The Lizard

Part 3 - Autunno -

I'm still holding his hand. Looking into Sandro's face was like coming home. But I wasn't sure if there would be a new start for the two of us. Too much has happened. A wise man once said "We don't realize the time when we are happy. We only realize the time when we have been happy".

I feel his hand slipping from mine as he searches in his jacket trouser. His palm opens and I see the lizard. Blue lapis lazuli with green, serpentine eyes. My gift to him.

I feel in my pocket and conjure up the golden-enamel cross. His face radiates. "You still carry it?"

   "Every day. In my pocket."

   "But not around your neck?"

I want to tell him that I would if I could be sure, but I am silent. There might be a time when it will be there, upon my chest, like it had been for so many months. The months we had been together, when Spring was clear and Summer was on heat. A shadow had fallen over us and we had never been able to clear it up.

I rise. "Come." And he follows my outstretched hand.

Could it be as it was in Spring... when we had met there by the fallen god, me, confused and awkward, only sixteen. Almost five years have passed and we are still so young. Much too young to remain in sorrow.

My feet stop at a tomb with a marble plate. Mutually we look down, silently. My heart starts to flutter when he turns his back. Away from the grave. He is breathing hard.

Then, his hand searches for mine and I follow his movement, directly into his arms. "Let the shadows rest", he whispers.

___________________

1

____________________

Summer was over in Luca's heart. He couldn't speak about Alessandro's betrayal. He didn't know what to think then. He wasn't sure whether to believe his affirmations or not. How could he believe him? The light heartedness of the summer was overshadowed. Rosso had asked a hundred times what had happened when they parted at the railway station, Rosso and the kids stepping onto the train to Pisa. The Ferrari was much too small for other people in addition to themselves, and Luca was glad about that. He didn't want to talk about it. Not even with Rosso. Perhaps Tristano would understand him. He missed Giano terribly. He knew that he could tell his brother everything about it and he would know a resolution for sure.

Shortly before they reached Florence's town walls Alessandro stopped the car and drove to a footpath along the country road. He stepped out, came around the car and opened the door for Luca. "Come on out, we need a walk", he said.

Luca didn't want to, but Alessandro's outstretched hand waited. He squeezed himself out of the car, ignoring the hand. With his head bent he shuffled along, until he finally stopped under an olive tree, grasping for the everlasting, silver-green leaves. He felt himself embraced from behind and struggled, but Alessandro held him tight. "No matter what happens, gioia, always remember the night on the beach. Promise me?"

Luca's head sunk even lower.

   "I haven't cheated on you, Luca. I'll tell you the full story. We had a diner at a restaurant, because I wanted to thank her for taking care of the lessons while I was ill. We had a lot to drink, that's right, but I was never that plastered that I didn't know what I was doing. We came home, I felt dizzy, plopped into my bed and the next morning I awoke with her in my bed, stark naked. She claimed she had a head ache and was sore all over because I had fucked her like a stallion."

Luca sniffed and struggled in his arms until he could look into Alessandro's eyes. "That's great cinema, isn't it. And you, were you sore too?"

   "Of course not." He wiped the blond strands off Luca's forehead. "Don't look so miserable, carino. That's all I know. I swear. Why don't you believe me? Have I ever done anything to make you wary?"

Luca pondered and finally shook his head. "No, you haven't."

   "Good. Now to the other problem, since I wasn't sleeping with her, it can't be my baby."

   "You forget the possibility that she could have given you a drug, making you sleep, and then…" Luca broke off as soon as he realized the impossibility of Alessandro ever been able to get a hard on while he was doped. It would work vice versa, but not that way.

   "But she takes an oath that you slept with her?" Luca said now more hopefully. "I've heard about pills from America making you lose your sexual inhibitions, called "rape pills".

   "You've heard about some odd things", Alessandro smirked. He pulled Luca into his arms, burying his head into Luca's hair. "I'm determined not to marry her, believe me. Will you come to my place tonight?"

Luca nodded.

*

   "Congratulations on your fine plot, zio." Alessandro said with an acrid voice. Arrigo slowly folded the newspaper he was reading and stood up. "Congratulations, too, my son", he said smiling, with forced cheerfulness. He came up to his nephew and went to embrace him. Alessandro stepped back. "Don't you dare touch me", Alessandro hissed. "I assume you were the first to know about Leoni's pregnancy, right? So, your plan has worked out. We can all be satisfied." His face was calm but in the depth of his blue eyes he was boiling.

   "You look great, son", Arrigo said unmoved and cool as ever. "Please sit down here at the table with me and have a drink." He went to the bar and mixed a Ramazzotti on ice for both of them. "I was happy indeed when Leoni told me the news. Though..." he sized up Alessandro who had leaned back in the leather armchair, "of course I couldn't be sure that you would follow our plan. You certainly remember that we agreed to find a woman for you who would give birth to a child for the Gondi family. She would be paid and that's that." He paused and offered Alessandro the drink. He took it and washed his dry throat. Arrigo sat opposite in the other chair, his eyes never leaving Alessandro's eyes. "We have found her. She agreed to the arrangement, to our satisfaction. Salute, Alessandro. I'm proud of you."

Alessandro felt sick. "And what makes you think that this baby is mine?" he said quietly and dangerously clear. "Have you any proof of it?"

   "Leoni is a decent girl, my dear. And why should I doubt her words? She and I had an agreement. Why wouldn't she fulfill her side of it?"

   "Easy enough. Because I never slept with her! "

   "No? Leoni told me a different story. Sure, she needed some tricks to make you interested in her, but that should have worked."

Alessandro laughed. "That's funny, zio. You put her words over mine. When I say, there wasn't a fuck, then there wasn't any. I'm not going to marry her until the baby's born and it's proven I'm the father. Which won't be the case." He leaned back again and emptied his glass.

