Cabin Fever

by Shani Greene-Dowdell et al.

  Ignoring my statement, she licks her lips trying to entice me. She has no idea the level of blow-job I’ve met and now expect. She’d die. Speaking of which, I say the one sentence guaranteed to get her to drop the seduction attempt and focus on business.

  “Alicia, I’ve been wondering…”

  “Yes?” She perks up because she believes she’s worn me down.

  “Have you read the new Ella Royal novel?”

  ***

  One month later

  My life has been one fuck you or another since I’ve returned to Italy. Everything that could go wrong or cause more work for me in all of my business endeavors has tested my resolve. My conversations with Elissa have become shorter and less frequent. The less I talk to her, the darker my mood becomes until my employees all decided to stay far away from me. I hate it with my entire soul, but I have to make sure my business is stable so my family is taken care of when I’m not around—oh, and my parents, too. They need to be able to pop in and get their little check to continue to do whatever the fuck they want to do while ignoring everyone else. They are not the priority, though.

  I rub my tired eyes as I look over the proposal from the Master’s Hotel Group one more time. We cannot fuck up this partnership. Once I sign off on this, I’ll be able to return to being a semblance of the person I was about five weeks ago. My eyes bulge when I see the clock.

  Three o’clock in the morning!

  I’ll pass out and check it again in the morning. Plopping down in my bed, my exhausted body decides it has a need higher than sleep. I need an Elissa fix.

  Pulling the cover to my chest, I call her as I settle onto my side.

  “Hello?” her voice soothes me, and I smile in the dark.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Luca? It’s super late there. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, it’s been crazy. I don’t even know where to begin. What are you doing?”

  “Uh...just got home from another terrible date. Why can’t they be fun like you.”

  Just like that, her words rip away everything tired inside of me. I pop up to sit.

  “You just got back from a what?” I had to have heard her incorrectly.

  “A date,” she repeats less sure than she was a moment ago.

  “As in hello, what’s your favorite color? Let’s fuck kind of date?”

  She laughs like I made a joke. "No more like, 'Hi, my name is Elissa. What are some of your hobbies or interests?" Then he'll be like. "I'm Tony, do you have Percocet?"

  I think—no—I know my eye is twitching. The thought of her spending time and possibly making love to another man pisses me off in ways I've never felt.

  "What the fuck, Elissa?"

  "Why are you upset?"

  I'm glad she's in another country right now because I feel capable of shaking her.

  "Why do you think I wouldn't have a problem with you dating?"

  "We've never discussed monogamy, and you live in a different country, in a different timezone. How would it work? I doubt you have plans to leave Italy."

  “That's why you ask questions, Elissa, not update your dating profile!"

  "You haven't been around for questions and all the dates were terrible anyway."

  "Dates? As in more than one? How serious are you two?"

  "No. More than one first date. They don't make it to the second."

  "And, if they did?"

  I rub my pounding head. My temper is spiking, and I'm more than capable of saying the wrong fucking thing. I do what's best for us right now.

  "I'm too tired to deal with this shit right now."

  I hang up and turn off my phone.

  Chapter 16

  Elissa

  It's almost been three days since I've spoken to Luca. Well, since he's spoken to me. I've called, texted, and left messages but nothing. Luca is not talking to me, and I don't know how to cope.

  Ringing the doorbell, I wait for the best distraction I can find. Etié answers the door and waves me in; I follow her to the kitchen. Dropping my swag stuff onto her table, I plop into the chair; my whole world feels fucked up.

  "You look like shit,” she points out unapologetically.

  I snort in response and continue moping.

  "I know what you need, " she tells me as she settles into her chair across the table from me. "Cisco Kid!" she yells.

  I hear the commotion of movement then the rapid footfall of a young kid traveling before I see the four foot, sixty-pound—Etié refuses to measure him in anything but American—her words, she hates converting—boy barreling my way.

