Page 101 of The Beast Who Broke Me
“That’s what I said.”
He’s still staring at me. And then he does something he’s never done before—he flies across the room and hugs me, hard.
Apart from the time he tried to feel me up while I was asleep, Sammy has never been all that touchy-feely. He never hugs. He barely even likes to shake hands. I always assumed it was because of everything he went through as a kid, and then on the streets, trying to make a living.
Now his arms are tight around my neck, and I don’t know what the hell to do with my hands. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but if I stand here like a rock, it’s probably worse.
Over Sammy’s shoulder, Caligula gives a small smile and nods at me encouragingly. So I place one hand awkwardly around Sammy and give him a pat on the back.
I’ve had Sammy here for years and never once thought to get him a birthday present. Caligula has been here a couple of weeks, and noticed things about Sammy that I never bothered to. What does that say about me?
Nothing good, that’s for sure.
Sammy pulls away, his eyes too bright, and he’s blinking rapidly. “Thank you,” he says, and his voice only breaks a little.
Thankfully, we’re interrupted by the doorbell. Rosa goes to answer the front door, and we hear the slide of the metal barrier as it comes up. A second later, Benedetti bustles into the room following Rosa, and behind him is some young guy I’ve never seen before. Tall, well-dressed, dark-eyed, with a grin that could sell you a car you don’t need.
I move forward at once, alert for danger, but Caligula pushes himself off the wall and hurries over. “Ricky,” he says warmly. “Long time.”
They do a handclasp that turns into a backslap. “Cal. Looking sharp as always.”
“I think I have you to thank for that.”
“Damn right you do. Did I do you proud?”
“You did.” He gestures to me. “This is Damiano Orsini. Dami, this is Riccardo Benedetti, Lorenzo’s grandson.” I realize then that this must be the grandson who helped pick out all those clothes I bought Caligula in a moment of…what? Weakness? Insanity?
I don’t even know.
Caligula turns to the old tailor, who’s beaming at him as usual. “Lorenzo,” he says warmly, “so wonderful to see you again.”
“And you, Signor Clemenza, and you.”
I’m glad I decided to bring the Clemenza down here, because he’s smoothing things over in that charming way he has. After I shake hands with the grandson and watch him take in the room, eyes lingering on Sammy, I motion the birthday boy forward. “This is Sammy,” I say. “He needs a suit.”
Sammy stands there mutely, but Ricky looks him head to toe with the kind of appreciation I’d expect to see at a nightclub instead of in my own damn living room.
“Hey,” he says. Only it’s all drawn out—heeeyyy—like there’s some offer hiding behind a single word.
I’m about to tell him to back off and take his eyes with him, when Sammy gives a small smile. “Hey,” he says back.
“Cool jeans,” Ricky says. “You do them yourself?”
“Yeah.” Sammy is taciturn as ever, but there’s something about the way he hasn’t stopped looking at this Ricky Benedetti that is pretty different from the way he looks at Caligula Clemenza.
And speak of the devil, Caligula has slipped away to the side once more, making himself part of the furniture as much as possible.
“Well, I guess we better get on with it,” I say, not sure if I like this Ricky Benedetti making eyes at Sammy like he is. He’s too good-looking and too well-dressed. Sammy doesn’t need to be hurt again. Today was supposed to be me making up for all the bullshit I’ve piled on him over the couple of years he’s been here.
But as soon as Benedetti Senior approaches with a measuring tape and lays it out across his chest, Sammy flinches and steps back.
Shit. I should’ve known this would be a bad idea. The last thing Sammy wants is some old man’s hands all over him?—
“Come on, Gramps,” Ricky says easily. “Sammy doesn’t need an audience for this. Besides, I need the practice.” He grins at Sammy. “How about I take your measurements somewhere private? We’ll be done in fifteen minutes.”
His grandfather hesitates, frowning a little, but Sammy is already nodding. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, let’s do that. We could go to my bedroom.”
“The hell you will,” I snap. “The two of you stay right here, and the rest of us will clear out. Call me back as soon as you’re done, okay, Sammy?”
