“Are you going there after whatever it is you're doing here?” Misch tried to keep the questions light.
“I go wherever my job sends me,” he answered.
“When do you have to leave?”
“Not sure. Could be next week, could be the week after.”
“Oh.”
Even she could hear the drop in her voice, and Tal laughed at her.
“Don't worry, plenty of time to work on that whole broken-vagina thing,” he assured her.
“Always thinking of others, aren't you?” she sighed. He snorted.
“I'm like Mother Teresa.”
“Tal, what is it you do?” Misch asked. She watched his eyebrows move into a scowl and she expected him to change the subject.
The night before, in between rolling around in her bed, they had talked about some things. Questions were okay, but digging around wasn't encouraged. Mischa refused to talk about Mike with him. Tal refused to talk about his personal life. So they called it even and agreed not to pry.
“It's … I'm a photographer. Sort of,” he tried to explain.
Except it didn't explain anything.
“I thought you told me you worked for a government, or something,” she replied.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not. It takes me all over, it's a nightmare sometimes. But this time it brought me here, and you're here, so it's good,” he said, and his arm was back around her again. With sweet words like that, she couldn't bring herself to pry anymore.
They found a little cafe and Tal held the door open for her. Waited for her to sit first. Little things that probably came naturally to him, but were still foreign and exciting to her.
“This was a good idea. I've been so uptight lately,” Misch sighed, letting her head fall back.
“I could tell,” Tal agreed. Without looking, she threw her napkin at him.
“So you're probably leaving in the next week or two,” she began as soon as their iced coffees were delivered. “And I'm definitely leaving at the end of the month.”
“Yup,” he concurred.
“We'll go our separate ways,” she added. He glanced at her.
“You sound upset about that,” he pointed out. She shrugged.
“Not upset. But I will miss you,” she was honest. He smiled big.
“I'll miss you, too. At least we'll always have Rome,” he reminded her.
“That's true. And what about tomorrow?” she continued with her questions.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Figuratively. What are we doing here, together, us? Are we gonna separate, say goodbye, but then a week later, you show up at my job, or at my hotel room? I can't handle that,” she explained.
“Hey, I didn't even get a goodbye last time, you just ditched out – I had to come find you. Aren't you glad now?” he teased her, and she rolled her eyes. “How about we just play it by ear. Who knows, I may have new orders to go somewhere else tomorrow. I'm not making you any promises, Misch. I picked you up in that cafe because I'd seen you around, and I thought you were hot – not because I'm looking for a girlfriend or anything.”
Mischa cleared her throat. Looked away.
“Good thing, because I can't be anyone's girlfriend. I'm married.”
“That's why you're so perfect for me.”
“I don't think I'm perfect for anybody,” she whispered.
“Let's make this easy on each other. If I want to see you, I'm gonna come find you. If you want to see me, come find me. We're here now, with each other. You and me. There's no jobs or life or … husband,” he said the word carefully. “Just you and me, and this time together in Rome.”
She wasn't sure if it sounded awful or perfect.
“A year ago, when they offered me this job, I started working out. Lost a bunch of weight, psyched myself up. Told myself I would get here and I would find somebody and I would sleep with him. Only once I got here, I sucked at it. I was scared and nervous and I hated it, hated myself, so I stopped. Told myself I wouldn't do it. Then you found me. I want to feel awful, and I did the other day, but right now, I'm …,” her voice trailed off into the afternoon sun. Tal scooted his chair over so he was right next to her.
“Right now you belong to me, and that's all that matters,” he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
This is a very dangerous man.
*
They spent the day together and it was amazing. They laughed and talked, acted silly and touristy. He even danced with her in front of the Trevi Fountain, then kissed her in a way that made the locals cheer for them. They shared and they learned about each other and they bonded. Then they ended the evening at his hotel room.
