One Step to You (The Rome Novels #1)(70)
“Well, young lady, why don’t you help me out? Otherwise we could be here all night. Look, I have another appointment at seven.”
“Well, I really don’t know. I’d like something a little odd.”
John started pacing the room. Then he stopped. “One time I tattooed a bottle of Coca-Cola on a guy’s shoulder. It turned out great. Would you like that?”
“I don’t really like Coca-Cola though.”
“Well, Babi, why don’t you tell him something that you do like?” said Step, trying to be helpful.
“All I ever eat is yogurt. I can’t exactly get a container of yogurt tattooed on my hip!”
In the end, they came to a solution. Step had proposed it. John agreed, and Babi really liked it.
John immediately set to work. It was no easy job. First, because Babi refused to take off her jeans and, second, she was afraid of even a single injection, let alone a hundred or so, administered in rapid succession with the aid of a small electric motor. John told her all kinds of stories just to calm her down. His most absurd memories, people that had asked him to do tattoos on their head and on their eyebrows. One guy even had a tattoo done on his, well, “you-know-what.”
He told her about the time that Step and Pollo came in to get their tattoos. Step had been cool as a cucumber, Pollo a complete disaster. He’d drained two beers in a row, and then, as if that weren’t enough, he’d decided to smoke a joint, even though he never smoked dope. Okay, that was years and years ago, and they’d both been kids at the time, but that was clearly a case of genuine fear.
In the end, Pollo, completely wrecked, had decided that he didn’t like his tattoo. He’d started whining that he wanted to get it removed right away. John had told him that it was impossible, but Pollo didn’t want to listen to reason. Higher than a kite, Pollo had overturned the pigments, all the little bottles full of solvents, things John had imported from Bali. Pollo left the tattoo parlor with two hundred fifty thousand lire less than when he’d come in, and on his chest, a red tattooed heart with Mamma written on it.
Babi burst out laughing. She asked mischievously whether Pallina had even seen it. For a moment, she forgot about the faint stinging feeling on her hip. Then, as she noticed the droning buzz of the motor, she turned serious again. There was a risk she might hurt herself, and lying there, stiff and tense, seemed like a good way to ward it off.
She remembered when she’d gotten her ears pierced with Pallina. That piece of cork behind her earlobe and the ice to keep her from feeling anything. Oh, but she’d felt it, and how! And now, here she was, getting a tattoo. She smiled at Step.
“Everything all right?”
“Just fine.”
Step paid John fifty thousand lire while Babi checked her tattoo. It had turned out perfect. A short while later, on the motorcycle, she undid the top button of her jeans, loosened the gauze dressing, and peeked at it again, happily.
Step noticed what she was doing. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
On her delicate skin, still swollen with color, a small, newborn baby eagle, similar to Step’s, a daughter of the same hand, was soaring on the cool breeze of a sunset.
*
The doorbell rang, and Paolo went to answer it. There at the door was a distinguished-looking gentleman.
“Good evening. I’m here to see Stefano Mancini. I’m Claudio Gervasi.”
“Good evening. I’m afraid my brother isn’t here.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No, he didn’t tell me when he’d be back. Sometimes he doesn’t even come home for dinner. He just comes in late at night.”
Paolo looked at that gentleman. What on earth could he want with Step? Looks like trouble, he thought. It must be the usual thing, something to do with a fistfight or brawl.
“Listen, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable, he might arrive soon, or else he might telephone.”
“Thanks.” Claudio walked into the living room.
Paolo shut the door but he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, I wanted to speak to Stefano. I’m Babi’s father.”
“Ah, I understand.” Paolo flashed him a bland smile. Actually, he hadn’t understood a damned thing. He didn’t have the faintest idea of who this Babi was. A young woman, he thought, which is worse than a brawl. More serious problems. “Excuse me for a moment.” Paolo went into the other room.
Claudio, alone now, looked around. He walked over and inspected a few posters on the walls, and then he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one. At least this whole thing has one silver lining. I can smoke without worrying about it. How strange though. This is the brother of Stefano, that guy Step who beat up Accado, and yet he seems like a perfectly respectable young man. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as I thought. As usual, Raffaella likes to exaggerate. Maybe it really wasn’t even worth bothering to come. These are just kid issues. They naturally work them out among themselves. It’s just a crush, a teenage love story.
Maybe Babi would get over him soon.
*
“Hey, Babi, ciao. I need to go!” Step took her in his arms.
“Where do you have to be? Stay a little longer.”