Big Flames & Small Lies by Agnes Canestri

Author:Agnes Canestri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Agnes Canestri

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

(Lucilla)

“Now I’ll demonstrate to you that I’m a parking wizard.” Mario grinned at me.

He put his forearm between our seats and turned to the rear window. His fingers brushed against my naked shoulders, triggering a mighty glow on my skin.

I moved to my window to escape the distracting sensation.

Mario was trying to shoehorn his Doblo into a space that would give hiccups even to the owner of a Smart Fortwo. “You know what? I take back my ‘Mr. Stupid Van’ label. Let’s look for a larger spot.”

Mario blinked at me and chuckled. “No, no. This was a hard find.”

He was right. Almost every parking place in La Kalsa, one of Palermo’s most ancient quarters, was not only occupied but double-queued. It had taken us more than twenty minutes to locate the one empty dent on Piazza Ungheria’s tightly lined sideway.

“Besides,” he winked at me, steering the wheel, “I want to earn your compliment.”

I giggled at his zeal to prove me wrong.

After five minutes of millimeter-precise back-and-forth, Mario sighed and switched off the engine. He threw me a triumphant glance. “Now you can say it.”

I smiled at him. “You’re not Mr. Stupid Van.”

He nodded. “Good. But I think you can do better. The wonder I just accomplished deserves slightly more praise.”

I wasn’t sure whether Mario kept this banter between us to ensure I wouldn’t slip back into the worries that had plagued me during our six-hour journey. Whatever his reason was, I was grateful for it.

I arched my brows. “What did you have in mind? Shall I refer to you as Mr. Parking King from now on?”

“Yeah, that would probably be best.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “That’s so not happening. It could have been a fluke, for all I know. Plus,” I pointed outside the window, “you parked us on a super expensive street. I can’t believe they’re charging this much for just an hour. In Cirella, you can park for a day with this amount.”

I couldn’t care less if we paid triple for an hour, as long as during that time, I learned whether or not Giuseppe was leading a double life. Still, I wanted to tease Mario. Focusing on our joking helped me tame the sickening anticipation of why we had come to La Kalsa, as well as the uncomfortable memory that I’d lied to everyone, including Carmen.

Mario didn’t fall into my trap, but gave me a coy smirk. “Here we’re off the main street bisecting Palermo between Piazza Castelnuovo and Piazza Verdi. The fee is steep, but most major monuments and the old town center are within easy walking distance. Which reminds me, we should really get going.”

Our meeting with his police friend would take place at quarter past twelve, and the nearby church’s bell had just rung for midday.

We hopped out, Mario paid the parking, and we set off toward Palazzo Steri.

As we walked in the blinding Sicilian sun that, if possible, was even more blazing than Cirella’s, I shot a furtive glance at Mario’s profile.

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