by Fiona Grace
“But I have a lot more to say on this subject! And you—”
“Dottore …” she warned.
“This is a disgrace!” Audrey held her notes up. “You’re deliberately letting your personal opinion of me and other expats interfere with your job. I deserve to be—”
“Submit your paper to us and we’ll look it over,” Catalano said, monotone, now not even looking at her.
“All right. Thank you,” Audrey muttered, glaring at her.
She turned and went back to her seat as Falco finished translating. When she sat down, Mason leaned in. “Impressive. I really thought you were going to call her a witch to her face.”
Audrey whispered, “I held back on the Screw you, Mimi, just for you. Do you think I did okay?”
He nodded, and was about to say something when suddenly, someone on the other side of the room jumped to his feet and began to yell something in Italian.
All heads swung to the man. He was bald, but with a heavy black beard, and his skin was bright red. As he shouted, spittle flew everywhere, and he gesticulated wildly, mostly shaking his fist in the direction of the council. Now, that was impressive. And gutsy. He was acting exactly like the person Mason feared Audrey would be.
Audrey leaned in to Mason. “Whoa, what do you think he’s saying?”
Mason didn’t answer, so intent was he on the man. Some members of the council tried to calm the man down, but he spoke over them, his voice growing louder and louder. People nearest the aisle shifted to the side to avoid getting smacked by his crazily gesticulating hands. Talk about a bulging vein—there was one long, purple vein on the side of the guy’s neck that looked like it was about to spring a leak. Near the back of the room, a security guard advanced toward him, warily waiting for him to make the wrong move.
“Someone really pissed in his Cheerios,” Audrey murmured as the man began gesturing to her. “I wonder—”
“Shh,” Mason said, studying the man closely.
Audrey blinked. “Wait. Can you understand him? Is he saying something about—”
“A little. Now shush, girl,” he said, not looking at her. “I’d understand more if you’d be quiet.”
The man finished his rant, and Mimi Catalano had the nerve to roll her eyes. Then she said something back, in a condescending tone.
“Ugh. I could wring her n—”
“Shh,” Mason whispered again, under his breath. “You wanna know what he’s saying? Shush.”
The conversation switched to Falco, who said something else. Audrey eyed the man across the way, who’d slumped into his chair, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. He was clearly not happy. “Grazie,” Falco said, and then there was a pause, and a switch to the next item on the agenda.
“What happened?”
Mason leaned in. “That was interesting. They’re tabling the vote until next week.”
“Oh.”
He started to stand. “Want to get out of here?”
Apparently, since he wasn’t allowing her to speak inside, she’d have to wait until they were out of the conference room. She stood up eagerly and followed him past the crowd and out the door. The second the door closed behind her, she said, “Well? What else was that scary guy saying?”
“Who? Mr. Clean? From what I can tell, he’s a local animal lover and pet owner. And he was defending you, actually.”
“Oh. He was?” He seemed so angry.
“Yeah, but he was pretty pissed off. He said that Catalano was always trying to shutter small businesses and then he called her a few names that I won’t repeat to you, since you’re a lady,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks. Things got pretty heated.” They started to walk back toward the building exit when she said, “I didn’t even know you spoke Italian.”
“A little.”
“You don’t know much Italian, but you do know the curse words? Huh.”
He smirked. “Yeah, well, I learned the most important stuff first. I’ve been taking an online class in my free time. Trying to get better so that when people come visit me, I don’t look like a total dumbass showing them around.”
Right. He hadn’t said much about the mysterious guest, but in Audrey’s mind, she was probably blonde, with deadly curves, double-comma Instagram followers, and a lucrative sponsorship contract for some hot cosmetics brand.
She pushed open the door into the night. It was dark by now, and the air had an autumn-like chill in it. She shivered and tried to throw on the sweater she’d brought. Mason held it so she could find the second arm hole. He might have been a total nudge, but deep down, he was a good guy. “Thanks. And thanks for coming with m—”
She stopped when she caught sight of a red blur, dodging between the parked cars on the curb, heading her way.
“Nick!”
He dashed onto the curb and hopped into her arms.
“Oh, there you are, you bad boy!” she cooed to him in her baby voice. “I’ve been worried sick about you. Don’t ever run off like that on me again. I’ve got to put that license on you.”
Nick eyed them both in disgust. “You are way too attached to that thing.”
“Shut up.” She nuzzled his fur with her cheek and wondered what kind of mischief he’d been getting into. He smelled like fresh air and damp leaves. Holding him in her arms, she said, “That witch is going to try to take him from me. I can tell. I told her he was a dog, but she’s not stupid. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out.”
Nick laughed. “You’re taking a big risk. She’ll have it taken away and slap you with a big fine. Or worse.”
“I know. He won’t even wear the license, so she has reason to take him. And I can’t believe she’s trying to tax me fifteen percent. That’s going to sink my business, fast.”
“Right. But don’t get too rattled. The motion hasn’t passed yet.”
“But it might. And the worst thing about the language barrier is that I have no idea who is for or against it. So what do you think? What else did the others say? Were they for or against the tax, do you think?”
Mason frowned. “You want the truth?”
