Page 3 of Deviant Desires

I roll my eyes. I’ve heard this speech a thousand times it feels like. “I told you once and I’ll tell you again, he showed up unannounced.” And that’s precisely how his next arrival in the public eye will go. Someone will be digging in the city park to install a new telephone pole or something and they’ll come across a dead body. One of these days I’m going to need to dig him up and move him to a proper final resting place.

We walk inside Verizon and have to wait a few minutes before a team member becomes available. He’s quick to find my old account and get me set up with the newest iPhone. The contact list is intact, he tells me. “Those are tied to the cloud,” he hands the device to me. “So are your photos. But you’ll have to redownload all your apps and log into everything again.”

That’s going to be a nightmare. Hell if I remember my Facebook password or my email address. “Pay the man,” I mumble to Raniero as I walk off with my phone and start scrolling through my contact list. I’ve got one call to make and I’d prefer to be alone while I make it.

As I step outside the doors of the Verizon store, the warm midday sun beats down on me. Despite the chilly 50 degrees, standing in the sun warms me to the core.

I press Bambi’s contact info and the call screen pops up. After a few seconds, the phone starts to ring. I clutch the hunk of technology between my fingers and hold it to my ear, waiting for the sound of her sweet voice on the other end of the line.

Bambi never came to visit me. My brothers said I should have expected that, but it still pissed me off. We were engaged. I bought us a home together. I could understand her turning me over to the cops and even telling her truth on the stand, but I couldn’t believe that she didn’t love me enough to visit me in prison.

“Hello?” She sounds hesitant, but the melodic sound of her voice takes me back to the time we spent together. God, I missed her so much.

I have to take a few breaths to keep from professing my love over the phone. It’s been too fucking long since I saw the curve of her legs as they wrapped around my waist. It feels like it’s been an eternity since I tongue fucked her pussy. “Bambi, I’m out now. Daddy’s coming home.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before I hear her messing with some papers. “Mateo, please,” Bambi starts to beg, “leave me alone.”

As fucking if. I only made it through those three years because of her. I knew that when I got out, we’d be together again. She’d have to make up for what she did to me, but we’d be together. Our happily ever after kept me from savagely ripping apart the men that disrespected me every day. “I know you couldn’t stand to see me in prison. I know that’s why you didn’t come to visit me.”

She whimpers on the other end of the line. “No, it’s over, Mateo. It was over the night I saw you do that thing to that guy.”

She’s beginning to piss me off. Bambi isn’t supposed to say stuff like this. It isn’t true. “You were scared, little deer, that was all. You should have talked to me first. But we can get past this. I’m free and I’m coming home to you.”

Bambi hangs up on me. It really makes me angry. I consider throwing my phone across the parking lot until Raniero comes into view. He just spent a grand on this phone; I better not break it in front of him. “Was that her?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I turn away from him and head for the car, a scowl deepening on my face. “We’re getting back together, Nero.” I fight with the stupid door handle for a few seconds before finally getting it open. I throw myself inside the Tesla and hate myself for what happened that night three years ago.

Raniero climbs inside a few seconds later and starts the car. “This isn’t a good idea, Mat. Just let it go. Lethergo.”

“Fuck good ideas. This is my woman, Nero. If you had a girl, wouldn’t you do anything to keep her?” I don’t need him to answer to know what that answer would be.Yes, he’d move heaven and earth for the love of his life. He’d break the law if he had to, just like I’m going to do.

We ride the rest of the way back to Manhattan in silence. Every time Raniero tries to break it and start up a conversation, I turn my head to look out the window. “Just let me stew,” I grumble after a while. And he does.

He takes me to our childhood home, which he inherited after our parents moved to Sicily. “Tomorrow we’ll get the rest of your life set up. Get you your bank accounts back, get you a place to live, and get everything moved. All your stuff is in the basement. I got it back from Bambi after you were sentenced.”

I leave him standing in the foyer as I head to my old room. It’s done up for guests now, but I throw myself on the bed and sink into the comforter as I sink into a depression. I’m asleep before I can count to ten. It’s the nicest bed I’ve been on in years and I can’t help myself.

When I wake up, I can’t remember where I am or how I got here. I feel disoriented as I get to a sitting position and look around the room. Everything reminds me of my childhood, which reminds me that Raniero brought me here. Because I just got out of prison and my fiancé won’t let me stay with her.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the expensive phone Raniero purchased for me earlier in the day. I’m suddenly grateful that I didn’t break it in the Verizon parking lot. I quickly redial the last contact I reached out to: Bambi Schelling. It rings and rings, never going to voicemail, but finally, she picks up. “Mateo,” she groans sleepily on the other end of the line, “you can’t call me anymore. We’re over.”

“Oh, Bambi,” I chuckle into the receiver, “you think three years on the inside are bad? Wait until I get my hands on you.” She’ll pay for what she did to me; she’ll pay with her life. “We’re endgame, princess, and I’m getting back the life I lost. We said we’d be together forever; it’s time for you to honor your promise.”

2

BAMBI

2Years Later

My phone gently chimes from under the pillow and I groan as I roll over to turn it off. Without opening my eyes, I search for the offensive sound and smack the screen until the alarm goes away. I want to go back to sleep, but my brain is already racing through the day’s to-do list.

I need to get my dress for tonight steam cleaned. I have an appointment with the local dry cleaners on the books, but I will need to specify in no uncertain terms that the dresshasto be finished by 4:00 pm.

I need to double-check the guest list for tonight. That means checking my emails, my personal messages, and any messages left on my phone at work. The people canceling in advance will save us a few dollars on food costs.

I need to make sure Sahara gathered enough hospitality students to serve food, refill drinks, and bus tables. If we’re short, we’ll have to offer extra credit to fill the roster.

I need to take a shower, wash my hair, and shave off every hair from my neck to my toes. Last night I stuck my curling iron in my work bag, I just need to remember to grab my makeup on the way out the door so I can touch it up before the event. I won’t have enough time between work ending and the event needing to be set up to run home and get ready.

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