Page 208 of La Dolce Vita

Carlo hung up the phone. He put his face in his hands. Deep in his gut, he knew his best friend was in trouble. And even worse, Giovanni had turned on his own clan? Spilled blood? Nothing about it made sense. How the hell did they get here? The adrenaline pumped through his veins from the day, but his mind was dragging him down. He'd trusted Lorenzo. Ever since they were kids. When he had the worst of it, Lorenzo was there. When he lost Carmine, Lorenzo was there. Every time he fell and lost a loved one, Lorenzo was there. He wasn't sure when his friend stopped trusting him. But at some point he had.

Adara slammed her hand down on the table. He looked up in confusion. She sat across from him glaring like an ignored wife. Her eyes held a brilliance that no makeup could improve. She stared directly at him with her pouty lips now pressed into a thin line. She had large gold hoops that pierced her ears and gleamed underneath all of her long curly hair. He hadn't noticed her once since he arrived, until that moment.

"Where are we? Can you tell me that? Why am I here?" she demanded.

"This is my home. You are my guest," he replied while managing to keep his temper in check. He had sent his boys home. Lost boys, younger than he was when he wandered the streets. His house was a safe place for them. He turned them all away and brought Adara into his home. Even now he wasn’t sure why.

"Sorrento is your home? You have your goons come to the hotel and drag me out in the middle of the night. They force me on a train to Naples, then kidnap me in a car and bring me here. To this dump? It was crawling with kids. All ages. They finally left. But good grief. Why? And where have you been? I haven't seen you in almost two days. This was not our deal. I—"

"You're right," Carlo said. "I'm sorry."

The anger and contempt on her face disappeared. It was as if he had spoken a magic word. Maybe he should try apologizing more often. He was wound too tight to argue with her. He'd come to enjoy having her with him for the past few days. Not that they said much, or did much. She mostly talked about a news broadcast she watched or a bug she killed that day while waiting on him. And he listened. It was the nights that he preferred. Every night she'd strip down, shower, put on Shalimar and hold him in her arms. Every night he'd sleep against her breasts and find solace. No more nightmares. No more pain and loneliness over losing Shae. He found a way to go numb. What man didn't need that?

"That's the first time you've ever apologized to me for being a dick," she repeated.

"I can be a dick at times," he gave her a thin smile. "This is my home. This is where I rest. I wanted to bring you here. I should have asked."

She looked around the small villa. Admittedly it wasn't woman friendly. Clothes were on the floor, sofa, chairs, and even the television. Everywhere. And so were his gadgets. Carlo had a knack for taking apart electronics and putting them back together. His tools were on the floor. The dishes in the sink were close to two months old. Even flies didn't bother to circle them. If the villa were clean, it might be decent. But since he never brought women here, it never was.

"The place smells bad," Adara said and pinched her nose, "I'm sure there are more bugs here than at the hotel."

He nodded and got up from the table. He opened two windows. Adara looked at him with pity. He didn't want her pity.

"So, this is yours?"

"It's not that bad. I was out of town for some time. I had some kids house sitting. They obviously let things get out of control. I haven't had a chance to clean it."

"Oh? Okay," she said. She went to the fridge and opened the door. The food inside had apparently spoiled. She slammed it with disgust. "So let me get this straight. You walk around in Gucci and Moreschi shoes, but you live like a pig?"

"Pigs have to have a place to sleep." Carlo picked up his keys. "I'll go to the store, and get a few things. I won't be long."

He expected her to object. Instead, when he looked back, she had a garbage bag and was collecting his spoiled food and empty beer cans and trashing it. He half-smiled. It felt good having a woman around, and not the whores he kept company with. Adara was different. He knew it.

When he left and jumped in his car, the anxiety returned. He sped through the narrow alleyway streets of Sorrento, burning with questions. Only one remained at the forefront of his mind. What was Lorenzo hiding? It was late in the evening. When he arrived at the Battaglia gates, the sun had almost slipped away from the sky. The drive was crowded with cars. It was war time for the family. The perimeter was now fortified for refuge. Most of the Battaglias had come in from Sicily, and the others were in Chianti. It could be years before Sicily was safe for them to return home.

Carlo nodded at a few of his boys. They nodded with respect back to him. He strolled around the compound and headed along the cobblestone path tovilla Rosso. He found more men, both employees, and family, gathered out on the lawns. It was some kind of a celebration because music played and plates were served. Carlo envied family life. He didn't have much of it to fall back on.

When he walked intovilla Rosso, he didn't hesitate to go into Giovanni's office. Not many of them were granted that privilege. But it was where Leo took the tapes. The ones that made Lorenzo's voice change on the phone. He found the cassette case and opened it. He looked at the tapes, and he knew. In his heart he knew. If Giovanni received these tapes, it would be the end of his friend. Now he had to think of what to do.

***

Adara felt like a modern day Cinderella, minus the wicked stepmother and sisters. She cleaned and scrubbed until her hands were raw. The place reeked of bleach and disinfectant. To her surprise, he had all the necessary tools. A mop, a bucket, scrubbing pads, rubber gloves. He just never used them. She got off her knees and looked around the place. Carlo had been right. With it cleaned and organized it wasn't half bad.

The next thing that held her interest were the electronics. She found a radio that worked without a power plug or any battery that she could see. She wasn't sure how he rigged it. And she also found some kind of gadget with several switches. When she flipped them all on it buzzed so loud it scared her. There was a television that played music, and a transistor that got a television station broadcast. It was all futuristic kind of work that spooked and intrigued her. Right then and there she decided to leave his voodoo technology alone.

For days she had little to report. Not much happened. She was with Carlo, but not really with him. He disappeared all day and held her at night. He was so sexy to her when he slept. That wasn't a rational emotion. She knew what he was capable of. But the feeling crept in on her every night, and it felt good.

Done with cleaning, she returned to the master bedroom. She wished she had candles. Something to sweeten the atmosphere. But she had nothing. What she did find in his room was more gadgets. So she turned on one and located a jazzy station. She showered and put on Shalimar lotion in all her sweet spots. She returned to the bed in a towel to listen to the tunes from the magical television he wired. She fell asleep soon after.

***

When Carlo returned home, he heard music playing and immediately knew the source. He didn't bother to turn on a single light. Carlo's burden was heavy. He had gone to Melanzana to learn the truth. Protect Lorenzo from whatever disastrous deed he kept hidden. But his vows made throughOmertàparalyzed him. He did not betray his Don. He did not listen to the tapes. He left them where they were. The problem was he couldn’t accept that in doing so it would be mean the death of his friend. If he lost one more person, he loved he might not recover.

He walked inside his villa on stiff zombie legs and closed the door. Carlo plopped on the sofa and put his face in his hands. For a moment he didn't dare think. He sat still and cleared his mind. Then the clean smelling air drew his thoughts to the surface. His eyes scanned his home.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked aloud.

She did more than clean. She transformed his place. He got up from the sofa and looked around. He saw furniture he had forgotten he'd purchased. And the floor of his home sparkled as if it had been hand scrubbed.

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