by Avery Aster
Eddie Easton wrote a song about women such as these two once, titled Sandman’s Witching Hour. The power ballad skyrocketed as his first platinum hit in the United States, winning two Grammys and eventually being ranked by Metal Music magazine as the twelfth best nineties song. The lyrics, which Lex understood but not even Birdie deciphered, honored his groupies and whores. It was about the women he screwed in his motor coach, playing his guitar from Toronto to Miami, and Boston to Seattle. Lex despised the song even more than Birdie’s Lucifer’s Mistress.
Lex noticed the second woman came from chatting with two men in the dark, who remained detached from her activities.
Her über-tan skin became visible as she stepped into the light. The UV damage suited her lackluster manner. Death becomes her.
“I’m Ottavia, Massimo’s second girl.” She extended a greeting. Shaking Lex’s hand hard, tight, and with excessive vigor, she continued, “Or is it his third or fourth girl? I can’t remember.”
“Enough,” Massimo snapped.
Lex met Ottavia’s glare.
Appearing confused, maybe Massimo didn’t know the girls well, in particular the dwarfed cow, and his jaw hung open.
Ottavia’s round shoulders raised, bushy eyebrows arched, and chubby cheekbones attempted to be sucked in. Her every aesthetic choice sparred for a fight, in particular the costume ring on her pinkie finger she twirled around and around.
She peered over at Scilla who sported an identical stance. Shit. Possibly Massimo didn’t recognize girl code, but Lex did.
Girl code spoke to her Manhattanite sensibilities and confirmed these two skeezers sought trouble. A drug hangover always brings out the worst in people.
Massimo’s annoyance grew apparent as he stood between them with intent to separate and dismiss. “Arrivederci.”
“Good night,” Lex gestured. She returned their uniformed fakeness with a grin, hitting the elevator “call” button with her left hand and holding her lover’s hand with her right.
“Ignore them, per favore,” Massimo whispered in her ear, squeezing her tight to his side to turn around and pay them no mind.
“Sorry.” Lex glanced up to catch the panel blink “main floor”. Five flights up. She inhaled, sensing them close behind—
“What’s a matter, principe?” someone shrieked. The voice came over Lex’s shoulder, similar in volume to a Mack truck’s horn stuck at the Queens–Midtown Tunnel’s exit and honking on a Friday at five p.m.
Lex understood they weren’t going anywhere.
The earsplitting noise pressed on and yapped, “You can be buono boy with this New Yorker on your arm?”
OMFG!
Smack down. She knew it.
“Massimo, what are they talking about?” Lex turned, facing both instigators as they invaded her personal space.
Those Euro divas didn’t hold up to her American stock.
“Scilla is high on drugs,” Massimo muttered under his breath, darting Lex a fixed stare to ignore them. He turned back around.
Trapped for conversation, Lex faced them. She didn’t trust her backside to anyone.
“Mm ’kay, Scilla hasn’t snorted an ounce in…days. Aren’t I right, Scilla?” Ottavia spat, as she’d overheard Massimo’s accusation. She kept her attention on Lex.
Massimo squeezed Lex’s hand to turn back around and not feed into their deplorable behavior.
“True. So true, Ottavia.” Scilla stood in Lex’s face, her thick stench shrinking the room. Lex noticed white powder looped around her snout, probably cocaine or crystal meth. Inching closer, Scilla’s padded breasts grazed against Lex’s sensitive nipples.
You gotta be kidding me. Tit-boxing freaked her out.
Scilla leaned in to kiss Lex while Massimo shouted and the guys from the back room cheered on.
Uncertain, Lex stood in disbelief. You wouldn’t dare—
Scilla’s lips grazed her mouth with a horse lick.
Pop! Flash. Ottavia zoomed forward, snapping a photo with her camera phone. The long-haired woman took another picture. “This’ll be good for da’ tabloid magazine, sì? American designer at sex club with her girls gone wild.”
Similar to lightning, the white brilliance startled Lex’s eyes. She blinked blur after blur, attempting to refocus. Ottavia’s tabloid threats echoed in her ears, and Lex felt sick. I knew this week was too good to be true.
