by Billy London
Beppe grinned. “Naked, eh?” His phone trilled. “Here we are—look.”
She squinted at his phone. Someone called Boss DC. “Can’t talk about that, Bep.”
Anal Lover. Anna didn’t want to know who that was. “I thought we said we were letting crazy stalker handle that? Is she back? Fuck, man that bitch is psycho.”
Cougar ‘Demi Moore’ Mamione: “Giuseppe, he was doing what he needed to for his family. I feel sorry for him every day, but he saved his family from something much worse.”
Beppe took the phone back. “Convinced?”
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on. And it was so long ago, Beppe. Plus you’re his best friend, so what’s one more lie on top of the others?”
“It’s how that lie affects the rest of a person’s life. Talk to crazy bitch.”
“Stop calling her that.”
Beppe stretched. “I love a shaved pussy as much as the next man, but I don’t like seeing it waved in my face at my friend’s birthday.”
Anna felt sick. “What on earth?”
“Rocky’s birthday. He had that whole Moroccan place hired out, remember? Two in the morning. I was sitting by the shisha pipes and she hooked her leg over my shoulder, no knickers on, waved her cunt in my face and asked me why I didn’t want it. I told her I don’t play with my food. I’ve still got photos.” He looked thoughtful. “I should take that up again. Photography. I was really good at it.”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
“Ask her about it, she wasn’t that drunk. What she doing with herself now? Married?”
“Yeah.”
“Working?”
“Umm...”
“Cheating?”
Goddammit. “Couldn’t say.”
He shook his head again. “Women like her are never satisfied. She’s probably got a sexual fixation on you. Maybe the truth will set her free!”
“All right, I will talk to her, only to get you and your mate to shut up! She made promises when we started being friends again, and it’s beyond me why anyone would lie about something like that.”
Beppe sighed. “For a solicitor, Annie, that is a terrible argument missing one basic fact. Humans, particularly of the female persuasion, do crazy shit. Rationality need not apply. You know what, this is my second time at a strip club with a woman, and my friend is spoiling it for me. Are you coming in for a beer or do you want a cab?”
Her head was banging with so much information. “I need to go home.”
Beppe caught her hand and jogged her to the main road until he saw the light of a black cab. “We need to go out again.”
“I don’t like your friends,” Anna said with a laugh.
“You like my friend too much, that’s the problem.” He bundled her inside and slammed the door shut. “See you later.”
The cab zoomed off toward the river, nearly sending Anna to the cab floor. “Slow down, will you!”
“Sorry!” the cabbie yelled over his shoulder. “Last drive of the day.”
It took a minute and a half of thought before she blurted, “If you found out something about your partner and it meant you were wrong about something, what would you do?”
“That’s a bit cryptic, innit? I’ve been with my partner for a long time. He and I talk. We have to. It’s so easy for things to build up and build up until you just sodding hate each other. Best advice I ever got was from an old boss who used to run the gay bar on Clapham High Street. Never let the sun go down on a fight. And it’s worked.”
“Really?”
The cabbie smirked. “I get the feeling you’re used to giving advice rather than taking it.”
Anna glanced down at her legs and saw a run in her stockings. “You’d be right.”
Chapter Nine
Anna called Mimi, who was for once in between patients. “I’ve got a job offer,” Mimi said before Anna could voice her annoyance.
“What? Really?”
“Really. Private hospital, insurance covered, a team of nurses and specialist surgeons, manager, insane amount of money and benefits. Plus we can do work for charitable organisations.”
“What’s the catch?” Anna frowned. Mimi had wanted to move into private work for a while, but it was difficult finding the operations that were willing to fund such a momentous and financial burden.
“It involves your ex’s friend. Beppe.”
“Get out of it,” Anna said without hesitation.
“I know, that man is rather mentally damaged, but who isn’t? He sounds quite sexy on the phone, but you know if you tell anyone I said that, you won’t be needing your spleen or your lungs.”
“Right,” Anna snorted, used to Mimi’s threats. “What’s the contract like? Can I have a look?”
“Of course! That’s why I’m friends with you.”
“And I thought it was my sparkling personality. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”
“There always is,” Mimi sighed. “Anyways, what did you want to talk to me about? You called me, right?”
“You set me up. You owe me. Maybe I’ll slip in a clause to your contract for twenty-five percent of your pay to come directly to me each month.”
Mimi grumbled, “I did that for your own good.”
“Maybe having twenty-five percent less of a salary is for your own good.”
“Oh stop being so stubborn! You want him to be right, I can tell, I can read you, child. Because if he’s right and Imogen’s a liar that means you can jump back on that Italian sausage straight away.”
“One, disgusting language. Two, why would Imogen lie?”
“Because she’s Imogen! Her life has no meaning unless she’s causing drama and getting attention, who knows.”
“It’s not about getting back with him, there are serious issues here.”
“No there aren’t. What you’re worried about is people judging you for getting back together with a man who apparently cheated on you. You’ve built a career on being a very strong, very capable woman. Accepting a cheat goes against the grain, when really, my lovely, it’s fuck all to do with anyone else but you and Italian sausage.”
