Interviewing the Italian (BWWM interracial)

Chapter Eight - From Absurd to Awkward

Chapter Eight

It was an awkward drive home. I sat on one side of the limo with my arms crossed looking out the window.  August sat on the other side of limo, fuming.   I knew he was fuming because his left jawbone had a constant tick.  I understood that he was pissed; I would have been contemplating murder. The question remained, who was he pissed at more; his cousin or his ex-fiancé?

I looked at his right hand. It was red and swollen from where he had punched Raphael. It looked pretty nasty. Having been a tomboy, I knew that he wouldn't be able to use his hand all day tomorrow if I didn't get ice on it.  Turning a little to my right, I saw the mini-bar.  I poured August a drink of whatever the brown liquor was sitting in the crystal decanter.  Placing a couple of ice cubes in a linen napkin, I eased over to August.  Except for the track lighting inside the limo, it was dark.  Handing him the drink, I waited until he took a long hard swallow of the stuff before I put the cloth to his hand. He let out a hiss, sounding more like a wounded jungle cat than a human being, and jerking his hand trying to escape my grasp.  

I kept the napkin there, knowing that pulling away at the first sign of his temper was a sign of weakness; I am not a meek mouse.  He stopped huffing and puffing and let me finish taking care of his hand.

"Grazie. " It sounded if August almost choked on the words.   Has he ever told anyone thank you before?  I wondered as I nodded my acceptance. I still didn't trust myself to even speak yet. 

"I suppose you want to know why I hit my own cousin?"  I shook my head no. To me, it was obvious.  

"Why not?"  Was he that blind to himself?

"Because if I was still in love with my ex, and I saw them making out with a family member, I would have killed them both."  I said simply.  I could only imagine what he was feeling.  Yet, despite me thinking August was suffering from a broken heart, he started to laugh.  He laughed so hard that his whole body shook. What the hell was so funny?

"Ah, il mio cuore.  I am not in love with her. I never was in love with her. It was merely a convenience."  He was still smiling; I could see his teeth glimmering in the moonlight streaming in from the windows.  I pressed the now wet, cold cloth against his knuckles with a little more pressure. He let out a hiss again.  It served August right.  I didn't see anything funny about any of this.

"If you say so, August.  So tell me why you would attack Raphael? He isn't as big as you and your brother. If you didn't love her, why do you care who she dates?" 

"My cousin, Raphael, is quite new to the states.  Sure, we are not as close, but I brought him here to get away from mi famiglia.  Signore Romani had Raphael doing some questionable things, but the signore, he was tough on him. I brought Raphael here to have a better life. I gave him a job at my company. And this is what he does to me?"  His question was directed at the air more than it was to me.  August's accent was inflected and deep, as if he just learned English.  Funny thing was, I found myself slipping into understanding him and speaking Italian back, well, the parts of it I remembered.

"Spiacente, I'm sorry August." I didn't know what else to say.