One Step to You

by Federico Moccia

  How many years had it been since he’d last played pool? He threw back the last gulp of whiskey. Putting down the glass, his eyes met Francesca’s. As many years as that gorgeous young woman had been alive, most likely.

  He felt vaguely dazed. He smiled at her. Her skin was the color of honey, setting off her dark hair and that incredibly sensuous smile. She was a kind person too. He assumed she must be about eighteen. For an instant, it occurred to him that he might have overestimated, maybe she was even younger. Oh my God, he thought, she could be my daughter. Why did I even come here? To have a talk with Stefano, my new friend Step, my good buddy. He opened and then shut his eyes. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Well, I’m in the game now, might as well go ahead and play.

  He braced his hand on the table’s edge, laid the pool cue down on it, and slid it back and forth in the groove between thumb and forefinger, testing it. Then he focused on the cue ball. There it was, motionless at the center of the table, cold. Just waiting to be hit.

  He took a deep breath and then exhaled completely. One more test run and then he took his shot. Precise. With just the right amount of force. Side cushion and then the cue ball just touched the thirteen ball—pocket. Perfect.

  Then the cue ball started its trip back. Going fast, much too fast. No, stop, stop, stop. He’d hit it too hard after all. Maybe it had been his excessive alcohol-fueled enthusiasm or else his forbidden desire for that honey-hued young woman. The cue ball rolled past the ten and stopped, right there, just past the middle of the table, in front of Claudio, spiteful and cruel.

  Their two adversaries exchanged a glance. One of them raised an eyebrow; the other heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment there, they’d been afraid they were about to lose the game. Now they smiled.

  From that position, Claudio really had an impossible shot. He walked around the table. He studied all the relative distances. Difficult. He’d have to make a four-cushion shot. He stood there in a corner, leaning on the edge of the table with both hands.

  “What do you care? Give it a try.” Claudio turned around. Step was right behind him. He’d understood what Claudio was thinking as if he’d just read his mind.

  “Yes, but four cushions…”

  “So what? Worst case, we lose…But if you make it, just think how bad they’re going to feel!”

  Claudio and Step looked at their two adversaries. They’d ordered a couple of beers, and they were sitting there, at a table nearby, already drinking, certain of their victory.

  Claudio started to laugh. “Right, what do we care, worst case, we lose!” By now, he was drunk. He went over to the other side of the table. He chalked his cue stick and took the shot. The cue ball seemed to fly over the green felt.

  First cushion. Claudio thought back to the many afternoons he’d spent shooting pool.

  Second cushion, he thought of his old friends and how they’d hang out together all the time.

  Third cushion, the girls, the money he didn’t have, and how much fun they all had.

  Fourth cushion. His lost youth, Francesca, and when he was still seventeen…

  Just then the cue ball hit the ten ball full on from behind with power, confidence, and precision. A dull thwack. The ten ball shot forward, into the middle pocket.

  “Nailed it!”

  “Yahooo!” Claudio and Step hugged in delight.

  “Fuck, look at the luck you had. Look where you left the cue ball,” Step said.

  The cue ball stood directly in front of the yellow one ball, just inches from the far pocket. Claudio knocked it in with an easy shot.

  “We won!” Claudio hugged Francesca and even managed to swing her through the air. Then, dancing with his arms around her, he bumped into one of their two adversaries.

  “Get the fuck away from me.” The guy gave Claudio a shove, knocking him against the pool table. Francesca leaped right back up onto her feet. Claudio, slightly stunned, took a little longer.

  The guy grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him up. “Smart guy, huh? ‘It’s been years since the last time I played’…‘Guys, I’m all out of practice,’” he mimicked.

  Claudio was terrified. He just stood there, uncertain what to do. “I haven’t played in years, for real.”

  “Oh, sure! Well, from that last shot I wouldn’t say so.”

  “It was dumb luck.”

  “Hey, that’s enough. Let go of him.” The guy pretended he hadn’t heard Step. “I said let go of him.”

