Page 109 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
THE LUNCHEON ON THE BEACH
“What was that about?” Joe asked Percy as soon as they hit the hot pavement outside the cool hotel.
“Just a minute. I need to tell Althea something.” Joe watched Percy jog the few paces up ahead, where Althea walked with Leo. He told her about the passport and that they would need to choose a flight, make plans, all that sort of thing. Althea and Leo didn’t seem entirely pleased with the news, and Joe wanted to think that was what kept Percy close to them for so long, rather than any avoidance of his question. But when the four paused in the street, the only conversation to be had was about what they would wear at the beach. Just as quickly as Althea and Leo were dispatched into a shop, Percy dragged Joe into another, and another, and he moved swiftly and talked incessantly, buying pointless things like garbage bags and candles, a new satchel and gloves, and there was no ‘in’ for Joe to broach the subject again. The longer it went on, the more awkward it felt to ask, so it wasn’t until they were on the sand, laid out long on new towels, Percy frowning hard at how smalland fluorescent Althea’s bikini was, that Joe tried, “How do you know Giordano?”
“Joe.” Hot muscle brushed against Joe’s arm as Giordano dropped to the sand beside him. Giordano lay along one side of Joe, just exactly as if he had actually been invited to join them, his handsome head resting on his luscious arm.
Percy, on the opposite side, rolled over, a mirror to Giordano, the two enclosing Joe with their bulging, naked chests. “What are you doing here?”
“You forgot the caponata.” Giordano reached across and opened up a picnic hamper, the hotel’s name stamped across the top. He pulled out the same ceramic dish from earlier, but rather oddly, it now had an extra bowl balanced on top, teetering over the plate that served as a lid. Joe made to take it, but Percy reached across first and took the lot. Sand fell from his back as he turned away, blocking Joe’s view, and therefore Joe did not see the very small, arguably adorable .22 calibre pistol and accompanying silencer that Percy took from under the bowl and shoved beneath his towel.
In a second, Percy was facing Joe again, smiling placidly. “It’s the best caponata you’ll ever have.” Joe didn’t believe that for a second.
“There’s bread here, and cheese,” said Giordano, emphasising the words, “witha large knife, should you need tocutanything.” The knife, which was neither a bread knife nor a cheese knife, was handed, with little ceremony, across to Percy, Giordano’s fine arms resting on Joe’s belly longer than necessary, were it necessary at all. “And if you get tired, you cangetawayquickly.” Keys were dropped into Percy’s hand and smuggled quickly into his shorts with a disapproving glare at Giordano when his empty hand slipped back across Joe’s chest. “And should you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
Joe barely noticed the caponata exchange, he forgot almostinstantly about the knife, but he baulked dramatically at what seemed to him to be the brazen exchange of a room key.
He leaned up on his elbows. “What’s?—”
“And Joe, for you,” said Giordano, “I have an Etna Bianco.” Giordano was reaching into his hamper again, opening the bottle, filling glasses, waffling about how they would taste the essence of the volcano.
“But—” Joe started again.
“I’m going for a swim.” Percy’s beloved form jogged, without another word, down the beach as a glass of wine was shoved into Joe’s hand.
His eyes shot across as he felt the clink of Giordano’s full glass against his own, and he caught Giordano’s pointed nod towards Percy. “You shouldn’t let him treat you that way, you know.”
With his heart sunk deep down in his stomach, Joe muttered, “What way?”
But Giordano made no response, his eyes locked on Percy’s fine figure as he dived beneath the blue, blue water.
Percy felt dreadful. He really, very much, regretted his decision to commit murder that afternoon, on holiday, right under Joe’s nose.
He swam fast, further and further out, sinking himself into the motion and the noise of the surf and birds and not people. He’d had enough of people. Enough for a lifetime. Except for Joe. And the kids were charming enough. For now.
He rolled over onto his back to float, closing his eyes and wondering how likely it was a sharkwould take him.
Not very.
Unfortunately.
But after all, he’d just made twenty-five thousand dollars. He only needed to go pull a trigger, fast and easy, and then the job was done. More or less. And he did have a very expensive restaurant picked out for dinner. And Althea really would need to buy something nicer to wear. And she would need a hotel room in London when she got back. And funds to get back on her feet. And suddenly that twenty-five thousand dollars was all but gone, and he wanted the other half and more still.
Shifting to tread water, he gazed back at the shore. Hot, hazy, almost blinding, he could still see Joe, far away as he was, and Giordano right up against him. And he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him leaving the two of them alone together again. And he wondered exactly how much longer he could keep it all up before Joe either saw sense and threw him over, or before he cracked and messed up in front of Joe, or stupidly just told him. Told him he was, that day, a killer for hire. Then Joe would be off. Gone forever.
Or maybe—and he forced the rising anxiety back down—maybe he would just go shoot this person in the head, then take Joe out for the best meal of his life, give him the sort of mind-blowing sex that would make him forget his own name, tell him he loved him, and that way make up for the lies and the one afternoon of bad behaviour amongst the many beautiful ones he planned to obliterate it with.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SEXUAL EXPLORATION
By the time Percy made his way up the beach, Joe could barely look at him. Giordano hadn’t said another word about it, but he hadn’t needed to. The one seed, planted, grew and grew. Because Giordano was right. Joe was Percy’s partner, and he deserved some sort of explanation about whatever was going on.
But then Percy fell, cool and dripping, back to his side, and did that thing he always did. He took Joe’s hand and kissed it, onlookers be damned, and running slow circles over his knuckles with his thumb, said, “I’ve been awfully rude today and I’m sorry.”
Joe hated Giordano’s attentive presence. He instinctively refused to show any vulnerability between himself and Percy, so he only clenched Percy’s fingers and rested his chin on his own knees, pulled up tight against his chest. And that troubled Percy even more. He hated when Joe was quiet. He motioned with an angry nod for Giordano to go.
“You two have a lovely afternoon,” was the immediate response. The caponata was shoved in Joe’s face. “If he doesn’t eat this, my mother will be devastated. Make him eat it.”
