Red Running Shoes - 6. Intermezzo

Sicily, Italy

I breathed in, ahhh... Waking up on a sunny morning to the scent of freshly made espresso was a nice way to start the day, even if it was accompanied by Rick's hyper chipper voice.

Tugging my braid he sing-songed, "Good morning, Rapunzel, did you sleep well?"

I opened my eyes to see the menace sitting beside me on the bed, waving a little white cup right under my nose.

"Good morning, Lucifer. A cup? Where's your trident?" I took the coffee out of his hand before he spilled it all over me.

"Wasn’t that Poseidon? Whatever, I see you're better already, hun." He ruffled my hair affectionately. I hated it. He knew that.

"A good night's sleep is the first step to start the healing." Leaning forward he looked me in the eyes. "You're not allowed to wallow in self-pity on my watch, understand?"

I nodded meekly.

I hadn't planned to do that but I learned long ago not to contradict Rick when he was in Jonah-protection-mode.

He leaned back, obviously satisfied by my answer. "Okay, what are your plans for today?"

Which was a good question. I had to come up with something very quickly if I didn't want him making those plans for me.

"Let me think…having breakfast, taking a shower, a walk down to the beach, maybe test the water, take a nap in the shade, and write my journal so that you won’t pester me with questions anymore?"

"Those are very good ideas, darlin’. Better get your butt out of bed then." He waved in the direction of the kitchen. "I put some cornetti con crema al cioccolato e crema pasticcera and more espresso on the table."

"Huh?"

"Croissants with chocolate cream or vanilla cream filling. Did you forget everything?" He rolled his eyes at me. "And so that you know, the daily maid service, room service, and mini bar replenishment are not included in your accommodations. Tomorrow you'll come down to the kitchen." He finally got up from the bed. "And about your plans, with your light skin buying a hat, and sunscreen would be a good idea, at least before you go down to the water."

"Good idea, Mother." He lifted his right eyebrow, but before he could comment on the mother remark, I continued, "I don't do hats."

Which Rick of course completely ignored. "Hmmm, I don't know, I think you would look good with a bush hat or a fedora."

I scoffed. "Do I look like a treasure hunter slash history professor? Dream on."

***

I walked down the main street. Finding a shop, which sold sunscreen and shower gel ─ the cinnamon crap had gone right into the trashcan - shouldn’t be hard in a village of this size.

A few minutes later I saw just what I needed, one of those little mom and pop shops I love so much. They’re usually larger than you would think standing outside, they have everything, and the owners are always attentive and helpful. Sometimes too helpful.

I stood between the aisles and sniffed at half a dozen bottles, before I decided to buy the lavender-citrus shower gel. Maria, a little old lady who told me all about how easy the fair skin of her late husband had burnt, showed me where they had the sunscreen with a high UV protection factor.

"You're so pale you should take the one hundred, if there were such."

I thanked her and took the thirty-five.

Outside again, I noticed a store, which only sold hats. Interesting. Sandro's Hat Emporium. Curious I crossed the street. Only to take a look.

The door opened with a jingle. Nobody ambushed me instantly with sales talk, which was nice. I breathed in the cool air and looked around. The shop was low-key but classy. The hats were arranged on different, antique coat racks, which were spread all over the large room, some illuminated by hidden spotlight.

They actually had bush hats and fedoras. I liked the fedoras more and finally decided to try out a black one, just for fun.

"You should take the light grey on the left, it’ll suit you the best. You'll look sexy and handsome, always a nice combination I would say."

With my hand still hovering over the black hat, I looked into the mirror on my right and saw one of the hottest guys ever standing right behind me. Together with the light Italian accent...

Yum!

I quickly pulled my hand back. "Uhm…actually, I don't wear hats."

"Well, that's a pity. When I made that hat, I couldn't have thought of a better face for it. It is ‘the one’ for you."

"You made the hat?" I turned around to look at him directly.

He smiled. "Yes, why?"

"Uhm…er, nothing wrong with a guy making hats," I stammered unintelligently.

Gods!

The guy had probably only one measly inch on me, but he also had some serious muscles to go with that. What was I thinking? Insulting him in his own shop.

"I-um...didn't─"

But he only laughed. "Don't sweat it, I get that a lot. Originally, it was my mum's shop. I loved to watch her creating hats, mostly women's hats of course. Eventually I wanted to try it myself, mostly men's hats, that is." He grinned and waved his hand around. "Aaand this is the gripping story of how little Alessandro became a hat maker."

Little...uh-huh.