   "Don't be stupid, son." Arrigo's face was white with determination. "It's not about the family anymore. It's about the money. You shall marry and have a son. A child at least. Who will care whose child it is, eh? If the church wants proof I can easily provide the right proof of you being the father. You can do everything with money." He outstretched his hand. "Deal?"

Alessandro ignored Arrigo's hand. "There's something else", he said. "You wrote that I'm to come home and stop studying. No way, zio. I will continue to study or you'll have to shoot me."

   "You don't seriously think I'll leave Leoni running around with a fat belly for shame for everyone to see? Without a husband?"

Alessandro snorted. "Which planet do you live on? Who cares about a pregnant woman?"

   "Florence cares! I won't destroy the girl's reputation. I owe her father's reputation. We aren't any old workers such as the Montori's!"

   "Ah! It's about the Montori's, right? Well. I think Luca's father is worth a hundred times more than you, setting her up like a fat drone, counting the money that's left from the huge Gondi-fortune. I'm not going to make it easier for you." Alessandro rose and banged the glass upon the table's marble top. He was about to storm out of the house.

   "Alessandro? You'll think it over. It won't do any harm. A piece of paper and your father's ridiculous mistake will be corrected."

Alessandro stopped in his tracks and came closer. When their noses almost touched Alessandro whispered "You should be ashamed, Arrigo di Gondi-Lucertola. This is the noble spirit of Florence, is it. Stinginess and a cold heart. I thought our family history would mean something to you. That you don't want to let it die out. But all you think of is the money." He breathed in deeply. "It might be that you have made an agreement with Leoni, but you forgot one thing: Leoni's love for me."

Arrigo was mute, then his roaring laughter boomed through the room. "Leoni's love for you is not much more than lust for you. She got what she wanted, but apparently you're so good that she wants more." He suggestively raised an eye brow. "Never underestimate a woman, Alessandro. Don't make her appetite grow and then leave her alone unsatisfied. Her revenge will be terrible."

   "You sow the wind, now reap the storm", Alessandro said coolly and left the house.

Leoni sneaked around the corner from where she was waiting and listening. Her eyes met Arrigo's gloomy facial expression. "It doesn't look too good, Leoni", he started. "My nephew is blessed with the Gondi's bullheadedness, and nobody can force him into something. At least not voluntarily."

   "He still denies the night we had", Leoni interrupted him furious. "Though I swear to you, nobody else is a possibility."

Arrigo watched her with sharp eyes. "It doesn't matter, Leoni. See if you can persuade him to marry you. Everything that follows will be all right."

Leoni nodded. Not very convinced she left the house. What was she to offer? Actually nothing except the prospect of money, so that Alessandro could continue his expensive and careless life style. And of course she would participate then. Arrigo Gondi might be a sharp thinking business man, but he knew nothing about feelings. Absentminded she stroked her abdomen and prayed to every god she knew that the baby would be a son and healthy.

* * * * *

Tristano dialled Vito's number, but still the answering machine told him that he was on holiday. Startled he lifted the receiver, when his own phone rang and his face lit up. "Luca! Back from your holidays? Yes, I'm well. I just can't reach Vito. Huh?" Tristano listened. "Rosso has Sergio's phone number? He had asked about me? Why didn't he say earlier?"

Sergio... Tristano thought, while he sat slumped and ponderously in the corner of his sofa. It was drizzling outside, and a first whiff of autumn touched the town, even though it was only the first week in September. Sergio had given Rosso his number, but since Tristano didn't know about that and had never visited him in hospital he might be pissed at him and didn't want to bother with him anymore. Well... it was worth a try nonetheless. On the other hand… Tristano rose and crouched in front of the aquarium to watch his fish. He knocked softly on the glass. What did he want with a call-boy? On the very other hand... he hadn't had sex since the night with Sergio and his hormones were in uproar.

His tiny, black catfish snapped for a few grains of food and reminded him that he needed something to cook for when Luca was coming in the afternoon. He had liked Jamie's recipes. He rushed into his kitchen and leafed through the cookery book of the Naked Chef and stopped at a risotto. Good. Hopefully Luca liked risotto. He skimmed the list of ingredients and then rushed to the grocery shop next door.

Once more it smelled enticing when Luca slipped into Tristano's flat. "Don't say you've cooked for me again. I'm too embarrassed. Here." He pressed a package into Tristano's arms. "Wine, this time not from the Gondi's wine cellar."

Tristano unwrapped something else. "Marble?" he shouted out. "Genuine Carrara-marble?"

   "Genuine. And a hen's god." Luca went straight into the kitchen and sniffed.

   "Hen's god? What's that for Christ sake?" Tristano had lifted the small black-white stone and found the hole. "Ah, I can thread it on a ribbon and wear it around my neck, right?" He laughed. It was too good to see Luca again.

   "Sandro called it by that name", Luca shrugged. "What have you cooked?"

   "Risotto." Tristano had followed Luca and now embraced him from behind. "Thanks for the presents, they are lovely."

Luca briefly leaned against Tristano's body. If only Sandro was so easy going like Tristano… Why did everything have to be so complicated? But he didn't want to appear weak or laden with problems in front of his buddy. Although… he had come here for exactly that reason: to spill out his problems and find perhaps a solution. He just needed a bit more time.

   "You look absolutely great", Tristano said, but then he let go of Luca's body and instead stirred the pot. "Risotto of lemon thyme, prosciutto, pecorino and goat's cheese", he announced and lifted the cooking spoon. "Try."

Luca tried and made an approving face. "Where's the goat cheese?" he asked.

   "Later. Now go, I'll follow."

Tristano set the steaming plates upon the table, together with the slices of ham and the cheese. He decorated the ham over the rice and crumbled the cheese over the top. Luca watched him with cocked head. "Naked Chef?"

   "Of course." Tristano grinned and lifted the wine glass, Luca had filled. "Salute. To your holidays."