The second Audrey nodded, she wasn’t sure if she did.
“The top nacho always gets the most cheese.”
She gave him an annoyed look. “What does that mean?”
“It means she’s on top there. People listen to what she says. And if a tax like this is gonna sink you? I’d be getting ready to hold my breath.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hold my breath? How am I supposed to do that? she thought again the next day.
With an hour to spare in her schedule, Audrey went on a little mission. As she walked down the street, she kept thinking about Mason’s words to her. He really thought Mimi was going to win. It was so wrong, that witch, taxing people just for being good citizens. Penalizing people for helping animals.
She found the address the Canadian executive had given her and tracked down the factory in question, where the stray cats were staying. There was a faded sign on the wall outside that said, Il Figlio DeMarco, half-hidden by tendrils of ivy. As she and Nick looked for a way inside, a kitten darted across the street, onto a ledge, and through an opening in the boards crisscrossing the window.
Nick scampered to the opening and sat there, picking at his collar with his paw.
“Hey. For the last time, leave that alone!” she said, nudging him with her knee. “It’s for your own good. I’ll let you take it off when we get home.”
He let out a broken whimper, trying to curry her sympathy.
The fox was definitely sly, because she had to admit it was working. He looked so cute and miserable, and her heart drooped.
Doing her best to ignore him, she peeled open the rotting wooden board and peered inside the vast room. The mostly brick building was full of dust, more rotting boards, and old machinery.
She went to slip inside, but before she could, Nick barreled inside, fearless.
Luckily, it was daylight, and
there were several wide, frosted shop windows overhead, providing a bit of light, so Audrey was able to avoid all the obstacles in the way as she followed the fox deeper into the factory. He kept turning around, as if to say, Hurry up! This way. She stayed close by, weaving around the rusting old skeletons of what looked like industrial-sized textile looms and equipment with massive spools of tattered, colorless yarn.
She found her fox friend in a manager’s office, complete with a wooden desk, chair, and filing cabinets, all feathery with dust. When she rounded the corner of the desk, she saw a pile of rags in the corner of the room, shaped into a little nest. On the rags, there was a new mother cat, along with six or seven rambunctious kittens, about two or three weeks old.
“Jackpot,” Audrey said with a smile, kneeling down in front of them. The black striped mother cat climbed to her feet and sweetly approached her, bowing her head to her outstretched hand to be petted. By sight, though they were slightly unkempt, they looked fairly healthy. “Oh, aren’t you sweet?”
She opened the cardboard carrying crate she’d brought and with Nick’s surprisingly good shepherding skills, managed to get the entire family rounded up and into the carrier. Lifting it, she smiled through the holes at them. The mother poked her whiskered nose out, mewling softly, concerned and confused.
“Don’t worry, Mama. I will take good care of you and your kiddos!”
I hope, at least, she thought as she carried the crate out to the curb. If I can figure out how to pay for this gig.
Last night, in bed with Nick at her side, she’d gone over the financials, trying to see what else she could squeeze from her budget if the fifteen percent tax did become a reality. It was bare bones as it was; there wasn’t much to cut. The animals needed food, bedding, medicine, and other essentials. She could possibly hold a drive to collect those items from residents, but like Mimi had said, a lot of the residents of Mussomeli were poor, which meant donations probably wouldn’t flow freely. Of course, with more expats moving in, buying homes, bringing in foreign money, that could change. But that could take months. Right now, she was in big trouble.
“Mimi Catalano,” she muttered as she walked back to the clinic. Since she’d spent most of her adult life alone, she’d always had a habit of talking to the animals she cared for like they were people. Talking things out to them always made her feel better. “You have to stay away from her. She’s not a friend of ours. Let’s get you guys in and start taking care of you before I get taxed into oblivion, okay?”
When she arrived at the clinic, she set up an area for the new family in the cat area, away from the other pets, so that they could explore a little before she checked them out, and left out food and water.
“I’ll have to give you all your check-ups later, when I get back. I have a lunch date! So be good!” she called, grabbing her purse.
This lunch date wasn’t actually a date. She had to go to G’s cafe. He’d texted her earlier that morning, telling her that his part-time dishwasher was a fifteen-year-old pet-lover who was looking to volunteer with animals a couple hours a week. Audrey said she’d love to meet him, so she arranged to stop there for lunch, but really… there was practically no way she would refuse the free help.
As she was locking up the clinic, her phone buzzed with a call from “UNKNOWN CALLER” with the number blocked. She answered it. “Hello?”
After a long pause, right as Audrey was about to hang up, a heavily accented voice said, “Audrey Smart?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“There is… an animal… out here… a dog.” The voice sounded strained, distant, and there was a loud noise in the background, as if the person was speaking in a wind tunnel.
Audrey gripped the phone closer to her ear. “I’m sorry. I can barely hear you. Out where?”
“At Lago Sfendato. Outside Mussomeli.”
Audrey hadn’t been in Sicily long enough to know many of the points of interest on the island, but Lago Sfendato was one she knew. She’d passed it a few days prior, on her drive to the coast with G. It was probably fifteen minutes outside of town, so not far.
