CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WINTER
Itfeelsweirdbeing out of the house again after being cooped up for days, but I’m thankful for it. I look across the seat to where Giovanni is sitting, staring out of the window.
Enzo is driving. Maximo is sitting in the passenger seat.
Vito is noticeably absent.
I don’t quite know where we’re going, but I know I feel more than a little unsettled. All three of these men have threatened me at one time or another.
They’ve also aroused you.
I press my lips together at the thought, switching my gaze to the view outside.
Everyone in the car remains silent and when we pull up to a stadium, I’m surprised. I squint, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Get out,” Giovanni barks at me before opening his own door and climbing out.
I step out, missing the cold weather for a moment when the heat hits my skin. The maid brought in a pair of jeans and a simple floral blouse this morning, and even they are too hot for this inconsistent weather.
Givoanni pulls his jacket tight before moving over to Maximo and saying something low. He gives him a nod before moving toward the entrance of the arena.
Enzo gestures for me to follow and he falls into line behind me.
Giovanni moves with ease and before he can get to the double doors, they’re opening up for him, two men dressed in black suits giving him a nod as they hold the doors open. Another man waits on the inside for us and he steps to the side, gesturing for Giovanni to follow him before moving down a long corridor.
The arena is eerily empty otherwise and I can’t help but to glance at the ticket stands and the concessions window.
I follow the man and we come to a door that the guard pushes open. I take in the rows of seats upon seats and my eyes go to the middle where there’s a large baseball field.
The stands are completely empty, except for a couple sitting in one of the rows. The man’s back is broad and the woman is slender, her curly hair touching her shoulders.
They stand up and when they turn, I realize they both look familiar.
I rack my brain, trying to figure out why I recognize them.
The party, I realize.
I don’t remember the names, but I believe the man was with Polo, and Enzo had given me the woman’s name in passing.
Maybe he said they were engaged.
The man’s attention barely passes over me for a second before he focuses in on Giovanni.
“Gio,” he says with a nod. He turns, “Maximo,” he acknowledges him as well.
“Lorenzo,” Giovanni says, returning his nod.
Maximo only gives him a mocking salute. The man doesn’t say anything about it.
The small woman smiles at Giovanni and Maximo, before her gaze lands on me and I swear her smile widens.
“Maximo!” A voice booms as it enters the arena. I’ve only met him once, yet Polo’s voice is recognizable and I turn to find him walking toward us. He’s wearing a three-piece suit with a bright blue bow tie. His long hair flows behind him, and he looks more like a model than a mobster.
His sole attention is on Maximo as he marches over to him with a container of popcorn. It looks to be fresh, despite the fact that the concession stand was closed when we passed by.
Maximo offers him the same warm greeting, “Polo! Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, taking the man’s free hand.
It’s clear the two seem to be good friends, which is odd because the only people I ever imagined him being friends with is Lucia, and maybe Enzo.