One Step to You

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One Step to You Page 3

by Federico Moccia


  They all reached the ground-floor atrium, everyone laughing, and they strode off into the night.

  * * *

  Out of the front door at number 1130 on the Via Cassia emerged a group of guests. They were all discussing what had happened. After a number of stupid and pointless questions, the police had finally left Roberta’s home. The only one who knew anything, a certain Francesca, had made her escape as soon as she saw that the party was skidding off the rails, taking with her an emptied purse and the names of the guilty parties.

  In the midst of the general mayhem, Babi, completely drenched, had lost her sister, Daniela. On the other hand, Roberta had found Babi a pair of shorts that fit her perfectly, as well as her older brother’s sweatshirt, in which she could easily swim.

  “You really ought to go to parties more often dressed like that. You’re captivating,” Chicco teased Babi.

  “Chicco, do you still feel like joking around?” The two of them walked out the front door. “I can’t find my sister, and I’ve ruined the Valentino dress.” She held up an elegant plastic shopping bag emblazoned with a name that was different from that of the drenched dress but still every bit as famous. “And as if that weren’t enough, if my mother catches me coming home with wet hair, I’m in trouble.”

  “There he is. That’s the one who made the call.” From behind the dumpsters, Schello confidently pointed at Chicco Brandelli.

  Step looked at him. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. I heard him with my own ears.”

  Step recognized the girl who was with that stinking rat. You don’t soon forget a woman who insists relentlessly on taking a shower with you. He smiled at his friend. “Let’s go tell the others.”

  Babi and Chicco turned down a narrow street. “But what about you? Why didn’t you say anything when that idiot put me under the shower?”

  “How was I supposed to know? Right then I was in the hall, calling the police.”

  “Ah, so that was you?”

  “Sure. I could see the situation was getting out of hand…Did you see the fat lip that someone gave Andrea Marinelli?”

  “Yes, poor guy.”

  “Poor guy? It’s the best thing that could have happened to him, are you kidding? I can’t even imagine the stories he’ll tell. All alone, taking on the barbarian horde. The hero of the night. Here we are, this is it.”

  They stopped when they got to a car. The emergency lights flashed rapidly, and the door locks popped open in unison. The security system was a fairly common model but the same couldn’t be said of the brand-new BMW.

  Chicco opened the passenger door for her. Babi peered in at the pristine interior, the dark wood paneling, and the soft leather upholstery.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, a lot,” Babi said.

  “I bought it just for you. I knew I’d be driving you home tonight.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course I did!” Chicco said. “Actually, the whole thing was planned down to the last detail. I actually hired that gang of idiots. Just think, the whole mess was contrived just so I could be alone with you.”

  “Well, then, you could have skipped the part with the shower because, at least for once, my clothes weren’t up to the occasion.”

  Chicco laughed and shut her door and then walked around the car and got in on the driver’s side. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. The powerful engine immediately roared to life. A small hatch slid down at the center of the dashboard, revealing an expensive car stereo that had been concealed from thieves until that moment. A song started up, smooth in all its tones, in complete fidelity to high notes and low. The car pulled away silently.

  “All things considered, I had a lot of fun this evening. If it hadn’t been for that crowd, it would have been the usual grim funeral,” Chicco said.

  “I doubt that Roberta feels the same way.” Babi carefully laid the plastic shopping bag at her feet. “They wrecked her house!”

  “Oh, come on, it’s no big deal, strictly minor damage. She’ll just have to have the sofas scrubbed and send the carpets to the cleaners.”

  A loud, sharp thump erupted, shattering the atmosphere of elegance and harmony inside the car.

  “What just happened?” Chicco looked in his side mirror. Suddenly, he glimpsed the face of Lucone, almost completely filling the disk of glass. He was laughing like a maniac. Behind him, Hook climbed onto the motorcycle seat and, standing upright, delivered another kick to the bumper of the car.

  “It’s those lunatics! Hurry up, step on the gas,” Babi said.

