“How am I supposed to like a place like this? Bouquets everywhere to commemorate where young people were killed in crashes, for no good reason, for no real benefit. They just died for fun.” Babi realized that the flowers were the reason they called this the Greenhouse.
She walked over to the plaque and read the words that someone had etched into the wood.
HE WAS STRONG AND HE WAS FAST, BUT THE LORD ALMIGHTY WASN’T KIND TO HIM. HE WOULDN’T LET HIM HAVE A REMATCH.
—HIS FRIENDS
“Nice friends. And they think they’re poets! I’d rather be all alone in life than have a bunch of friends who help me to kill myself.”
Babi turned on her heel and started to leave. But a hand stopped her.
“Why is it that you always seem to be picking fights with everyone?”
It was Step. Standing motionless, facing her with his brazen smile, and his motorcycle nearby. “Is it really possible that you can’t manage to get along with anyone? You really have a difficult personality, you know that?”
“It just so happens that I get along with everyone. I’ve never had occasion to argue or fight in my life, but that may be because I’ve always associated with a certain level of person. And lately, it turns out, I’ve started mixing with a lower quality of individual, and I’d put the blame on someone in particular…”
She gave Pallina an allusive glance, causing her friend to roll her eyes and heave a sigh of annoyance. “I knew it. No matter how you spin the dice, it always turns out to be my fault.”
“Well, I mean, didn’t I have to come down here to warn you?” Babi asked.
“Wait, didn’t you come to see me?” Step turned to face her again. “I was sure that you’d come to watch me race.” He leaned forward, coming in dangerously close with his face, almost brushing hers.
Babi darted around him. “Why, I didn’t even know you were here.” She blushed.
“You knew, oh, you knew. You just turned red as a tomato. You see, you shouldn’t tell lies. You’re no good at it. Tell the truth. You couldn’t resist, and you came running to watch me race, didn’t you?”
Babi remained silent. She inwardly cursed that damned blush and her heart that, disobediently, continued to pound. Step slowly came closer. His face was once again dangerously close to Babi’s.
He smiled at her. “I don’t understand why you get so worried. Are you afraid to admit it?”
“Me, afraid? Afraid of who? Of you? You don’t scare me. You just make me laugh. You want to know something? Earlier this evening, I reported you.”
This time, it was she who pushed her face close to Step’s. “You understand? I said that you were the one who hurt Signor Accado. The one you headbutted, just to make it clear who I’m talking about. I told them your name. Just think how scared of you I must be.”
Pollo got off his motorcycle and strode fast and menacingly toward Babi. “You damned…”
Step put out a hand. “Calm down, Pollo, calm down.”
“What do you mean, calm down, Step? She’s ruined you! After everything that’s happened, if you have another report on you, you’ll have to face the music for everything else. You’ll go straight behind bars, direct to prison.”
Babi was stunned. She didn’t know that part of the story.
Step reassured his friend. “Don’t worry, Pollo. That won’t happen. I won’t wind up in prison. Worst case, I’ll have to go to court. But it’ll all end there. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”
Then he turned to look at Babi. “What counts is what actually gets said at the trial, when you’re called to testify against me. When that day comes, you won’t say my name. I’m sure of that. You’ll say it wasn’t me. That I had nothing to do with it.”
Babi glared at him with a look of defiance. “Oh, really? Are you so sure of that?”
“Positive.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Absolutely not. When that day comes, when we both go to court, you’ll be so crazy about me that you’ll be willing to do anything, anything at all, to save me.”
Babi remained silent for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You’re the one who’s crazy, if you’ve talked yourself into believing that nonsense. When the day comes, I’ll say your name. Loud and clear. I swear it.”
Step smiled at her confidently. “I wouldn’t swear if I were you.”
There was a long, determined whistle. Everyone turned around. At the center of the road was Siga, a short man, about thirty-five. He wore a black leather jacket. He was respected by one and all, in part because word was that, under that jacket, he was packing a gat.
