Page 70 of Giovanni
Framing this as an impromptu investigation, I steel my nerves for whatever comes next. Bex’s voice momentarily fades as she shouts instructions to someone in the background.
“Sorry about that, Kacie. The guy here was about to mess up the painting sequence for this piece we’re working on. Oncethat’s done wrong, there’s no fixing it. Anyway, I was on the treadmill, like I was when I met you. You know, that’s my usual warm-up before free weights. I was looking for you, by the way, so when those two walked by, I thought, hmm, Bex, that’s sort of interesting.”
“Yes, I ended up working. It was supposed to be Giovanni’s day off, but he got called in with so many people out sick.”
She grumbles into the phone, snapping her fingers, which causes me to think I’m distracting her.
“Oh, the crud is going around. Yeah, I noticed he was swamped. Juggling multiple clients, sometimes two at a time.”
That explanation fits what I know—the long gap where I hadn’t heard from Giovanni, probably too engrossed in his work to call or text. I hum an acknowledgment, encouraging her to continue.
“I was fiddling with my playlist and checking out my hair in my phone’s camera when I heard her—Jenna. She was either crying or laughing really loud, I couldn’t quite figure out which. Then she lunged at him.”
I switch my phone to speaker mode and pull up the picture Bex had sent. Staring at it, I try to discern whether she’s laughing or crying, but it’s impossible to tell with her face plastered to Giovanni’s. A fresh wave of hurt washes over me at the sight.
“What happened after the kiss?”
“It was odd, I’ll give you that. Giovanni seemed to be holding her and pushing her away simultaneously. Like he was trying not to hurt her feelings or something, that’s when I realized she was crying.”
Her tone indicates she’s still puzzled by the whole interaction.
“The whole scene was weird. Why would you do something like that in a gym? Everyone’s always watching everyone elsewhile working out because the music they play is crap, and the TV’s always on those shitty news channels.”
Calling Bex, I thought, would clear things up. It’s only adding to my confusion.
“Huh? Then what?”
I lighten my voice, trying to glean more information even though the background music is getting louder and acting as a ticking clock to this call ending soon.
“I think they argued, or at least he raised his voice at her.”
That statement has me raising my eyebrows. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him raise his voice or appear flustered, bothered, or angry. This piece of information is very out of character for him.
“Then he walked off toward the group fitness area, and she ran crying into the locker room. I was tempted to go after her and ask what was up, but I figured it wasn’t my place to get involved.”
Her inflection takes on a casual tone as if shrugging off the significance of the incident.
“I appreciate you sending me the picture and answering all my questions, Bex. I hope this doesn’t put you in an awkward spot.”
“Hell no, I’d want someone to do the same for me. Men love them and hate them at the same time, am I right?”
She laughs loudly into the receiver at her remark.Personally, I’ve never been one to subscribe to broad generalizations about any group of people, but I understand how experiences can shape such sentiments.
“Either way, I appreciate your help, Bex.”
The conversation comes to a natural end, and just as I’m about to hang up, she adds, “Oh, hey, one last thing. When I next saw your man, he was dripping in sweat, like having run suicidesup and down the basketball court, except he wasn’t coming from the courts. I didn’t take him?—”
But before she can finish her sentence, my phone abruptly dies, leaving her words hanging in the air. I’m left staring at the now blank screen. The timing couldn’t be worse. The lack of closure adds another layer of mystery to the already confusing situation.
Bex’s sudden observation about Giovanni being drenched in sweat, not coming from the courts, piques my interest. What was he doing? Where was he coming from? And why did she think that was such an important detail to share?
The questions swirl in my head as I lay the phone by my tray. The weight of not just the physical exhaustion, my pounding head, and high blood pressure compounds my mental strain. The room falls silent again.
The aching loneliness that I usually chased away with long nights at the office isn’t going to be possible anymore, and with Giovanni possibly out of the picture, I’m left alone with my thoughts. It’s the scariest possible outcome.
19
GIOVANNI