"Yeah…uhm, about the fedora…"

He took the hat from its wrought iron hook and put it on my head. Circling me two times, he adjusted it some more before he finally pointed a finger at me. "Yup, that's your hat."

I must have looked a little skeptical and after tipping his head first to the right, then to the left, he said, "I have a proposal. I need pictures for my new catalogue as well as for my wall of fame." And he pointed at the wall behind him. It was covered with breathtaking black and white pictures of very sexy looking guys wearing hats, most of them wearing only hats. How could I have missed that?

"I name the hats after the man who wears it best.”

When I didn't react immediately he asked, "Your hat would then be called...?"

"Um...Jonah."

And my inner voice congratulated me. ‘Very smooth Jonah.’

"What about I name the hat Jonah; you get it for free and, if you allow me to take pictures for the new catalogue and my wall, I'll pay you the usual modeling fee as well?"

"That's a little fast. Can I think about it?"

"Sure.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder and led me to the door. "Okay Jonah, I'll see you around? Give my regards to Rick and Matteo and tell them I'll come over in the next few days to enjoy Matteo's cooking again. And take the hat."

"But, I didn't …"

"This is your hat, take it."

"Uhm…thanks?"

Somehow, I felt blindsided, and how the heck did he know I knew Rick and Matteo?

I decided to skip the beach and find myself a nice place in the shade to think this through, then write my journal. And talk to Rick and Matteo.

***

Dear Zach,

What say you, could I be a hat model?

The week after the little show Michael and I had put on at the club had been insane. I worked 24/7 because of a deadline I had the following Friday. The only things not work-related I did were eating, drinking, and running in the park because I needed to de-fog my brain once in a while.

I made good progress though, that’s why on Thursday I decided to take the afternoon off, maybe call Michael and see what he was up to.

When I came home from running, I found a very angry Eric sitting on my doorstep.

"Why are you ignoring my calls?" he spat as soon as he saw me.

"I thought I'd let you cool off a little. That's what voicemail's for, isn't it?" I passed him without inviting him in, but I left the door open.

Going right to the bathroom without caring if Eric was following me inside or not must have annoyed him even further, but honestly, I didn't care about that either.

I was pissed and if something irritatingly rational in the back of my mind was asking me why, I pushed it back into its corner. I didn't want to know. I wouldn't like the answer.

You should ask your rational mind more often. Shut up, Zach.

Of one thing I was pretty sure, Eric was plotting behind my back with Ren. His name alone made me furious, almost like the Pavlovian reflex, and as long as I hadn't found my equilibrium with that, I avoided them, all of them. Perfectly reasonable in my eyes.

Pavlovian reflex? So you drooled as soon as you heard Ren’s name? Interesting image. I said shut up, Zach.

I came back in only a towel, my hair still dripping on my shoulders, and Eric looked at me. "He's right, you’re a fucking tease."

"Who’s right - Chris?"

I really wondered why Chris would say something like this, but Eric only made an impatient gesture with his hand and then looked around my living room as if he expected to see someone else coming in from another room.

"So, you and Michael, huh? Are you two together now, or was he just a hook-up? You never showed any interest in him before."

He was angry with me. Why the fuck was he angry with me?

"And if we were..." I waved around with my hand, "Why would you care?"

"I-I don’t. I was just curious." He didn't look me in the eye, which was unusual. He’d never had a problem with telling me what he thought before.

"Sure." My phone started to ring. I looked at the screen and grinned. "Speaking of the devil, it's Michael." I swiped over the screen. "Hey, Michael."

"Jonah, hey. I-I thought, maybe we could do something together sometime, not as you know, er...um just maybe..." he stammered.

Eric watched me like a hawk and I got an idea. "Do you want to come over? I was about to start cooking lasagna. You could help me, that is, if you want to?"

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Cool. I'll be there in a few," Michael said enthusiastically and the line went dead.

I smiled. I was really looking forward to seeing Michael again, and it wasn’t only to annoy Eric. Contrary to my other friends lately, Michael was such an easygoing and nice guy. I liked him.

"So, is he coming over?"

"Yes," I winked, then hurried into the kitchen to check my supplies. "Shit! I don't have enough canned tomatoes." I looked for my phone. "Hey, Michael? Could you grab some canned tomatoes from the grocery store before you come here?"

"Sure, no problem," he answered, a little out of breath. "I'm already there as we speak actually. I thought some red wine wouldn't hurt with the lasagna..."

"Great idea and perhaps, as you’re already there, some ice cream for after."

He laughed. "You're such a sweet, sweet guy..."