But she didn't stay the night – Misch absolutely had to be at work the next day. He said he understood. They kissed goodbye before she got in the taxi, and she waved at him as she pulled away. Smiled the whole way to her own hotel. Fell asleep smiling.
Then three days went by and she didn't hear a peep from him.
He said I belonged to him. Did he only mean for that day!?
She felt sick. She felt stupid. She felt used. She felt worried. She felt … just about every emotion a person could have – except for guilt. Thankfully, all those other feelings squeezed guilt to a backburner, and it only reappeared when a certain name scrolled across her cell phone screen. And even then, she only felt guilty after she realized she was disappointed it wasn't Tal's number.
By the end of that first day, she was pretty sure she'd covered all the five stages of grief, possibly several times over. She went to sleep worrying her lower lip, wondering what had happened to change things.
But the next day, it was like she woke up with a whole new attitude. She wasn't that girl anymore, the one who was always worrying about what was wrong with her. She'd spent the last couple years doing that in her marriage, she didn't need to do that with Tal. Nothing was wrong with her. Nothing was wrong, period. He had a job, she had a job, they hadn't promised to spend every waking moment together. A man she liked hadn't gotten into contact with her. Big deal. What was she going to do about it?
“If you want to see me, come find me.”
So she decided to do just that. The worst thing that could happen was he told her it was over. Or really, he just wouldn't be there. Skipped town. But at least she'd know, and she could get on with her life. She'd be sad, she wouldn't lie to herself, but she wouldn't be heart broken. And she certainly wouldn't beat herself up. She was done doing that.
After work on the third day of no contact, Misch went back to her hotel room and changed into a pair of cut off shorts and a black tank top. She decided against taking a taxi. His hotel really wasn't too far from her own, and she was feeling so good about herself, she wanted to burn the excess energy.
It took her about half an hour, but she enjoyed the walk. She'd stopped in at a cute little furniture store along the way, and an old man had given her a flower. She hooked her glasses onto the front of her tank, then used them to pin the flower in place. He kissed her on the cheek and then sent her on her way.
It made her day.
She went up to the front desk of the hotel to see if they could ring for Tal, but the only clerk that was available didn't speak a word of English. Misch leaned against the counter, propping her head in her hand. She'd been there about five minutes when she heard a familiar voice echoing across the lobby.
“... next time, you're gonna be the one in the dirt,” Tal was laughing.
Mischa turned around and was surprised by what she saw. Tal was filthy, his clothing covered in dust. His hands were disgusting, coated in dirt almost clear up to his elbows, and it was all smudged on his cheeks and forehead. He wore a button up shirt, but it was untucked from his slacks, and the top three buttons weren't done up. He looked dirty and disheveled.
He was walking next to another man, who looked messy as well, though not quite as much, and was wearing cargo pants, combat boots, and a skin tight black tank top. He had all th
e right equipment to pull off the look, with an incredibly built physique. He looked Spanish, or some kind of Hispanic, and he was carrying a large duffel bag as he walked alongside Tal.
It's funny, when you spend so much time alone with someone, you forget that they have a life outside of you.
Misch wondered if maybe it was a bad time – she didn't want to bother him while he was hanging with his buddy. She considered just sidling off and calling him later, but right then his eyes locked onto hers, and any doubts she had about his feelings towards her, flew away. His smiled broadened, showing all his perfect teeth.
“I don't believe it!” he called out to her. She smiled back and walked towards him.
“Don't believe what?”
“I didn't think you'd do it,” he responded, which made no sense.
“Do what?” she asked, coming to a stop in front of him. But he didn't stop. He walked right up to her and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground.
“Find me,” he breathed in her ear before giving her a wet kiss on the side of her neck.
“You told me to,” she reminded him, feeling a little light headed at his response to her.
“Yeah, but you're a scaredy cat. I thought you'd be hiding in your hotel room and I'd have to come hunt you down again,” he said. She swatted him on the shoulder and he sat her down.
“No, no more of that,” she replied.
