STEFANO {Published/Sample Only}

20

I saw the movement from the corner of my eye so I looked up, staring out the glass in front of my office, seeing Luca and Ed making their way over. Just what I needed.

Then the door was flying open, no knock of course.

"Hey loverboy." Luca walked in, arms up, smug ass smile.

"Sono occupato! I'm busy, what do you want?"

They both continued across the room, dropping down onto the couch, Luca reaching for the remote and powering up the TV on the wall across from my desk. "What's going on? SEC at it again?"

"Nah," he smiled, resting back, getting a little too comfortable. "Yankees. Big day's next week!"

Fuck that's right. Time was flying by. Opening day was inching closer, a countdown. Just like when we were kids- papà ticking off the days on the calendar.

"It'll be a blowout," Ed groaned, emptying his pockets onto my table. "You see who they're going up against." He pointed up to the TV, just as the pitcher tossed the first ball. "They've got that queer Poloma pitching, look at him, walking like he's still got a dick up his ass."

I was so used to listening to this bullshit, but now I saw Mark's face and my blood was fucking boiling. "Get the fuck out of here!" I waved to Luca to turn it off, but his eyes were on Ed, and the lines of coke he was edging with his razor. "What the fuck are you doing? You can't do that shit in here."

Ed looked up at me, then to Luca and Luca finally gestured for him to wrap it up. "Fuck Luca gets sober and we all have to suffer," he grumbled as he fussed his way out of my office.

"You need to handle that." I rolled my eyes back to Luca, arms still spread across the top of the couch, not bothered by any of it.

"What?" He shrugged. "Ed's fucking brilliant, and cocaine used to be medicinal- just like weed."

Jesus Christ. "Luca!"

"Fine, consider it handled. When you gonna be done? We're meeting the girls for dinner- don't forget."

"Give me twenty."

He stood, shaking out his coat as he powered down the TV then I watched him cross the room, slamming the door behind him.

And I looked back down at my computer, but now I couldn't stop thinking about Mark so I picked up my phone, scrolling to our messages, re-reading his from last night for the twentieth time. 'Miss your face.' Fuck, I missed his face too.

I'd been fine the week after he left, living off the high of smelling him in my sheets, on my clothes... but then it came crashing down, that endless empty pit in my stomach- nagging at me constantly. It wasn't fair, fly out, fuck around, fly away.

I tapped his name, pushing the phone to my ear.

"Hello..." His voice was muffled, short.
"What are you doing?"
"Just getting home."
"From where?"
"Shopping, new suit."
"Why?"
"For my birthday next weekend. I'm going all out. I also..."

I hung up, slamming the phone down against the desk. Going all out- he had some serious fucking nerve. Trying to look good for his birthday in Vegas- unbelievable. Who the fuck did that.