One Step to You Read online

  Almost immediately, Lucone and the others mingled with the real guests, or at least tried to. They spread out in the living room.

  There are certainly some strange folks at this party. That was the most common thought but also the most secretly kept one. In fact, it passed through many heads but passed not a single pair of lips.

  * * *

  Expensive electric appliances had been arranged at the corners of a modern kitchen. The refrigerator door hung open.

  “Remember to close the door after getting something out of the fridge…” That’s what Signora Micchi would always say, scolding her children when they loitered too long in front of the open refrigerator at snack time. If, however, Signora Micchi were to come face-to-face with the owner of these Adidas and his friends, sitting there with their feet up on the table and her daughter’s eighteenth-birthday cake before them, she probably wouldn’t have the nerve to say a word to either of them.

  “No, I want to blow out the candles,” Hook said.

  “What the hell right do you have?” the Sicilian asked. “I was the one who found the cake.”

  “True, but I lit the birthday candles.” Hook proudly brandished his Zippo.

  The Sicilian looked at him and then smiled. “But there’s one thing you haven’t considered.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The fact that it’s going to be my birthday soon.” He blew hard on the cake, extinguishing all the candles. Admittedly, this wasn’t his actual birthday, and that was certainly not the appropriate number of candles. The Sicilian looked a far sight older than eighteen, but still a happy smile wreathed his face.

  Hook flipped open his Zippo and almost simultaneously gave the flint wheel a sharp spin with his thumb. Then he ran the big flame over the top of each birthday candle, leaving a smaller flame flickering on the various wicks.

  “What the fuck are you doing now?” the Sicilian asked.

  “Now it’s my turn to blow them out.”

  “Hey, no fair. You can only blow a cake’s birthday candles out once.”

  “Says who?” Hook asked.

  “Says me!” The Sicilian stuck his stubby hand into the icing, ruining the perfectly round shape of the eight marking Roberta’s new age, to lick the frosting off.

  “But I’ve never blown out a cake full of birthday candles in my life.”

  “Well, shit, why don’t you just blow out the candles on your own side?”

  “No, now you’ve ruined it, and I don’t give a damn about it anymore,” Hook said.

  “Here, why don’t you just take back your damned cake!” With those words, the Sicilian got rid of the clumps of frosting that still clung to his hand, flipping them accurately onto Hook’s jacket.

  In response, Hook grabbed a handful of cake and tried to fire back. Instead, it hit the housekeeper, who had just entered the kitchen.

  Hook and the Sicilian called a truce to their cold war and burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Petty thief that he was, Pollo immediately went looking for the mother’s bedroom. He found it. It had wisely been locked. Double-locked, in fact, but unfortunately, they’d left the key in the lock. Naively.

  Pollo opened the door. The girls’ purses had all been left there on the bed in perfect order. He started opening them, one after the other, taking his time, really. The wallets were nearly all full. It really was one fine party. All of these people were high class, no two ways about that, as far as Pollo was concerned.

  He was just about to leave when he noticed a handbag dangling from the armrest of a chair off to one side, hidden by a jacket draped over it. He picked up the bag. It was a handsome article, elegant and heavy with a woven leather strap and two fine lengths of deerskin lacing to fasten it. It must be richly stocked if its proprietor had taken such care to hide it.

  Pollo started unknotting one of the two deerskin laces, cursing his habit of chewing his nails down to the bloody nub as he did so. At last, he managed to get the knot undone. And just as he did, the door swung open. Pollo hid the purse behind his back. A dark-haired young woman with a dazzling smile walked in, unruffled. When she saw him, she came to a halt.

  “Shut that door.”

  The young woman did as she was told. Pollo swung the handbag around from behind his back and started rummaging through it. She put on a shocked expression.

  “So, are you going to tell me what you want in here?” he asked.

  “My purse.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and get it, why don’t you?” Pollo pointed to the bed covered with purses he’d already emptied.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “A young thug has it in his hand.”