  "Aunt Elissa!" He still doesn't pronounce my name properly so it really comes out as ‘Aunta Nissa!’

  He's almost as big as me and crushes me with his weight. His chubby hands grab my cheeks as he manipulates my face for ’nose kisses’ then turns to address Etié.

  "Ma'am?"

  She points at me. "She's under-squeezed."

  His already big brown eyes grow at the dire words.

  "Oh, no!" he exclaims because that's the most tragic thing in his innocent mind. Cisco immediately begins giving me hugs with all his might. He pulls back and looks at my face and his little one scrunches with determination. "Super hug activated," he announces because he's obsessed with superheroes.

  He squeezes me so hard he grunts while Etié looks at him like he's her masterpiece.

  I find myself smiling after the hugs.

  "Toddlers—or what whatever the hell they're considered at five—gives the best squeezes."

  She announces as she gives me coffee. "Come here, child." He goes to her with the biggest smile in his face and she cups it in her hands. "Look at this face! You're the cutest kid in all the land."

  He giggles bashfully then Etié attacks him with a bunch of kisses.

  I take a sip of coffee and frown with disgust.

  "What's wrong with this coffee?"

  Etié shrugs. "I don't drink that stuff." She turns her head, then calls out to her husband. "Hey, Colombian man!"

  Franco Muñoz appears on a Sunday stroll in no hurry because his wife beckoned him. His flannel triggers a memory and makes me sadder.

  I’d gotten a package a week after the furniture blitz. Opening it, I find the flannel Luca had worn in the picture he’d posted. Inhaling, I could still smell his scent on the shirt. Inside, the note read: You know what to do.

  I shake away the memory. That night was the last time I really talked to him before he disappeared.

  “People are going to start believing that’s my name.”

  “They already do. My readers already refer to you as 'The Colombian.'”

  “Because you refer to me as 'The Colombian.'”

  Franco the Colombian is tall, slender, and slightly pale with dark brown hair. He’s one of those busy-bodies who is incapable of sitting still. Even now, he is talking to Etié while looking at his phone. He always looks like he’s scowling, but he’s not mean. He’s also not overly friendly either.

  Francisco is a good mixture of his parents. He’s not as pale as Franco, but he is closer to his coloring than Etié’s and also has his silky hair. His eyes came from Etié.

  Cisco jumps; I don’t have a reason why he does beyond him being a kid and accidentally knocks one of his toys off the table.

  “Watch what you’re doing, boy before you fuck up your toy. You just got it.”

  “Franco. Don’t teach him those words!”

  Franco addresses Cisco first. “Don’t look at me like that with your mom’s big eyes. Pay attention.” Then, he’s on to Etié. “He knows what words are ‘adult words. What happens if you use adult words, Son?”

  Cisco's eyes grow like he’s discussing a scandal then whispers to his dad. “I get pop, pop.”

  Franco nods. “That’s right.”

  Not convinced, Etié rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and the moment he gets frustrated he’ll be like fuck this bullshit.”

  The Columbian snickers. “You just saw my ‘fuck’ a
nd raised me ‘bullshit.’ You just failed role model 101.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Cisco sighs and covers his ears. “I can’t use those words,” he whispers to me.

  “First of all, shut up…”

  “I can’t use that one either,” Cisco confides.

  “Second, try the coffee. I don’t drink that crap, but it tastes weird to Elissa.”

  I use the opening to greet him. “Hello, Franco. I like what you did with your facial hair. You’re looking everyday attractive.”

  “Oh, hey, Elissa.” He greets me as if he just noticed my existence. I chuckle to myself. He only seems to have a natural banter with his wife and child. “Did you mess up the coffee, black woman?” That last part was directed to Etié.

  He sips the coffee as if he’s a professional taste tester. “No, tastes fine to me. I didn’t change the blend....”

  He studies me, the paternal instincts kick in. Franco grabs my chin, tilts my head back and stares into my eyes. Placing his palm on my forehead, he checks my temperature.

