You see, there are these apps where anybody can write books, stories and the sort and one day, scrolling the FB (which I don't usually do but I kill time with it on occasions) my eyes fell on a title that made me scoff.
The title, 'Mafia in Love'...
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"The doctor is waiting," Fabio tells me once I'm out for her apartment, still under the spell of those honey eyes.
"Right..." I reply and walk into my apartment where I can see the doctor waiting in the living.
"Good afternoon, sir," he says.
I hum a sort of greeting and I take off my jacket and shirt, sighing at every move I make. The doctor walks around me and starts doing what doctors do, and I don't mind him much. I'm still thinking about Emillia, about how much I wished I stayed, about how keen I've become to touch her, hold her, taste her, in a matter of just a few hours.
"I don't see anything broken but you'll wear some very nasty bruises for a while," the doctor gives his verdict and I pull my shirt back on my shoulders once he's done.
"See? I told you it was nothing serious," I tell Fabio who's standing in the door frame, leaning against one side.
"A specialist's opinion can never do wrong and is preferable to yours," he replies and nods his head, greeting the doctor who walks by and exits the apartment.
"I had a call from Benito today," Fabio brings the news.
I frown and stare at him, waiting for some more, and the more I wait, the angrier I become.
"Saying?"
"Saying he'll visit Sicily soon and he wants to see you. Seems he's not happy to have gotten a shipment that is stolen. So, he plans to investigate and find out who's done it."
"Not his fucking business."
"That's what you believe and he seems to disagree."
"Oh, fuck him! Let him come. Being on my territory makes him exposed and at disadvantage."
"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion. He still has plenty of faithful families in Sicily. And what I've learned about his right hand, that Alexander guy, he has quite of a history and some damn good men under his command," Fabio keeps talking and following me to the bedroom.
I toss my clothes away and walk into the bathroom bare naked, leaving the door ajar and Fabio talking about how this visit of Benito is beneficial in solving the Moroccan issue.
"He can help, you know?"
"I don't want any help from Benito. And... why would he help? What the fuck is his business? Don't tell me he feels suddenly guilty for the death of my father and tries to buy my forgiveness."
"No, what I'm trying to say is that you don't even know for sure he's responsible for your father's death. You only know one side of the story, your father's, whose reputation doesn't really shine."
I shake my head disagreeing with Fabio and feeling fed up with any kind of talk for the night. The pain in my chest and around my torso bothers me a lot and I really feel the need to rest.
