Burning The Map. Laura Caldwell

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СКАЧАТЬ luck,” Kat says, pushing back her chair.

      Neither Sin nor I say anything. We both know she doesn’t need it.

      Kat trots into the bar. Within seconds we hear the rumble of a man’s voice, the peal of Kat’s laughter.

      “Great,” Lindsey says. “We’re going to be here forever.”

      “Yep,” I say with a certain degree of resignation. Since Kat is widely known for her ability to meet men under any circumstances, Sin and I usually spend a lot of time standing around until Kat decides whether she wants to do something about it. Usually, we talk and make jabs about Kat’s libido, but Sin says nothing this time, she just keeps eating her pizza, pulling off the whole slices of tomato, which seem to offend her.

      Kat comes out of the bar in record time and introduces us to Guiseppe, who looks like he could be an underwear model. He’s got a stunning body, a jaw so square you could use it as a ruler, and jade-green eyes under eyelashes that are longer than Kat’s.

      “Buona sera,” Guiseppe says to us with a slight bow.

      “He designs leather!” Kat gushes, with such wide-eyed enthusiasm you’d have thought he was next in line to be the pope.

      Sin and I shake his hand and drag our chairs around the table to make room. When Guiseppe and Kat take their seats, there’s a pregnant pause, as if we all know that someone should talk, but none of us can figure out whose turn it is. I keep expecting a look from Lindsey that says, take over, please, and get us the hell out of here, but she doesn’t even glance at me.

      Finally, Kat says, “Guiseppe wants to come sightseeing with us.”

      Sin and I are quiet, but our silence is probably for different reasons. For Sin, it’s just another round of dealing with Kat’s string of men. For me, though, it means an end to my role as the one who knows Rome, the keeper of the Italian knowledge. I’d enjoyed being teacher all day. It meant Kat and Sin needed me in some fashion. But now that there’s a Roman onboard, it’s over.

      Guiseppe, it turns out, is a very pleasant, mild kind of guy who happens to know all sorts of Rome trivia. I find myself warming to him as he gives us informative tidbits at each stop.

      “Did you know,” he asks us in carefully pronounced English as we stand in front of the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument, a white marble monstrosity that looks like a wedding cake, “that this was built by the monarchy of Italy, whom the people hated?”

      Actually, I did know this, but Guiseppe looks at each of us as if he’s really trying to help, so I keep quiet.

      “We do not like this,” he continues. “It was built from marble stolen from the Colosseum and the Forum, and it is ugly.”

      “That’s terrible,” Kat says.

      Guiseppe looks down at Kat, pulling her close to him. “But you are not like this monument,” he says. “You are beautiful.”

      “All righty,” I say in a loud voice. “It’s time we got back to the hotel.”

      Sin turns to me. “Which way is home, Case?”

      I point to the street behind us, happy to be needed again, and Lindsey and I set off toward the pensione, Guiseppe and Kat trailing behind us. By the time we make it back to Pensione Fortuna, my feet are killing me, and I’m dying for a nap.

      “I’ll join you,” Lindsey says, yawning as we stand outside the pensione door.

      “Well, it was nice to meet you,” I say, holding out a hand to Guiseppe.

      He shakes it, but a perplexed look crosses his face.

      “We’re going to take a nap, too,” Kat says, putting her arm around Guiseppe’s back.

      His face rights itself, as if everything’s been cleared up.

      I stifle the desire to roll my eyes, less than thrilled that I won’t be able to walk around our room in my underwear and grungy but comfortable Chicago Bears T-shirt. Still, I’m too tired to take Kat aside and protest, and since Lindsey only lets out a small groan and heads in the door, I assume she is, too.

      Once in the room, I change into a clingy white T-shirt and some cute running shorts. Guiseppe may be Kat’s guy, but he’s still a guy. I get more time with him than I ever wanted, though, when Kat and Sin huddle in the bathroom. I figure Kat is probably primping while they analyze Guiseppe’s potential.

      “Kat is very beautiful,” Guiseppe says. He sits on her bed, across from me.

      “Yes, she is.”

      “Very beautiful,” he says again, nodding.

      “Yep.” I pray they’ll get out of the bathroom soon so I can take out my contacts.

      Kat bursts into the bedroom then, her hair piled up casually on her head. I dive into the bathroom before Lindsey can shut the door.

      “What are the odds that they’ll actually nap?” I ask Sin as I peel off my contacts.

      “Slim,” she says through a mouthful of toothpaste, “but I could sleep through a train wreck right now. This jet lag is killing me.” She spits, rinses and leaves the bathroom.

      After she’s gone, I close the door and stare at myself in the mirror. Without my contacts, I look hazy and ill defined, but it feels familiar.

      When my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep immediately, only to be awakened a half hour later by muffled smooching sounds coming from Kat and Guiseppe. I glance to my left at Lindsey, who’s snoring, blissfully unaware. I turn back to my right and my worst fears are realized. The sounds aren’t coming from lips on lips, but rather Guiseppe’s lips on Kat’s perky breasts. Kat’s head is thrown back, her mouth open, her face holding a look of pure rapture. Guiseppe is bent over her, working with all the fervor of a newborn infant.

      I close my eyes again, not entirely surprised. I’d expected some activity, and it’s certainly not the first time Kat has fooled around within spitting distance of me. It’s just that she usually confined the contact to kissing, and it usually occurred after bar-hopping during our undergrad days, when I was too loaded to give a rat’s ass. But this? This seems too nuts even for Kat.

      I steal another glance in their direction, hoping that it was just a momentary lapse of discretion. Instead, I find Guiseppe’s form hidden entirely by the blanket and way below Kat’s gravity-defying boobs.

      “Kat,” I say in an exasperated whisper. “For Christ’s sake!”

      “What? What’s wrong?” As if a complete stranger wasn’t performing oral sex on her in the company of her two friends.

      “Give it a rest, will you? I’ve got to get some sleep.”

      Kat lugs Guiseppe up by his shoulders. When he emerges from the sheets, his golden hair is tousled, his pouty lips decidedly glistening.

      “Sorry,” Kat says to me, but when she looks at Guiseppe, she starts giggling.

      I feel like a second-grade teacher, yet I can’t help barking, “Quiet. Please.”

      Kat СКАЧАТЬ