He raised his arms. This was the signal. The first race, the one with the chamomiles.
Step turned to look at Babi. “Do you want to ride behind me?”
“So you see, it’s really true. You’re crazy.”
“No, the truth is something quite different. The fact is, you’re afraid,” Step said.
“I’m not afraid!”
“Then why don’t you ask Pallina to lend you her belt?”
“I’m opposed to these idiotic races on principle.”
Step moved closer to Babi. “Too bad, you would have enjoyed yourself. Sometimes fear is a nasty enemy. It keeps you from enjoying the best moments in life. It’s like a curse, if you can’t figure out how to beat it.”
A dark blue Boxer stopped right in front of them. It was Maddalena. She lifted her jacket. “Do you want to take me, Step?” She showed off her double Camomilla belt.
She greeted Pallina with a smile, and then she saw Babi. The two girls exchanged icy glares. Their eyes spoke volumes, saying much more than their sealed lips.
Babi pulled Pallina’s jacket open. “Come on, give me this belt.”
“What? Wait, are you kidding?”
“No, come on, give it to me. If it’s so darned exciting to be a chamomile, then I want to try it.” She pulled it out through the belt loops and put it on. She wrapped it around twice and tightened it to her waist.
Step smiled at her. He does have a perfect smile, thought Babi, but I hate him when he’s like this. “I’m not scared.”
“Good, so much the better. You’ll see. It’ll be fun, so get on.”
Babi had some difficulties getting onto the motorcycle facing backward, so Step helped her. Babi undid the belt, letting Step take it and wrap it around his waist. Then he handed the other end back to her. Babi fastened the belt, making sure it wasn’t too tight on her.
Maddalena smiled at her. “You’ll see, you’ll have the time of your life. Step can really pull wheelies like nobody’s business. Of course, that’s if the chamomile riding on back isn’t afraid, because if she moves, she’ll knock him over.”
But Babi didn’t have time to answer her. Step twisted the gas and shot forward. She barely had a chance to glimpse Pallina sitting on the low wall, waving goodbye.
The motorcycle screeched to a halt. The inertia knocked Babi back, slamming her against Step’s shoulders. It was impossible to hold on tight with her legs facing the wrong way.
“It’s going to be a walk in the park.” His deep, warm voice was supposed to reassure her, or at least that’s how he thought it should work.
In fact, it had entirely the opposite effect. Omigod, Babi thought to herself, those are the famous last words where practically anything can happen. This must be a nightmare. I’ve never worn a Camomilla belt in my life, not even when it was in fashion.
She looked at the people around her. Everyone was shouting. There was a maddening swirl of confusion. What on earth am I doing in a place like this? She felt like crying.
Then Step accelerated out to the middle of the road, ready for the race. He raised his right arm.
Suddenly, four other motorcycles appeared out of nowhere and merged toward the center of the road. All of them had a young woman sitting on back, facing backward.
The chamomiles were looking around them. A crowd of young men and women were watching them in am
usement. Some of the girls who recognized them pointed at them and shouted their names. Others waved at them, trying to attract their attention.
But the chamomiles made no response. They all were holding their arms back behind them, clutching the drivers for fear of being shaken loose when the bikes started. Two chamomiles who knew each other nodded smiles and greetings, giddy and excited.
Siga collected the bets. The older gentlemen standing around the Jaguar bet more than everyone else. One of them bet on Step. The other one bet on the rider closer to him, on the colorful motorcycle. Siga wrapped up all the cash and stuck it into the front pocket of his jacket. Then he raised his right arm and put his whistle in his mouth. There was a moment of silence.
The young men on the motorcycles were all leaning forward, ready for the start. Their motorcycles roared. Four left feet pushed the gearshifts down. With a single noise, four bikes shifted into first. They were ready.
Siga dropped his arm and blew the whistle. The audience screamed. It was basically the roar of one single voice.
