Roxana

"The rules are: leave the GPS tracker on at all times, answer the phone regardless of what you are doing, don't be late, and don't talk more than necessary. Okay?"

"Yes, Roxi. But was the date so awkward that you don't want to see Thiago ever again? Not even as friends?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The issue is not that it was bad but that it was good. So good and it made me feel so awful. It felt like cheating and endangering someone at the same time.

Roxi, he's a grown-ass man and can take care of himself. So was Marco. But where is he now? Dead.

"What should I say if he asks about you?"
Legit question.

"Dunno. Tell him that I met someone on Tinder or so."

"Tinder? Ugh. That's quite atypical for your behavior so far." He raises an eyebrow. Snarky. Way too snarky for what I recalled of him. "I'll tell him you are not into him. Honesty is mostly a good idea. But... why? He is really hot. He has even those tiny muscles on the sides of the abs and such beautiful eyes. I think they are hazel. Is he not your type, Roxi? I recall Bogdan wasn't even half as hot as he is."

"Yeah... he is pretty hot..." I sigh. He really is, and nice and funny and he can dance.

"Ok... So? If you find him hot too, what's the issue? Was he behaving oddly? Was he rude and grabbed your ass or so?"

"No..." Jesus this kid grew up when I was blinking and now he is frightening me.

"Then what is it? Is it someone else? You like someone else, don't you? Did you meet someone in Italy? Oh and then you had to leave? Oh my..."

"No, that's... Dani, the persons we used to be died. What's this weird obsession you have with me and this guy?"

Dani frowns and folds his arms over his chest. His green eyes, the same color are mine are cloudy.

"You don't understand. He was nice and he helped and now I have some hours a week I am looking forward to. I just don't want it to end."

I walk over and hug him. He is taller than me, though not by much, slender, and mostly sad.

"I get it. I am sorry. Just go to your practice. Tell Thiago I'm on my period or so and I'll call him." Someday...

Dani blushes a bit. Ha! He blushes when he needs to talk about periods but not when he is talking about some guy's tiny side abs muscles.

After he is gone I sink on the bed, open the phone browser, and search for articles in the Italian press from eight months ago and onward. It's still a generic enough search to not be suspicious.

Ok, my Italian notions aren't that strong but despite machine translation, I don't find what I'm expecting. There are no articles about Marco's death. It means that grampa was very efficient in keeping it low profile, likely for the mob enemies to not see it coming or to not take advantage.

There are a few articles saying that he is leading his companies again and has become increasingly more active in business but that's it.

When I am about to close the matter I stumble upon an old article, from maybe a year ago showing Marco with grampa Medici. Air stops in my throat. I don't have any photos of him or of us, here with me. I trashed all my old stuff, not that I had a lot to begin with.

The only place I see him nowadays is in my nightmares. Dreams, but most would qualify as nightmares.

Yet here in this photo, he is still alive and smirks probably irritated at what Lorenzo was saying. It's very much like him. In regards to us, I mostly feel guilt and pain. An excruciating amount. But right now I feel I miss him more than anything else.

What would he say about my current situation? 'You don't need to hide, Pebbles. You are with me and I won't let anybody hurt you.'

If we would have parted under different circumstances, would I mind seeing him with someone else? Liking someone else? Sleeping with someone else?

I am certain I would, even knowing that us being together was totally unrealistic. Always has been unrealistic.

If we stayed apart after I left Italy I might have been searching for tabloid articles now to know what he is doing and who he is dating. I likely would have seen at some point an article about him marrying some really hot mob daughter and would have died of jealousy.

There would be months with me imagining that beautiful girl's hands all over him. I know myself and I would have been so fucking petty but regardless of anything, what I would have never wanted is for him to suffer.

And what about Thiago? He made you forget for an instant you were miserable and what do you do? Hate him for that.

It's almost nine months; nobody says you shouldn't be careful but a football match for Dani and a drink with a guy that doesn't seem to be in any way illegally involved might not be so bad. It might just keep you from going crazy.

Yeah, just... Crap! What time is it? Dani should have been home fifteen minutes ago. Fucking shit! And he of course doesn't answer his phone.

Like last time, I don't even remember how I got to the damn beach where they play.

Here are still a few guys on the improvised field but most have left. Dani is nowhere to be seen. Fuck.

"Onde está Andy? Ele já foi para casa?/ Where is Andy? Did he already go home?" I ask the first boy I reach. My Portuguese seems to be on steroids in desperate situations.

"Sim, ele saiu há meia hora. Acho que com Zeca. Você está bem, garota? Parece muito pálida?/Yes, he left half an hour ago. With Zeca I think. Are you alright? You look very pale?"

Half an hour? That's a lot of time to get home. And who the hell is Zeca?

I dial his number again but nobody answers.

"Quem é o Zeca? E onde está Thiago?/ Who is Zeca? And where is Thiago?"

