by KT Morrison
Omar had given her a bunch of bills and she had to look away, embarrassed for him, she knew all about the budget. Omar was in a great mood this morning. There must have been a burden on him and it had been lifted. Like all that he had to do now was run a good race tomorrow. He'd already accomplished what he'd come for, now all that was left was the easy part. When he'd handed her the bills, laid them out one at a time into her open hand, he told her she should get herself something nice for the lunch on Sunday. Something pretty, he'd said.
Kate felt at home here, home in this part of town. Walking the narrow street between luxury shops in the tall renaissance buildings with their balconies and their shuttered windows. A man in a small carriage with two Americans in it behind him passed, she wasn't even bothered by his horse; this was too fine a day.
Kate poked around a while, browsing, touching and looking, holding things out on their hangers, running the fabric over her skin to find out how it would feel. After an hour she stopped at a café in a plaza and had a cappuccino and a cornetto and watched the people in the street. She loved Italy. She'd never been to Florence before, but Mitch took her to Rome two years ago. Mitch was the greatest tour guide, he'd already been everywhere and he could tell you the history of all the buildings, how things used to be in the space where you were standing; he loved the art and learning about the local customs…
Fuck, she felt that flush come over her again. Touching her palm to her forehead like she had a fever, her breath quivered. She had to get moving—stood up and left the café, walked out into the foot traffic. If she wasn't moving those thoughts that hunted her would find her. They moved slow; but you couldn't sit too long or they would catch up with you.
The doors to a department store—Lanzovitali, in gold Roman letters—shining glass set in polished black marble invited her in, told her that this was her kind of place. The store was air-conditioned, peaceful, filled with her favourite things. It put her at ease and in a few moments, walking the aisles and looking at familiar products her pulse had slowed and her mind was away again, free to ignore anything it didn't want to think about.
After she'd tried a few dresses on, she even felt the happiness return. She got some help from two girls at the counter. No one had come out to ask her if she'd like some help. She felt strangely self-conscious, like they thought she was poor, didn't want to help some trashy Council girl in her cheap cotton shirt. But that was silly, they wouldn't know how much her shirt cost, it looked like any other shirt. And her bag was real. She'd gone to the counter to look at some folded tops there and she left her bag next to her elbow where they could see it. An Hermes Birkin bag in crocodile. Very real. Not counterfeit. She assumed the two girls there would know the difference. It would seem they did—and that perhaps they had ignored her earlier—because they were all over her, showing her things, complimenting her, doing their best in heavily accented English.
They walked through with her, suggesting items, putting them aside for her to try on whether she liked them or not. She ended up in their clean and polished dressing room with nothing she could afford. She put them on anyway watching herself in the mirror, wishing that she hadn't put herself in this position. Who cares if they were ignoring her, thinking she was just tourist trash? Why would she care what those girls thought?
One of them came to the other side of the door, put a pale yellow dress over the top, let it drape over the door. She said something on the other side, but her accent was so strong Kate didn't know what it was.
She tried that one on and loved it. A pale yellow Kenzo dress, so light, so soft and it hung on her figure so well. She wanted it. It was three times what she had, maybe more. She took it off and held it. She really wanted it. Kate squeezed it in her fingers, it was nothing in her hands, it was like it wasn't even there. And then it wasn't.
Her hands worked quickly, rolling it up into a thick long wad, not much bigger than a toilet roll, she got her hands into her purse, searching the bottom. She found a hair elastic, stretched it over the crumpled dress, went around it a few times, pinching it into shape, stopping it from blossoming back open. She stuffed it into a torn open bag of tampons, pushed it into the bottom, let its shape push the sides of the bag out and hold it in place. She kept a tampon aside, left it on the seat, she stuffed the rest of the tampons over top of the dress and then buried it in the bottom of the purse.
She stepped out of the fitting room, she twisted her face, showing them her discomfort. They looked concerned. She held a hand over herself, just below her stomach. She had a tampon in its wrapper in her hand, her bag hanging over her shoulder. She shyly, pretending to be discreet, asked them where the bathroom was using the phrase bagno delle donne, three of the roughly nine words she knew in Italian.
They were instantly sympathetic, one with a hand on her shoulder took her to the edge of her department and pointed over to the other side of the grand store where the bathroom was.
Kate walked briskly out of their sight, crossed the store, moving towards the front doors. Her heart was pounding, a smile broke on her face. What would they do if they caught her? She slowed her pace. Let them come. She'd pulled the tags, there was no device plugged into the expensive dress, one that the sales people would pull off with a special wand. She'd get away with it. Those girls had given her so much to try it would take forever to sort out something was missing. The doors were just steps away. Five glass doors in a bank, separating her from the sun on the street. Ten more steps.
Either side of the doors she could see putty-grey stands, theft prevention devices, looking oddly medical, like x-rays would come out of them. She had nothing to worry about, there were no tags. She stepped through them and touched the door. Technology moved so fast she thought, things getting smaller or faster, better, every year. What if they had tags you couldn't even see? There were probably cameras everywhere, eyes in a security booth on her right now, ready to leap into action. She held her breath and stepped outside. Kept moving. Nothing. She'd done it. She walked quickly now, cutting through the crowds. A laugh came out of her. She really had done it. She hadn't nicked anything in years and it felt wonderful. Her heart was racing.
