Dear Neighbor

by River Laurent

  Totally naked I pad over to the shower. Warm water rains down on me, bouncing off my head, face and shoulders. It’s a good way to wake up. I’m already out of the shower and getting into my clothes when Cash comes back in.

  ‘Is Britney getting ready?’ I ask.

  ‘She doesn’t want to come.’

  ‘Why not? I thought she loved art.’

  ‘Yeah, the modern stuff. Her exact grumpy response was, “Go away. I’m not getting out of bed to stand for half-an-hour in front of a painting that’s been so heavily restored it’s not even Leonardo’s work any more.”’

  I giggle. That so sounds like Britney. ‘Did you tell her it’s a mural and not a painting?’

  ‘Nope. I didn’t think it would make a blind bit of difference.’

  ‘So what does she want to do?’ I ask picking up the hairdryer.

  ‘She wants to go to see the Duomo so she’ll meet us before we set off for that. I’ll arrange for the driver to pick her up and bring her to us.’

  I point the hairdryer at him. ‘Aren’t you worried you’re going to get recognized and mobbed?’

  He walks over to the desk and picks up the beard and the moustache he used that night we went to The Ministry of Sound.

  I laugh. ‘Great idea.’

  We have to pass through a humidity controlling chamber before we enter the refectory where we will only have fifteen minutes before the next lot of people will be let in. We enter, hushed and reverent. There is nothing else in that hall except a painting of Jesus’ crucifixion on the opposite wall.

  I stand in front of the partially damaged mural and take a deep breath.

  The painting is faded and even flaky, yet it is more majestic than anything I have seen before. I’m not a connoisseur of art, and I’m pretty certain I have seen other paintings and frescos with as much attention to detail, but perhaps it is the subject matter which arrests my complete attention. The painting catches the climactic moment when Jesus says, ‘One of you will betray me.’

  Da Vinci has managed to capture the atmosphere of shock, astonishment, and rage among his disciples. The expressions on the faces of the apostles, their hand movements, and the postures of their bodies tell a mesmerizing story of the awakening of distrust in a tightly knit group of people.

  I watch Judas. The bad guy. There is spilled salt before him, and he is clutching a bag of silver in his left hand. His right hand and Jesus’ are simultaneously reaching for a loaf of bread.

  The guide’s voice comes through the device in my ear to say that the vanishing point for the painting is on Jesus’ right temple. That is where my eye goes and I’m suddenly moved by the look of gentle resignation and peace in a way I’ve never seen by him. Poor Jesus.

  I steal a look at Cash and he is looking at me. The beard and the moustache make his eyes look as green as spring grass.

  ‘Do you like it?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’

  He smiles.

  Then our time is over and all of us exit the convent through a gift shop and file out into the street.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Cash asks.

  In the bright sunshine his disguise looks really fake and stupid, but it occurs to me then, I don’t even care what he looks like any more. I just love him for what he is. For the things he says and does, and the way he touches my soul without even trying.

  ‘Well …’ he prompts.

  I smile up at him. ‘I could eat a horse.’

  We walk down the pavement hand in hand until we see Fabio’s car crawling up the road towards us. We get in and twenty minutes later we are in Via Santa Radegonda. There is a long queue that snakes all the way down the street.

  ‘Must be something pretty special judging from the length of the queue. What is it?’

  ‘It’s called panzerotti. It’s a pastry triangle stuffed with all kinds of filling. You can have it fried or baked.’

  We join the back of the queue with all the other tourists and residents of Milan. It moves pretty fast and soon we are inside a nondescript shop that looks more like a takeaway joint. I have the fried Nutella version and Cash orders two, the classic with tomato and mozzarella and another with salami.

  Clutching our beers and greasy paper bags of panzerotti we go to the piazza where we join other people who have the same idea. We find a sunny spot and sit down to eat our pastries.

  Cash takes a chunk of his panzerotti and creamy yellow mozzarella oozes out.

  ‘Good?’ I ask.

  He licks his lips. ‘Delicious.’

