by A. L. Knorr
"Get used to it." She stepped down into a wobbly canoe filled with crushed plastic bottles, paper food wrappers, and empty beer bottles. "Local garbage bin. Watch your step."
"Gross." I wrinkled my nose at the smell of stale beer. We stepped into the next boat, which was full of people smoking and drinking. One of them got up to let us pass.
"So basically," I said, resuming our conversation, "I can talk to you, and a few of the boys. The rest have no English?"
"Well, they all have a little bit. We take it in school. But if they have no reason to practice, then it's easy to forget. You'll find that the best ones by far are myself, of course." She paused to take a little bow. "Then Karim, and Dante. Dante is crazy smart. He speaks German, Spanish, and French, too."
"Holy crap. Let me guess, he's funny, cute, and taken, too."
"Yes, yes and no," she laughed. "He's single. Lots of girls like Dante. Lots."
"But not you?"
“Ha! No way. I've known Dante since I was born. Plus, he's..." She paused, and I strained to hear what she said.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
She turned back to me. "He's kind of... dangerous."
As we continued making our way across the boats, I pictured a dark, mysterious rock-star type. Maybe peppered with tattoos. I was about to say how intriguing she was making him sound when she waved her arms and shouted at a motor boat drifting in open water. “There they are,” she said to me.
Her friends waved and shouted. Dance music floated across the water toward us.
"I don’t think we can make that jump," I joked as I looked across the dark water.
Fed grinned. "Unless you really want to swim, they'll come and pick us up. We'll be able to watch the fireworks away from the crowd. It's awesome, you'll love it."
"Whose boat is that?" A nervous flutter had begun in my tummy.
"Dante's."
The dangerous one.
The sleek motorboat turned its nose toward us and floated stealthily across the water, making all other boats look like they were put together with popsicle sticks and glue. The music switched to a hip-hop remix of “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye. Two girls in the seats at the front of the boat squealed and got up to dance, reaching beckoning hands towards Fed. They were both slender and tanned. The blond one wore a bikini top and a short skirt and the other wore a tiny, skin-tight dress. They were both ridiculously beautiful. Hood ornaments. Then shame heated my cheeks. I didn't know these girls.
The motorboat slowly began to turn, like a sleepy sea monster. It drew alongside us and Fed grabbed the edge. The music was turned down.
Two of Fed's friends waited to help us board. A blond man dressed in a white fedora, lean as a pro-cyclist, and a big man with a fierce black beard and topknot. I thought he must be Karim until I saw another man who dwarfed all. He was bald and was holding a water bottle in his paw of a hand. He looked deep in conversation with the driver.
Fed boarded first, and then me.
"You must be Saxony?" the slim blond man asked, holding out a hand. "I'm Jacopo."
"Yeah, that's me." I took his hand and he pulled me in and kissed my right cheek, then my left.
"Piacere," I said.
"Nice to meet you, too. Take a seat."
I sat as the boat drifted away from the boat jam. We sliced through the water like a predatory fish. Jacopo sat down beside me, a half-full beer bottle in his hand.
Fed already had a plastic cup of some pink liquid in her hand. "Everyone, this is Saxony."
Her friends lifted their drinks toward me, except for the driver, who had his back to us.
I grinned. "Ciao, y'all."
"Something to drink?" Jacopo asked. He lifted a seat cover and exposed a cooler. "We have beer, or Stefania can make you a spritz, or one of these iced tea things..." He pulled one up and peered at it. He looked older than the rest of Fed's friends. He was deeply tanned with visible lines across his forehead.
"That iced tea thing sounds great, grazie." I took the cold can from him.
"Fed says you're Canadian?" he asked, his voice rising as the dance music was turned up a notch. The other men in the rear of the boat listened for my answer, too.
"Yes, from Eastern Canada. I'm here for the summer. You're from Venice, I assume?" I opened the can and took a sip. It was sweet and definitely alcoholic.
He laughed. "No, not very many of us are from Venezia. I'm from Napoli. Marco here is Roman." He nodded toward his friend. "I moved here for a work a few years ago. I manage two hotels here in Venezia and one in Verona."
