Page 39 of Confession
The silence is heavy, but it’s better than talking. I’m not in his weight class on that. He always gets the better of me.
I park the car well down the street from the DiMaggio’s club. Vitali gets out the night vision binoculars.
While he’s looking through them, I stare at his profile. Streetlight softly limns the lower half of his face. Why does he have to be so damn beautiful?
Vitali lowers the binoculars and looks at me, catching me staring. It’s too late to look away, so I hold his gaze.
He asks quietly, “Are you okay?”
It’s such a dismissible question. I should just sayyesorI’m fineor evenfuck off. But for some goddamn reason, my insides twist up and choke me and I can’t answer him.
No, I’m not okay.
He saw. I know he did. Maybe not the full truth but certainly the edge of it. Because the only way he could’ve taken control of me so easily when I was that angry was by seeing through it, seeing what Ireally needed.
And what he saw was that I neededhim.
I needed his body against mine, needed his cock inside me to ground me and make me feel like everything was fine, that we were both there, safe.
It’s bad enough that he saw that need because it makes me feel so exposed, but what’s even worse is that he answered it.
I’m not grateful for that. I’m really fucking angry. Not with him, not exactly, but in general. I’ve worked so goddamn hard to teach myself that Idon’tneed anything, that I’m fine just like I am, on my own. I can endure whatever I have to. I know how to isolate myself, how to make a wall around myself like I’m a goddamn castle. That’s how I’ve learned to survive. It’s the only way I know.
And I’ve lived just fine with Vitali for years. I know exactly how to be in love with him from within my isolated space. But I don’t know how to be in love with him like this, with him constantly breaking through my carefully built walls.
And it’s not even that I’m afraid he’ll realize that I’m in love with him. What I’m really afraid of is how my need for him, which I’ve kept small and controlled and invisible for years, is exploding into something way too big, something beyond my ability to control.
So, no, I’m not okay, and now too much time has passed since he voiced the question for me to pretend that I am.
So I grab the binoculars from him and focus on the DiMaggio club. I’ve been inside Arete a few times, and it’s just as boring inside as out. Outside, it’s a typical Bostonian brick building. Inside, it’s a stuffy supper club full of cigar smoke, rich old men, and women that are too young for them.
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” I observe. “I don’t even see any of Gavino’s known vehicles.”
Vitali takes the binoculars away from me. “Let’s check his yacht. It’s the most likely spot.”
“Most likely for what? You obviously have some theory that you’re not sharing.”
“It’s what I would be most likely to attack if Gavino were present.”
“Weshouldattack him after what he did. The warehouse then the shipment? Not to mention Alesso sending his thugs after you when we met with Mickey.”
Vitali settles against the door so he can really look at me. “Speaking of. Did you know that Leo Pedano was found dead?”
“I hadn’t heard that,” I reply as I start the car.
“You’re not going to ask me what happened to him?” Vitali inquires as I drive.
“It’s not hard to guess that he was murdered. Probably by Alesso for failing to kill you, which means Alesso got shit from his father for nothing.”
“Rumor is that Alesso and Leo were lovers.”
It’s more than rumor. It’s true. Obviously, I can’t tell Vitali how I know that.
I say, “Then maybe Gavino ordered it to punish his son for breaking the rule. Who cares?”
“I care. Family drama. Who’s fucking whom. Who needs to be silenced. All of that affects the equation.”
My heartrate is way up, but I’m used to controlling my voice around Vitali, so I manage, I think, to sound disinterested when I say, “Well, computing all that is your department, not mine. I flunked math.”