  Chicco shifted gears and hit the accelerator. Behind him, the motorcycles immediately picked up speed, and he was unable to shake them. Worried now, Babi turned to look behind them.

  They were all there, Bunny, Pollo, the Sicilian, and Hook, and in the middle of the pack was Step. His leather jacket flapped in the rushing wind, opening up and revealing his bare chest. Step smiled right at her.

  Babi turned away and looked straight ahead. “Chicco, drive as fast as you can. I’m scared!”

  Chicco said nothing and continued driving, pressing down hard on the gas, downhill along the Via Cassia in the chilly night. But the motorcycles were still there, buzzing along on either side of him, glued relentlessly to the hurtling car.

  “Chicco, don’t you dare think of stopping or those guys will start wrecking you.”

  “No, I can still try to talk to them.” He pushed the button that electrically lowered the window and opened it halfway. “Listen, guys,” he shouted while trying to remain calm and stay on the road, “this car belongs to my father and…” A gob of spit caught him right in the face.

  “Yahoooo, bull’s-eye, a hundred points for me!” Pollo got to his feet on the saddle behind Bunny, raising both arms straight up in the thrill of victory.

  In despair, Chicco wiped his face with a chamois cloth that was more expensive and more authentic than Pollo’s gloves. Babi looked on in disgust at that stubborn gob of spit, and then she pushed the electric button, closing the car window again before Pollo’s unerring aim could hit anything else.

  “Just try to make it to the center of town. Maybe we’ll run into the police there,” Babi said.

  Chicco tossed the chamois cloth into the back and kept on driving. He thought about the thousands of lire in damage to the car and the endless dressing-downs from his father. At that point, in a surge of sudden rage, he jerked the steering wheel, swerving suddenly to one side.

  The car scythed across the road, to the right and then to the left, and smashed into the motorcycles. The Sicilian shot off to the left, winding up in the other lane, which was fortunately empty. Bunny slammed on the brakes, narrowly managing not to be run off the road.

  Chicco started laughing, as if caught up in a hysterical jag. “So they want war? Fine, they can have it! I’ll crush them like the rats that they are!”

  He gave the steering wheel another twist, causing the car to lurch off to the right. Babi clutched tight to the door handle in utter terror.

  When Step saw the car heading straight for him, he braked and veered away, downshifting at the same time. The motorcycle slowly veered back to the center of the road, right behind the car.

  Chicco peered into the rearview mirror. The group was there, behind him, still glued to his tail. “Scared, are you? Good! Then take this.” He suddenly jammed on his brakes. The ABS cut in. The car screeched to an almost complete halt.

  The motorcycles on either side managed to veer away and avoid the car. Schello, who was right in the middle, did his best to brake, but his oversized Vespa, with little or no tread, fishtailed wildly and slammed into the rear bumper. Schello hit the pavement.

  Chicco took off again, tires screeching, at top speed. The motorcycles stopped to lend aid to their wounded friend.

  “Fuck that son of a bitch!” Schello got to his feet, his pants torn over his right knee. “Look at this.”

  “No surprise, the way you f
lew you’re lucky that’s all that happened. You didn’t hurt yourself at all. You just have a scraped knee,” Bunny said.

  “What the fuck do I care about my knee? That asshole ruined my Levi’s, and I bought them just the other day.”

  Everyone laughed, amused and, at the same time, relieved for their friend, who’d lost neither his life nor his willingness to joke about it.

  Step watched the BMW vanishing into the distance, far away at the end of the street by now. Between the lines of trees that narrowed to a slender gap, he could see clouds scudding quickly past in the sky. A large, bright moon rode high in the darkness. That moon was the one thing truly out of reach.

  Then the BMW veered to the right and pulled onto Corso Francia. “Wahoooo, I fixed those bastards, but good.” Chicco was pounding both hands on the steering wheel in delight. He glanced quickly at his rearview mirror. Nothing but a car far behind him. He felt reassured. There was no one in pursuit. “Assholes, assholes!” He bounced excitedly in his seat. “I did it!”