“Stop it, Meems.” She couldn’t really respond because it was all very true. What did it make her if she just took him back? Just the fact that she was thinking about it really, really irritated her.
“Other than the obvious, what else was going on in your relationship?” Mimi asked.
“Nothing! It was all fine. Perfect, in fact. That’s what I didn’t understand. There was nothing wrong with us, we were amazing together. But cheating is just a big, fat no no.”
“Because?” Mimi enquired silkily.
“What do you mean because?”
“Why is it a no no? Why can’t you start over?”
“I’m not a mug,” Anna snapped. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a fool because I’m swayed by a pretty face, a fat wallet and a big dick. You know what, my dad has managed thirty-eight years being married to the same woman, and he’s never given anyone else a second look. Rocco flaming Mamione couldn’t manage eight months. Am I really going to explain that to my parents? If he couldn’t keep it under wraps when we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, why would he if we were married?”
“Straight to marriage, eh?”
“Meems, come on! You know what I mean. Nothing is different from where we were six years ago.”
“That’s not true. You’re a different person. I will fully admit that I’m a different person. Wiser now than six years ago. It takes time. Maybe he’s matured, maybe he’s watched his friends grow up and there’s been enough loneliness for him to appreciate just what he lost when you two broke up.”
Anna shook her head, tugging on her curls in frustration. “Once a cheat…”
Mimi made a wincing noise. “Eh, not strictly true. I only did it the once.”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“We all make mistakes. And I regret it. Doesn’t mean I should be staked at the hear
t.”
“You’re different.”
“How?”
“Well, you’re you. And you’ve carried some serious responsibilities and probably you needed a release—you have been with some useless men in your time.”
Mimi laughed. “You’re making excuses for me, which is nice, but then if you can forgive me an indiscretion, what’s holding you back with Rocco?”
“I said, you’re different.”
“Well if it was me, what would I need to do to prove I was sorry?”
“Tell the truth,” Anna blurted. “Don’t play around with me. Give me a reason to show that you are worth my trust because you’ve killed it.”
“Anna Taylor, you are an advocate. Open your mouth and tell him that. The reason you cannot keep to a relationship is because a) the guy’s got an impossible standard to meet with your parents, and b) Rocco Mamione is just... My God,” Mimi breathed, “I’d ruin him.”
“Amelia!” Anna gasped.
“For life.”
“Hey, hey, hey! Lost a friend over him, remember?”
“Sorry. And c) you’ll never be able to trust anyone else ever until you face what went wrong with you and Rocco. The decision has always remained with you.”
“I know, but he shouldn’t be pushing it with gifts.” She looked over and glared at the huge stuffed cuddly bear, holding a heart with I’m sorry stitched onto it that had arrived first thing that morning.
“What gifts?”
“Teddy bears.”
Mimi laughed. “He knows you.”
“He’s grasping,” she retorted. The bear’s sad eyes looked even sadder for a moment.
“He’s got you down pat.”
“Stop defending him or I’ll send the bear to you with parts missing.”
Mimi laughed harder. “That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve heard today.”
“Not ever?”
“I work in a hospital, honey, so no.”
“But you know I’m not messing around now.”
Mimi sighed. “Yes, all right, do a Godfather on your bear, but stop whining. You are an articulate woman. Please put that talent to good use and have a chat. Nothing is ever black or white when it comes to love. You know that.”
“All right, fine!” Anna huffed.
“Good,” Mimi said smugly. “I like when you acknowledge my superior brain.”
They ended the call and Anna again looked at the bear. “God’s sake, stop staring at me, or you’re getting cut up and sold to a pet shop for cage linings.”
The bear looked teary eyed in a certain light, which disturbed her greatly. Articulate or no, right now, with that bear giving her the sad face, she couldn’t face Rocco quite yet.
Rocco felt disgusting. Like he was wallowing in every vile thing possible. When his head rolled with eye-watering pain, he sent Beppe a text. When I am better, you will die. To which Beppe replied: Either have sex or drink mango juice. Those are the only cures at the moment. I’m working on the others.
You’re a cock. “Mango juice it is then,” he murmured to himself. Surprisingly, within forty-five minutes, he was feeling decent enough to draft a letter to his client’s previous solicitors.
“Dear Sirs, Please do enlighten me as to where you obtained your knowledge of the law, as at the present time, your defence has me thoroughly convinced that you were educated by the rats that run around the rear of the Old Bailey.”
Not that he would send it, but he needed to vent for a few paragraphs and then he would return something less aggravating rather, more along the lines of “thank you for allowing me to keep this man out of prison. If you had continued to represent him, he would have been guaranteed a place in Wakefield prison.”
Definitely not that either. What he really wanted to do was think on how to encourage Anna to talk to him. Regain her trust. Re-establish their relationship. He had to treat this as though he had done something wrong, because of the end result. He had lost the woman he loved. Having never been a cheater, he was at a loss as to what he could do to start. His father had always made up with flowers and one of the gateaux from Nonna’s deli. The flowers were understandable, but the cake from Nonna was just a spit in the face, especially when his father was so very aware that his wife and mother clashed over desserts. Hopefully Anna’s bear had turned up and she hadn’t ripped it into fluffy pieces.