"Zeca is playing with us. I don't know where Thiago is. I guess he went home. He lives in one of the apartments above the bar. You can ask one of the bartender ladies in which. They likely know." He winks when he says the last part and I feel like smacking his face but don't have time for that.

The stupid boy is indeed right. When I ask the lady at the bar where Thiago lives she frowns a bit at me but then directs me to the twentieth floor. I don't have time to care about her attitude but by the ass, she is displaying in those tight jean shorts she looks like a good candidate for at least a hook-up.

Anyway, what do I care? I fidget nervously till the elevator reaches the twentieth floor. Fuck, I forgot to ask about the room number.

However, when I reach the last floor there is only one door. I hammer aggressively against it.

Nothing.

"Thiago, open the fucking door. Where is Dani?! It was your responsibility to take care of him!" I am too distressed to be reasonable.

No answer. I am so pumped with adrenaline that I even feel capable of taking the thing down.

"Thiago!" I hammer my fist against the door again, when it opens abruptly and I fall face on onto his very sparsely clad body. My cheek makes contact with his collar bone and I look up a bit frightened.

"Where is Dani?!" I back off and scream at him. "And why didn't you take my calls or even open the fucking door?!" I am livid with anger.

"To answer that I would have to know who Dani is... And I am not sure if you should lecture me about answering calls. The only time I didn't was when I was showering after playing football as you well know."

Fuck. Dani. I said Dani. And he is wearing only some shorts that are hanging very low on his hips and literally nothing else.

"I... Andy, my brother. What Dani? I... can't breathe." I really cannot, and the surroundings become really blurry.

"Shit. You don't look good, Catarina. I think you are having a panic attack."

"I can't breathe," I mutter.

He grabs my shoulders, guides me to sit on the floor, and crouches in front of me."Andy is with Zeca. Zeca is a good kid. They like each other. Nothing bad happened to your brother. If he doesn't pick up the phone sometimes he is just being a regular teenager. Breathe with me. In-out."

In-out. His eyes are ember, edged with green. In-out. And his lashes are really long. In-out. I see slightly better.

"Can you please call that boy?"

"Yes. Since you asked so nicely." There is the ghost of a smile on his lips. He doesn't understand. If this would be a normal situation, he would be right, but it isn't. He doesn't know though.

"Strange. Zeca is not picking up. Let me call his older brother. Just a second. No reason to panic though. In-out. Remember?"

He turns away and talks on the phone in Portuguese. The light frown on his face is giving me bad vibes.

"What?" I demand after he hangs up.

"Zeca didn't get home yet. He is only a bit late. His family is not yet concerned. Where exactly do you live? Meaning how long does it take to reach your place?"

"Less than twenty minutes."

He frowns again.

"Where exactly do you live? Be more specific."

"I don't..." 'I don't want to tell you', seems like the wrong choice of words.

"Catarina. You need to cooperate if you want my help. What are you afraid of? Me? Can I be so bloody awful that it gives you the creeps to consider telling me where you live?"

"In Cantagolo," I mutter.

If I had to give a name to his expression that would be 'are you kidding me'.

"In a Favela?" He bites his lower lip uncertain what to say. "You do know that you look like a rich, foreign, white girl? You might not be rich but white and foreign is enough for people to assume the third too." And now he probably adds fucking stupid to the list too. I don't say anything. I don't know what.

"Let me call a friend. If your brother brought Zeca to the Favela, they might actually be in some trouble. Seriously, why? If you were poor you couldn't afford a year off without working at all."

He turns away and makes another call.

When he hangs up he walks towards me and extends an arm to help me stand up from the floor.

"So the police will be searching for them. Wait a bit till I put some clothes on and we can go. My friend Henrique is on it. I hope nothing actually happened but better safe than sorry." He sighs and mutters "I will never hear the end of it."

"Of what?" I ask, a bit irritated.

"Of 'Thiago, don't stick your dick into crazy. Again.'"

I don't really want to think further about what he said so I mumble a "whatever."

"Exactly..."

He is cranky, irritated but cooperative. Am I crazy? Sure seem.

"Let's go." He exits the bathroom now dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. I haven't seen him in black before. It unsettles me.

"Are we going to meet your friend?"

"Eventually. He is currently searching for the kids and so should we, starting with your place. It's not a particularly good idea for me to do that but well..."

"You are a pussy. It's not that dangerous."

"You are clearly delusional and have no idea what you are talking about. Let's not discuss this further, it only irritates me."

We walk in silence down the street to our house. I look all around and my heart is still hammering in my chest. If Lorenzo found Dani, he would likely not have killed him yet. He will wait so I can watch.

If my prayers are heard and it's not Lorenzo, I have to still face the fucking police.

I should never have let Dani play. I am a moron.

Thiago's phone rings again right before we enter the Favela grounds.

"Você os encontrou? Ah Merda.../ You found them? Oh shit... "

Merda. I know his words. It's the same as in Italian.