  “Ah.” Pollo smiled. He took a closer look at the girl. She was very attractive, with black hair and side-swept bangs that mirrored the twist of her mouth in a vaguely irritated grimace.

  Pollo found her wallet and pulled it out of the purse. “Here…” He tossed her the purse. “You only had to ask…”

  Pallina caught the purse neatly and started rummaging through it. “You know that you’re not supposed to poke through a young lady’s purse, right? Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

  “I’ve never actually spoken to my mother. Hey, you know what, you should have a chat with yours,” he said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, there’s no way she should be letting you go out in public with nothing more than twenty bucks in your purse.”

  “That’s my weekly allowance.”

  Pollo pocketed the cash. “It was.”

  “God you’re stupid!” She found what she’d been looking for and set down her purse. “Then, once you’re done, put my wallet back inside. Thanks.” She turned to leave.

  “Hey, hold on a second.” Pollo caught up with her. “What did you just take out of your purse?”

  “I’m sorry, I would happily have offered you one but…”

  She showed Pollo the cigarette. “It was the last one…”

  Pollo started laughing. “Oh, don’t worry…worst case, we can share it.”

  “Ah, no.” And Pallina gave him a sarcastic smile before turning to leave.

  Pollo stood there, unsure what to do now. In any case, it never occurred to him to put back the twenty bucks.

  * * *

  The DJ, a music-loving guy, whose hair was slightly longer than the others’ as a way of signaling his artistic temperament, flailed and shook in time to the beat. His hands moved the records backward and forward on twin turntables while a large pair of headphones over his ears let him hear first to avoid an awkward mix.

  Schello walked over to him. “Hey, boss, would you put this tape on for me?”

  The DJ, reading his lips more than hearing his words, took the cassette and slid it into the player next to him. He pushed a few buttons, sending the music into his headphones. Schello stood there watching him with a broad smile on his face. The DJ’s expression suddenly changed. The contents of the tape had just entered his headphones. He held out for just a handful of seconds.

  “Are you insane?” he asked, taking the headphones off and, immediately afterward, removing the cassette from the tape deck. “That’s a tape by Anthrax. Most of the people in here would stampede out of the place, and the rest would have their hair standing on end. This stuff causes heart attacks. Here, take it,” he said, handing back the cassette. “Put it on at your house sometime, when you’re looking to cause yourself some harm.”

  “You want to know the truth? I fall asleep to it.”

  * * *

  Step was wandering through the party, looking around him, distractedly listening to the stupid chatter of eighteen-year-old girls about expensive dresses they’d spotted in shop windows, scooters their parents had refused to buy for them, impossible boyfriends, definite betrayals, and frustrated aspirations.

  Not far away, against a background of magnificent paintings and photographs of a healthy, wealt
hy society, someone was stumbling along as if wrecked. It was Bunny. Their eyes met. Bunny returned his smile and then stole an ashtray with a sudden move, just as a cigarette, with a long column of ash at the end, was coming in for a landing. The ash, which had teetered successfully in perfect vertical equilibrium, collapsed right where the ashtray had been until just a few seconds earlier. The smoker was embarrassed in front of the young woman he was talking to, and Bunny gained another piece of expensive silver. But the biggest loser was certainly the tablecloth.

  Step crossed the living room. From the window at the far end, the one overlooking the terrace, came a breath of wind. The curtains were tossing lightly in the breeze, and then, as they settled back to vertical, two figures took shape beneath them. Hands could be seen trying to open the curtains. A handsome, well-groomed young man was soon successful, finding the right opening in the draperies. A few moments later, a young woman appeared at his side. They were laughing happily, amused by that minor mishap. The moonlight from behind faintly illuminated her dress, rendering it translucent for an instant.

  Step stood there staring at her. The girl shook her hair, smiling at the guy. She displayed a mouthful of beautiful white teeth. Even from a distance, it was possible to sense the intensity of her light blue eyes. Step remembered her, remembered their meeting. Or perhaps, more than a meeting, their argument.