He reached over to pick up the phone and heard a commotion outside his office. Hovering all of three inches above the seat of his chair, Rocco was only partly surprised when Enzo stormed inside, waving the crisp letterhead of the firm in his hand. He really needed to speak to Charles about security.
“What the fuck is this?” he yelled.
Rocco got to his feet and closed the door behind him. “Shut up.”
“This is all you, isn’t it?” he hissed, the warning to be quiet forcing him to lower his tone. “You really think I give a shit about a fucking tribunal? You can’t do this!”
“But I can,” Rocco said.
“I know you can’t—this shit does not fly with the Da Canavezes. You’re such a self-righteous dick. Who are you anyway?”
Rocco found that hilarious. “Me? You realise that the only reason you even have any money is because my father practically put the cash in your father’s pocket and kept his mouth shut when he got caught. You think your family has earned anything without people like me covering your hairy arses?”
Enzo snorted. “And what? You’re looking for a thank you? It’s your job, you’re supposed to keep things quiet, but this is insane!” He waved the letter in Rocco’s face once again. Rocco caught his wrist until he heard a satisfying crack.
“Back. Off.” Enzo retreated a few steps as soon as he was released. His stupidity was really starting to wear thin. “You should understand something very simple. If I wasn’t permitted to do this, I wouldn’t be doing this. Quite frankly, you wouldn’t be breathing.”
“You can’t sue me!”
Rocco shrugged. “Then give my grandmother what she’s asked for.” Knowing Anna, she’d have demanded the sky and a little bit of Pluto while she was at it. Enzo looked like he was about to start an argument, but Rocco really wasn’t in the most patient frame of mind. “Don’t whine to me. If you think I’ve stepped out of line, go ask where you think you should ask. Now get out of my office. You’re making it look untidy.”
With a growl, Enzo stalked out. “Prick,” Rocco muttered under his breath. Too irritated to go back to work, he instead picked up his phone and started playing Angry Birds just to calm down. “Ten minutes,” he promised himself. “Then I’ll go back to earning my status.”
Chapter Ten
“Who?” Anna asked, into her intercom. She was just in the middle of doing her “angry” draft, where she freely wrote what she really wanted to say either to the court or the other side and sometimes her client before she modified it for human consumption. Partway through reading it back, calling the other solicitors “mental retards who couldn’t find the Employment Act if it was rammed into their bowels” seemed a fair judgement. It was really the best way to get Rocco and the feel of his lips on her hand out of her mushy head. Bernie interrupted her efforts to tell her there was an Enzo Vitale waiting for her.
“Oh!” Nonna’s boss…old boss. Something or other, she didn’t really know how to refer to him other than what Nonna kept saying about him in Sicilian dialect—fetuso. Not particularly friendly. Batty old woman. She really would have to reply to that card Nonna had sent her inviting her to try some cakes. She really did fancy some cake. “Oh, all right. This once.”
The door opened and a man who obviously had a height complex walked in. “Anna Taylor?”
“Yes, hello.” Politeness forced her to stand up and offer her hand. She sat back down behind her desk and looked at him expectantly. Well?
“I asked someone who the reference AT was and I was directed here.”
Don’t call him fetuso, he’ll know what that means... “What can I
do for you?”
“I believe you need to speak to your client, make her understand that this claim is pretty pointless.”
Anna looked to the side, an automatic reaction to find another pair of eyes as filled with incredulity as her own were. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“It’s not how things are done,” he said with such oily slickness, Anna felt the need to wipe her hands.
“Well, according to the laws of this country, it is how things are done. I’ve written a grievance letter to you on my client’s behalf. You need to respond to that. If you don’t or we can’t come to a satisfactory arrangement, we’re filing our claim with the Tribunal. I thought that was pretty clear in the letter.”
“Maybe she was not a good worker—”
“You should have taken her to a meeting. She worked for that deli for thirty years without a single disciplinary.”
“But she’s a woman of advanced years...”
“Age discrimination.”
“It seemed—”
“Outside of the range of reasonable responses. See you’re going to make it very easy for a judge to slap you upside the head with the procedure book. If I were you, I’d speak to some solicitors, not me, and come to a figure such as the one I’ve indicated in the letter. Not the grievance, the one I sent a few days ago.”
Enzo’s face went purple. “I am not paying that old bitch anything.”
Anna sent him a blank smile. “Then be prepared to be very publically corrected about what you should and should not do with employees. I don’t think I can be of any more help to you.”
She turned back to her computer and typed hard, attempting to dispel the faint trembling in her fingers from quite violent irritation at the man’s presence.
Enzo slammed the letter on Anna’s desk. “You have no idea who I am, do you? Things like this get people like you hurt.”
Anna slowly got to her feet. “I’m going to ask you once. Leave.”
He smirked. “Talk to your client. Ask her who the Vitale family is. What they do. See if that will jog her memory.”
She circled her desk to the door and held it open in invitation. “I don’t think you have two brain cells to rub together for a spark enough to understand what I am saying. Get out of my office, please. Get some solicitors. Give my client what she wants. Goodbye, sir.”