Luca coughed, but swallowed the wine. Then he put a note upon the table. "Before I forget, Rosso gave me this. Sorry he didn't remember earlier. But we weren't sure if you wanted to see Sergio again." He anxiously watched Tristano's reaction who took the note and read the phone number. "Well, I'm not sure if a call-boy can be something good for me. Surely I'd have to pay him if I want a date, right?" Over his steaming plate he looked at Luca and wished he could kiss him. Kiss him and do with him what he dreamt of. The whole night.

   "Have you paid him for the last night?" Luca asked, ignoring Tristano's stare.

   "Of course not. He was gone when I woke up. Perhaps it was his night of charity."

   "Or he was keen on you and did it for fun", Luca winked at him.

   "Can a call-boy have fun with sex? Or does he consider it just his profession? I mean, can he develop real feelings?"

Luca shrugged and ate his risotto. "By the way, this tastes marvellous. It's about time I'm sent Jamie a thank-you-letter."

They smiled at each other and Luca had to lower his gaze because of Tristano's fiery and longing eyes. "Nothing from the policeman?" he asked, when he had finished the risotto, leaned back and was sipping at his wine.

   "Still on holiday. Apropos, you haven't told me about yours."

   "Well," Luca started, "Sun, sand and sex. Oops", he grimaced playfully. "Sorry. It was great. We went to the quarry and the apartment was actually a small villa, much too big for us; Sandro's always exaggerating, oh, and we met Giuliano who was nasty to Sandro."

He refilled his glass and drank it down. Tristano stared astonished. "Do you want me to tell something? Otherwise why are you so nervous?"

In an instant Luca's composure broke. He covered his face with his palms and sobbed. Tristano was stunned, then he jumped up and dragged Luca to the sofa, where he sat with him, and cuddled him in his arms. "What happened, Luca? Did you break up with him?" He couldn't stop the hopeful tone in his voice, but Luca shook his head. "He has to get married", erupted from deep within him. He loosened his body from Tristano's, took a deep breath and told him everything, from the will of Matteo Gondi to Leoni's pregnancy.

Tristano stared at him with disbelieving eyes which grew larger and larger. "Holy cow", he managed to say after a long pause of silence after Luca had finished his tale. "That's... I've never heard such a story. Not in reality at least. And why... I mean, do you believe him?"

   "Would you?" Luca's eyes were bloodshot from suppressed emotions. Tristano rose and opened another bottle wine. "Here, drink, it's good for your nerves." With his own glass he sat close to Luca upon the sofa and took him into his arms. It was so good to hold him... and he didn't know what to hope. "Sandro was behind everything - skirt and trousers, right? At least that's what I'd heard about him before I met him in person. Does he play on both teams?"

   "Not for as long as I've known him. He speaks rather disparagingly about girls. I mean, about sex with girls. But Leoni seems to be completely gaga about him, you know. She's always showing up, even one morning when we were still laying in bed. I don't know what to do!"

   "It's not about what you'll do, but about Sandro's decision." Tristano sipped at his glass and stared into the softly lit aquarium, watching the bubbles streaming to the water's surface. What would you do in Luca's shoes? Let Sandro do what he wants? Let him marry, let him become a father, and afterwards live happily from the millions with him? Would that be such a hard sacrifice? One thing he approved of: that Sandro didn't want to marry before the child was born and proven as his own. But that implied that Alessandro wasn't unwilling to marry IF it was his kid. Which meant that Sandro took into consideration that it could be his -- or that he had succumbed to the money's temptation. Tristano couldn't blame him for that. Everything depended upon what Luca thought about it. "Would it be very sad for you if he did marry? Would you set him free? Or can you live as his lover on the side?"

   "I can't share", was Luca's short answer. "It's either her or me."

Tristano said nothing. He cradled Luca in his arms. "But he could have twenty million. Isn't it worth it to play a little charade?"

  "It might be", Luca admitted after a while. "Then both could have played openly, his uncle especially. They could have make a deal to rip off the church and everything. Perhaps it would have been fun. But now I'm damned to sit and wait to see if the baby is his. And if it is his, then it's over. I can't be even be friends with someone lying to me."

   "That's a deal, Luca."

Luca struggled from Tristano's arms. "I must go."

   "To him?"

Luca shook his head. "Thanks for the risotto and the wine." He smiled. "And for your ear. I'm sorry to appear like a cry baby, but I needed to talk."

Tristano nodded. He hesitated when Luca had gone, but then he dialled Sergio's mobile number. It was dead. Tristano sighed. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with him. Neither Vito nor Sergio, not to mention Luca. Perhaps he should go to a gay pub… Alone? Out of the question. But perhaps...

But then he just jumped under the shower and jerked off alone, dreaming about the night with Luca, while Sergio's large, anthracite eyes sneaked into his wet dream until he didn't know anymore who was turning him on more.

* * * * *

The next week Luca was reserved. He didn't want to see Alessandro, he could beg him as much as he wanted. He showed up several times at the Montori palazzo but was turned away by Clarissa, her heart bleeding with not understanding what had happened. Luca also never answered the phone calls, but kept himself to himself. Just as Giano returned from Germany he found enough strength to describe his dilemma once again.

He saw the shock in Giano's eyes. Nobody should be confronted with such a decision, he had stammered and Luca had a sort of revelation. He found Alessandro upon his loggia, , reading Masolino's diary, a half-eaten plate with spaghetti on the wicker table. His hair was uncombed and a little matted, his eyes dull and puffed. When Luca entered the loggia he hardly looked up. "What's the matter Arrigo? I told you there's nothing more to discuss", he said tiredly.

   "It's me", Luca said cautiously.

Alessandro jumped up. The lapis lazuli rolled from his lap and cracked on the ground. "Luca", he said, not bothering with the stone. But then a shadow fell over his eyes again, and his smile died. "Are you coming to say good bye?"

   "Good bye?" Luca asked astonished, then bent down and picked up the stone. It had a crack in the middle. "Giano's back. The only thing he said was that nobody should be confronted with such a decision and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I wasn't on your side. You must think that I don't have faith in you and that I suppose that you were cheating on me without any real proof. When you said you hadn't slept with her I should have believed you because I... because I..."