  The young man and young woman near the curtains said something to each other. The girl nodded and followed the boy over to the drinks table. Suddenly, Step was thirsty too.

  * * *

  Chicco Brandelli led Babi through the guests. The palm of his hand barely brushed her back, and with every step, he savored a whiff of her light perfume. He and Babi greeted a few of their friends who’d arrived while they were on the terrace. They chatted at the table covered with drinks.

  Suddenly a guy stood face-to-face with Babi. It was Step.

  “Well, I can see that you listened to my advice, and you’re trying to solve your problems.” Step tilted his head in Brandelli’s direction. “I understand he’s just a first rough attempt. But he could work. For that matter, if you haven’t found anything better, he’ll have to do…”

  Babi looked at him, faintly uncertain. She didn’t know who he was but she didn’t much like him. Or did she? What was familiar about this guy?

  Step refreshed her memory. “I accompanied you to school one morning, not very long ago.”

  “That’s impossible. My father always takes me to school.”

  “You’re right. Let’s just say that I escorted you. I was holding on to your car.”

  Babi realized who he was and gazed at him in shock.

  “I see you’ve finally remembered.”

  “Sure, you were the guy who was spouting all those dumb lines. You haven’t changed, have you?”

  “Why should I? I’m perfect.” Step threw both arms wide, displaying his physique.

  Babi decided, at least from that point of view, she couldn’t argue. It was all the rest that didn’t work. Starting with his clothing and ending with his behavior.

  “You see, you didn’t say no.”

  “Because I’m not even talking to you.”

  “Babi, is this guy bothering you?” Brandelli had the ill-advised impulse to step in at this point. Step didn’t even look at him.

  “No, Chicco, thanks,” Babi said.

  “Well, then, if I’m not bothering you, it must mean you like me.”

  “I’m completely indifferent. In fact, I’d say that you bore me and annoy me a little, to be exact.”

  Chicco tried to cut off the discussion by speaking directly to Babi. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  Step answered in her place. “Yes, thanks. Go ahead and pour me a Coca-Cola.”

  Chicco ignored him. “Babi, do you want something to drink?”

  For the first time, Step looked at him. “I said, yes, a Coke. I already told you that. Now get on it.”

  Chicco stood there, looking at him, with a glass in his hand.

  “Leave him be.” Babi intervened, taking the glass out of Chicco’s hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Babi finished pouring and set down the bottle. “Here, and make sure not to spill any.” She threw the glassful of Coca-Cola right in Step’s face, drenching him from head to foot. “I told you to be careful.”

  Chicco started laughing. Step gave him such a powerful shove that Chicco flew onto a low coffee table, knocking over everything on top of it. Then he grabbed the ends of the tablecloth and gave it a hard yank, trying to do the trick that certain prestidigitators know how to pull off, but it turned out badly. A dozen or so bottles overturned, flying onto nearby sofas and guests. A few glasses shattered. Step wiped his face dry.

  Babi looked at him in disgust. “You really are a filthy beast.”

  “You’re right. What I need is a nice hot shower because I’m all sticky. And that’s your fault. I’m going to find a bathroom, and then I’ll be right back. Don’t go away, all right?”

  The music of Anthrax filled the living room, and many of the guests had stopped talking.

  Roberta, worried, stopped in the doorway, gazing out appalled at her devastated living room.

  “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?”

  Roberta pointed Step to it. “That way.”

  Step thanked her and continued in the direction she’d pointed him.

  Next Brandelli went over to Roberta. “Where’s the telephone?”

  “That way.” Roberta pointed in a different direction, the opposite way from the bathroom. She felt like a cop trying to direct traffic, trying to manage the terrible outburst of chaos that was unfolding in her own living room. Unfortunately, she lacked the authority to write them tickets and kick them all out.