"That I am." I grinned, walking into my bedroom. After closing the door I whispered, "Eric is here."

“Is he pissed?”

“Yep.”

"Do you think he’ll still be there when I come?" He sounded a little nervous.

"Probably, now that he knows you’re coming."

"Okay, I expect a very passionate and enthusiastic welcome kiss then," Michael said gleefully.

"Only if you want me to." I suddenly felt bad for using him like that.

"Always, you know me," he all but purred then, and I finally realized he was only joking.

Just because I could, I moaned, "Can't wait," while I entered the living room.

The moment Eric saw me he hissed, "Didn't you want to get dressed?"

I rolled my eyes. The man was so predictable. "Oops, where is my head?" I winked at him, turned, and went back to my bedroom. After throwing the towel in the hamper, I grabbed pants that had paint all over them and some holes at the knees and at my left thigh. I knew that, for whatever reason, Eric hated these particular jeans so I just had to choose those. With a bright red shirt still in my hand, I walked back to the living room. Finishing dressing in front of him would be so much more fun and I couldn't wait to hear what he had to say about the shirt.

He didn’t disappoint. "Gah, Jonah, the color of that shirt clashes with your hair something awful and those pants again. I can almost see your...you know they’re called private parts for a reason. Yes?"

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Almost is the key word here. These are practical work-clothes. Cooking lasagna is a messy business and tomato sauce is red, duh, so it makes perfect sense that I’m wearing a red shirt and pre-stained but clean jeans, don’t you agree?"

Eric looked like he had something to say to this, but sadly Michael interrupted us when he knocked at the door.

"Ah baby, it’s been far too long!" Michael threw his arms around my neck and kissed me hard, whilst slamming the bag with the canned tomatoes, the wine, and of course the ice cream, into my back.

I laughed. "Ouch, Mike, I didn't know you're into that!"

"Sorry baby, but I have to have some secrets for you yet to discover. Right?" Then he mouthed, ‘Is he still here?’ and when I nodded, he took my hand and went into the living room where he, very convincingly, feigned his surprise at seeing Eric on my couch. "Oh, hey Eric." He looked around searchingly. "Where is the boyfriend?"

"At home."

Michael then wrapped his arm around my waist possessively. "You're helping us cook lasagna?"

"Definitely not," I interrupted them. "Eric is a right-handed demon with two left hands in the kitchen, a real menace."

No way I'd let him go anywhere near my kitchen, except for fetching a beer from the fridge maybe.

"I have to go anyway; Chris and Ren want to go out for a beer later tonight and I have some errands to run." Eric collected his keys and wallet from the coffee table.

"Chris and Ren? You're into threesomes?" Michael grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I snickered.

"I'm not, at least not with those two."

Michael and I looked at each other "Oookay?"

"Well, I gotta go." Eric got up from the sofa and headed for the door, where he threw, "Bye-bye my little housewives, don't get desperate without me," back over his shoulder before he shut the door.

"Isn’t he a real riot?" I grumbled.

"That's only because he’s jealous that he can't cook." Michael lifted the bag with the groceries. "We better put the ice-cream in the freezer. Show me the way?"

Usually I don’t like cooking with my friends. I have my routines and my kitchen is small, which makes it difficult not to get in each other's way. But with Michael it was as if we'd already done this many times before, we just clicked. We looked at the recipe, shared the tasks, and everything was done in no time. Like me, he put the used dishes immediately in the dishwasher and threw the trash in the trashcan, so we had very little to clean up after we'd put the lasagna in the oven. Just as I liked it. He even stacked the dishwasher right.

"Forty-five minutes, just enough time to plan phase four of our fake-relationship. What should we do next?" Michael asked and took my hand.

I looked into his chocolate brown eyes, where I detected mischief, yes, but hope also tinged with a little sadness maybe. Why hadn’t I noticed that he was falling for me? What a self-centered asshole I’d been! We had to stop this charade immediately or Michael would get hurt. I couldn't allow that.

I tightened my grip on his hand. "Michael, we better stop altogether."

"Why? Everything worked out so well."

"That isn't the point here. It’s just...I don't wanna hurt you."

"Hurt me?"

"Yes. I can see that you like me. And I’m afraid if we do this long enough, you’re hoping we'd get used to it and eventually we’d be together for real." Seeing his disappointment, I knew I was right. "Michael, I like you too, as a friend though, nothing more."

It had been his idea. Still, I should have seen this coming right from the beginning. I can be such an idiot sometimes. God, I could kick myself in the ass, even now.