Alessandro's eyes lit up and started to sparkle. "Because... you...?"

Luca shook his head and literally jumped into Alessandro's arms. "Nothing. I'm happy. Together we can face it, can't we." He devoured Alessandro's lips and felt so tightly embraced that it hurt. "It was just a shock to hear that she claims that you are the father of her baby." He looked into his boyfriend's eyes. "Have you seen her again?"

   "No. Only Arrigo. He comes here every day without warning and it's no use to wander around the town to avoid him. Where would I go alone without you? He would find me everywhere. I'm counting the days until I can return to Pisa. Arrigo will flip for he forbade me to continue my study. He says Florence's society has to see that I and Leoni are a couple."

   "When do you go?" Luca asked breathless.

"In ten days. The new semester starts soon and I need to study a bit on my own first."

   "Ten days..." Luca whispered.

   "Do you remember the night on the beach?" Alessandro asked deep in the night when they were tired from sex, laying there with lazy limbs. The radio played Mama Cass and Alessandro hummed along with her, until he sat up and sang along in his baritone voice: "Stars shining bright above you, Night breezes seem to whisper I love you, Birds singing in the sycamore tree, Dream a little dream of me..."

Luca laughed out loud. "I dreamt too much of you, amore", he said and fell with him against the pillows.

   "Say nighty-night and kiss me; Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone, blue as can be, Dream a little dream of me..."

They still grinned at each other. "Kiss me", Luca said playfully. "And hold me tight and tell me you missed me."

   "I missed you", Alessandro said instantly. "Jesus, what are you doing to me? I've said things I've never wanted to say." But if Luca had thought Alessandro was in a mushy mood, he was mistaken. And it was good this way. Better not to say too much, nor promise too much in case neither of them could hold to it.

Luca peeled his breakfast egg, peering over the table. Alessandro ate nothing - as always. He never had breakfast, he was just slurping coffee that was a lot stronger than the chicory-coffee Clarissa used to brew. "Raniero's still in custody", Luca started. "This time they will sentence him, don't you think? I just wonder if he will give away other names. Marcello's for instance."

   "Your brothers? And Dante? You haven't told me about him lately. Has he eaten chalk? Or is he using a tiny percent of his brain finally?"

   "Perhaps both. The police are investigating a connection between the attack at the Cascine and the attack on us, months ago. Do you think life has gotten dangerous for us?"

Alessandro gave him a long glance. "Hopefully not. Though we mustn't show any fear. That's what they want, all right?"

Luca nodded. And anyway, the threat was so unrealistic and far away from the protecting walls of the Lizard-tower. Everybody had to watch out for themselves, no matter if they were gay or straight.

   "I'm going to see Leoni today", Alessandro started. "I'm sure we'll just end up arguing, but I have to do something. It's clear that there is no way I will marry her."

   "No?" Luca gave him a mysterious look. "What if you did? You'd have the money."

Alessandro rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "What are you saying? Don't make me completely dizzy. One day you're pissed that I've slept with her, then you say why not marry her?! Please, gioia. Don't say anything about the issue and give me time to decide, ok?"

   "Ok", Luca grumbled. "I just want to say that it's fine with me whatever you decide."

   "Really? You would be my forbidden lover?" Alessandro appeared amused.

   "As long as I can bear you..."

Alessandro nodded. That might not be long, he thought. He was surprised anyway, that someone had put up with him and his exhausting personality for such a long time. That Luca could have very personal reasons such as living with him with all his money - he considered that the least. That wasn't Luca's personality at all. Perhaps he just didn't want to lose him.

____________________

2

_____________________

They met again at the bar of the Villa Kazar. Due to the cheerless weather the fairground was closed and the music boomed inside the discotheque. Sergio still had a bandage around his left forearm, but was swinging it with considerable verve.

Tristano leaned against the metallic shimmering bar, watched him and caught winks from other guys which he ignored the best he could. He saw a group of boys, standing together as if they had got lost in a forest of sexual offers and adventures. Exactly the same as Tristano felt, except that his sex drive was over boarding. Tristano didn't recognize himself anymore. Sex had played a minor role in his life so far, and that, what he had gotten of it, wasn't exactly satisfying. He still gazed at the group of boys, clutching the bottles with Campari-Mix, dressed up like upper class hustlers, but not feeling comfortable about it. Frightened they eyed the display of tattooed flesh and muscles, naked upper bodies, shirts crammed into the pockets of too tight jeans, leaving no mistake about size and sometimes hardness.

Tristano hardly noticed when someone leant beside him against the bar, until a sexy voice said softly "Ciao, bello."

Tristano stared into large anthracite eyes that looked blankly at him.

  "I thought you would call", Sergio said. "I did that for the first time in my life." He screwed up one eye. "Giving out my private phone number I mean. I thought the red-head had forgotten to give it to you."

   "Huh? Why should I call you? To set a date? I don't think I need to pay for sex." Tristano turned his body to him. "You left without a word. Do you know how that feels?"

   "What do you want? This here", Sergio embraced the whole discotheque with his healthy arm, " is just body watching or a meat market as I used to say. Built up muscles with pea brains. It's about who has the longest cock and who beats the record of eleven ejaculations a night."

   "Only eleven? Who's the record holder, a seventy year old man?" Tristano mocked with a straight face.

Sergio looked nonplussed, then he laughed out loud. He turned to the bar tender. "Two glasses of wine, please."

   "Wine?" Tristano asked, but was pleased. He liked wine more than anything.

   "It's the Villa Kazar and not any filthy pub", Sergio said. Tristano was glad that he wasn't pissed at him about the way he had accused him of being a call-boy.

Sergio clinked his glass with Tristano's. "You're lucky that I didn't take my reward from your wallet. Or do you have other treasures?" He grinned. "Don't pull such a face. I didn't want money because you're new to the scene." Sergio ran his fingers through Tristano's hair. A tender touch that Sergio stopped instantly. He looked around to see if anyone had caught him.