She worked through the shaded streets, weaving through the people until she came out into a vast plaza, a beautiful Basilica at its centre. She stopped and looked at the ancient building. This was a Mitch spot. She would stand here with Mitch and he would tell her who built it and when.
A hand grabbed her roughly above her elbow and she gasped. She had been pinged after all.
Fuck, she thought. She'd been caught.
She closed her eyes, felt the sun on her face. Were Florentine jails nice? What would she do, how far would she go to keep herself out of one?
“Kate,” a man behind her said. Her eyes snapped open. She knew that voice.
*
Kate turned quickly. It was him. Her knees buckled and she collapsed but the man held her up, a hand gripping each arm. He helped her sit down on a stone bench teeming with tourists.
It was Ares. The pretty boy with the pretty cock who made her come the moment he slid it inside her while Omar watched. The one who may have saved Omar’s life. The man whose presence had stopped Kate from trying to slash Omar’s neck when she met him in that strange apartment five weeks ago. The Fairway Manor.
He stood over her, looked like he was mad at her. The white marble basilica was behind him and he was framed in one of its great bronze doors. She was unsure if she should be happy to see him or not. He had his hands on his hips. She could see the tattoos on both his arms, covering his skin right to his wrists, coming down from under the short sleeves of his black shirt.
“What...are you...doing here?” Her words came out in slow motion.
“Your fun is over,” he said. “It's time to go home now.”
“What?”
“He's worried about you.”
“Omar?”
“Your husband. He's worried sick about you.”
“I'm f
ine,” she said. Her mind was racing, none of this was making sense. How would he know she's run away?
He was looking her over, his lips in a snarl; disgust.
“You look the opposite of fine. Look at yourself, see yourself. You're disgusting. It's time to go home.”
“Who is my husband?” Ares had to be mistaken. She looked forward to correcting him. Did he think she was someone else?
“Mitch.”
“My Mitch? How…” A weakness went across her shoulders, robbed her of the strength to hold herself upright. She slumped, her face was red hot. “Do you know Mitch?” Even saying the words out loud it made no sense of this, this was ridiculous.
He squat down, got himself face-to-face with her. He put a finger in her face; a father angry with his little girl.
“Listen to me. This shit with Omar is over. Do you understand? Pack up your gear and go home. You're killing your husband.”
He held her gaze, didn't look away, and she was frozen to him. He seemed like someone who was used to making people do what he wanted them to do.
“How is he?” Almost too quiet for him to hear.
“How is he?” Ares was loud, attracting looks from the other people on the bench. “You don't want to know.”
She felt a tear come to her eye, and she looked down and away. He took her chin and pulled her back.
“You don't want me to tell you what you've done to him.”
She couldn't stop the tears now, and she sat sobbing on the circular stone bench surrounded by strangers in the sunlight. She put her hands over her face, so ashamed of herself.
Ares’ shoe was kicking at her toes, making her look up.
“You're hearing me, ain’t you?” he said, face mean, couldn't give a shit that she was crying.
She nodded.
He turned and walked away and she cried into her hands doing her best not to make a spectacle.
“Hey,” he called out, farther away.
She looked up and saw him turned back to her.
“You only get one warning. Then I make you. You hear me?”
She nodded again, her face red and blubbering.
5
Last night, just before they’d fallen asleep together, Kiley told Mitch she’d come all this way from Chicago to England to have someone she cared about put their arms around her. Said it felt just as good to her putting her arms around someone she cared about.
10 A.M. now, they’d really slept in. Both in bed with their clothes on, their backs to an open window facing out onto the Duchess of Bedford’s Walk below. Mitch could hear Saturday morning traffic out there, pleasant sounds, his friendly neighbourhood out enjoying the summer on its day off.
Kiley’s sleep-heavy arm was draped over him, her hand limp on his chest. He took it up in his hand, studied it. Fantasized it was Kate’s hand, attached to Kate’s warm body behind him, that it was Kate who’d pressed herself into him while he slept. Fantasized what it would be like to turn and see her there, hold her, kiss her, put this all behind them. He looked at the elegant hand, pictured a wedding ring and a diamond on it. This wasn’t Kate’s hand. Not petite; long and graceful. He was glad to have it just the same. He pressed Kiley’s hand to his chest.
Kiley had made him clean up. Made him shave and shower and he was glad she was there to make him do it. He was glad she was there because he didn’t want her to see him like that and it felt good to have someone for whom he had to be presentable. Once he’d done it he felt better about everything, felt like with Kiley there he could deal with this; he had help. While he was in the shower she’d made him a grilled cheese sandwich. Made him eat it. When he didn’t want to talk anymore she’d sat with him on the couch and watched telly. She came to bed with him and curled behind him with her arm over him and for the first time in days he actually slept.