  Then he remembered Babi, sitting beside him. “Are you all right?” He turned and gazed seriously at her, expressing his concern.

  “Better now, thanks.” Babi detached herself from the car door she’d been crushed against and got more comfortable, sitting up normally. “But now I’d like to go home.”

  Chicco downshifted and took a right turn, heading down the hill. “I’ll take you right away.”

  He came to a quick halt at the stop sign and then continued over the Ponte Milvio. Chicco looked at her again. Her hair, still wet, hung over her shoulders. Her blue eyes gazed straight ahead, still tinged with a look of fright.

  “I’m sorry for what happened. Did that scare you?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Do you want to get something to drink?” Chicco asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “But I’m going to need to stop for a second.”

  “If you want.”

  Chicco made a U-turn. He pulled over next to a public drinking fountain in front of a church and splashed a few handfuls of water onto his face, rubbing away the last possible traces of human enzymes from Pollo’s saliva. Then he let the cool night breeze caress his face and relaxed.

  When he finally opened his eyes again, he was looking reality right in the face. His car, or actually, his father’s car. “Fucking hell!” he whispered to himself, circling the car and assessing the damage.

  Chicco tried to pretend he wasn’t in the depths of despair. But in reality, he definitely was. His father had an obsession with cars, and that one in particular, considering how long he’d had to wait before finally taking delivery. Almost as long a wait as it felt for Chicco himself, earlier that evening, in his bedroom, trying to work up the nerve to ask to borrow it.

  He gave Babi a forced smile. “Well, the car’s going to need a little work. It’s got a few bumps and scratches.”

  He had barely finished the sentence before a dark blue motorcycle, which had followed him all this way with its headlight off, pulled up just inches from him, engine rumbling. Chicco hardly had a chance to turn around before he found himself shoved onto the hood of his car, denting the sheet metal badly. “Help! Help!”

  “Maybe next time you’ll learn to keep your damned mouth shut, you disgusting piece of shit!”

  Babi got out of the car and, in the throes of rage, started pounding away at Step, slamming her plastic bag with the wet clothing inside over his head. “Let go of him, you coward! Stop it!”

  Step turned around suddenly, and Babi went reeling back, tripped over the curb, and lost her balance entirely, landing on the ground. Step stood there looking at her in surprise.

  Chicco took advantage of that moment. He got up off the hood and shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. Then he tried to climb back into the car but Step was too fast for him.

  Step gave the car door a quick shove, and Chicco called out, helpless and wedged in place between the car and the door.

  Babi got up off the ground, smarting from the impact. She, too, started yelling for help.

  Just then, a car went by. It was the Accados, friends of Babi and Daniela’s parents. “Look, Filippo! What’s going on? Why, that’s Babi, Raffaella’s daughter!” Marina Accado said.

  Filippo slammed on the brakes and got out of the car, leaving the door wide open.

  Babi ran toward him, shouting, “Separate them. Hurry, they’re killing each other!” Even if that wasn’t exactly an accurate description of the situation. “Let go of him!”

  Filippo threw himself on Step, restraining him from behind. Then Chicco thrust the car door open, sending Step flying into Filippo, before getting back behind the wheel and escaping at top speed.

  Step, wrenching free from the arms of Signor Accado, turned to see that the back of his head had struck Filippo’s face during the fall, breaking his nose, which had begun bleeding. Now Filippo staggered to his feet, both hands on his nose and with no idea of where to go.

  Marina hurried to her husband’s side. “You criminal, you miserable wretch! Don’t get any closer. Don’t you dare touch him!”

  Step stood in shocked silence, observing the screaming woman.

  “Do you hear me, you little thug? This doesn’t end here!” Marina helped her husband into the passenger seat and then started the engine and pulled away.