“Ah, good. Very good girl,” he teased.
“Am I just supposed to keep standing here like a frickin' perv?”
Misch had forgotten about the other man. Tal's presence made her stupid. She went to step back, but Tal kept his arm around her, kept her pressed up against him. He nodded at his friend.
“Misch, this is Claudio Ruiz, my partner. Sort of. Everyone calls him Ruiz,” Tal introduced them.
“You're the chick?” Ruiz clarified. Misch blushed and again tried to push away from Tal. He had probably told his friend all about her, about what she was doing.
“The one and only,” she mumbled, pulling at Tal's arm.
“Thank god, cause if there were more of you, I'd probably never see my 'partner' here ever again,” Ruiz teased. He smiled and laughed, but there was an edge of hardness underneath it. His eyes didn't smile at all, and they stayed trained on her face the whole time.
He doesn't like me.
“Sorry, I'm not trying to be a Yoko,” she offered.
“Oh, no, he just talks about you. A lot. Like non stop. Never shuts up. Can't get a word in edgewise. Won't -,” Ruiz began prattling off. Tal slapped him in the back of the head.
“Shut up, Ruiz. Look, give us twenty minutes, and we'll meet you in the bar,” Tal suddenly said, and with his free hand he grabbed the duffel bag out of Ruiz's.
“What? But I thought you wanted to -,” his partner began to argue.
“No, no, it's okay, I can come back, Tal. I just wanted to say hi, really -,” Misch chimed in.
“Shut up,” Tal snapped. Everyone shut up. “You're not going anywhere but upstairs, Misch. Ruiz, we can handle that shit later. Meet us down here. Twenty minutes.”
Then Tal was practically dragging her into the elevator.
“Honestly, hang out with your friend. I'm not trying to be that chick, I just wanted to say hi,” she said quickly, once they were alone.
“I want you to be 'that chick', and you're gonna do a lot more than say 'hi' to me,” he assured her. He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Dust flew everywhere – his black hair almost looked salt-and-pepper.
“What were you two doing!?” she demanded, her eyes wandering over his clothing again.
“Hmmm, wouldn't you like to know,” he teased, grabbing her hips and pulling her close.
“Yeah, I would. And stop touching me, you're filthy,” she pointed out.
“Oh, c'mon, you love a filthy boy,” he cooed, leaning in to bite on her ear.
“Filthy, not dirty. You're gross,” she informed him.
“Filthy, dirty, nasty, raunchy; I'm a man of many talents,” he whispered, running his tongue along the inside of her ear.
He looked like he had been rolling around in a dried up mud pit, but when he kissed her, Misch didn't stop him. She couldn't resist him. He could've told her to get on her knees for him – in the elevator, dirty as he was – and she would've done it without hesitating.
Why can't life be like a dirty man who kisses good?
*
“Your friend doesn't like me.”
It was closer to forty-five minutes later when Tal and Misch made their way back downstairs.
“No, he's just … closed off,” Tal tried to explain.
“Your 'closed off' friend doesn't like me,” she repeated herself. He rolled his eyes.
“He doesn't know you, so how can he have an opinion?” he pointed out.
“Um, it's called 'judging' someone. Is it because of … you know … my thing,” she stuttered around what she was trying to say. They still weren't saying the M-word.
“Ah, 'my thing', how perfect. Like a cancerous growth,” he chuckled, though it sound angry. Evil.
“Not funny,” she snapped.
Mike was completely innocent, a victim of her little infidelity. Well, not so little, anymore – and that just made it worse. She would never let Tal, or anyone, say a disparaging word about him.
“Sensitive. And no, it's not cause of that – Ruiz doesn't have morals, I'm pretty sure he prefers married women. He's just worried that you're too much of a distraction for me,” Tal told her. She bit at her bottom lip.