She was stirring behind him, felt her stretching her legs out, shaking as she pushed her toes right down to the bottom of the bed. Her fingers scratched at his chest.
“You up?” she said into his back.
“Yeah.”
“How we doing?” Her head appeared over his shoulder, peering down at him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
She watched him for a moment, said, “Yeah, me too.”
She looked around the room, taking in the paintings, the walnut panel walls, the closet door open and some of Kate’s things pulled out. Hoped she wouldn’t know he’d pulled them out to hold them, smell them.
“Mitch, can I ask you something?” She dug the point of her chin into his shoulder, getting his attention. She was looking into his eyes quite seriously.
“What?”
“Have you been working out?”
It made him laugh, cheered him up. He shook her with his laughter.
“Well, have you?” she said, laughing with him, “Let me feel your muscles, mate.” She poked him in the chest and the shoulders with the points of her fingers and when he defended himself she dug claws into his ribs, tickled him.
“Don’t,” he said, laughing.
She threw herself back in the pillows, left him alone now.
“I left all my things in my car,” she said. She was pulling her shirt out from her body, turning her nose up at wearing the clothes that she’d travelled in and had also now slept in.
Mitch rolled over to her, said, “Will you stay with me today?”
She gave him a warm smile that really melted his heart, she rested a hand on his cheek. “Of course, Mitch, anything.”
He put his hand over hers and her face changed, her brow dropped and she looked uncomfortable.
“I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve to know the truth. The truth as I know. I can’t keep things from you.”
“What is it?”
“I dated Omar, yeah? But...fuck, I don’t want to stitch Kate up—”
“Just go on already.”
“I wasn’t dating him when we came to Cayman.” She didn’t look away but she crinkled her nose up, like she didn’t want to go on. He rubbed the back of her hand.
She said, “I had dated him a while back, a year and a half ago I think. God, this is terrible...but I don’t want to lie to you. When Omar and I were dating...when we were apart, long distance relationship...he sent me a picture of his privates. You know, we were all over each other back then. I sent it to Kate—I’m sorry, I’m not like that, I’ve never done that before. I don’t know what I was thinking, I was head over heels for that fucker back then, I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m so sorry.”
“What are you saying?”
“She set up that escapade in Cayman. To sleep with him. I guess...because of that…” she let the obvious hang.
Mitch didn’t know what to say. It filled in some of the gaps. He’d wondered about Kiley and Omar, how they weren’t close, but he hadn’t figured on this. He wasn’t surprised now, by Kate’s desire or her deception.
“I helped her Mitch, I’m sorry—I called Omar. I don’t want this to sound wrong but I was into it—ah, shit, you know...I wanted to be with you. I love Kate, she wanted me to do it with you, so she could be with Omar. I don’t know what I was thinking, it sounds so terrible now. It had sounded so exciting on the phone with her. I never could have pictured sitting here with you like this, months later—in this horrible situation. Mate, listen, I was there for fun with you, we had a good time didn’t we?”
“Yeah. We did. I know I did.”
“Sorry I never told you that. It’s been weighing on me.”
“It’s all right. It might have killed me if you’d told me months ago. I don’t care now. Just want her home.”
“That’s all the lies I know. That’s it. I just can’t lay with you like this, help you through this, with that on my mind.”
“I’ve been worse to her. She’s got nothing on me. It’s not Kate’s fault she’s with him now. I did something horrible too. Something horrible to Kate and she
hasn’t even realized it.”
Kiley’s face stretched with anticipation. She was incredulous, he could see her mind racing with the possibilities of what he might have done to her.
“You didn’t hurt her?”
“No,” he said, “Maybe. I did something crazy and now I’m paying for it.”
“Mitch, what did you do?”
“She’s fine. She enjoyed every minute of it. I just...I may have fucked with her head. I definitely shouldn’t have done it.”
“Oh, Mitch,” she said, kissed his forehead, “Kate’s a big, big girl, I doubt you could hurt her.”
“I just did it because I love her so much. And I wanted her to want me like she wanted Omar.”
Kiley pulled his head to her chest and held it. “I’m going to go bring up some of my things.”
“I’ll call for someone to do it,” he said into her neck, “just stay with me.”
“Mitch, you can’t take her back. Please don’t do it, mate. Don’t do that to yourself. She’s going to kill you. I love her but she’s never going to change. Please, Mitch, I can’t see you like this.”
*
Was this a test from Omar? It had to be. How could Omar's friend know Mitch?
But that would be stupid. Omar wasn't that dumb, that he'd use someone to play that part that Kate knew. Knew intimately.
What on fucking earth was going on?
If Ares knew Mitch did he tell her husband what had happened in that apartment? That he and Omar had both fucked her at the same time?
Did Omar go ahead with the blackmail? Doing it now to Mitch, threatening her husband with the video he’d sworn to her that he destroyed? Somehow Mitch had investigated the blackmail, found Omar's friend Ares, now Ares was working for Mitch? That didn’t make sense either. Nothing made sense.