   "Are you on duty then?" Tristano asked.

   "On duty? I'm always on duty. It's my profession."

Tristano's look fell to Sergio's arm. "Were you seriously hurt?" he asked.

   "It's all right. Just fractured." A whiff of seriousness scurried over his face. "That was completely shit. I hope they are all put into jail."

   "Yeah", Tristano agreed, suddenly with a queasy feeling in his guts. What if it happened again? What if they weren't safe anymore? He hoped that Raniero had given all the names of the people involved.

Since there was playing a smooth melody, Sergio pulled Tristano by the front of his shirt to the dance floor and started to turn to the music, thigh to thigh and groin to groin, but still elegantly holding the wine glass in one hand. With the other he kneaded Tristano's arse. "You weren't anything like a rookie last night we met, bello", he cooed. "You've done it before, right? Have you met the policeman again?" Sergio's eyes were glowing. "I was pretty jealous, you know."

Tristano was taken aback and confused. Nonetheless he left himself to Sergio's guidance and the swaying of his hips. His well-stuffed package touched Tristano's from time to time. He thought it was all right to have a hard-on. But still he thought Sergio would not be able to develop feelings for someone who was just his fuck buddy. "What are you blabbering about? First you used me and threw me away like a discarded slipper and now you're jealous? Vito said that he had had you."

Sergio laughed, his head tucked in his neck. "You're right, mio bello. I can't afford feelings of any kind. Vito's a real sex bomb, by the way. Can I come to your place then?"

Tristano was shocked. "I don't have any money."

   "Take it for free."

   "Why?"

Sergio nibbled at his ear lobe. "For your innocence."

   "What do you consider a sex bomb?" Tristano asked as Sergio was undressing him slowly near the aquarium that was the only source of light in the flat, except for the small lamp on his nightstand. But Sergio hadn't given him time to prepare anything. He was all over him like a soft blowing zephyr. "I thought you'd know. Haven't you fucked him?"

   "He's on holiday. I've got only his phone number."

   "What a pity", Sergio said indistinctly because he was sucking at Tristano's slip-covered cock, soaking the white fabric until it was translucent and Tristano's juice mingled with Sergio's saliva. "How... do you ... mean that?" Tristano panted with wobbling legs, protecting his back with the wardrobe.

   "A pity for you..." Sergio muffled, sliding his palms over Tristano's thighs up into the slip, cupping his arse cheeks. "A sex bomb is somebody who can do it more often than eleven times a night." Now he pulled down the pants and swallowed the cock in one, slow-motion action.

   "Can you?" Tristano's eyes were tightly closed and he withstood the urge to instantly squirt into Sergio's mouth. But he knew he couldn't hold on for long. The friction was exquisite, as was the warmth and the wetness. And Sergio was doing something with his hole; gyrating movements and a pressure that kept him moaning. It was too late - Sergio had to swallow his load and milked him like a farmer his cow until the last drop, finally licking the slit and sucking gingerly at the crown. "Have I told you that I love sex?" he said then, letting himself fall onto the carpet, pulling Tristano on top of him. "It's your turn. The first of eleven."

It had been a hot night, when Tristano came to his senses again. It wasn't anything like the night he had spent with Luca. That belonged to another life and to another quality of feelings. Sergio was pure sex, and only sex. And he didn't want to be paid - that was the best thing. When he awoke around 11 in the morning, he was alone again. But there was a letter on the night stand:

"Ciao bello,

Thanks for the night. Next time you'll break the record.

Sergio"

Was that a promise of a repeat or just the pure announcement that he would have sex with another? Why did he always have to vanish before he was awake? Why was there no breakfast together? Or a last cuddle?

Tristano stretched his body lazily and felt every muscle hurt, even those he hadn't any idea that they existed. Again the room smelled of male sex and the bedcovers smelled like him. He limped into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. He wished he had a tub to bath his crunched body, but so he had to made do with the stream of water, splashing upon his head, washing away all the smell and streaks and stains, only the hickeys he couldn't wash away.

The gloomy weather had made way for a brilliant late September summer's day when Tristano stepped upon the small balcony, overlooking the street. It was partially hidden by pine trees and allowed Tristano privacy. The block opposite was close. He had dressed in fresh pants and nothing else, and enjoyed the warmth of the low September sun. His cup of coffee in hand, he leaned against the rail. Of course he understood Sergio as what he was: a sex-maniac who had turned his hobby into profession so to speak. He had laid no claim to any kind of feelings, or commitments. It was just fun. Good. If Sergio never wanted money, Tristano could continue on until all eternity. At least until he was able to reach Vito. Is Vittorio his real name? he pondered. "The victorious", Tristano grinned to himself. Perhaps he would finally be the winner of his heart. It was about time he forgot about Luca. Despite the problems he had with Alessandro, he didn't seem to be determined to end his relationship, but hold on with a stamina very unusual for a guy his age. You could fall in love easily and each time with refreshed emotions, that was clear enough to Tristano. But was there more behind it? And what could that be? Anyway…. he was thrilled to see the development of the events. What would Alessandro decide? If Luca would still be on his side then. And if not…. Tristano looked into his empty coffee cup. Perhaps he could win his heart.

* * * * *

If Alessandro expected a Fury coming to visit him at the Lizard-tower, he was mistaken. Leoni was well-behaved, reluctant and deserved an Oscar for her performance as best actress in a B-movie. At least she had taken up his invitation - eagerly it seemed. She had refused the Ramazzotti-mix on the rocks, and gave the excuse of the pregnancy. Alessandro followed an urgent compulsion to laugh. As if the old Florentine families had ever followed any rules. It was quite the opposite: they wrote the rules. And now Leoni da Firenzuola would dance to his rules.

   "Why can't we go upstairs to your room", Leoni whined, sitting uncomfortably on the kitchen chair. "You could light a fire, it's getting cool."

