His Wicked Game

by Ray, M. L.

  “My kid sister, Juno. Levi… if anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of her, right? However old she is. You’ll be her friend?”

  Levi had looked at his friend trying to figure out why Federico was saying this to him but his face was in shadow. “Of course, buddy. I’ll always be there for you and Juno.”

  “Grazie.”

  Levi had never asked his friend why he’d asked him that on that particular night. It had only been a few months since Federico and Juno’s parents had died and Levi assumed it was just the repercussions of that which haunted his friend.

  Now, he wondered if Federico, even then, had still been the same person. Was he already sliding down that terrible path that led to his death? Ferdie was reckless in some ways but since dropping out to look after Juno, stepping up in a way that should never happen to a kid barely out of his teens, Levi had assumed he was as responsible as his parents had been.

  Now he knew differently. Levi remember what that kid Jake had said to him. He’d been clean for months…

  What had happened to his friend to make him lapse? And in such a spectacular way. A speedball? Cocaine and heroin? Levi knew very little about hard drugs but he’d heard of that one. Some actor in Hollywood had died on a sidewalk back in the early nineties… what was his name? That was a speedball, Levi remembered.

  He sighed now and walked back to his hotel. He would eat there, he decided, then have a few drinks in the bar to help him sleep.

  The hotel restaurant was superb, and Levi felt better after the meal. He settled in at the bar, ordering a scotch from the bartender and studying his fellow guests. The room was subtly lit, exquisite Murano glass table lamps lit around the room, the hum of talk a pleasant background to the evening. Faint music came through the speakers.

  Most of the guests were in couples or groups, at the tables scattered around the room. A couple sat at the far end of the bar and next to Levi, a single man studying the drink menu. He was about Levi’s age, early forties, with shaggy dark curls and bright green eyes. He looked up at Levi’s scrutiny and nodded, half-smiled. “Buonasera.”

  “Buonasera.”

  The man smiled. “American?”

  Levi chuckled. “That obvious?”

  The other man laughed and offered Levi his hand. “Arturo Corri.”

  “Levi Zapata, good to meet, you… wait, Arturo Corri, the photographer? That Arturo Corri?”

  “That’s me.”

  Levi was impressed. “Wow, man… I love your work. The exhibit at MOMA, the one about the Nobel prize winners, last year was incredible. Breath taking.”

  Arturo bent his neck gracefully. “Thank you. I hope I captured the essence of those people.”

  “You did and I don’t know how you did this, but even without saying who was who, I could tell exactly what they won the prizes for, what their specialty was and…” He stopped and grinned ruefully. “Sorry about the fan boy-ing. My brother is an artist, my sister-in-law a gallerist so I see a lot of shows but few that really speak to me.”

  Arturo laughed. “I understand and thank you again. I never get tired of hearing people say good things about my work.” Levi grinned, then Arturo put his head on one side.

  “Zapata? Your brother is Knox Zapata?”

  Levi nodded. “He is.”

  “I love his work. Which means the gallery you speak of is the Granger Gallery?”

  “Anouk wanted to keep the name to honor Tom Granger.”

  “Ah yes,” Arturo’s smile faltered a little, “terrible what happened.”

  There was a slightly awkward silence then until Arturo summoned the bar tender. “Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me what you’re doing in Venice.”

  They ordered more drinks and went to find a table. Arturo asked Levi about his trip and expressed his sorrow at his friend’s death.

  Levi found he didn’t want to talk about Federico any more this evening. “And what about you, Arturo? What brings you to Venice?”

  “A new project. I’m hoping to find the muse I need for my new theme.”

  “Which is?”

  Arturo made a graceful sweep of his hands. “Movement. Specifically, the movement of the human body. Even more specifically, I want to photograph the different ways of dance throughout the world. Of course, being Italian, I want to start here. There’s a ballet company here I’m interested in.”

  Levi wondered if he should mention Juno but decided he didn’t know either her or Arturo enough to say so. “Interesting.”

  “I hope so. I’m talking to some experts at my old alma matar who specialize in the study of human gait. I was reading an article written by one of them about his work in the alumni magazine.”

  Levi nodded. “Wait, a second, what’s your alma matar?”

  “Scuola Normale Superiore in Pisa.”

  Levi’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought so. I remember reading that article. Is that what gave you the inspiration?”

  Arturo nodded. “So, you are alumni too? What year?”

  Levi told him and Arturo smiled. “I was a couple of years behind you. A pity we did not meet before. How long will you be in Venice for?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. I’m taking a sabbatical from my business, had come here to build concert halls with Federico but obviously, that’s not possible now.”

  Arturo leaned forward, his green eyes intense. “Why? Because he is dead? Your friend is gone, but the idea is not. The dream is not. Why not honor his memory by building his dream?”

  Levi stared at him, trying to figure out why the idea hadn’t occurred to himself. “You know what? You’re right. It would be a way to honor his memory… although I would have to talk to his sister first.”

  “His sister?”

  “Juno. She’s alone now…” Levi considered, then shrugged. “I might as well say this although please don’t consider me interfering with your work. But Juno is a ballet dancer with the VBC.”

