Twenty minutes later, Giovanni pulled up to the curb and Tata threw open her door and jumped out. Maggie unfolded herself from the vehicle and stretched her back and legs. She looked around. It seemed as if all the streets were filled with market stalls.
“We’ll do the food shopping first,” said Tata.
Maggie followed her into the labyrinth overhung with giant canvas umbrellas, almost unable to walk without tripping over something. Everything around her was colors and textures, and the air was pungent with intoxicating smells. They passed stacks of fruit and vegetables that Maggie didn’t recognize. Tata stopped at what seemed to be specific stalls where she pointed and gave instructions to the vendors as to what she wanted and how much. She handed two cloth bags filled with fresh eggplants, zucchini, and tomatoes to Giovanni, who stood patiently behind her. Next they went over to a stall piled with loaves of bread. Tata pointed at a large loaf. The woman behind the counter handed it to her and she passed it to Maggie.
“It’s still warm,” Maggie said.
Tata looked at her with a curious expression. “Of course it is, my dear.”
Next, they went to a stall with vats of olives. “Do you prefer green or black?” Tata said to Maggie as the woman reached forward and offered Maggie a large green olive.
“It’s almost the size of a plum,” Maggie said as she took a bite.
“Mezzo chilo,” Tata said to the woman.
They maneuvered through the crowd over to a stall displaying cheese. Before Tata could speak, the man behind the counter held out a wooden board to Maggie. Tata pointed. “This is gorgonzola. This one is sweet and this one is sharp. Which do you prefer?”
Maggie took a piece of sweet and then a piece of sharp from the board. “I think I like the sharp.”
Tata held up her forefinger and thumb to the man, who nodded and cut off a large wedge, weighed it, wrapped it in paper, and handed it to Tata.
“Okay, that should do us.” Tata passed the final cloth bag to Giovanni, and he disappeared into the labyrinth.
“Where’s Giovanni going?” Maggie said.
“Back to the truck with the food. He’ll hang out at the coffee bar playing cards with his friends until we’re finished.” Tata took Maggie by the arm. “Come now, let’s find some fresh clothes for you to wear until your bags arrive. I’m sure women in the United States must wear something other than boy’s sporting clothes.” She led Maggie into a new section of the labyrinth, hanging with leather bags and clothes, shoes and housewares.
An hour later they reemerged with their parcels. “If you know how to shop, you can always find Italian quality in the market without designer prices,” Tata said. “Now, come with me.” She led Maggie into a small shop filled with underwear and brassieres that read Segreti Intimi, over the door.
Maggie went to a rack and examined some plain white bras that looked to be her size.
“Oh, look dear.” Tata came up to her holding a hanger with a delicately laced burnt-rose bra and matching panties with a lace front panel. “What do you think?”
“Ah, they’re almost too beautiful to wear,” Maggie said.
Tata smiled. “Well, no matter what you’re wearing on the outside, these will make you feel elegant on the inside, where it counts, even if you’re the only one who sees them.” She winked and handed her the hanger. “Now go in and try them on.”
As Maggie sauntered off to the changing room with the underwear in hand, she felt as if she were exploring something new about herself. Owen would never believe she had gone clothes shopping, much less bought such girlie things. Of course, she’d show him what she’d bought, but she certainly wouldn’t model the bra and panties for him. She wondered why she should be shy with Owen. After all, she’d seen him in his underwear many times, but that was more like a brother and sister thing. It was true, they were like brother and sister, and they would never be anything more.
“I’ve only been in Italy for less than a day and I’ve already bought more clothes than I have all year,” Maggie said as they stood on the street outside the shop. Then she reached up and tugged at the split ends of her hair. “I really should have got my hair cut before we left,” she said, giving voice to her thoughts.
“What would you like to do with your hair?” Tata said.
“I don’t know, but after buying all these beautiful clothes, I think I need to change my look.”
“Well, we’ve got time. Come with me.” Tata took Maggie by the arm and led her down the street to a hair salon. As Maggie sat in the salon chair, Tata combed her fingers through her hair. “You have such thick, lovely black hair. Why do you wear it in front of your face like a burka, child?” Tata then said something in Italian to the woman poised in front of her with a pair of scissors in her hand. The woman gave Maggie a sympathetic look and nodded. Without further instructions, she spun Maggie around in the chair, lowered her head back into the sink, and washed her hair. As she snipped, teased, blow-dried, fluffed, and sprayed, another woman filed, polished, and painted her nails. After almost an hour, the hairstylist stood back allowing Maggie to see herself in the mirror. Instead of covering it, her glistening black hair now followed the contours of her face, accenting her eyes, cheekbones, and jawline.
Maggie gasped. “I no longer look like I’m from the Muppet Show! I look like, like a woman!”
“Of course you do, my dear,” Tata said as the stylist removed the white poncho from around Maggie’s neck. “Now go into the back room, put on your new intima, and slip into that new tan skirt and cream silk blouse you bought. Oh, and don’t forget your new shoes.” Tata handed Maggie a lovely pair of beige suede midheel pumps, open at the toes.