“No, no pictures!” Massimo shouted as a second photograph was snapped. “And do not touch her, Ottavia. I mean it.”
“Please, get your camera outta my face,” Lex pleaded. One was enough, two became two too many. Realizing Ottavia would sell the pictures to the tabloids, she reached for the gadget hard, pressing Scilla off to the side for Ottavia.
“Do not encourage them, Lex. Stop!” Massimo’s arms came wide for Lex, but she lunged ahead.
Ottavia positioned for a third shot.
Lex charged for Ottavia’s camera as a third strobe burst.
“I can’t see.” The light shined about an inch from her eye. Her arms swung as she regained her bearings, but she toppled over Ottavia.
“Cazzo.” Ottavia jumped back with a defensive jolt, slapping Lex sideways.
“Ouch!” Her cheek had been ripped, Ottavia’s jewelry cut her face.
Closed into a fist, Ottavia’s right hand followed her left and decked Lex.
She screamed as warm liquid flooded her nostrils. “You bitch!” Lex pinched her nose with her right hand and breathed from her mouth. What the—? Her left hand touched her face, confirming the burning sensation as a deep cut.
Massimo guarded her with concern, holding his hands up as his face went grim. “You okay?”
Lex wailed, “I didn’t do anything to deserve this.” Her eyes refocused, the white dancing dots slowly ebbing. “I want her arrested.”
“Scusi, scusi, scusi,” Ottavia poohed and stepped back in horror over what she’d done. She shoved the camera down her hot pants’ front. Her actions prevented anyone who didn’t crave gonorrhea, chlamydia, or syphilis from taking it. She turned to make a run for it.
Ignoring Massimo’s question and attention, Lex jumped around him and grabbed Ottavia by the hair. “You aren’t leaving ’til I have your camera.”
“Ahh!” Ottavia’s roots popped out.
“Fake-ass hair!” Lex shouted.
“Let go!” Massimo commanded. His face tensed, illustrating shock over Lex’s attempt to fight back.
Unable to let go, since she’d gone beyond all sanity in her defense, Lex held Ottavia’s scalp tighter.
“Scilla, slut, come help me,” Ottavia gargled.
Retreating to a dark corner, Scilla made it apparent she’d sit the rest out.
The guys in the back stood in arousal. Girl fights made their dicks hard, and Lex assumed these ladies did this routine often.
“Get security down here right this instant!” Massimo shouted toward the waif concierge guy who was reading a magazine, unimpressed with the brawl. He didn’t care about the house rules, which preached no photos permitted.
“Cunt,” Ottavia snarled.
Lex stretched her victim’s neck back and the veins blued visibly.
Ottavia swatted at Lex, her eyes filling with tears.
“Stop! Let me take care of this!” Massimo yelled, taking hold over Lex’s hands. “Please, Lex, let me.”
Rage consumed her. She’d heard Massimo speaking, but didn’t understand his words. Her ears were filled by her heartbeat. “Give me your camera,” she snapped.
“What the—Lex, you’re hurting her.” His face twisted in revulsion over his lover’s actions.
Hair tracks snapping, she let Ottavia know she wasn’t giving up.
“It’s in my fica stretta. Reach for it, you stupid bitch.” Between her yelps, Ottavia laughed over her fears, illustrating lunacy. She chanted lewd names in Italian at Lex, causing her to pull harder as Massimo’s face turned green. The pictures must be worth more to Ottavia than her own head.
“Last time I ask. Give me the camera.” Lex yanked down on the hair tracks.
Ottavia dropped to her knees.
“I’m not reaching into your pants,” she growled into Ottavia’s face.
“For me, Lex, stop.”
Lex heard her lover’s voice. What? What am I doing? Oh, my God.
“Release her,” Massimo pleaded. He slid his phone into his pocket, wrapped both hands around hers and tugged on her wrists. “Stop.”
Freeing her grip, she cried, “Oh, my God. I’m so—I am sorry.”
Ottavia fell to the floor in dramatics. She acted as if she’d run the New York marathon and required a Gatorade Thirst Quencher.
