One Step to You (The Rome Novels #1)(48)

“Here.” Pollo reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and tossed it at him. “This is Babi’s phone number.” Step caught it in midair.

“I asked Pallina to give it to me. I knew you’d be asking me for it today…”

Step put it in his pocket and then went into his room. Pollo followed him. “Well, come on, Step, cazzo, are you going to tell me anything or not? Did you do it with her?”

Step turned to look at him with a smile on his face. “Pollo, why do you always ask me these questions? You know that I’m a gentleman, don’t you?”

Pollo threw himself onto the bed, bent over with laughter. “A gentleman…you? Oh God. I’m laughing so hard it hurts! The things you say. Fucking hell…a gentleman.”

Step looked at him, shaking his head, and then started getting dressed. As he was putting his jeans on, Step started laughing too. All the times he’d been less than a gentleman! For a minute, he wished he had some better story to tell his friend about last night.





Chapter 19



Out front of Falconieri High School, there weren’t any boys selling books. It was too affluent a school for even the poorest of its female students to consider the thought of buying a used textbook.

Babi started down the stairs, looking around hopefully. Groups of boys at the bottom of the steps were waiting, looking up for new prey or old conquests. But none of them were the right boy.

Babi descended the last few steps. The roar of a motorcycle going by fast made her look up, startled. Her heart beat faster. But it was no good. A red gas tank went zipping past, weaving through the line of cars. A young couple, the girl’s arms wrapped around him, leaned left in unison. For a second, Babi envied them.

Then she got in the car. Her mother was there, still angry from the day before. “Ciao, Mamma.”

“Ciao” was Raffaella’s terse reply. Babi didn’t receive any slaps in the face that day because there was no reason for one. But she almost would have preferred one to the cold indifference.

*



Step and Pollo were leaning against the fence. They were watching from the field side as their soccer team trained. Nearby Schello, Hook, and a few other friends cheered, all of them enthusiastic for the same team colors. Frenzied fans, ready to cause trouble for the hell of it. Along the drive of the stadium in Tor di Quinto, a number of more moderate fans were watching the friendly match from the comfort of their automobiles.

Along the edges of the field, a roar rang out from the bystanders. One of the new team hires, a young Slav with a hard-to-pronounce surname, had just made a great goal. Young men with light blue and white headbands and small silk scarves in the same colors tied around their necks hugged and rejoiced. They sang the team anthem, gripping the fence, rocking back and forth. They called out the player’s name, getting the pronunciation completely wrong.

Step was holding on to the fence with both hands. Without letting anyone else see what he was doing, he pulled back the left sleeve of his jacket, sneaking a look at his watch. One thirty. Babi must have just gotten out of school. He imagined her in her mother’s car, on Corso Francia, on her way home.

Better than a goal by Stankovic. He reckoned the timing. Maybe if he left now, he could run into her.

He noticed that Pollo was staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Pollo threw both arms wide. “Why?”

“Then what the fuck are you looking at?”

“Why, can’t I look?”

“Just watch the game, no? I brought you all this way and what are you doing?”

Step turned to look at the field. Some of the players wore training vests over their team jerseys and were passing the ball quickly from one to the other while a miserable loser in the middle was trying to take it away from them.

Step turned to look at Pollo again. He was staring at him. “Still! So you really don’t want to listen to me!” Step lunged at him. He grabbed his head with both hands and, laughing, slammed it against the hurricane fence. “That’s what you’re supposed to look at.” He pushed Pollo’s head a few times. “There, there!”

“Ouch.” Pollo bounced against the fence with his nose stuck in one of the holes and his mouth crammed into the hole next to it. He pushed back with both hands, trying to free himself from Step’s grip.

Schello, Hook, and the others jumped onto the two of them, just for the fun of a little mayhem. A general brawl broke out. Other superfans pushed in against the gate among them, making noise. One guy with a rolled-up newspaper in hand and a whistle in his mouth pretended to be a cop, dealing out billy-club blows right and left.

After a while, the group spread, with fans running in all directions, laughing. Step climbed onto his motorcycle. Pollo jumped on behind him and they skidded away, wheels kicking up showers of gravel. Step wondered whether Pollo had guessed at what he’d been thinking about earlier.

“Hey, Step, what a pity…”

“What is?”

“It’s too late now. Otherwise we could have gone by and picked Babi up at school.”

Step said nothing. He could sense Pollo smiling, behind him. Even his thoughts no longer had any secrets from him. Or maybe it had been dumb luck?

Pollo drove a fist into his ribs. “And don’t get smart with me, understood?”