The motorcycles all shot ahead, almost immediately rearing up in wheelies, fast and loud. Babi immediately tightened her grip on Step in sheer terror as all the chamomiles held on to their men. Their faces turned down toward the asphalt, they watched as the road streamed past beneath them, hard and terrifying. Holding their breath, their hearts pounding at two thousand rpms, their stomachs in their mouths. Yanked backward at sixty, seventy-five, eighty-five miles an hour.
The first bike on the left broke its wheelie. The front wheel slammed down onto the surface, hitting loudly, crushing its shock absorbers toward the ground. The fork trembled, but nothing happened.
The bike closest to Step accelerated too hard. The motorcycle reared up, and the young woman, sensing it was practically vertical, screamed. The young man, frightened now, maybe because he was dating her, let up on the gas and hit the brakes. That huge beast of a Bol d’Or motorcycle, all seven hundred pounds of it, glided smoothly as if on command. It lowered its nose, touching down, like a small wingless airplane.
Step continued the race, leading the last competitor, playing expertly with brake and gas. His motorcycle, lunging forward, seemed motionless, as if held up by a transparent thread in the dark of night. It just flew along like that path, hanging from the stars.
As Babi watched, the white stripes of the road were almost invisible as they blurred together. She tried to shout as the motorcycle roared and the wind tossed her hair, but nothing came out of her mouth. She looked around. By now, the people were just a distant knot of figures, colorful, faintly blurry. All around, there was only the wind rushing and the noise of the other motorcycles.
Step was winning. So she was winning. Babi was stunned.
Step passed the finish line to the shouts and screams of joy from his friends looking on and the happiness of the man who had bet on him.
Pollo embraced Pallina, lifting her off the ground and swinging her through the air. Then, still holding her up, he kissed her. He held her up like that for a few seconds while her feet dangled, just brushing the ground, and her jacket, creasing here and there, climbed up.
When Pallina got back to solid ground, she tugged and patted herself all over and adjusted her hat. After that, she turned, slightly embarrassed, toward Babi. “It was an amazing race, wasn’t it?”
Babi said nothing. Step, still bursting with excitement at his victory, had screeched to a halt in front of the group. Dario, Schello, and a few other friends rushed down to wish him well and congratulate him.
A brotherly hand, mingled indistinctly in the midst of the group, reached out to offer him a still-cold beer. Step grabbed at it and took a long drag. “You were great. You never moved once. You were a perfect chamomile.”
Babi freed herself from the grip of the Camomilla belt but Step tried to stop her. “Hold on, where are you going? Stay here with me…”
“I need air,” Babi said as she got off the motorcycle. Her first few steps were hesitant. She was shaking so much in fear that she could hardly stand up. She melted into the crowd. She didn’t know anyone.
At a certain point, she heard another whistle. Longer, this time. What was that? Was another race starting? Everyone started running in all directions. People were banging against her. Motorcycles and scooters went hurtling past.
She heard the wail of sirens. Not far away, a line of cars appeared. Blue emergency lights were flashing on their roofs. The police. That’s the one thing that was missing.
She needed to find her Vespa. All around her, young people were running. Someone started screaming, others were smashing into each other recklessly. One young woman on a scooter toppled over just a few yards away. Babi started running. More city police cars braked to a halt all around.
There it was. She saw her Vespa, parked in front of her, just a few yards away. She’d been saved. Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the hair. It was a city traffic cop.
Babi shouted in pain when suddenly, the traffic cop released her. A boot to his belly had folded him in two, loosening his grip on her hair. It was Step.
The cop tried to fight back. Step gave him a violent shove that knocked him to the ground. Then Step helped Babi to her feet, hoisted her onto the motorcycle behind him, and took off at top speed.
The traffic cop recovered, climbed into a car nearby with a fellow cop behind the wheel, and they took off in hot pursuit. Step wove easily through the people and motorcycles that the city traffic cops had pulled over. He passed a number of photographers who had been given advance notice of the roundup and were busy snapping pictures.