  A few people, either smarter or more cowardly than the others, came over, planting kisses on her cheek. “Ciao, Roberta, happy birthday. We’re so sorry, but we’re going to have to leave, okay?”

  “That way.” By now in a bit of a fugue state, Roberta pointed to the front door of the apartment. If it hadn’t been her home, in fact, Roberta would gladly have fled through the door herself.

  Step entered the bathroom and pulled open the pebbled-glass door to the shower. He took off his T-shirt and started to rinse off with the shower spray.

  Just then, Babi walked in, slamming the door behind her.

  “So you just can’t resist. You’re compelled to follow me everywhere I go.”

  “Do you mind having a word with your friends?” Babi asked. “They’re destroying my girlfriend’s apartment, and you started the whole thing—”

  “Me? You were the one who threw a Coke in my face, weren’t you?”

  “Okay, I was wrong to throw it.”

  “Yeah, I know that you were wrong.”

  Step took the shower spray in hand. “It’s too late now. The damage is done. This is all your fault. You should have kept your cool, and above all, you should have kept a handle on your hot temper…Sometimes the best thing in these cases is an ice-cold shower!”

  And with those words, he turned on the spray and drenched her.

  “You idiot!” Babi twisted and struggled, trying to avoid the water, but Step managed to grab her hand before she could run out of the room and made sure she got wet all over. “Let go of me!”

  “Trust me, a shower does you a world of good. It can clear your mind. It improves your circulation, you get more blood to your brain, and that helps a person understand that they need to act nice to others…that they need to be nice and drink a glass of Coca-Cola, not throw it in someone’s face.”

  Schello entered at that very moment.

  “Come on, Step. Let’s go. Some guy called the police.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I caught the guy on the telephone. I heard him with my own ears.”

  Step turned off the shower and let go of Babi’s hand. Babi, her hair hanging forward, drenched to the bone, said, “I hate you…”

/>   Step looked at her with a smile. “Come on, no you don’t…I know you don’t. Anyway, you should dry off, otherwise you’ll catch your death.”

  Babi lifted the long, wet hair that draped over her face. She uncovered her eyes. They were angry and determined.

  Step acted afraid. “Uh-oh, pretend I didn’t say it. I understand, you wanted to take a shower with me, and now you’re mad because you had to take one alone. Maybe we can do it some other time.”

  Step took a towel and gave it to Babi, who threw it at him.

  Step laughed. “What manners…you’re never nice to me!”

  “Fuck off.”

  “What vulgar words you use! How could that be, a nice young woman like you spouting things like that? Remember that, the next time we take a shower together, I’m going to have to wash your mouth out with soap. Understood?”

  He wrung out his T-shirt and tied it around his waist. Then he left the bathroom.

  Babi watched him go. On his still-wet back, a few drops of water slid around sinews and bundles of muscles, taut and clearly delineated. Babi picked up a bottle of shampoo that she found on the floor within reach and hurled it after him.

  Hearing the noise, Step ducked instinctively. Babi hadn’t managed to hit him, even though his broad shoulders presented an easy target.

  Step bent down to pick up the plastic bottle bearing the image of a pretty blond girl with long, lustrous hair. “Hey, now I understand why you’re so mad. I forgot to shampoo your hair. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Get out of here! Don’t you dare…” Babi quickly yanked the glass door, shutting herself in the shower.

  Step looked at her small hands, pressed against the glass. “Here!” He tossed her the shampoo over the top of the shower stall. Then, with a shameless laugh, he walked out of the bathroom.

  * * *

  At the sound of the word police, there was a stampede for the door in the living room while Roberta sat sobbing in a corner.

  Bunny, with the strange clanking sound of silver, went out at a dead run, a little heavier than usual. Behind him came Pollo, silent as he ran because what he had in his pockets might have made less noise but it held a lot more value. The Sicilian was next through the door, followed by Step and Schello. They galloped down the steps quickly, making the railing shake where they placed their full weight on it as they jumped down the last clusters of steps.