“Am I? I don't want to get you in trouble,” she replied. Suddenly, his hand was on her ass, grabbing her roughly, yanking her up against his side. He seemed to prefer her that way, always pressed against him. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it, someone needing to touch her that much.
“Baby, you are the biggest distraction I've ever had in my entire life. I love it. Let me worry about my work,” he assured her.
“That would be easier if I knew exactly what it was.”
They strode into the lounge, and he ignored her statement as he said hello to his friend.
Ruiz still looked at her in that smiling-not-smiling way, but didn't say anything. They ordered dinner and drinks. Conversation flowed. Tal was cheeky and witty, but Ruiz was more laugh-out-loud and slapstick funny. He had a slight accent, and it was finally revealed that he was originally from Cuba.
They finished dinner and moved up to the bar, ordered some real drinks. Ruiz seemed to loosen up with her, and he regaled her with stories of Tal. Places they'd been and stupid things Tal had done while there. He had a penchant for getting caught in public doing nasty acts that were better left to be done in bedrooms. Apparently, Mischa wasn't the only one he liked to indulge in that fetish with.
She eventually let go of the feeling that Ruiz didn't like her, she was having such a good time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard, had felt so carefree. With her friends, she was always hiding her shameful secret – with these men, it was open, and it was accepted. With her husband, she was always walking on eggshells because he was easy to offend and always wanted to be the center of attention – with these men, they could dish it and take it, and even encouraged her to be the same.
“You guys are too much,” she struggled to breathe, she was laughing so hard. Tal was walking away, going off in search of the bathroom.
“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Ruiz's laughter died down.
“I haven't laughed this much in a long time,” she sighed, wiping at her eyes.
“Tal's good for a laugh.”
It was said in a dry voice, and it sobered her of her giggles.
“He's pretty funny,” she attempted to lighten the mood back up.
“He is. So tell me something,” Ruiz began, leaning against the bar, getting closer to her. It was funny, but when Tal got in her personal space, even that very first time, she hadn't minded. With this man, she minded v
ery much.
“What?” she asked, crossing her legs. He was standing close enough that her knee brushed against his waist.
“What's your deal with my friend?” he questioned.
Phew, he's just worried about his buddy.
“No deal. He's a great guy, we bumped into each other one night,” she started to explain.
“That's it? You just 'bumped' into him?” Ruiz clarified.
“Yeah. I promise, I'm not trying to break up the band,” she assured him.
“I get it. So it's just, like, sex. Right?”
Whoa. This one isn't shy at all.
“Well, I guess so. Sort of,” Misch responded, though that didn't cover it. Not at all. She'd been trying not to think about it, but it was now obvious they were so much more than that – she could never say that's all they were, would never call what they did 'just sex'.
“You flew all the way to Italy just to get some ass. Man, things must be rough at home,” Ruiz said, his eyes wandering down her body.
“Excuse me!?” she was a little shocked.
“Hot little thing like you? Who wouldn't want to give it to you good. Who else are you doing while you're here?” he kept on with the questions. Mischa felt her face burning up.
“Nobody, it's not like that. I'm not like that,” she snapped.
Only … you kinda are.
“Woman cheating on her husband with a dude she doesn't know. You are definitely like that, baby. Why not give me a crack at that pussy?”
Misch jumped off her stool and went to push past him. He wrapped an arm around her back and held her in place. Meanwhile, his other hand ran up and down the side of her body. She felt sick.
“Get the fuck off me!” she all but yelled, shoving and hitting at his chest.
“C'mon! If you think Tal can show you a good time, wait till you see what -,”
“What the fuck are you doing!?”
Tal was a big man with a dark complexion and intense features – picturing him angry was easy. Seeing it and hearing it, though, was a whole different ball game. Even Mischa was scared at the tone of his voice, at the sight of him walking up to them.
“Hey, it's cool, man,” Ruiz laughed, letting go of Mischa. She stumbled backwards into Tal, who practically shoved her behind him.
My Time in the Affair Page 8
