allegra zabini (lucre) wrote in raveled, @ 2017-01-16 11:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! decade: 1970s, ! log, allegra zabini |
prompt: week 3-vii - words left unsaid
WHO: Allegra Zabini feat. Lorenzo Zabini (brother), Luca de Santis (husband no. 3)
WHAT: Sharing the news
WHEN: 1979
WHERE: Lake Como
WARNINGS: New money
"Stop, Enzo," she says in English, one hand on the slight curve of the stomach, the other reaching to snatch another olive from the jar. "I don't want my baby exposed to language like that." Lorenzo's profanity trails off and he gapes at her; he remembers the unlit cigar in his mouth just in time to clamp his teeth around it again. He looks, she reflects, like a gangster, standing by the pool with his shirt unbuttoned, a thick gold chain around his neck. The dazzling whiteness of his teeth. The sunglasses. But he is, she reflects, a gangster. They're at his new house on Lake Como—it glows in peach and white, a frosted birthday cake on the shore surrounded by gardens. The party that afternoon is full of older men and younger women basking in the sunlight and swimming in the pool, drinking bellinis from the crystal trays that float through the crowds. This is what money should look like. Allegra is fond enough of her adopted country, but she'll never understand English purebloods, who sit on piles of gold in their frigid, crumbling manors, eating bland food and clinging desperately to the idea the idea that a spartan life can absolve you of your sins. It can't. But Luca told me the baby was a surprise, Lorenzo says in Italian, having finally regained powers of non-profane speech. He sits on the lounge chair next to her, expression one of sheer wonder. She lowers her sunglasses, eyes amused. "It is a surprise to him, but then, most things are a surprise to Luca. He's a child." Her husband is on the other side of the pool, surrounded by laughter. Luca de Santis is by far the most beautiful man she has ever seen; not handsome, but beautiful, like pure gold. It comes with its shortcomings, certainly. Narcissus or Adonis? She can never decide. She watches him whisper something into the ear of a waiflike woman with translucent skin and grey eyes. She can indulge this, but not forever. Lorenzo watches her watch Luca. "But why?" "I just want one." She says it with a matter-of-fact tone that closes the door to more questions. Lorenzo understands the greed and hunger and wanting that drives her because it drives him too. It's harder to explain her sudden desire for something uncorrupted; the craving for something that's purely hers. They'll have fun together, she thinks, just her and the baby. The baby will never have that old hunger or wanting. "I'm thinking Francesca if it's a girl and Blaise if it's a boy. Blaise after the saint, y'know," she adds languidly, piously. Lorenzo struggles with whether to laugh or not. Wisely, he just nods, examining the many rings on his thick fingers, his perfectly manicured nails. "And what does Luca think?" Allegra yawns and reclines the chair further. "I don't think he's going to be a very involved parent." "A wise decision." Lorenzo brushes her hand as he stands up. A brief moment, and then he's striding confidently towards the group of men standing by the gazebo. Not his friends, Allegra reflects, his associates. Accomplices. No one really has friends anymore these days, just alliances. The thought doesn't faze her much. She spends the rest of the day in the lounge chair, finishing the jar of olives and letting the sun burn her shoulders red. |