  Suddenly Claudio felt himself being dragged backward. He found himself free now, with his jacket loose again.

  He caught his breath while the other guy was slammed up against the wall. Step had one hand around his throat. “What are you, deaf? I’m not looking for an argument. Come on, out with the two hundred thousand lire. You guys insisted on playing.”

  The other guy stepped forward with the cash in his hand. “You tricked us though. That guy plays ten times better than Pollo.”

  Step took the money, counted it, and put it in his pocket. “That’s true, but don’t blame me. I didn’t even know the guy.”

  Then he locked arms with Claudio, and together they emerged from the pool hall, victorious.

  Claudio ordered another whiskey. This time, it was to get over his fright. “Thanks, Step. Heck, that guy wanted to knock my teeth out.”

  “No, he was just acting. He was just furious about losing!”

  “No, no, thanks, for real.”

  Step smiled. “Here, Claudio. This is your hundred thousand lire.”

  “No, seriously, I can’t accept it.”

  “Why not? Fuck, you basically won the game! And you were even taking the beating for it.”

  “All right, in that case, let’s have a nice drink to it. On me.”

  Not long after that, seeing the condition Claudio was in, Step walked him to his car. “Are you sure you can drive home?”

  “Absolutely, don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re sure, aren’t you? It doesn’t cost me anything to ride along with you.”

  “No, seriously, I’m fine.”

  “All right, if you say so. Nice game, huh?”

  “Wonderful!” Claudio smiled and then he started to shut the car door. Suddenly, someone started shouting.

  “Claudio, wait!” It was Francesca. “What are you doing, leaving without even saying goodbye?”

  Claudio apologized. “You’re right. It was just that so many things happened all at once.”

  Francesca pushed her head in the car and gave him a kiss on the lips. Then she pulled away and smiled at him. “All right then, ciao. See you around. Come see me sometime. I’m always here.”

  Claudio looked at her, stunned. “Sure I will.”

  Then he shut the door, started the car, and pulled away. He opened the car window. The cool night air was pleasant. He pushed a cassette tape into the stereo and lit a cigarette.

  Then, completely drunk, he slammed both hands hard on the steering wheel. “Wow! Fuck, what a shot! And what a babe…”

  Suddenly he felt happy in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time. Then, as he got closer to home, he grew sad again. He started trying to think of what he could tell Raffaella. He pulled into the garage, still undecided about the official version to supply.

  Backing into that narrow space, already difficult when sober, proved impossible when drunk. As he got out of the car, he looked at the scratch along the side and the Vespa knocked over against the wall. He lifted it upright, apologizing aloud. “Poor Princess Savina, I dented your Vespa.”

  Then he went upstairs. Raffaella was there, waiting for him. It was the worst interrogation of his life, worse than the third degree in a cop movie. Raffaella was playing bad cop and nothing else. The good cop, the one who acts like your friend and offers you a glass of water or a cigarette, that role had been abolished in this movie.

  “Well, do you mind telling me how it went? Come on, tell the story!”

  “It went fine. In fact,
it went fantastic. Step is a very decent guy, deep down, a good boy. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “What do you mean, there’s nothing to worry about? He broke Accado’s nose.”

  “Oh, maybe he was provoked. How are we supposed to know? Plus, Raffaella, let’s face facts. Accado is a real pain in the ass…”

  “What are you talking about? Didn’t you tell him to stay away from our daughter, that he can’t see her, talk to her, or go pick her up at school?”

  “Well, no, actually, we never got to that point.”

  “Then what did you say to him? What have you done all evening? It’s midnight!”

  Claudio gave in and confessed. “We played pool. Just think, sweetheart, we beat a couple of boasters! I sank the last two balls. I even won a hundred thousand lire. Cool, right?”

  “Cool? You’re the same idiot as always, you’re incompetent. You’re drunk, you reek of tobacco, and you didn’t even manage to put that criminal in his place.” Raffaella left the room, furious.