  “No fever. Is my coffee the only thing that tastes weird lately?”

  “Um...I had a bad Hershey’s bar yesterday…”

  “So, chocolate too? Have you been feeling weird, ill, or under the weather?”

  “Mainly fine. Why?”

  “Because there’s nothing wrong with my coffee, and you usually love it.”

  “That’s weird. Right, Daddy?”

  “Right.” Taking a step back, he studies me again.

  “Maybe she needs a mi mi,” Cisco suggests.

  “Maybe. Do you like naps?” Franco continues his interrogation.

  “Usually, no, but I did take one yesterday.”

  Franco looks at Etié and shakes his head. “For an author, you have terrible observation skills.”

  She twists her lips. “Eye shields, Cisco.” The boy covers his eyes, giggling because he probably already knows what his mom is doing. She flashes both middle fingers to Franco as he retreats from the kitchen, his laughter follows him.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “To hell?”

  “Mom!” Cisco chides. I can’t help but laugh at Etié and her family.

  “Give me kisses and go play, child.”

  He kisses her as instructed, squeezes me again and runs off like his little ass is on fire.

  “I wish I had that energy,” I confess.

  “You? I’d be so damn skinny. Why are you sad?”

  “Luca called the other night, but hung up on me, and I haven’t spoken to him since.”

  “Why did he hang up?”

  “He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was coming back from a date. He lost his shit.”

  Her look asks me what I thought would happen. “Well, a generalization of Italian men is that they are possessive. He was here last month and bought you a lot of stuff. I can understand why he’d have an issue with you dating.”

  I frown at her; it makes sense when she puts it that way.

  “True, but he disappeared; yet, there’s pictures of him on social media out and about, living life, holding hands with women—his ex to be more exact. I show her the photo in his tagged photos. I started to feel like maybe he’s just doing what rich men do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Secure a plaything and send her trinkets and what not so she sticks around and is available when he comes into town.”

  “Okay. Back to Italian generalizations, they’re affectionate even with strangers. The way you’d interpret something is different from another culture. Luca is around my age, so you could’ve asked or told him how you felt. Directness is the way of my people. Then, if you determine you are a plaything, play the game well, Sis. If it’s not for you, tell him. But you shouldn’t need to ‘play games.’” She uses finger quotes.

  “I wasn’t, I figured he lost interest and tried to move on.”

  “Two problems with that statement—‘figured and tried.’ You drew your own conclusions, and the rest of you—outside of your stubbornness—doesn’t want to move on. Honesty is a good thing even if it comes in the form of an asshole.

  Franco returns the moment she says that. “Franco, what do you think of my shirt?”

  He pauses and looks her up then down and shrugs. “It’s great if you plan on meeting someone named Marge for bingo later.”

  “Fuck you very much." She points at me. "But, that's my point. I don't have to wonder if he hates my shirt.”

  He chuckles and drops a box on the table. “I hope you have to use the bathroom.”

  I look at Etié. Her face is a picture of realization. “Oh, that’s where he was going with those questions.” Her eyes find mine as she slides the box over. “He wasn’t talking to me, sweetie. I cussed him the hell out last week. He knows my periods are on time.”

  My snort of disbelief doesn’t hide my fear.

  There’s no way.

  Chapter 17

  Luca

  It’s going on five days since I hung up on Elissa. I’m not counting because it’s a source of pride. I’m counting because that's how long I've had this fucking headache. I mull over the time we've spent together, and the conversations we've had, and I try to pinpoint where exactly she got the idea that I'd be okay with her dating other men right now. I know the future is fuzzy. We do live in different countries, but we are also in the planning phase. She's reached out. I'm glad, but I don't have anything to say to her right now. The anger is perplexing. I cannot shake it. Honestly, I refuse to handle this remotely. She will see me soon.

  Let me see what's on social media.