  I bite into mine and chew slowly. It tastes like a cross between a donut and a pizza. The dough is soft and quite sweet.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Cash asks.

  ‘Yes. Very tasty.’ I take my sweater off. The sun beats down on my head and shoulders. It feels good to be eating out in the open sunshine with Cash.

  ‘Have you ever been betrayed, I mean in a big way, in like Last Supper fashion?’ I ask, licking a bit of Nutella from my finger.

  ‘No,’ he says biting into his pastry. ‘Have you?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ve lead a pretty sheltered life. I mean, my mom and dad would not even have let me come to England if my aunt was not living here. But it’s good that someone who has been all over the world and lives the kind of big and bright life you do has never been betrayed.’

  He takes a swig of his beer and looks at me expressionlessly. ‘I’ve been betrayed many times, Tori. Not in The Last Supper category, of course, but ...’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say sincerely.

  ‘Don’t be. It comes with the territory. You want fame and fortune, then don’t expect loyal friends as well.’

  I stare at him curiously. ‘Don’t you have people that you trust?’

  ‘I trust my dad,’ he says simply.

  ‘No one else?’

  He looks at me solemnly. ‘I kinda trust you.’

  I swallow hard. The lies I’ve told, they are not a betrayal. They are not meant to hurt him or anyone else. I can sincerely say that I will never betray him. No amount of silver or gold can ever tempt me to betray him. I blush and smile at him shyly. ‘Thank you for trusting me. I will never betray your trust.’

  The way he looks at me makes me feel as if I have stepped into one of my teenage dreams. My heart quickens as I take a casual bite of my pastry.

  He gives a lopsided smile. ‘A guy could fall in love with a girl like you.’

  His statement is so shocking that I accidentally swallow the food in my mouth. It slides down my throat and lodges at the top of my trachea, and before I can cough it up, my windpipe closes tightly around it.

  I’ve attended life saver class. That death grip is called the drowning reflex. It means if you ever fall into water, the trachea closes in to buy you a few minutes so you can get out of the water. That life-saving reflex has now kicked in and formed the perfect seal. I’ve stopped breathing because oxygen cannot get in or out of my lungs, and because there is no air to vibrate my larynx with, I can’t even make a sound.

  For a few crazy seconds my first feeling is not fear but embarrassment. I’m choking. Everybody’s going to turn and look. I actually think I can try to cough it up, or surreptitiously thump my midriff.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Cash asks, his eyes narrowed.

  I open my mouth. Of course, nothing comes out, but black dots suddenly appear in my vision. That’s when fear and panic sets in. Someone needs to do the Heimlich maneuver right now, or I’m going to die here. In a piazza in Italy where no one knows me.

  ‘Christ. You’re choking,’ he rasps and, standing up, pulls me to my feet.

  He wraps his arms around me, forms a fist below my sternum, and makes a series of hard and sharp (and quite frankly violent) compressions, to try and force the obstruction out.

  It doesn’t work.

  The lump of pastry refuses to budge. The bright day is slowly morphing into a dark narrowing tunnel. So this is what dying feels like. As
my knees buckle, Cash roars in my ear, ‘Come on, Tori.’ He gives a great big heave that lifts my feet clean off the ground and makes me think my ribs are cracking.

  The trapdoor opens and I gasp a lungful of clean air before it slaps down again.

  ‘Fuck this,’ Cash curses furiously, and heaves again, even harder. This time I cough, retch, and up it comes into my mouth. I spit it out. A slimy lump.

  He turns me around to face him.

  Tears run down my face. I look up at his white face. ‘You saved my life,’ I croak.

  ‘What the fuck, Tori? You scared the shit out of me.’

  I stare at his eyes, wild with fear and anxiety. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He grabs me suddenly and pulls me close to his body and I hear his heart racing in his chest.

  ‘You turned blue, Tori,’ he says, his voice is almost a sob.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper again.

  ‘It’s OK. It’s fine. It’s all good now,’ he croons.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  The sudden intrusion jolts us out of our own little world. We turn towards the voice and see Britney looking at us with an enquiring expression.