  Babi stood boldly in front of Step. “You disgust me! You have no respect for anything or anyone.”

  He gazed at her with a beaming smile. “Do you mind telling me what you want from me?”

  “Nothing. What could I possibly want from you? What can you expect of a filthy beast? You injured a man, someone much older than you.”

  “First off, if he hadn’t grabbed me from behind, I never would have struck him. Second, too bad for him, he should have just minded his own business.”

  “Oh, really? So if someone doesn’t mind his own business, you hit him in the face?”

  “Again with this bullshit?” Step went over to his motorcycle and climbed aboard. He started the motorcycle, and for a moment, he lit up Babi with his headlight. She partly shut her eyes. Step put the bike in first gear. The headlight swept away. “Well, so long.”

  Babi looked around. There was no one in sight. The piazza was deserted. “What do you mean, so long?”

  “All right, I take it back. I won’t even say so long.”

  Babi heaved a sigh of annoyance. “What about me? How am I supposed to get home now?”

  “How the hell should I know? You could have asked your friend to drive you, couldn’t you?”

  “Impossible, you beat him up and made him run away.”

  “Oh, so now it’s my fault.”

  “Whose fault if not yours? Come on, let me get on.” Babi went over to the motorcycle and lifted her leg to one side, ready to climb on.

  Step let out the clutch. The motorcycle moved slightly forward. Babi looked at him. Step turned his head and looked back. Babi tried to get on again, but Step was too fast for her, and once again darted forward.

  “Stop it, hold still. What’s the matter with you?”

  Step looked at her with that arrogant smirk on his face. “You can’t be thinking of accepting a ride from someone as awful as me.”

  Babi half shut her eyes, this time because of how much she hated him. Then she went walking off, with great determination, down Via della Farnesina.

  Step twisted the accelerator and caught up with her. He was rolling along beside her, sitting on his motorcycle. “Forgive me, but I’m doing it for your sake. Otherwise you’d be bitter about having had to compromise. No, far better that you stick to your guns and get home on your own two feet. Agreed?”

  Babi crossed back over to the other side of the street. Step followed her. He rose up off the seat of the motorcycle as it bumped down off the sidewalk. He reached out with one hand and grabbed her sweatshirt. “Come on, get on.”

  She tried to walk past him but he yanked her close to him. He lo
oked into those pale blue eyes, clear and deep, as they stared at him. He carefully released her, and then he smiled gently. “Come on. Let me take you home. Otherwise you’ll get in a fight with half the city before the night is through.”

  In silence, without a word about where she lived, she quickly grabbed her shopping bag from where it had fallen and climbed up behind him. The motorcycle took off, lunging forward. Babi shot backward. Instinctively, she threw her arms around him. Her hands wound up, unintentionally, under his jacket, which had puffed up in the blast of wind. His body was warm in the cool of the night. Babi felt clearly delineated muscles slip beneath her fingers, shifting with every slight movement he made. The wind ran over her cheeks; her wet hair fluttered in the air.

  The motorcycle veered to one side, and she clung tighter to him and closed her eyes. Her heart started pounding harder. She wondered if it was merely fear.

  She heard the sound of other cars. Now they were on a larger street, it wasn’t as cold, and she turned her face and laid her cheek on his back, still without looking, allowing herself to be lulled as the bike rose and fell, at the powerful sound she could feel roaring beneath her.

  They were racing faster and faster, overtaking cars, leaning right and then left, whizzing between the vehicles, downshifting again to climb hills, higher and higher, a climb and then nothing. Absolute silence.

  Babi opened her eyes and recognized the shops, closed now all around her, the same ones she’d seen every day for the past six years, ever since her family had first moved there. She got off the motorcycle.

  Step heaved a deep sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. You were crushing me to death!”

  “Sorry, I was afraid. I’ve never ridden behind anyone on a motorcycle.”

  “There’s always a first time for everything.” Then he put the bike into first gear and, with a mocking “arrivederci,” roared away into the night.

 

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