It was a good thing Owen had reminded her to shave her pits and legs before they had left home. Then she remembered the night of her prom.
She had just put on her fuzzy pajamas when the doorbell rang. At first, she thought it must be the pizza delivery, but when she opened the door with a twenty in her hand, there was Jessy and Owen wearing tuxedos and holding a wardrobe bag and women’s shoes.
“What are you two doing here?” she said.
“Where are your parents?” Jessy said in a serious tone.
“They’ve gone out to dinner.”
“Good,” Owen said.
“Why?”
“Because we’re kidnapping you,” Jessy said as they marched in through the door.
“And the fewer the witnesses the better,” Owen added.
“You can’t kidnap me. I’m in my pajamas.”
“We’ve decided that the principal has no right to tell us who we can and cannot bring to the prom,” Jessy said.
“And so we’re going as a threesome,” Owen said.
“But look at me!” Maggie cried. “How can I go to the prom like this!”
Jessy snorted and looked at Owen. “Haven’t I heard that line before?”
“Yes, my dear, as you can see your pumpkin awaits.” Owen pointed out the open door to Jessy’s beat-up old Chevy Comet parked by the curb.
“And your gown? Versace, of course, my dear. Direct from my mother’s closet.” Jessy held up the wardrobe bag. “Oh, they didn’t have any crystal slippers in your size at the magic kingdom, so you’ll have to settle for my mom’s red Jimmy Choos.” Jessy dangled his mother’s best high heels in front of Maggie.
“Now get into a shower and for heaven’s sake shave your legs and pits while we prepare your gown,” Jessy commanded.
Fresh from the shower, Maggie sat wrapped in a bath towel in front of the mirror. Jessy held up the damp mound of Maggie’s hair in his hands. “What do you think, hair up like this or down like this?”
Owen stood back and examined it. “What about coming up here on top?” Owen framed his hand around Maggie’s head.
“And flowing down here in the back.” Jessy gestured with his fingers.
“Hey, who’s the little cutie?” Owen reached out and took the photo that was clipped to the corner of Maggie’s mirror.
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“That’s me when I was ten.” Maggie’s lip trembled.
“Wow, you sure looked like a boy when you were young,” Owen said.
Maybe if she had been a boy, Owen would have looked at her with different eyes. Maybe not. Owen only had eyes for Jessy.
Owen clipped the photo back onto the mirror and picked up the blush pallette.
Jessy leaned over and took a quick glance at the photo. “Hmm. Well, when we’re finished here, you’ll be so glamorous you’ll make Helen of Troy and Cleopatra weep.”
“Hey, easy with the rouge. I’m not a hooker,” Maggie said as Owen brushed her cheeks with color.
“Hold on, I still have to blend it,” Owen said as he lightly fluttered the powder brush on Maggie’s cheeks. “Okay, now for the dress and the shoes.”
“Oh my gawd woman!” Jessy shrieked. “Don’t you have anything but military surplus undergarments and sports socks?” He held up a sturdy-looking bra.
“Oh the horror!” Owen said as Maggie grabbed her underwear out of Jessy’s hand.
“Give me the dress and the shoes,” she barked.
“Where are you going?”
“To raid my sister’s underwear drawer and get dressed.” Maggie hobbled into her sister’s bedroom holding the wardrobe bag and the shoes.
After ten minutes Jessy called through the closed bedroom door. “C’mon, how long does it take to slip on a dress and put on a pair of shoes?”
“Naked or not, we’re coming in.” Owen opened the door a crack.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Maggie was standing in front of the full-length mirror perched on the pair of ruby heels. The silky black gown cradled her breasts, hugged her abdomen and hips, and flowed down around her legs to her ankles. Her jet-black hair was piled up on top and cascaded down her shoulders.
“Apart from the fact I can’t breathe in this dress and can’t walk in these shoes, what do you think?” Her voice was jittery.
Both Owen and Jessy stood gazing at her.
“What do you think?” Jessy said to Maggie with a tone of adoration.
“I think I’m beautiful,” Maggie said with tears in her eyes.
“Believe it, you’re beautiful,” Owen said. “But whatever you do don’t cry and mess up my makeup job.”
“IS EVERYTHING okay in there, dear?” Tata called.
“Yes, fine,” Maggie said as she stepped out of the change room. “How do I look?”
“Oh my, you are beautiful!” Tata and the hairstylist nodded their approvals.
“I look so different. I haven’t felt… I don’t know, it’s stupid, but I haven’t felt this much like a woman since my high school prom,” Maggie said. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”
“Ha!” Tata waved her hand as if she had a magic wand. “Cinderella is a child’s story, but you, my dear, are real.”
Maggie almost floated out the door of the salon behind Tata. Tata gently took Maggie by the arm and the two women sauntered down the sidewalk together passing directly in front of two teenage boys. One boy turned his head and stared. “Che fica!”