Alessandro shook his head. So that she would have it easier seducing him, eh? His blue eyes studied her coolly. She was dressed in a loose dress as if she had to hide a baby-belly. She looked so ridiculous and of course she had put on this masquerade for the people on the streets to see: Leoni was going to her groom, chaste and with downcast eyes. "Will you keep up this charade?" he asked relaxed, sipping at his drink. "We both know very well what you're playing. And for the good old days you should stop this and be honest with me." He bent forward. "There never was a dally between us, right? You can't be so stupid to make a guy think that he's fucked a girl without having any memory of it. This baby is not mine. Whose is it?"

Leoni's first reaction was to deny. Then her brain kicked in and her green eyes started to radiate. "All right, Alessandro Gondi. Let's end this stupid game. I had hoped that you would fall in love with me again. But tried as I could, you only have that Montori-boy on your mind. You've got it bad, right? Amazing and surprising at the same time. As far as I know you've never fallen in love. Well… whatever you do in the future, you'll never learn the name of the baby's father."

Alessandro allowed himself the tiniest of a relieved breath. "Fine with me. Keep your secrets to yourself. What is the deal with Arrigo exactly then? Are you in need of money? I've heard   your father's business isn't working out very well." 'And he has almost squandered the inheritance in Monte Carlo's gambling dens', he added bitchily in his mind.

Leoni's face was covered with frantic blotches from one second to the next. "Who's told you that?", she hissed, but then give in. "OK. We are broke. But you've got all the money, all the Gondi's money, earned over five centuries." She looked him straight in the eyes. "You aren't alone with your arrogant behaviour, Alessandro Gondi. I want my share. Arrigo promised me."

Alessandro thought quickly about the consequences. It was about money, nothing else. Arrigo spat upon the continuation of his family name. The Gondi's would die out. Definitely. But the da Firenzuola's would live on.

   "You know I've never wanted to marry", he started, emptying his glass. He poured another Ramazzotti over the remaining ice cubes and squeezed a slice of lemon into it. "So, what I'm going to do is strictly against my principles, against my concept of life and against my plans I  have with Luca. Don't laugh", he said sharply and with eyes, so cold, Leoni shuddered. She knew this stare very well. Not without good reason had the Gondi's survived through all the centuries - until their ridiculous end at the start of the 21st century. After all, their last offspring would rescue the money. With her help. Even if it was just a fake.

   "Why didn't you talk to me right from the start?" Alessandro asked. "Why this fairytale opera?"

   "It was all Arrigo's idea", she defended herself. "He knows I want you. I've never stopped wanting you." She had found the strength to talk calmly and in a reasonable manner. But inwardly everything was screaming. "As long as there was a little chance you could voluntarily marry me, without the pressure of your father's will - I took it. The result might be … bad and I have to put up with it. So… is it a deal? The marriage can be held whenever you want."

Alessandro stared into the brown liquid in his glass. The ice cubes clinked softly and melted slowly away. Luca would know what a sacrifice he was making. A piece of paper, an exchange of rings and a newborn baby. That was all that was needed to become the richest man in town. Like in the ancient days. "Deal", he said aloud. "With a few conditions."

Leoni looked expectantly at him.

   "Everything remains as it is. We both stay in Pisa, continuing our study. No one will get wind of it. When the baby's one year old we'll have an unfortunate divorce."

   "But...! Alessandro! I'm not a back stairs-relation! Soon everyone will see about my condition, and what then?" She straightened her back. "No", she said decidedly. "I want to live in your villa at Fiesole until the baby's coming. Anastasia will be there for my help. D'accordo?"

Alessandro arched his brows. "All the better." She was out of the way and he could continue as if nothing had happened. Arrigo had to prepare the prior of the Dominican church that he was unfortunately losing all the pretty money because the heir had thought twice and had turned into a expectant young groom, caring for his wife.

Leoni and Alessandro measured each other with looks. They were equal, they knew.

As soon as Leoni had left the palazzo Alessandro made his way to his uncle's office where he sat bent over his books and controlled the proceeds of his Tuscan villa and the leather factory. His face was pinched when his nephew burst into his office, ignoring the secretary and throwing himself into the leather chair opposite. "Listen, zio", he started. His eyes weren't steady, but wandered everywhere, too troubled to fix his uncle gaze. "We've made a deal, Leoni and I. We'll marry at the soonest date. I'm going back to Pisa and she's staying at Fiesole. Mother won't mind, will she?" A brief sneer appeared upon his face. "She's staying there until the baby comes. It's your job to convince the monks that this baby is mine because it isn't. You could have spared yourself all of this filthy little drama. I'm not a boy you can't talk to, you know. We've always both been fond of clear details. Right?"

Arrigo smelled the alcohol. Apparently Alessandro had drunk more than he could take. "Congratulations, son. I had almost given up faith in Leoni's abilities. D'accordo, let's play open: Leoni was despairing because you didn't want to sleep with her. She gave you drugs, but that had the result that you weren't able to do anything. Instead of being horny you were sleeping like a log." He interrupted himself and grinned. "A pity for her." The grin vanished and his forefinger pierced the air. " But I said that you'll stay here with Leoni at Firenze and stop your study at Pisa. You might remember we considered that at the very start of this drama", he said sharply but Alessandro interrupted him. "No way, zio. This time you play by my rules. I'm the one setting the conditions. And I say, it's Pisa and my life with Luca Montori or you can forget about the money, capisce?"

Arrigo glared at him, black eyes brooding like a swampy hole. He chewed on his tongue, then he had to admit defeat. He slowly lifted his hands and grinned. "All right, all right. Whatever you want. Too bad the baby will only be a bastard. Not that anyone needs to know. Now let's get to the next part of our little deal. It will take me some effort to convince the doctors that the baby's yours, right? Remember, the lawyers of the monks aren't daft. Perhaps we can arrange a real baby for you and her. and the house of the Gondi's. Just as proof for the lawyers…. So, I guess it's only fair if let's say 25 percent of the inheritance goes on me?" He closed one eye and winked with the other.