I blinked. Fed's friends were not high school kids. "Wow, that sounds busy. How did you get into that line of work?"
As I listened, I scanned the view of Venice from the boat. Street lamps lined the walkway in front of the square, sending their light across the water in undulating lines. The crowd covered every surface of the island, including roofs. People shrank to the size of ants as we left the island behind. The boat soon slowed in a patch of open water. The driver turned off the engine and the vibration stopped. He was the only one who hadn't greeted me yet, or even looked at me. He had to be Dante. I studied his back, curiously.
He was not overly tall but he was wide at the shoulder and slender at the hips. He wore a pastel pink polo shirt with yellow and white horizontal stripes, powder-blue cotton shorts, and white leather flip-flops. I thought that maybe Fed was a little overzealous by referring to him as 'dangerous.' With all that pastel, he looked like cotton candy.
As Jacopo told me about his career in the hospitKarimty industry, I couldn't tear my eyes from Dante. He moved gracefully to the beat of the music. One tanned arm reached down and plucked a plastic cup from a cup holder. I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the outer edge of his left wrist but it was so small I couldn't tell what it was. Finally, he turned and looked me full in the face.
I no longer heard a word Jacopo was saying. Dante was not cotton candy.
Nine
Everything about him said that he knew who he was and what he wanted out of life. I had the sense he'd been born with that look. When he'd turned, he didn't look anywhere else, he knew exactly where I was sitting and his eyes found mine and held them.
A tiny vibration began in me. It wasn't that he was so good-looking, although he did have nice features. It was his expression. I wasn't sure I could look away even if I wanted to. His almond shaped, dark brown eyes were slightly upturned at the outer corners, giving him a mischievous look. A smile played about his lips. In his expression was a challenge, like he was daring me to look away. Let him challenge. I wouldn't drop my eyes first even if the boat caught fire. I lifted my chin just a little and he cracked a lopsided smile. I relaxed.
He crossed the short space between us and Jacopo moved over to make room. Dante sat beside me and threw an arm over the back of the seat behind me as though he'd known me his whole life. I shifted to face him.
"Who are you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
I canted my head to mimic him. "I'm Saxony. Who are you?" On the outside I was all sass, but my heart was pounding like the drum of a warship.
"Yeah, but who are you?" he repeated. He lifted his hand from behind me and took a stray curl between his thumb and forefinger. A whirlwind of butterflies took off in my stomach. He hadn't touched my skin, but somehow he sent a message to everyone on the boat that I was the only one who mattered. I was conscious of the looks we were getting, but I was too captured by him to care.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued, "Look at this hair."
His eyes finally left mine to roam the mass of curls on the top of my head. He put a hand into his pocket, lifting his hips to reach his fingers inside. He pulled something out but it was hidden in his palm. I had no time to react as he snapped open the butterfly knife and lifted it to my hair. I gasped as he cut something, quick as a snake.
My hair fell down around my face and shoulders. I half expected a hank of curls to go tumbling onto the floor of t
he boat, and I touched my head to make sure. “Did you just cut my hair?”
"Only the elastic. This is much better." He snapped the butterfly knife closed and put it back in his pocket. He leaned back to admire his handiwork. He fluffed my curls with one hand, setting them as though he was a practiced hairdresser.
My mouth hung half open in shock before I snapped it shut and narrowed my eyes. What would I have done if he had actually cut a few locks? Jack’s face flashed before my eyes for a moment and I took a breath. "You're very, very lucky," I said, punctuating every word.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jacopo look over at the sound of my voice.
"Oh, she's proud of her hair," laughed Dante.
I stiffened. Was he mocking me? Then he stopped laughing and a look of admiration came over his face.
"She should be." His finger touched my cheekbone. He leaned in close and lowered his voice, "She is very, very beautiful." He said it like he really meant it.
My shock at his boldness dissolved. "He is very, very silver-tongued."
