One Step to You (The Rome Novels #1)(40)

Everyone in the club seemed to know Step. They walked past him, saying hello and slapping him on the back or just brushing close. A few young women walked over to him. Babi felt a strange emotion, new to her. One of the women gave Step a kiss on the cheek and tried to strike up a conversation. Now she knew what that feeling was. Jealousy.

But Step didn’t even give her the time to realize it. He put a quick end to the conversation with the young woman and dragged Babi out into the middle of the dance floor. They danced together to the pounding beat of the house music. Then, smiling and sparkling like fancy champagne, they drew close in a small, passing toast.

Later, they exited, sweaty and laughing. They said good night to Vito, as they were once again envied by those who were still waiting outside. They left as they’d arrived, on that roaring motorcycle that they’d parked right in front of the club. They roared uphill in second gear at top speed, savoring the cool breeze of that night in late April.

When they reached the intersection, they turned left and took the main thoroughfare. Step put the bike into third gear and then fourth. The traffic light at the intersection was blinking yellow. Step went through the light. Suddenly, he heard a screech of brakes. The sound of rubber scorching as it dragged across the asphalt. The sound of fine gravel. A Jaguar Sovereign was coming from the left at full speed.

The Jaguar tried to brake hard. Step, caught off guard, also braked and sat there, motionless, in the middle of the intersection. The motorcycle coughed and died. Babi held on to him tight. The car’s powerful headlights were reflected in her frightened eyes as it hurtled toward them.

The snout of the big, wild cat rebelled against the crude application of the brakes, and the car fishtailed. Babi shut her eyes. She heard the roar of the engine being reined in, the ABS perfectly controlling the wheels, the rubber tortured by the brakes. Then nothing.

She opened her eyes. The Jaguar was there, just inches from the motorcycle, motionless. Babi heaved a sigh of relief and released Step’s jacket from her terrified grip.

With an impassive face, Step gazed at the car’s driver. “Where do you think you’re racing to, asshole!” Then he started the motorcycle back up.

The guy, a man about thirty-five with a perfectly groomed head of hair, thick and tightly curled, lowered his electric car window, displaying his angry face. “Excuse me? What did you just say to me, kid?”

Step turned off the motorcycle. He smiled as he got off. He knew this type of guy. He must have a woman sitting beside him and didn’t want to come off looking like a fool. Step walked over to the car. Sure enough. Through the glass, he saw a pair of feminine legs next to the man. A pair of shapely hands crossed on an elegant black evening bag and a fancy evening gown. He tried to glimpse the woman’s face, but a streetlight reflecting on the glass concealed her. Kid. He called me kid. Wait until you see what this kid does to you.

Step opened the guy’s car door very politely. “Come on out, asshole. Maybe you’ll be able to hear me better.”

The man started to get out. Step grabbed him by the jacket and dragged him hurtling out of the car. He slammed him down on the Jaguar’s head. The short antenna of his telephone vibrated. Step cocked his fist back, poised in midair, ready to slam down.

“Step, no!” It was Babi. Step turned to look at her. For a second, he’d completely forgotten about her. He saw her standing next to the motorcycle, her gaze filled with concern, her arms hanging helplessly at her sides. “Don’t do it!”

Step released his grip, and the guy took advantage immediately. Free now and a coward at heart, he punched Step in the face. Step’s head rocked back. But only for a moment. Surprised, he raised his hand to his mouth. His lip was bleeding. “You filthy son of a…” Step lunged at him.

The guy threw his hands up and dropped his head, trying to flee in fright. Even he didn’t know why he’d dared to hit Step. Step grabbed him by his curly hair, yanked his head down, ready to slam his knee into the guy’s face, when suddenly he was hit again. Differently, this time harder, a blow that went straight to his heart. A short, sharp jab. A mere word. His own name.

“Stefano…”

The woman had stepped out of the car. Her handbag was sitting on the hood, and she was nearby. Step looked at her. Then he looked at her bag but didn’t recognize it. He wondered who’d given it to her. What a strange thought.

Slowly he opened his fist. The lucky curly-haired guy was suddenly free. Step stood gazing at her in silence. She was as pretty as ever. A faint “Ciao” issued from his lips.

The guy pushed him aside. Step moved back, letting himself be pushed.

The guy got back into the Jaguar and started the engine. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Step and the woman stared at each other for one last instant. Between those two similar pairs of eyes, a strange magic unfolded, a long history of love and sadness, suffering and the past. Then she got back into the car, beautiful and elegant, and as quickly as she had appeared, she left him there on the street, with his lip bleeding and his heart in pieces.

Babi ventured closer to him. Worried about the only wound she could see with her eyes, she delicately dabbed at the blood with her hand.

Step recoiled from that kind touch, so filled with a new burst of love. He mounted his motorcycle in silence and waited until she was seated behind him before he took off, in anger. He shot forward. The motorcycle tried to resist at first but soon, docile and submissive, it veered to the right, turning onto the Lungotevere. Step upshifted. Then he twisted the throttle, and the motorcycle shot out onto the road, the rpms climbing steadily.