  Arturo chuckled and raised his glass. “Then, Levi Zapata, it seems it is serendipitous that we should have met. The Venice Ballet Company is the very organization I’m interested in.”

  “It does seem rather convenient.” He tapped his glass to Arturo’s. He liked this man immensely, his work, his art, and the coincidences did seem rather positive for both of them.

  “Tell me more about this young dancer, this Juno.”

  And so, Levi did, telling him about Federico’s request from years ago that if anything should happen to him, Levi would take care of Juno.

  Arturo listened, nodding in agreement as Levi spoke and finally, he smiled at him. “So, you’re here in Venice as a knight in shining armor?”

  “I hope Juno won’t need one, but I suppose so.”

  Arturo looked at him then with a smile. “You never know when she’ll need one, Levi. You never know.”

  And he raised his glass to salute his companion.

  Chapter Four

  Levi found he wasn’t quite ready to see Juno Martello in the flesh. As she walked toward him in the café, her resemblance to her late brother took Levi’s breath away and the grief for his friend felt like a punch to the throat.

  He stood up to greet her, not knowing whether to hug her or… Juno held out her hand and he shook it, relieved she’d made the decision. Her dark brown eyes scrutinized his face and he could tell she was trying to figure out whether he was someone to trust.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again,” he said rather lamely, but he was rewarded by a small smile.

  “I’m sorry it’s like this. Shall we sit?”

  Levi nodded, and they sat down at the small table. The café was small and so they had to sit closer than Levi had expected and he caught her scent, soap and fresh air. His body reacted to it but he pushed that aside. The heartbreak in her eyes was palpable and made his own heart ache for her.

  “I’m so sorry about Federico,” he said softly, seeing her nod slightly, “if it
helps… he was a good man. He just…”

  “Fucked up.” Juno said, a hard edge to her voice. “You don’t know, Levi, you haven’t been around. It went on for years. This back and forth, between him using and then getting clean. He always lapsed. Always. Except… this time it seemed he had finally done it. He had been clean for months.”

  “Your friend Jake told me, at the funeral.”

  Juno looked up and smiled sadly. “He’s a sweetie.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not exactly being the best company.”

  “You don’t have to be anything, Juno. I know we don’t know each other yet, but I want to be your friend. Someone you can lean on.”

  Her smile was a little cooler. “Forgive me if I’m a little cynical.” She looked away from him and he could see the anger in her eyes. He knew it wasn’t directed at him. He said nothing, not wanting to give meaningless platitudes to this young, broken woman.

  Juno stirred too much sugar into her coffee then winced when she sipped it. “How long are you… when are you going back to America?”

  “No idea yet. I’ll be around.” He risked a smile and for once, she met his gaze.

  “He asked you to look after me, didn’t he?”

  Levi nodded. “He did. A few years ago, now.”

  Juno nodded, the muscles in her jaw clenching. “I suppose, to most people, that would sound like a brother who cared. Really, it’s just him obfuscating responsibility. Again. A safety net so that when he fucked up, which he knew he would, there would be someone like you there.” Her hand was clenched around her cup and for a moment Levi worried it would smash and cut her. “But I don’t need a babysitter, Levi. I’m an adult. An adult who doesn’t need drugs to get through the day. He did this.” Her voice broke, and she pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  Before he could stop her, Juno was gone, her slight figure disappearing out of the door to the café. Levi sat still, not wanting to chase after her and frighten the young woman. God, she was a mess though and his heart ached for her.

  As he left the ballet company’s building and walked out into the cold Venetian air, he pulled out his phone. When Knox answered, Levi greeted him. “I called to tell you I’ve made my decision. I’m going to be in Venice for the foreseeable future. There’s a promise I need to keep.”

  ***

  Juno went back to her small apartment and, locking herself in, dropped her bag on the floor and without even taking her coat off, she curled up on the sofa and cried herself out.

  She lost track of time as her tears shuddered to a halt and she fell into an uneasy sleep, but when she woke, the room was swathed in blue light and from outside her window, she heard the city noise quiet.

  Dusk. Juno got up slowly from the couch, stretching out her sore limbs. Her eyes felt scratchy and swollen and when she stumbled to the bathroom, she winced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her face looked pudgy and her skin splotchy. She splashed cold water on her face then cranked on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up. The shower helped her aching body relax a little. Afterward, she heated some soup, scarfing it down with some fresh bread. The food helped, but after, she sat on the windowsill and gazed out over the canal. Levi Zapata had been sweet, but she didn’t need another man to help her. He couldn’t bring Federico back, and she could do without the memories of his and Levi’s friendship.

  Loneliness pulled at her chest. Yes, she had Moriko and Jake but they were much more extrovert than she was, and they played as hard as they worked. Tonight, she knew, Moriko would be out at her night job, tending bar and flirting with the customers, and Jake would be with his boyfriend, Riccardo, walking their beloved dogs and enjoying each other’s company.

  Juno slid from the sill and went into her bedroom. During one of Ferdie’s flush periods, he’d had a barre installed in her large bedroom as a surprise so she could practice and now she went through her warm-up methodically.

