One Step to You (The Rome Novels #1)(68)

Pollo broke in. “Are you kidding? Maria is fantastic. She bakes these apple pies you wouldn’t believe. There was one just the other day, for instance…”

“So you guys did eat it. I was positive!”

Step looked at his watch. “Damn, it’s really late. I have to go.”

Pollo stood up too. “So do I.”

Paolo stood, all alone now, in the living room. “What about the dog?”

Before leaving, Pollo just had time to reply, “I’ll swing by later.”

“Listen, either you take it away or you give me the three hundred thousand lire.”

The door shut behind them.

Paolo looked at the Pomeranian, in the middle of his living room, wagging its tail.





Chapter 29



Babi was riding behind Step. Her cheek rested on his jacket, and the wind was tearing at the tips of her hair.

“So are you sure this isn’t going to hurt me?”

“Positive! Everyone has tattoos. You see how big mine is. If it really hurt, I’d be dead now, right? You just get yourself a really little one. You won’t even notice.”

“I didn’t say I was going to do it. I just said I’d come in and take a look.”

“All right, whatever you decide. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do a thing. Agreed?”

Babi didn’t answer. Step braked and parked the motorcycle. “Here we are.”

They walked down a narrow lane. There was sand on the ground. It had been blown there by the wind, stolen from the nearby beach. They were in Fregene, at the fishermen’s village.

For a moment, Babi started to wonder if she’d lost her mind. Who knows what she’d be able to say to her parents if they found out. She’d have to get it in some hidden spot. But where? A place that was reasonably well hidden, but not too much so. After all, the guy who’d be doing the work would have to be able to see it.

Omigod, I’m about to get a tattoo, she thought. She imagined her mother finding out. She’d start screaming her head off. Her mother always shouted at her.

Step smiled at her. “Are you thinking about where to get it?”

“I’m still thinking about whether to get it at all.”

“Come on, you really liked mine when you saw it. Plus, Pallina has one, too, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, I know that, but so what? She did that on her own, at home, with needles and india ink.”

“Well, this is much better than that. And with the tattoo machine, you can add color and everything. It’s supercool.”

“But are you sure that they sterilize it?”

“Of course. Come on, how could you doubt that?”

Babi thought to herself that she didn’t do drugs and she’d never had sex. It would really be the dictionary definition of bad luck to get HIV from having a tattoo done.

“Here, this is the place.”

Step stopped in front of a rustic cabin. The wind was moving the reeds that covered the little building’s corrugated tin roof. The window was glazed with panes of colorful glass, and the door was made of dark brown wood. It almost looked like chocolate.

Step opened it. “John, okay if I come in?”

“Oh, Step, sure. Come right in.”

Babi followed him. She fearfully shut the door behind her. A strong smell of alcohol washed over her. At least there was disinfectant in the place. Now she’d just have to make sure they used it.

John was sitting on a sort of stool and was touching the shoulder of a young blond woman sitting in front of him on a bench. The sound of a little electric motor reached Babi’s ears. It reminded her of the sound of a dentist’s drill. She just hoped that it wouldn’t hurt like one.

The young woman was gazing straight ahead. Maybe she was feeling pain, but if so, she wasn’t showing it.

A young man, leaning against the wall, stopped reading his Corriere dello Sport. “Does it hurt?”

The young woman with extremely pale skin and the strap of her tank top pulled down over her arm replied in a faint voice, “No.”

“Oh, come on. It does too hurt.”

“I told you it doesn’t.”

The young man went back to reading his newspaper. He almost seemed annoyed that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it had hurt him when he’d done it.

Babi looked around. The walls were covered with sheets of paper with drawings of all sorts: birds, fish, butterflies, dragons, tigers. Below that array, arranged over a table covered with small bottles of pigment, were a number of photos. John had had pictures taken of him with his newly tattooed customers. There were pretty blond girls and strange muscular guys with long hair. Every one of them was smiling as they displayed the new tattoo on their bodies.

In one especially big photograph, a muscular man with a bald head had covered his back with an enormous blue dragon. Farther down, a guy was displaying a rose on his chest, the same rose that could be seen on his motorcycle’s gas tank. Everyone seemed happy to have been tattooed.

Babi looked at the young blond woman John was working on. Why wasn’t she smiling? There was a strange expression on her face. At a certain point, she made what looked like a grimace of pain. If he’d taken her picture just then, John wouldn’t have known where to put the photo.

“All done.” John moved the machine away and leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at his work. “Perfect!”