  ‘Tori nearly choked to death,’ Cash answers, his voice hoarse.

  ‘Really? Oh my God. I’ve missed everything then.’

  We walk to the Duomo together. Cash never lets go of my hand. Sometimes I catch him looking at me almost anxiously.

  Tori

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOR_HuHRNs

  (Wild ones)

  We arrive back at 2.00pm on Saturday and Cash and I part at the airport. He has things to do and I have to go back to the Hunter residence to make sure that everything goes smoothly for the party tonight.

  ‘See you this evening,’ he says, kissing the tip of my nose.

  ‘See you then,’ I say.

  In my heart I know that I can no longer delay telling him the truth about me and I promise myself that I will tell him tonight after the party. Come what may. I don’t know how he will react but he must care a little. It’s not so big, my crime.

  So I was a fan. Fine, I was the crazy mad fan he described, but that still doesn’t make me a bad person. I didn’t harm anyone. I was just young. Surely he will see that, unlike the other crazed fans, I came to his father’s house not to steal memorabilia but in an attempt, no matter how misguided, to heal myself.

  I made a mistake by not confessing at the beginning of our relationship that I was a fan, but I was embarrassed. Who has never made a mistake in their lives? I am very nervous about the task ahead, but I will have a few shots of vodka, and I’ll be brave.

  I dress in the loose-cut, tiered, cobalt blue mini dress that Britney and I bought before we left for Milan. With its high, squared-off neckline that connects to spaghetti straps framing a V back, it is fun and flirty. I team it with cross-strap platform shoes in tan suede and go to Britney’s room. She is standing in her bra and knickers and looking at the mountain of clothes on her bed.

  ‘Help me,’ she says.

  ‘I thought you were going to wear the off shoulder sequined dress ala Taylor Swift?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m not sure anymore.’ She lets her eyes run down my figure. ‘You look real cute, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply and walk towards her. I go to the pile of clothes and start putting them back on their hangers. I spot the maroon ala Taylor Swift dress under the third dress and pull it out.

  ‘How could you not wear this? It’s so beautiful?’ I say holding it up.

  She grins suddenly. ‘You’re right. It is gorgeous and I will wear it.’

  ‘It’s so tight you won’t be able to kick anyone’s balls in it though,’ I tell her as I help zip her up.

  She laughs and gets into a pair of Dolce & Gabbana black boots.

  ‘Wow,’ I say.

  ‘You’re not just saying it?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  While Britney starts on her makeup, I go downstairs and find people are already beginning to arrive. Lara, the party organizer, is ticking their names off her list. I go through the hallway and see that the caterers have set up their tables out in the garden, and all the furniture in the big living room has been moved into the other rooms. There is a DJ with his mobile disco unit. I go out into the kitchen where Cora is fussing over her version of jello shots. Hers have a mixture of rum, cognac and lemon juice. I help her put them into bowls half-filled with ice.

  ‘Try one,’ she says.

  I pop myself on a stool. ‘Only if you’ll drink with me,’ I say.

  So we sit and have our first shot together. ‘He’s a good boy, you know.’

  ‘Who?’ I ask, chewing jello.

  ‘You know who.’

  I stop chewing. ‘You know?’

  She leans closer. ‘Everybody knows.’

  I sigh. ‘I should have told you, but I didn’t know if it was even going to last. You know how it is. Cash is a big star and I’m just the hired help.’

  She reaches out her veined, waxy hand and covers mine with it. ‘You’re not just the hired help. Don’t you go around saying such stupid things. You’re not uneducated like me. You have a great future in front of you. Grab it all with both hands. He’s not better than you.’

  I take my other hand and cover hers with it. ‘You don’t know, Cora. It’s not as simple as you think. I lied to Cash about something important. I’m going to try and make it right tonight, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how he will react. So tonight might even be my last night here.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly,’ she scolds. ‘I’ve known Cash since he was a wee boy and he has a heart of gold. Tell him the truth and I promise you it won’t be your last night here.’

  I chew my bottom lip nervously. ‘It’s a really big thing though.’