  Dancing was the only solace. She’d followed in her mother’s footsteps in that way—her mother had been a ballet dancer too for a short time before she married Juno’s father and bore his son, Federico. Gianni had encouraged Maria to resume her career after his birth but she had demurred. Her child was her everything, her family her love, and when, as she neared forty-five, she found herself with a twenty-year-old son and pregnant with her second child, she was delighted. Despite the difference in age between her and Juno, her mother had been her best friend and confidante. Inspired by her mother’s love of ballet, Juno had studied from a very young age, her future career set.

  She swept her arm around, placing her fingers in a graceful position, then moved onto her toes to practice the movements. She was grateful that her bedroom was big enough to accommodate the barre, and she had room to move. It was dark outside when she finally stopped dancing and she’d worked up such a sweat that she needed to shower again. Changing into her favorite soft pajamas afterward, she switched off the lights in her apartment and went to bed.

  She fell asleep almost immediately, but was plagued by nightmares and woke, in the early hours, restless and thirsty. She padded to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and stood at the window. Her apartment was on the first floor but there was a little pathway between her building and the canal. Streetlights lit one end of the pathway, near a small bridge, but where Juno’s window was barely any light permeated. The pathway, at the opposite end of the bridge, lead to a dead end. Occasionally, small boats would moor themselves to the side of the canal, but it wasn’t a heavily trafficked waterway at the busiest of times.

  Juno stared out at the blackness, listening to the gentle swoosh of the water. Occasionally she would hear a distant voice shouting or laughter. But not tonight, tonight was silent except for the water. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold night air. She stayed there for a few moments before opening them again and a movement in the building across the canal caught her eye. The window in the opposite apartment was in darkness but, with a prickling of her skin, she sensed there was someone in the darkness watching her.

  She narrowed her eyes, raking the darkness for any sign of movement, then berated herself. Paranoia. Idiota. Never the less, she closed the shutters on the window before going to bed, not seeing the small flare of a lighter’s flame and the pulsing red gleam of a cigarette’s tip.

  Chapter Five

  Seattle, Washington

  “So, Levi is staying in Italy for now? Honey, don’t put the duck in your mouth.” Anouk extracted a poorly treated soft toy belonging to their dog, Finley, from her daughter’s mouth. Anouk tried not to gag as she flicked the drool-soggy toy across the floor, much to Fin’s delight. The spaniel skittered over to the toy, his legs flailing on the smooth wood floor in his hurry. He picked it up and trotted back to Nook, who grimaced.

  Knox chuckled. “You did throw it. You engaged the pooch.”

  “Only you could make that phrase sound dirty,” Anouk said to her husband, fondly. She got up and winced as something pulled in her belly. Knox frowned.

  “You still getting those twinges?”

  “Yup. No biggie.” But the pain took its time to dull this time, and she sucked in a comforting lungful of air. Anouk had been seriously injured in a stabbing a few years back and the doctors had told her that nerve pain was going to be a constant in her life from then on. “So many nerves were destroyed or damaged that it’s impossible to avoid. We’ll give you medication but we recommend more holistic methods of pain management, to avoid addiction.”

  Anouk being Anouk had refused pain meds. “I need to know what to expect,” she said and had handled the pain well. That didn’t mean it didn’t get to her. Sometimes it was bearable, like bad menstrual pains; other times it was worse than childbirth. During Tabitha’s birth, it had been excruciating, and she’d caved and taken pain meds.

  Lately, though, they had become more frequent and debilitating, str
iking at inconvenient times like when she was schmoozing critics and celebrities at the gallery, or working with an artist. She would press her fingernails into her palms and try to keep her expression steady as the pain hit and only when she was alone would she let herself slump and let out a longed, pained breath.

  She was keeping the worst of it from Knox too. After Flynn’s brush with cancer, she didn’t want him to worry that her pain was anything but what it was… the leftover echo of a nightmare.

  The fact the nightmares were back also didn’t help. Her bigamous, psychotic ex stabbing her over and over in the basement of the gallery, her subconscious making her relive the horror over and over years after the fact.

  It didn’t make her depressed, it made her mad. Anouk had gone through psychological counselling as part of her long recovery from her attempted murder but lately she had been feeling it again. She felt as if all her emotions and senses were heightened.

  “Nook?”

  She blinked and then smiled at Knox. “Sorry, miles away.”

  He grinned at her but she could the small worry line between his eyes. He knew something was up. “I was saying we could just send out for pizza tonight.”

  “Pizza, pizza!” Tab was her father’s daughter and Anouk grinned.

  “I’m down for that.” She sat down on the couch next to Knox and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. Anouk pushed the pain to the back of her mind and snuggled down next to him, watching their daughter play as Knox ordered the pizza on his cell phone.

  Knox had taken Tab upstairs to wash up before dinner when the knock at the door came. Grabbing her wallet, Anouk opened the solid wooden door to the studio… and her eyes widened in shock.

  “Martha?”

  Before her, bedraggled from the Seattle rain, was the woman Shawn had left her for. The woman Shawn had tormented and tried to kill and whose children he did murder. Martha was rail-thin, even more so than she had been six years ago, after she’d killed Shawn and was admitted to a mental hospital.