"Silver-tongued," he repeated. "I like this term, can I use it?" He leaned back with a crooked smile. He didn't wait for an answer. "We should spend some time together. I think you're a girl good with words, no? I like words. I like to collect them. I don't know so many of these phrases in English. Teach me more." He looked at me with anticipation.
Dante and I talked and laughed as though we were the only two people on the boat. He was unlike anyone I had ever met and I was fascinated. My blood hummed as I finished my iced tea. At some point, another drink appeared in my hand, dripping and cold.
"Are you originally from Venice?" I asked, thinking about what Jacopo had said, that very few of them were actually Venetian.
"I am. Fed and I are the only native Venetians on this boat. I know everyone there is to know in Venezia. My family has been here for literally hundreds of years."
"That's a lot of history. Do you have a massive family tree hanging on the wall in your foyer?" I didn't know my family's history beyond my father’s great grandparents. They had emigrated from Ireland during the Great Famine and felt compelled to anglicize their name from Ó Cainghe to Cagney. My mother's side? They could have been horse thieves for all I knew.
He barked a laugh. "All over my father's house. We have library shelves dedicated to our history. My ancestors were one of the patrician families that founded the Great Council - their form of government at the time. Venezia was a very rich and peaceful republic for six hundred years, thanks in part, to my family."
"What about The Doge?" I asked. "He had a pretty snazzy palace, all that pink and white marble. You sure you're not related?" I teased, tugging on the hem of his bubble-gum pink sleeve.
"There were a few Doges in my family," he grinned, his tilted eyes sparkled.
"Didn't he have any power?"
"Early on, yes. It was an autocracy. But by the twelfth century, The Doge was mostly a ceremonial position, and one that families fought to get and keep. It was a bought and paid for title and didn't have much in the way of real power." His eyes gleamed. "It was the men behind the scenes who had the real power."
BOOM!
I jumped.
Pop! Pop!
The bright red explosion flowering in the sky and the crackling of a multitude of spinning white flowers announced the fireworks. Conversations stopped. When Dante put an arm around me and pulled me close, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to tilt my head back against his arm. The sky filled with colour and light. The beautiful explosions echoed the fireworks going off in my stomach as Dante tilted his head toward mine and our temples touched. I closed my eyes for a brief moment as a wave of dizziness passed through me. Sighing deeply, I let my neck relax. My head felt heavy.
Dante turned and kissed my sweaty temple, and then turned back to the fireworks. I looked over at him, admiring the long eyelashes against his cheek and the play of coloured light over the bones of his face. He turned and looked at me. His gaze dropped to my mouth and in a moment of panic I turned my face back up to the fireworks. I liked him, and I was definitely fuzzy from the alcohol, but I hadn't had so much that I was about to kiss someone I'd just met. Especially in front of a bunch of his friends. He turned his face away.
When the fireworks concluded, Dante got up and yelled, "Who wants to get wet? Andiamo a nuotare!” The girls cheered. The guys nodded, wiping sweat from their shining brows. The breeze had died and it was even hotter now than it had been during the day. Dante started the boat and steered us smoothly toward open water.
"Aren't we going the wrong way?" I asked Jacopo, but it was Karim who answered.
"To reach the Venice beach we have to go between Lido and Le Vignole." He gestured with an enormous hand toward the dark water between two islands. He really was the largest human I'd ever seen. He was a solid mountain of meat, mostly muscle. His bald head shone with sweat.
"Hello, giant man." I held out my hand. He swallowed it in his baseball mitt of a hand.
"Hello, tiny woman." His voice was so deep I couldn't help but picture tectonic plates rubbing against each other under the earth's crust. I'd never been called tiny before. I'm not as tall as Georjayna, but at 5'7" and curvaceous, I'm not remotely petite. I dwarfed Targa and Akiko. Now I knew how they felt.
"Fed tells me you're Canadian?"
"I am," he nodded. "I was born in Egypt, but raised in Edmonton.” He was gigantic but he had a baby face, wide inquiring eyes, and a gentle expression.