I could do it for you. Shut up Zach!

Michael swallowed hard but he nodded. "Maybe you're right. It was a good plan though, and it worked well." He smiled and then leaned his head against my chest and not knowing what to do with my hands, I buried them in his blond curls.

We stood like this for a while, until Michael sighed. "We better plan the end of our fake-relationship then. What do you think, going down in flames or dying secretly?"

"You know me, as going down in flames has its perks, I think dying secretly is more my style and will be the better choice."

I had told Michael that my friend Alec had rented a house by the sea and wanted my help again with finishing his book. At least that’s what Alec had said. I guessed though, that he wanted someone to go fishing and hiking with him so he didn’t have to hang around the beach all day with his girls.

"I‘ll be there for four weeks starting on Saturday. When I get back, we should tell everyone we realized it wasn't working out between us. What do you say?”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Let’s make bruschetta? I have some fresh tomatoes from my Mom’s garden.”

The lasagna turned out really well, as did the bruschetta. And luckily, after some awkward minutes, we were back to joking and bantering like nothing much had happened.

"Come on, let's grab two blankets and drink the rest of the wine outside on the deck," I suggested.

We had just made ourselves comfortable on my deckchairs when Michael seemingly out of nowhere asked, "Tell me, what's up with you and Ren?"

"There is no me and Ren and there never will be. He pisses me off every time we see each other, because he is an arrogant asshole, among other things."

Michael looked at me and then he must have come to a decision, because he took in a deep breath and said, "All right, tonight seems to be the right time to tell each other unpleasant truths. So, before you run away from me, remember: We're friends. Okay?"

I nodded.

"First let me quote ole' man Shakespeare: The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

When I didn't answer immediately, he finally said, "You do not hate him."

"Yes, I do," I said stubbornly.

"No, you don't. I saw how you looked at him when you thought nobody was watching you. You liked it when I told you he was glaring at me at the club, and even when he became almost violent as he tried to unhinge that door."

"You think it was him?"

"Of course it was him, or does that happen to you often? Random guys run after you at the club and try to break through bathroom stall doors? It certainly wasn’t Eric or Chris."

I shook my head. "That doesn't prove anything."

"We teased Ren very badly that night. He was jealous, that much was obvious, and you liked it."

"Bullshit."

"I think not, and for the future: He obviously has a bit of a temper so you better not challenge the lion, err... panther if you want to stay on his good side."

"If it was really him who banged against that door, he did it because he thought I was trying to make Eric jealous, not him."

Michael totally ignored my objection. "He is certainly hot, hmm?"

"No...I mean yes, but that's not the point here."

"I think you like him.”

"Yeah totally.” I scoffed, “Anyone but him."

“I don’t know. Maybe you like him but you feel he doesn’t take you seriously. So you mouth off, try to make him lose his temper, his self-control, prove he’s not better than you are. Or you want him to take charge, leaving you without any responsibility for what happens next. He is very dominant and possessive, two features that always pushed all your buttons in every possible way.”

"As I said before: bullshit!"

"Of course knowing what happened with Eric, you could just be afraid of getting hurt again and that’s why you’re pushing him away. Anyway, you like him."

“I’m not pushing anything and I didn’t know you had a doctorate in psychology.”

He only grinned more until I was so annoyed with him I ignored him completely.

"All right. Let's make a bet. Tomorrow you'll call Chris, chat a little about this and that, and then you tell him you have to hang up because you're meeting me at four for a run in the park. I bet one of them will come by, purely by accident, of course. Then you'll tell them about your vacation, and how I’ll be staying overnight on Friday so we can say a proper goodbye."

"And I'm going to do that why again?"

"Saturday morning Ren will be here to torture himself by seeing us kissing goodbye. I think he still doesn't believe we're together. After all, somebody like me could never beat him and snap up the man he wants, thereby screwing up his perfect plan."

"Why can’t I just tell Chris on the phone that I’m going on vacation and meeting you to say goodbye."

“Because then they will think you wanted to tell them.”

“This is too much cloak and dagger for me.”

"Will you call Chris?"

"Yes, okay."

"You'll see. Something will happen"

After that we sipped our wine and enjoyed the beautiful starry night. No more revealing conversations. Thank you God. Later when I walked Michael to the door, he kissed me very gently on the mouth then smiled sadly. "Just friends from now on."

I felt like shit.

The next morning I dutifully called Chris.

I’ll tell you more later Zach, right now I’m hungry and something is starting to smell delicious.

Lasagna

Bruschetta