  The reminder for Elissa's author retreat is the first thing to pop up. Looks like I’ll be catching her ass in the United States this weekend. I immediately purchase my ticket to the event and book my flight. We may be on opposite ends of the issue, but it will be solved soon.

  I have an obscene amount of notifications.

  “Congratulations for what?” I mumble as I tap the heart-shaped icon.

  At this rate, I’ll need blood pressure medicine. I’m sure my eye is twitching again.

  “I knew that bit; Alicia was being sneaky!” I rant.

  It’s a picture of that night she grabbed my hand. The picture is of me smiling as I’m looking at our server with her hand clutching mine. The caption read: Di nuovo insieme. She had the nerve to add a heart.

  She’d added a few more pictures from the times we’d met up for business, but they all are manipulated to look romantic.

  I’m furious to the point that my hand shakes as I call her.

  “Luca,” she purrs into the phone.

  “Get those lies off the internet. We are not back together.”

  “Why, Luca? Will someone not like it.”

  “Yes! Me! It’s a lie. Erase it!”

  “No,” I can hear the excitement in her. “Come erase it yourself.”

  Ah, I get it. Another attempt to get me to fuck her.

  I’m glad I’m alone. There’s no way the smile on my face is anywhere near normal. She wants to play? Well, she’s about to meet the game master.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What?” I can hear the confusion.

  “Keep the pictures with the lies. I’ll just make sure to tell a different story on my page. You asked why I’ve been smiling, I’ll show you every little detail. I’ll post what I can, then the stuff that will get me banned—you know, pictures like the one of my face wet from her pussy while my tongue is still buried inside of her as deep as possible for me get more of the taste of her—I’ll send that one directly to you.”

  “You’re a nasty bastard,” she hisses.

  “Oh, you have no fucking idea. I’m doing you a favor. I had to hold back with you, but she lets me fuck her as dirty as I can because she can take it like a woman. I’m not the same man you used to screw. The beast is out. I’m not putting him back. I’ll break your fucking pussy, and I won’t be sorry. I’ll let you limp away broken and abused
then laugh about it. Are you still obsessed with my dick, Alicia? Want me to break you?”

  “You sound like one of those crazy men from those books—”

  “I AM one of them. Why do you think I like them so much? They speak to who I am. Go give your body to someone who wants to love it. I’m only interested in destroying it.”

  I chuckle when she hangs up. Alicia can’t handle me. I’m too much for her. I’m done pretending for her. I actually thought my words were sweet. I shrug. Elissa would have loved it. My frown returns as my mind refocuses on Little Miss Open Calendar.

  Damn Alicia and her bullshit. I miss and want Elissa even more now. A sudden cleansing of Alicia’s timeline doesn’t surprise me. I knew she’d take those pictures down once I broke her spirit.

  ***

  I buried myself in work ensuring nothing comes to bite me in the ass like the last time I took a weekend off. When I see Elissa again, I don’t want any interruptions. Scrolling through my gallery, I find the picture of her wearing nothing but my flannel. My dick hardens at the memory of the filthy words that came out of that cute little mouth of hers. I squeeze my eyes shut to shake off the memory. but the image is burned into my memory. Snippets of that night replay in my head. The way she tilts her head when she’s wet. Her bottom lip pouty and wet because she kept dragging it between her teeth. The soft whimpers she makes when playing with her pussy. Her full breasts begging for my mouth from a different continent.

  “FUCK!" I rage in the empty office. It's like I'm obsessed and cannot shake it. Now that I've had a taste of her and the way I like to fuck, my soul craves it. Giving up, I leave my office. I'm going home, making some pasta and drinking some wine, nothing more.

  Zio is waiting for me when I get home. I don't panic because I don't see any signs of distress.

  "What brings you by, Zio?" I greet him with kisses and a hug.

  I'm not surprised that he studies me, but I am weary of the smile he gives me.

  "What? "

  "What's her name? " The excitement in his voice scares me.