[Dawn]
Aldo grins and doesn’t stop tracing his circles. I stare at his muscular chest for a few seconds, weighing everything up, before answering.
“You remember when we were kids and there was that summer when you came around and Andre wasn’t home one time and we hung out?”.
Aldo’s grin widens. “Really? Then?” He’s gobsmacked.
I nod. “I know how silly it is. But us just mucking around and having fun together felt so right. So comfortable.”
“We had a fart competition,” Aldo says.
He laughs. Heartily. It warms me.
“Yeah, but we had a fart competition and it was fun.”
Aldo just shakes his head and keeps grinning and tracing his circles. “Well, it’s good to know a good toot can bring people closer.”
I laugh now, and he squeezes up against me.
We lay there, and everything just feels perfect. We’ve spent so much of the night lost in each other’s bodies that we’ve only got six hours until our flight at ten in the morning.
I reflect back on the trip, and I think I need to thank Sophie for making me go. I know now that she could tell how much I was hurting.
How much we both needed this. It was part of what made her a good mother, the way she looked after others.
But the only thing that’s been gnawing at me is that for some stupid reason, I can’t stop worrying about my brother. He may be the cause of half of our problems on this trip, and if Aldo knows something or has figured out why, I’d like to try and help.
“What did you mean by the note with Andre?” I ask.
“When the car tried to veer us off and you swore, you also said something about Andre knowing. I know I was pretty harsh before about what I thought of him and his problems, and looking after himself, but this is pretty big. I think, well, if you think he’s in trouble, maybe he’s in over his head.”
Nothing.
“Aldo?”
He’s asleep. Snoring slightly while wrapped around me.
I sigh; guess it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
It turns out tomorrow is no better. We oversleep our alarms, giving us barely any time to get ready. Luckily, our hotel is right next to the airport, so the drama isn’t as bad as it could’ve been.
But running through JFK is not something I’d like to repeat. By the time we board our plane and find our seats, I’m sweating and breathless.
Aldo just laughs it off and hopes it’s a sign of things not to come.
It’s a three hour flight down to Miami. So we’ve got a few more hours of bliss.
Of our secret love.
I’ve been thinking about how to bring up the whole thing with Andre, and the subject of Andre with Aldo too. But now that we’re on the plane, it doesn’t seem like the place to be having such a conversation.
The flight attendant is lovely, and she chats with us the whole way down. We’ve been fortunate enough to get a wing exit seat, so Aldo gets his leg room.
Rather than sulk about not being able to nose into my brother’s life, I just enjoy the time Aldo and I have. I grasp onto him and enjoy the warmth of his body. We watch the inflight film and giggle like kids while people watch too.
It feels normal. Like, we didn’t just deliver a van full of drugs to a couple of Italian and Russian bosses.
As we land in Miami, the air thickens. It’s raining again, the humidity makes the plane feel cramped, and we skid down onto the runway just after lunch. Sophie messages, saying someone will be along to pick us up. I text back a little heart shaped emoji.
Aldo and I walk arm in arm as we come off the plane. We travel through the security checkpoint and head through to the exits.
As we’re coming out of the arrivals lounge, I spot the plaque with Andretti & Martinez. I skip forward, dragging Aldo by the hand.
Then I spot the driver and come to a complete stop. I drop Aldo’s hand like a burning coal.
It’s Andre.