   "Whatever it takes." Alessandro rose and stretched out his hand. "Deal."

Arrigo shook his nephew's hand.

Alessandro went straight to the first bar, buying two bottles of Ramazzotti. He was determined to lock himself in and get drunk. He was pissed at himself; the coolness with which he had carried through all this was just a mask. At home, he ran upstairs to his room under the roof and threw himself in the wicker chair upon the open loggia. He opened the bottle and poured the brown liquid over some ice cubes.

Had he sold out his convictions? Was it immoral, especially towards Leoni? She had told him she would love him still, and wanted him back. That was certainly her problem, not his. She had given him enough for that matter. And what would happen if she lost the baby? Then they would have married in vain and all the money would be lost.

Desperately he swallowed the schnapps and cursed his father. How on earth had he come up with such a wacky idea? Could nobody stop it? Alessandro crowed. It was indeed absurd. The obstinate minds of the Gondi's was legendary. Not without reason had they held on in this town for so long. Even longer than anyone else, except Leoni's family and the Pucci's. And the Montori's naturally… Hadn't Luca told him once that his family had been wool weavers and dyers, delivering to the court of the Medici's and had received the family palazzo from the last Medici as thank for loyal service? Alessandro nodded to himself and poured his second glass.

But anyhow, he couldn't whitewash himself from the fact of having sold his future and his soul for money. But who - facing such a hard decision - would act differently? Even his sincere Luca had seen in the end that he too would succumb to the lure of the money - probably. On further consideration, Alessandro wasn't to lose anything since he still had his boyfriend AND would get the money in the end. He just had to care for Leoni. Anastasia and the villa in the hilly town of Fiesole was exactly the right place for a too thin, pregnant woman. He grinned. Well done, Alessandro. And poured out his third glass.

It was oppressively sultry on this September afternoon and not even up here was a tiny breeze blowing. Alessandro plucked his shirt from his body and sat only in his trousers. In a couple of days he had to say good bye to Florence and Luca. Arrigo had tried to force him to stay here and give up his study, but Arrigo had to realize in the end that this would be the most stupid thing that he could do. Nobody would buy it, that Alessandro married Leoni out of love if everyone saw him making out with Luca in public. On the other hand - Alessandro poured out his fourth glass - who seriously cared about someone playing on both teams. One would decide - in the end.

His mobile played a melody. Alessandro wanted to call Luca to tell him the news, but he didn't feel anything like having a meaningful talk. Nonetheless he answered with a slurring voice telling Luca that he should come over.

   "You was right, gioia", Alessandro blabbered drunkenly. "Leoni had given me drugs. She hoped I would be horny as hell for her then, but the result was I got tired and my memory was erased. Pah". He laughed.

Luca had put him onto the sofa to lie down, and taken away the almost empty bottle of Ramazzotti. "Will you be a witness to my marriage? You promised me to support every decision I'd make, remember?" He hiccuped and his eyes fluttered.

Luca shook his head. So the inner swine had won, he thought sadly. For money Alessandro had sold all his arrogance, his pride and perhaps his love-life. Luca couldn't imagine how life would then be in reality, when Sandro had a wife and a baby to care for. That was the most strangest thing that he could envisage.

Alessandro snored softly. Luca sighed. He examined the room with his eyes, then he stepped up to the bookcase and peered through its glass doors. He pulled out some heavy volumes, telling of Florence's history, about the history of art. He even found Giorgio Vasari's Compendium of Italian artists and looked up the names of Brunelleschi, Donatello, Masolino and Masaccio, skimming through their curriculum vitae. Recently those names had become so familiar to him that he knew them almost like good friends. Therefore he pulled out Masolino's diary from the drawer, where Alessandro had put it in again. He hesitated, then he vanished downstairs to the kitchen and returned in the elevator with a cup of hot coffee to sit at the small table and absorbed himself again in a tale that had been told 575 years ago.

Budapest, Luglio 1429

"We were arguing about everything. Me and Tommaso and Giovanni - "Lo Scheggia". His "splinter" seduced me every night, so that I do not know anymore what is heads or tails. I could not resist. I had been corrupted to the inner core. How can someone like me - a decent, pious man, be so unstinting, so weak-willed so to succumb to his dirty needs? I could not find an answer. How could I ever find a way out of this sick, lewd relationship? Dear God, forgive me, I've visited brothels that exist only for that purpose and might be able to guide a fallen man to the right way back. I do not know. I had never felt the same - as there in Tommaso's arms. Never so alive, never so wanted. Never so full of fire. Rome is indeed a den of iniquity.

Tommaso's brother led us into special establishments where the man is pleased by a man And I swear to God Almighty that I have seen more than one time a red cardinal's robes sinking to the floor and catamites sucking lecherously at the centre of their old bodies... You see, I dare to call the things by their names. My feather pen trembles, but it trembles for avidity. More than one time I let myself be seduced by experienced men's hands; by mouths, promising Heaven rather than Hell. They were orgies to my eyes: Tommaso and me and Giovanni and countless men and nobody knew who was doing what with whom. I was drunk. I was blind. I was eternally hungry. I was...

I knew Giovanni wanted his brother for himself. I was always in his way. It was an unhealthy connection, obscene and incestuous.

 In Rome we painted by day and at night we surrendered to the most unspeakable acts. The chapel of the Santa Catarina di Alessandria had been a commission of work for me, but of course Tommaso had followed me, leaving the unfinished Brancacci-chapel and Florence behind us. I had insisted it was either us both - for the public master and pupil - or neither of us and the priest of the church of San Clemente would have to look for another painter. I knew very well that there was no one like my Tommaso. 'Masaccio' - as they lovingly called him. To me they never referred to his big stature, but to the greatness of his enormous talent, and the development the Art of painting had made, thanks to him. I was not his master. I was his pupil. In every direction. But Tommaso and Giovanni were made from the same stuff. Fiery, merciless, extreme, all consuming, ruthless and infinite ... I have no word for it. Free perhaps. No, this is not the word. They were filled with desire I could not ease. I was the buffer between both. And one day I knew I would be only in their way.