But the bigger problem was, Audrey didn’t have a car. She’d have to ask Mason to borrow his, and he’d probably throw a fit. The last thing she wanted to do was ask him for another favor. He’d carried on for days the last time she borrowed it.
At that moment, she didn’t have a choice.
“Well, is it a stray? I can’t get there right now, but if you bring him into my office tomorrow, I can—”
“It’s injured. Please come. Now.”
Injured? That made a difference. Audrey never could let any animal suffer.
She started to ask the caller for his name, but realized after a few moments of dead air that he’d hung up. “Hello?” she asked, receiving no response. “Hello?”
She pocketed her phone, went back inside, grabbed her travel medical bag, and rushed to Mason’s place. His little powder blue Fiat was outside, but when she knocked on the door, he didn’t answer. She knocked until her knuckles hurt, louder and louder, thinking of that poor, injured dog on the lakeside. Just as she was about to give up, the door opened a crack.
It was Mason, as she’d never seen him before… wearing nothing but tight-fitting boxer briefs. The man loved to show off his world-class abs unabashedly. But now, everything was hanging out. His longish cinnamon hair was a mess on his head, his blue eyes bleary. He yawned and leaned a defined bicep against the door jamb. “What are you doing here, Boston?”
Audrey had the typical reaction—her eyes bulged, and her cheeks steamed. She fought to collect herself. “Um …” she giggled. “Were you sleeping? It’s after eleven.”
He stretched his arms over his head, flexing his muscles and hollowing out his abdomen in a way that was so mesmerizing, Audrey could’ve watched it all day. “Well, with that little wrench Catalano threw in my renovation plans, I don’t really got much of an agenda, you know.”
“Good. Then you won’t be using your car? I need it.”
He went from half-asleep to wide-awake in a split second. “Uh. No.”
She’d expected push-back, but not outright refusal. “What? Why? You need to take your guest out to see the sights?”
He laughed. “My guest”—he used the same inflection she’d used— “doesn’t arrive till next week. You do recall what you did the last time I let you use it? You nearly dropped the transmission in the middle of the road.”
She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been that incompetent with the stick shift, but he was such a baby when it came to his car. “Come on. I wouldn’t ask you unless I really needed it. There’s an injured dog outside of town that needs my help.”
“So you’re planning to put a dog in my car? A drooling, pooping, shedding, disgusting beast that’ll probably screw up my upholstery?” He shook his head. “That’s not just a no, Boston. That’s a hell no.”
She clasped her hands together and stuck out her lower lip, begging. “Then I guess I’ll just have to ask someone else!”
In answer, he slammed the door on her.
Great. She really hadn’t expected the same tactic her animals used on her to work on him. Animals were far cuter. Well, there was still G. He’d be more than happy to lend her anything she wanted. Of course. She should’ve asked him first.
She took the first step off Mason’s stoop when the door suddenly opened behind her and Mason appeared, tucking a T-shirt into his jeans and dangling his keychain from the other hand. He jogged over to the driver’s side. “Get in. I’ll drive.”
Audrey crossed her arms. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to hurt your precious baby. I’ll just ask G.”
He slid into the car and glared at her through the passenger-side window. “Sit your butt in this car now, and lead the way.”
“Fine,” she said as if she was doing him a favor. She threw her bag in the back and flopped down in the seat as he donned mirrored, Top Gun sunglasses and started up the car. Loud country music fi
lled the cabin as he shifted and headed down the narrow street. She gave him directions and he drummed his fingers casually on the wheel as he made his way out of the city.
“So now you’re taking care of strays outside the city?” he observed as he turned down the radio. “What’s the deal? I thought you didn’t have the money or the—”
“I don’t,” she cut him off, because she didn’t want to think about. “I don’t even know where it is, but I got a call about an injured animal, and I’m not—”
“You have a big heart, girl. But you also got an empty head. You have a business to run. And you said it was hanging by a thread.”
“It is. But I can’t do nothing. There’s an animal that needs me. And I don’t abandon my responsibilities.” Like my father. She pushed that thought away. She’d been doing fine the past few days not thinking about him, even though the renovation project was something he’d have excelled at. “This person called me for help, so it’s up to me to respond.”
“Person? Who was it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone. A man. Maybe a woman. They didn’t leave a name.”
He whipped off his sunglasses and stared at her. “Let me get this straight. You got called by an anonymous guy, and you thought it was a good idea to go out to the middle of nowhere to meet him, by yourself?”
“Um. Yeah.”
“You got rocks for brains? You don’t think that’s a little dangerous? Little thing like you? What if it was a murderer?”
She laughed. “This is Mussomeli. It’s very safe. I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
He eyed her doubtfully. To be honest, she wasn’t sure either. It was pure luck that she’d been able to get out of her scrape with the lumber supplier who’d murdered the foreman. If it hadn’t been for Nick interceding at just the right time, she might not have escaped with her life.
But really, what did he want to do? Be her bodyguard? Sometimes she just didn’t get him. Overly concerned, almost possessive one moment, completely aloof the next. She couldn’t fight the feeling that he was playing games with her, just to make her dangle on a chain like the rest of his many admirers.