in the same sentence.

“Pistachio is very good.” Fly is focused on the gelato again.

He moves his spoon toward my face but I send him a stern look.“Not into sweets.”

“Too bad.” He’s still sporting that bittersweet expression.

“Why do you like it so much?”

“The sweet taste reminds me I’m not a child anymore. I’m free.”

“Weren’t you free?” Was he in some kind of trouble as a child?

His eyes are unseeing, looking outside the shopping window at the people walking past. “I wasn’t free…to satisfy the sugar monster living rent-free inside my stomach.” He tilts his head to the side as he turns my way.

He clearly evaded the question. There’s something in his past he doesn’t want to talk about. I’ll find out one way or another. That’s the price for trying to get into my life.

“Your ice cream is melting.” He points at the puddle forming near the cup in front of me.

Like I fucking care. I lean back against the flimsy chair, it gives out a cracking sound.

“The comments on the internet were right, the gelato is to die for.” He sinks his spoon into my coffee ice cream and brings it to his lips.

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