  Claudio made one last effort to calm her down. “Raffaella, wait!”

  “What now?”

  “Step says that he’ll go to university.”

  Raffaella slammed the door and locked herself in her bedroom.

  Not even that last lie had done a bit of good.

  Chapter 31

  And you won?” Pollo couldn’t believe his ears.

  “We took two hundred thousand lire off them!”

  “I can’t believe it. So this guy, Babi’s father, is actually a nice guy?”

  “He’s incredible! Just think, Francesca told me that she really likes him.”

  “He struck me as a loser.”

  “Why, when have you ever seen him?”

  “When I went back to your house to pick up the dog.”

  “Ah, right. By the way, how is Arnold doing?”

  “Just great. Believe me, that dog is really intelligent. I’m sure that, before long, I can teach him to fetch and retrieve. The other day I was out front, I threw a stick, and he went and got it.”

  Step stopped in front of an apartment house door. “We’re here. Listen, don’t make a ruckus.”

  Pollo glared at him. “Why, do I usually make a ruckus?”

  “You always do.”

  “Oh, really? You know, I just came along to do you a favor.”

  They went up to the fourth floor. Babi was babysitting Giulio, the Mariani child, five years old and hair as fair as his skin.

  Babi was waiting for him at the door.

  “Ciao.” Step kissed her.

  She was a little surprised to see Pollo too. He muttered something that must have been meant as a “ciao” and then sat right down on the sofa, next to the little boy. He changed the channel in search of something better than those stupid Japanese cartoons.

  Giulio, of course, promptly objected but Pollo tried to persuade him. “No, believe me, now they’re going to show even better ones. Now you’re going to see the flying turtles.” Giulio fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He sat watching the soccer postgame show in silence, trusting that turtles would start flying any second.

  Babi went into the kitchen with Step. “Do you mind telling me why you brought him?”

  “I don’t know, he kind of insisted. Pollo has a weak spot for little kids.”

  “I don’t think so! The minute he got here, he already had the kid crying.”

  “All right, then. Let’s say that I did it so I could be alone with you.” He put his arms around her. “You have to admit, I’m quite the truth teller. You seem to bring out the best in me. Come to think of it, why don’t we take our clothes off right now?”

  He dragged her, laughing, into the first bedroom he found. Babi tried to resist, but in the end, she allowed herself to be convinced by his kisses. They both wound up on a small bed.

  “Ouch.” Step reached around behind his back. A sharp-edged toy tank had poked him right between the shoulder blades. Babi started laughing. He threw it on the carpet as he cleared the bed of some other electronic warriors and several transformable figures.

  Then, finally comfortable, Step pushed the door shut with his foot and devoted himself to his favorite pastime. He stroked her hair, kissed her lips, and raced to the buttons of her blouse, systematically undoing them. He lifted her bra and kissed her where the skin was paler, sweetly softer, and rosy pink.

  Then, all at once, something stabbed his neck. “Ouch.” Step slapped at the spot where he’d been stabbed. In the darkness, he saw her laugh, still holding a strange action figure with pointed ears. And that fresh young smile of hers, that naive way that she had about her, hit him where he lived.

  “You hurt me!”

  “We can’t stay in here. This is Giulio’s room. Just think if he comes in.”

  “But Pollo’s with him. I gave him very specific orders. That terrible child is basically done for, bound and gagged. He can’t even get up from the sofa.”

  Step dove back in and focused on her breasts. She caressed his hair and let him go on kissing her. “Giulio is a good boy. You’re the one who’s a terrible child.”

  * * *

  Pollo was eating a sandwich that he’d found in the kitchen and drinking a nice, ice-cold beer when Giulio got off the sofa.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To my room.”

  “No, you need to stay here.”

  “No, I want to go to my room.”

  Giulio started to leave but Pollo pulled him back by his little red woolen sweater, practically dragging him over to sit by him on the sofa. Giulio tried to struggle but Pollo pinned him down with an elbow to the belly.