  ‘Then the sooner you get it out of the way the better for both of you,’ she says firmly.

  I force a smile. ‘I’m just so scared I’ll ruin everything.’

  ‘Think about it this way. What have you got if you have no trust?’

  I nod. ‘You’re right. I’ll tell him tonight after the party.’

  ‘Good girl.’ She grins. ‘One more shot.’

  I giggle. ‘I’m going to be drunk before the night starts.’

  ‘To deal with some of the people that hang around this family you need to be drunk,’ she says, rolling her eyes.

  I laugh and we down two more jello shots.

  ‘Well, can’t hide here forever,’ I say slipping off the stool. ‘I guess I better go and see what Britney is up to. Wish me luck.’

  ‘Good luck, Tori.’

  ‘See you later,’ I say and slip out of the door into the corridor that seems to have filled up considerably in the half an hour I spent in the kitchen.

  As I reach the stairs I see Octavia. She’s coming down dressed in a fabulous calf length black leather dress and white court shoes. I find myself frozen by the look in her eyes. It is vindictive and victorious. She comes down to the last step and stops in front of me.

  ‘Smile. It’s a party,’ she drawls, and I cannot help the shiver of unease that rises up my spine.

  I don’t reply and she walks away towards the main room where music has started throbbing. As I stand there watching her figure walk away, a pair of hands envelops my body and all the tension in my body drains away. I relax into his hard body. He runs his palms over the curves of my hips and plants a kiss on my bare shoulder.

  ‘Your whole back is practically naked,’ he growls.

  I turn around. In a black shirt and dark blue jeans he is 360% of pure gorgeousness. Everything in me is crying out for him. ‘It’s deliberate,’ I murmur. ‘I wanted to distract you. It’s wall to wall babes in here.’

  He looks into my eyes. ‘You know me. I wouldn’t go anywhere pussy wasn’t running free, but lately all I’m craving is your sweet body.’ He pulls me close to his body so I can feel his erection. ‘Feel that? That’s you. I just ca
n’t keep my hands off you. You’re so fucking hot.’

  My breath catches even as I feel a kind of sick terror in the pit of my stomach. How will he react when I tell him the awful truth? Will he still want me? I lay my finger in his chin dimple. ‘You look pretty hot yourself, but you already know that, don’t you, darlin’?’

  He laughs. ‘Class, ass, and a whole load of sass, that’s my girl.’

  ‘I like to leave a lasting impression,’ I say as nonchalantly as I can, but my words feel hollow as if I am pretending, and my heart sits like a stone in my chest.

  ‘Are you wearing panties?’ he whispers close to my ears.

  I lean back. ‘I’m wearing a mini dress, Cash! Of course, I’m wearing panties.’

  ‘Shame. I love the idea of you walking around bare assed and any moment I could meet you in a dark corner and finger you.’

  My heart thumps hard at the image he evokes. ‘Don’t. You’re making me wet.’

  He grins. ‘Shall we nip up to your room for a quick one?’

  God, how I’d love to say yes. To go upstairs and just for a while forget that I have this painful task ahead. ‘Don’t you want to see Britney first?’ I ask.

  ‘What do you want, babe? You want me to go see my sister, or you want me to take you upstairs and stick your wet pussy on the end of my cock?’

  My breath starts coming in gasps. I shouldn’t be doing this. This is wrong. ‘Take me upstairs,’ I whisper.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs to my room. The place is so full by now we have to negotiate people sitting on the steps and those coming down. He shuts my bedroom door and locks it. Then he takes two steps towards me and drops to his knees. He lifts my flowing flirty dress and disappears into it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I gasp.

  ‘Spread your legs. I’m going to make you cream on my face,’ he says as he yanks my panties down my legs.

  I widen my legs and he slips the tip of his tongue between my wet folds and swirls it. I grasp hold of his shoulders and bite my lip to keep from moaning. He continues to swipe his tongue in long, lingeringly luscious strokes.

  ‘Oh damn. You’re fucking killing me with your tongue,’ I squawk.