It had been raining for a week and the chapel was damp and cold. We had a constant fire on to dry the daily task of freschi we had worked on. Giovanni came to bring food and wine to celebrate Tommaso's birthday. It was the twenty-first of December and we could hear the Cloaca Maxima gargling next to the chapel's walls - the great drainpipe built by the ancient Romans that gathered and carried all the dirt and excrement and rats and threw it into the soft-flowing Tiber. By this weeks rain the river had gained an unknown depth and strength and was threatening the lower banks where the poor had settled in their wooden, crooked houses, where the mud never dried and each summer malaria diminished the count of wrecked people. The popes never cared what happened to the former dazzling field of Mars - the military build up place for Rome's troops. Today they enthroned in their new palace at the Quirinale, guarded by nothing except the fickle goodwill of Rome's inhabitants. Emperor Nero said "The best protection is the love of my folk". Phoney. Poor, misguided fool. 

I watched Giovanni's hand sneaking under Tommaso's painter's coat I knew Tommaso was naked underneath, and saw the unmistakable movements I used to know so well; I had been witness to it too many times. Giovanni looked directly into my eyes, with his sneering, derisive expression, as if to lure me and keep me apart, he certainly wanted his brother for himself. I had drank the pure wine. Together with the fire's heat it was going to my head, and my blood started to boil in my veins. It was not anything like the heat of a forbidden desire - it was wrath. Despair. I saw Tommaso resting his arms on the walls - the holy walls, we had covered with the deeds of Santa Catharina, pushing out his buttocks. Giovanni hid the view of it partly with his body and his unmistakable, ancient sexual movements. Again he turned his head to look for me. Inviting eyes. "You can take me from behind" he said.

The rush in my ears was deafening, until I realized it was not in my ears but in reality. The Cloaca Maxima. Water streamed in breathtaking speed through the canal, bringing sand and tree branches, washing away the stone. The ground staggered.

In a last despairing movement I jumped upon Giovanni. With a soundless cry my hands found his neck. I wanted to murder him. Tommaso was mine! My pupil. My teacher. And then "

Luca forgot the cup in his hand. Again he was so involved that he had forgotten time and place, but as he turned the page there was nothing, just the little patches on the left side of the glue binding, that told him that the diary had finished brutally, abruptly by the ripping out of the pages. He startled when his mobile rang and a good splash of his coffee spilled over the open book, on its last page, soaking the ancient leather binding with its nasty grey-brown colour. Luca cried out loud, dropped the cup and ran with the book into the bathroom where he hastily grabbed a towel to wipe off the coffee. Too late. It had eaten deeply into the old, brittle paper. The leather binding loosened and fell partly off from the wooden book cover. He pressed the towel upon the scarred, well thumbed leather and dabbed the pages that tore under his movements. Luca cursed. Masolino's handwriting started to vanish in front of Luca's eyes. Mad with despair he opened the cupboards and pulled out the fan. He switched it on and waved the warm air stream over the paper, that got instantly curled , but dried Masolino's letters. Completely devastated Luca sank upon the toilet lid. He had to find a bookbinder and instantly before Sandro would get wind of it!

He sneaked back to look at Alessandro, who snored happily. He would have a fit if he saw what Luca had done to his biggest treasure. Completely bewildered he sorted his thoughts. First he had to hide the book. No, first he had to let it dry as best as he could, then he needed a book binder to repair the soaked and torn leather, and perhaps a paper expert to care for the diary as a whole. His father came to his mind. No, out of the question. Rosso's uncle had a leather-shop. He didn't do books, but at least he had knowledge about the material. Yes.

Thirdly he had to convince Alessandro that everything was in order. He removed the towel he had wrapped around the book and saw the soaked, old, tattered and well-thumbed binding, half falling off the book. He sighed. As best as he could he hid it in the drawer half covered by Sandro's stuff. He tiptoed to the sofa and shook Sandro's shoulder. "Do you want something to eat?" he asked him. Alessandro woke up with a jolt, then he moaned.

   "Geez, my head."

Luca nodded. "You have to tell me the story. I'm waiting. Instead of that, you got tanked up."

Alessandro looked surprised. "That's a new tone." He sat upright and held his head. Then everything flooded back. The blood and the memories. And still the task to tell Luca the truth. His gaze fell upon the parquet and the scattered cup. "What have you done here? Were you trying to wake me up?"

Luca hid his blush by bending down and picking up the shards. Holy shit. The brown liquid had soaked itself into the wood. Today wasn't his day, he thought quivering, but managed to clean up the shards dumping them in the bathroom's trash bin. "Sorry about that." He remembered all of a sudden the cause of the drama and pulled out his mobile. Rosso's number appeared. Good. The right man at the right time. "Water?" he asked, pulling a bottle from the little fridge in the corner.

Thankful Alessandro opened it and drank thirstily.

   "I assume you had plenty reason to get drunk", Luca said, and flashed his eyes at him. "Before you started to snore you told me Leoni had given you drugs and asked me if I'd be a witness to your marriage. Congratulations, by the way."

   "Ouch", Alessandro said. "That was harsh." He looked sheepishly. "I deserve the reproach, don't I." He pulled Luca next to him upon the sofa. "I'm sorry, gioia. But you must listen to me now very carefully. Promise?"

Luca didn't want to. He was still shaking from the accident that had happened to him, and he sat on hot coals wanting to look for help for the book. But how could he do it when Sandro was here?

   "I need the short version, Sandro, I need to see Rosso urgently."

   "Oh, you prefer the redhead to me?" Alessandro asked him playfully, but Luca ignored it. He knew anyway what was to come.