  Giulio started to whine. “Let go of me, let go of me!”

  “Come on, the cartoons are coming on any minute.”

  “That’s not true.” Giulio looked at the television set again and burst into tears.

  Pollo released him. “Here, you want to try this? It’s delicious. Only grown-ups are allowed to drink it.”

  Giulio seemed slightly interested. He grabbed the can of beer with both hands and took a sip. “I don’t like it. It’s bitter.”

  “Okay, then look what Uncle Pollo has for you…”

  A short while later, Giulio was playing happily on the floor. He was bouncing the little pink inflatable balloons that Uncle Pollo had given him. Pollo watched him with a smile on his face. After all, it really doesn’t take much to make a kid happy. Just two or three condoms. After all, he wasn’t going to be needing them that night.

  He turned around. Not a sound from the bedroom. And for that matter, Step’s probably not going to need them either, Pollo thought, laughing inwardly.

  Then, since he was starting to get bored, he started making phone calls.

  * * *

  In the dim light of that bedroom full of toys, Step caressed Babi’s back and her shoulders. He ran his hand down her arm, and then he took that arm and brought it up to his face. He brushed his mouth over it, the length of that arm, every inch of flesh. Step delicately opened her hand, kissed her palm, and then laid it on his own naked chest, abandoning her to her own thoughts.

  Babi lay immobile, suddenly frightened. Omigod, now I understand. But I’ll never be able to do it. I’m not ready.

  Step continued kissing her neck tenderly, behind her ears, on her lips. All the while, his hands, more confident and relaxed, more experienced, were taking possession of her like soft waves, leaving stranded on that unknown shore a shipwrecked pleasure.

  Then, all at once, dragged along by that current, she, too, finally moved. Babi gathered her courage. She slowly moved away from where she’d been lying and started caressing him too. Step hugged her close, instilling trust, reassuring her, and Babi let herself go. Her fingers lightly explored his skin. She felt his powerful abs.

  Every step along this path was a plunge into the depths, a tumble into the abyss, a difficult—almost impossible—leap forward. And yet, Babi was determined to do it, and holdin
g her breath in that darkened room, she took the leap. And so she found herself with her fingers gingerly stroking the edge of that little patch of soft curly hair, and then farther and deeper into his jeans, and then that button, the first such button for her, in every sense of the word.

  And at that very moment, without knowing why, she thought of Pallina. Her friend, already more confident and more experienced. She thought of when she told her the story. You know, after that I couldn’t do it, I just didn’t have the nerve. Perhaps that is what gave her the courage, the final impetus. Suddenly she did it. She unfastened that button. His first golden button popped out of the buttonhole with a faint, jeansy sound. In the silence of the room, she heard it clearly; it came sharp and bright to her ears. She’d done it. She almost sighed. Now everything would be so much easier. It was as if they’d said something to each other, acknowledged it. They both knew what was happening, what she was doing. Her hand, more confident now, moved on to the second button and then the third and so on, farther down, as the jeans opened wider, growing free. Step rolled gently away from her, letting his head fall back. Babi reached out for him again, taking shy shelter in that kiss, unhappy at that tiny separation.

  Then there was an unexpected noise. Doors slamming.

  And as if it were some fragile enchantment, the magic spell was shattered. Babi pushed his hand away and sat up. “What was that?”

  “How would I know? Hey, come on back.” Step threw his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

  Another noise. Something breaking.

  “No, darn it, something bad is going on out there!” Babi got off the bed. She brushed her skirt back into place, buttoned up her blouse, and hurried out of the room.

  Step fell back onto the bed, arms thrown wide. “Fuck that Pollo!” Then he zipped up his jeans, put on his T-shirt, and left the room too.

  When he arrived in the living room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  They were all there. Bunny and Hook were having some sort of wrestling match on the carpet. Nearby lay an overturned lamp. Schello was sitting with his feet on the sofa, eating a bag of potato chips and watching Colpo grosso, the TV show that featured housewives doing stripteases.