"How is it that you find yourself in Venice?" I asked, savouring the breeze as the boat went faster. My loose curls whipped about. They'd be hell to pick out later.
"It's a good place to start my life over," he said. "I did some stupid shit back home that got me into trouble. I did some time, destroyed some lives, now I'm here. A fresh start, y'know. I work for Dante's father now." He leaned in and said, "I don't normally keep company with Dante's guys, but he wanted me along, so..." He shrugged and took a swig from his water bottle.
"Is that so?" I kept my voice casual but I swallowed. What did this guy do? Was he dangerous? I made a note to ask Fed for more details. "Where did you do this stupid shit, exactly?"
My mother would have told me to mind my own business, but my mother wasn't here.
"Calgary," he answered. "I did time in Drumheller Penitentiary. Ever been to Drumheller?"
I shook my head. "No, my family did a trip to Banff once but we never made it that far east of the mountains. What did you do time for?"
"Only what I got caught for," he said with a lopsided smile.
"Stop scaring her, Karim," Dante said from the wheel. "She's not going to want to hang out with us if she finds out we're a bunch of criminals. Besides, you're sorry. Aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am actually." Karim looked me in the eye and nodded so sincerely that I thought he might actually mean it.
We drifted perpendicular to a long beach full of lights. Small explosions of firecrackers filled the sky and the sounds of music and partiers drifted across the water.
"This is Lido," said Karim. "There," he said to Dante, pointing to a group of partiers near a large tent. Drum and bass music grew louder as we approached. Dante stopped before we got too close and pressed a button. A whirring sound vibrated through the boat as he put down anchor.
There were two splashes and the boat lurched sideways as a couple of the girls dove into the water from the nose. Fed was pulling off her shirt. "Saxony, are you coming?"
"Absolutely." I stood and unzipped my dress. I stepped out of it and then held it for a moment. Were we going to party in nothing but wet bathing suits?
"Here." As though reading my thoughts, Dante held out a waterproof bag. "Put your dress in here. I'll carry it to shore for you."
"Thanks! Good thinking. Are you always this prepared?" I dropped my dress into the bag.
He winked at me and my face grew hot. Lucky for me it was dark and no one could see my blush.
Dante pull
ed off his polo, exposing a rippled stomach. I flushed again.
More splashes as Jacopo and Marco dove into the water. The backs of their heads glistened, seals swimming toward the beach.
I dove in headfirst and my blood instantly cooled. Dante swam beside me until our feet found the sand. He took my hand as we walked out of the water, enveloping my fingers in his as naturally as though we'd been dating for months. I looked at him in surprise, but he kept his face forward. Eyes watched us approach and people shouted greetings.
Fed was talking to someone I didn't know, but as they were chatting, she scanned the beach. When she spotted me, she gave a nod. It might have been my imagination but I thought she look a little stressed. If she was surprised to see Dante holding my hand, she didn't show it.
Dante and I approached the fire together. Two men sat with their backs to us and turned as Dante spoke. They scrambled to stand. “Prego,” one of them said, gesturing to his chair.
“No, grazie,” I said, my face hot. But Dante put a hand on my hip and guided me into a seat.
"I'll put this here," he said as he set the bag with our clothing in it against my chair. "Get dressed whenever you feel like it,"
"Thanks, Dante." I smiled up at him. Points. A flash of Raf's face filled my mind. So far, Italian boys were turning out to be kind and thoughtful.
Dante sat down beside me and a girl in a red bikini opened a cooler and handed him a beer. She pointed at me and asked Dante what I wanted in Italian. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dante answered. She handed him a bottle filled with orange liquid.
"Try this, you'll like it," Dante said.
"What is it?" I took the cold bottle and looked at the label, holding it in the light of the fire.
"Aperol spritz. It's a Venetian drink. You'll be in love with all things Venetian by the end of the summer." He took a swig from his own bottle without taking his eyes from mine.
I opened the bottle and took a sip. It was sweet with a bitter aftertaste. I took another swallow, promising myself this would be my last drink. "Is there a washroom nearby?"