Massimo shook Lex’s hands. “What the hell is the matter with you?” He switched his focus and assisted Ottavia to stand. Staring blankly at Lex, uncertain whose side to take, he remarked, “People will take your photo. Get used to it.”
Speechless, Lex offered no response.
Ottavia snorted over to her friend in names not worth repeating, chastising her for not coming to her rescue. “Scilla’s on her own with blondie,” she finished. Trolling to the boys in the far corner, she slipped the camera from her crotch with apparent satisfaction.
The men hooted as one gave the other cash bills. They’d made a bet on who would win.
Jerks.
Scilla waved them a goodnight with a middle finger.
Locks from Ottavia’s hair extensions were embedded in Lex’s short nails. Delayed panic came over her when she pushed the elevator’s “call” button again. The lift remained stuck on the main floor. Damn this old building. Unable to make eye contact with Massimo, she didn’t understand her rage. Where did her anger come from? The fight didn’t register as real in her consciousness. Humiliated, frustrated and upset with herself, she fought back the urge to cry.
Beep. The elevator doors finally opened.
Thank God.
Lex stepped inside the elevator, hurriedly pushing the button for the main floor. I can’t believe I did this. The doors closed and the lift rose.
She was convinced the culprit to her fury must’ve been the photos and the threat they posed. They’d ruin her life and her brand. She’d spent close to two decades away from the cameras with the intent to own peace. It had been fun for a second to be touted as a princess-in-waiting in the tabloids Blake had showed her, but TMZ’s “Reclusive Fashion Designer Knocked-Up by Italian Playboy” article reminded her how fast media turns.
But sixty seconds before, she’d been caught on film with her lover’s load dried on her face. Raccoon mascara eyes shot to hell with a bloody nose, which the reporters would say came from snorting crystal meth.
The cherry on the sundae was Scilla kissing her—a hideous thing. Fuck! The papers would read “Girls Gone Wild” for sure.
Massimo pulled Lex into his arms.
“I love you, bella. Take a deep breath,” he murmured in her ear.
“I can’t breathe.” Adrenaline flooded her body, catching up with her actions. Her palms and underarms were sweating, and she was faint, nauseous and shaky. But she wouldn’t let her fear show to Massimo. It was over. All over.
“Mio amore, let me look at you.” He attempted to assess the damage. When she broke eye contact in disgust, he replied, “Scusi, I put you in such a situation.” Massimo reached for her hand.
Her arms refused his touch and folded over her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re sorry?” Lex scowled, expecting Massimo to do more. She didn’t know what, but something.
He knocked the elevator’s “stop” button as the rusty gears squealed to a halt. Grinding her shoulders against the wall, he said, “Listen to me. I cannot lay a hand on those girls. The media would have a field day. We would lose everything.” His lips were dry as he licked them, figuring out what to say next.
“Right, nothing you could do.” Lex brushed him off. She didn’t see his way and looked the other direction to free herself from his lecture.
Grasping her tighter, he brought his nose tip to hers and continued. “In life, it is how you, Lex Easton, react to situations which makes the difference.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You may be used to rock ‘n’ roll brawls, but I am not.” He stepped back and wiped his mouth.
“How rich, coming from you,” she quipped. Lex didn’t accept him judging her actions.
“Scusi for what happened. People try to get a photo or a rise from me often.” He paused with an uncertain expression on his face and finished with, “You are too reactive.”
Peals of laughter, shrill in mockery, erupted as she repeated, “Reactive?” She stuck her tits to his chest, reenacting the breast fight while pointing at the cut she felt on her face. Recounting in her head the verbal abuse from whore this, and cunt that she’d endured seconds prior. “It’s called defending yourself and protecting who you care for. Tonight was a mistake.”
“Meaning?” he asked as his eyebrows rose. What action did she refer to? Lovemaking? Or the girl fight? “Again, scusi this happened.” His eyes issued an apology in addition to the words spoken from his lips. He offered, “I do not know what else to say.”
Nasty as his bachelor skeletons were, she’d gunned for sex even though he’d warned her. Nevertheless, Lex pressed on and threw herself at Massimo. Lex never expected ecstasy to downfall and boomerang at warp speed so quick.