Step popped a wheelie and accelerated. He went by another policeman, this one with a red stop paddle, waving for him to pull over. All around them, photographers’ flashbulbs were going off.
Step turned off the lights and bent low over the handlebars. The city traffic squad car with the cop who’d been kicked in the gut veered around the group and, siren wailing, was right behind them. Step shifted and leaned into the curve, racing toward Piazza Irnerio.
Babi held tight to him. She was even more terrified than before. This was worse than being a chamomile. The squad car fishtailed out of control as it tore into the curve. It recovered and started gaining on Step.
When Step reached the top of the slope, he shot the wrong way down a one-way street and veered off to the left, down Via del Casaletto. In the left side mirror, a few seconds later, the flashing blue light appeared again. They were still after him.
“Cover the license plate with your foot.”
“What?”
“Cover the last digit of the license plate with your foot.”
Babi extended her right leg backward, doing her best to cover the license plate. She slipped twice. “I can’t do it.”
“Really? Are you fucking with me?”
“It just so happens that I’ve never tried to run from the police on a motorcycle before. And if I’d had any say in the matter, I’d certainly have avoided the privilege today.”
“Maybe you’d have preferred to have me leave you in the hands of that cop who wanted your scalp?”
Step downshifted and made a right turn. The rear wheel slid slightly, screeching across the asphalt.
Babi held tighter to him and shrieked, “Put on the brakes!”
“Are you joking? If those guys catch us, they’ll confiscate my motorcycle.”
The squad car veered into the narrow street, fishtailing. Step flew down the steep street at 185 kilometers per hour. He could hear the siren echoing in the distance. They were gaining on him.
“Put on the brakes, I’m begging you. I can already imagine what I’m going to read in the papers tomorrow. ‘Young Woman Dies in High-Speed Chase with City Traffic Cops.’”
“But if you’re dead, how are you going to read the newspaper?”
“Step, slow down! I’m scared! Those guys might start shooting at us.”
Step downshifted again and suddenly swerved left. They emerged onto a
semideserted country road. There were a few villas with a high wall and a palisade. They had only a few seconds to spare. Step screeched to a halt.
“Hurry up, get off. Wait for me here and don’t move. I’ll come back and get you the minute I manage to shake them off…”
Babi hopped off the motorcycle in a flash, and Step took off at top speed. Babi flattened herself against the wall near the villa’s front gate. And just in the nick of time. The squad car appeared at that exact moment. It went screeching past the villa and tore off in furious pursuit of the motorcycle.
Babi clapped both hands over her ears and shut her eyes to keep out the piercing sound of that siren. The car vanished into the distance, homing in on that tiny red taillight. That was Step’s motorcycle, which, outdistancing all pursuit, was racing along through the dark night.
Chapter 5
Pollo stopped his motorcycle in front of Babi’s apartment building. Pallina got off and went over to the doorman. “Excuse me, but has Babi come home yet?”
Fiore, who’d been half-asleep, had a hard time recognizing her at first. “Ah, ciao, Pallina. No. I saw her go out on her Vespa, but she hasn’t come back yet.”
Pallina went back to Pollo. “Nothing doing.”
“Don’t worry, if she’s with Step, she’s fine. You’ll see, she’ll be home soon. Do you want me to stay with you and keep you company?”
“No, I’ll go up. Maybe she’s in trouble, and she might try calling home. It’ll be better if there’s someone there to answer the phone.”
Pollo started his motorcycle. “The first one who gets any news can call the other.”
Pallina kissed him and hurried off. She ducked under the gate-arm and headed up the ramp to the apartment building. When she was halfway there, she turned around. Pollo waved to her. Pallina blew him a kiss and then turned left, up the steps. Pollo put his bike in first gear and drove away.
Pallina lifted the doormat. The keys were there, as promised. It took her a little while to pick out the one for the front door. She climbed up to the second floor and slowly opened the door. A voice came down the hallway. She recognized it. It was Daniela’s. She was talking on the telephone.
One Step to You Page 5
