Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 10-5

Alistair and Bergamote were already on the roof of the nursing home. They were dancing against each other to an old song by a famous French singer, Édith Piaf. Contrary to what people thought, they weren't a couple. They looked after each other; that was how they preferred their relationship to be described. For Bergamote, love wasn't limited to liking her partner's looks, mood, or humor. For her, love was about delving into the other person's soul to find the beauty in their flaws that made them perfect. My roommate liked to tell me that when someone loved your flaws more than anything else, that was true love.

Sitting on the low wall, I thought about him again. I imagined him in a business meeting with Hamza. He didn't care what I was doing at that moment.

The smell of rum brought me back to reality. Bergamote was handing me a glass, smiling.

"Our Ronney must have something to tell us, my dear Alistair."

"Oh, yes, you still haven't told us anything about your trip with Yeraz."

Alistair was dressed in flowing jeans held up by suspenders over a pin-up print T-shirt. His outfit clashed with Bergamote's pretty light blue, well-ironed pleated dress.

"It was mostly for business. Los Cabos is full of extremely wealthy drug dealers and mobsters," I explained in a detached voice.

I shook my glass of rum. My eyes in the void remained fixed on the invisible world that only I could see.

"And did you visit the island?"

I raised my face.

"Yes, I went parasailing and fishing."

Alistair laughed.

"Fantastic! That must have taken your mind off things."

"You bet!" growled Bergamote. "Yeraz was there. Take your mind off what?"

"We kissed," I said casually.

My two companions froze. Alistair grabbed his suspenders while Bergamote squinted to rewind my words to make sure she had heard them correctly. Alistair cleared his throat before asking incredulously, "Did you kiss a local fisherman?"

Bergamote nodded in support of this question.

"No," I whispered. "I kissed Yeraz. Or rather, I let myself be kissed."

"Oh, no," breathed Bergamote.

She put her yellow beret on the back of her head, looking horrified before declaring, "Don't go down that road, Ronney. Yeraz is an active member of the mafia. He's not a good person!"

"He's going to use you," said Alistair.

I tried to reassure them.

"It was only a kiss. There will never be anything more."

"Getting the poison out of the veins is more complicated than you think."

Bergamote had said these words as a joke, but the worried frown on her forehead told me it wasn't one.

"What should I do? I feel like I'm getting lost."

My plea alerted my two friends to my current emotional state. I really needed help, to get my head above water.

"You should take a break," Alistair suggested, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Bergamote added, "It's time to take a few well-deserved days off. You need to get out of his grip, Ronney. You'll see things more clearly afterward. Save yourself."

"Do you think he'll let you take a week off?"

I shrugged and took a long sip from my glass of rum before answering.

"He shouldn't have a problem with it. Yeraz is very busy in general, and what happened in Los Cabos is less important to him than to me."

I tried to smile as if it wasn't so hard to admit all this.

Suddenly, our eyes turned to the building across the street. The lights had dimmed to announce the start of the dancers' practice. During the class, I put Yeraz aside, in a corner of my head. This was the magic of Daphne.