“Boy, am I glad you wore a condom before you fucked me.”
“I never fucked them.” His mouth dipped into a frown.
“No, Prince Massimo Tittoni, you didn’t—you made love.” Her soul required her to be in Manhattan and to pretend Milan never existed. She slammed her fist against the wall in frustration.
“Aside from Marcella, you are the only woman I have ever made love to.” Bleakness flashed in his dark eyes as he tried to get her to keep her focus on what mattered. “I will ignore your words. You are upset and have every right to be.” He hit the “resume” button, sending the elevator to the main floor in defeat.
Her heart beat in despair.
Massimo lifted a concerned hand to her cut and soothed, “Bella, let me—”
“Stop. Don’t touch me.” She winced from the pain.
The doors opened to the main floor.
Lex found the guts to walk a foot ahead, accepting the sport jacket Massimo offered to cover her face.
They struggled their way through the paparazzi out to the limo and gave the impression nothing had happened.
She hid her shame, anger and confusion, but she was questioning her actions, wondering if Massimo was right when he declared she was too reactive. Lex didn’t agree. How could she be stupid enough to allow herself to fall for a playboy? Prince Massimo Tittoni didn’t differ much when compared to Eddie Easton, and she sure as hell possessed no intent to become Birdie.
Over the years, Lex questioned why her mother stayed with her father. Why her mother turned a blind eye. More than ever, why she memorialized Eddie’s death after he killed himself. That night, the answer to her Birdie and Eddie Easton mystery found her.
It was called love.
She wanted no part in it. Ever!
Arrivederci, Milano
Massimo took Lex to the police station over on Via Carlo Poma and filed charges against Scilla and Ottavia. He didn’t recognize how severe the hit was until they were inside the detective’s office. The station’s fluorescent lights brought everything into focus. Her left cheek had been mauled and her right eye was nearly swollen shut. Her arms were also scratched.
He owned the night’s misfortune, since he’d encouraged Lex to go out. He’d carried her to the dance floor, and he agreed to go downstairs. Scilla and Ottavia had goaded him, not Lex.
Lex refused to go the hospit
al and wouldn’t visit the Tittonis’ private physician. She argued it would cause media speculation and the medical staff would sell the photos. He didn’t know where her crazy assumptions came from.
Afterward, the limo drove them home. Lex remained silent on the ride, mumbling a thank-you when the driver opened her car door in the mansion’s driveway.
“I will run you a bath.” Massimo motioned toward the bathroom and helped her upstairs.
She nodded in agreement, but no words came from her mouth.
He turned the hot water on and poured in bubble bath.
Lex’s focus remained on the tub. She didn’t make eye contact with him at all. It troubled Massimo, but he couldn’t push her.
“Let me help you.” He unzipped the dress. Covered in blood flecks, Jemma’s creation dropped to the floor. Massimo kneeled down and unfastened Lex’s glittery shoes. The crystals weren’t as luminescent to him as before.
Lex’s legs trembled.
Aw, Lex, please stop shaking. He rubbed her calf muscles. Once she was naked, he scooped her in his arms and lowered her inch by inch into the tub filled with water. Her green eyes troubled him as she stared at him. “Rocco picked up your kiwi shampoo at the store today. May I wash your hair?”
Quiet, Lex nodded slowly and turned her back to him to lather her up.
Her blonde locks turned dark brown as he poured water over her. The all-consuming love they’d made earlier in the night evaporated into an icy chill between them, and he noted Lex’s body tensed in apprehension. Her turmoil radiating inside, she screamed from within, but voiced nothing. Massimo hoped it wasn’t directed at him but knew otherwise.
Lex had argued in the elevator that he’d failed her. Massimo replayed the fight in his mind over and over again, trying to see what more he could’ve done. He’d regretted his words: What the hell is the matter with you? And, People will take your photo. Get used to it. He dropped his head in shame behind Lex’s back.
Squeezing a fruity dollop in his hands, he massaged her scalp and neck. The cheery scent was indifferent to the dark cloud cast above them. “I am sorry, Lex.” His touches to her body were his way of saying everything would be okay.