Tata leaned in close. “I’m sure he was referring to you and not me, my dear.”
They strolled over to a café and sat at a table by a potted northern palm. The waiter brought them two glasses of sparkling wine and set down a plate of olives and salami.
“Champagne?” Maggie asked.
“No, only a light prosecco. Cin,” Tata said as she held up her wineglass to Maggie. “Welcome to Italy.”
“Cin,” Maggie said and clinked Tata’s glass. “I’ve only just arrived, and I think I’ve already figured out what the expression la dolce vita means.”
Tata laughed.
“But, Tata, I want to confess something to you.” Maggie’s expression was serious.
Tata patted Maggie’s arm. “Later tesoro. Right now, carpe diem. Seize the day!” Tata winked.
Chapter Twenty-Five
IT WAS a little awkward maneuvering Angelina with this big American guy on the back. Instead of leaning into the curves, he leaned away, making it difficult for Enrico to balance the bike, and every time he touched the brakes, Owen slid up a little closer, forcing Enrico to inch ahead until he was sitting too far forward to be comfortable. Of course, he could feel Owen’s boner pressed against his ass. Owen was squeezing him so tightly that now he had a chubby and had to go pee. But Enrico was used to married guys getting all touchy-feely with him when nobody was looking. Besides, everyone got horny on vacation. According to Fabrizio, American men talk about sex like they’re talking about the weather, but when it comes to intimacy with another guy, they’re too terrified to follow through. Enrico liked this guy from the moment he first saw him, but he was their first guest and he couldn’t afford to screw it up by letting his cock take control of his brain. Besides, from Luino to Varese, there were dozens of guys on Grindr—gay, straight, curious, and bi—tracking Enrico and all he had to do was respond.
“Hey, your luggage finally arrived,” Fabrizio announced loudly as Enrico and Owen pulled up to the house. “I put it in your room.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Owen said as he climbed off the back of the bike. “And I got a SIM card for Italy, so I’m back in action.” Owen took off his helmet. “Did they also bring Maggie’s?”
“Yes, but she had already left with Tata for Luino,” Fabrizio said.
“Luino?”
“They went shopping.”
“Maggie? Shopping?” Owen furrowed his brow.
“Yes, it’s market day,” Fabrizio said as if everyone knew Wednesday was market day in Luino.
Owen shook his head. “But Maggie is allergic to two things, peanuts and shopping.”
Fabrizio shrugged.
“Woo! It’s hot as Hades.” Owen tilted his nose over and sniffed at his armpit. “And I’m beginning to smell a little ripe.”
“What about a swim?” Enrico suggested as he took off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars. He was sweating, too, but it wasn’t just because of the heat and sun.
“Grand idea,” Owen said. “Give me a minute to get changed into my swim shorts now that I’ve got them.”
“Okay, we’ll meet down at the water,” Enrico called as Owen dashed up the steps and into the house.
“You go without me,” Fabrizio said to Enrico.
Enrico frowned and cupped his hands to gesture, Why, what’s the problem?
“I’ll stay here and wait for Tata and Miss Maggie to come back.” Fabrizio grinned and shot a wink at his brother.
Enrico rolled his eyes and went inside, shaking his head.
Down at the water, Enrico stood on the end of the dock and waited. Finally Owen appeared. He watched him walk down the concrete steps and out onto the dock with his eyes trained on his cell phone.
“What took you so long?” Enrico said.
“Oh, I had to check my Instagram and emails.” Owen didn’t look up from his cell phone. Enrico continued to watch as Owen pushed off his canvas loafers with his foot and pulled his T-shirt over his head, keeping his eyes trained on the tiny screen. His skin was pasty like a plant that hungered for the sun. Enrico wondered if he wore those ridiculously large boxers because he was modest, or maybe he was ashamed of his body. Owen continued to stare at his cell phone, giving Enrico the impression that what was inside that tiny box of electronics was much more interesting and important to him than what was right in front of his eyes. “Ready?” Enrico said with a note of exasperation.
Enrico dove off the end of the dock, flying through the air and slicing into the water as Owen suddenly looked up from his screen. He surfaced, stole a breath of air, and slipped under again. Then he surfaced again, rolled over, and floated on his back. Owen carefully placed his cell phone on his shirt, stepped to the end of the dock, then leaped, hurling through the air in a sitting position and coming down with a splash. He instantly surfaced in a cauldron of bubbles, the back of his baggy shorts filled with air and his behind fl
oating upward, giving him the look of an ungainly water mammal. Even though he could swim well enough, it seemed as if his aquatic genes were closer to wallowing hippopotamus than gliding dolphin.
“Let’s swim out to the buoy,” Enrico said and set off with Owen slapping and splashing behind him. By the time they reached the buoy, Owen was winded and grabbed on to its algae-covered metal surface.
Enrico flipped around, swam underwater, and up behind Owen, almost touching his feet. “You okay?” he said.
“Fine,” Owen said as he puffed in and out. “I need a moment.”
“Take your time.” Enrico smiled as he treaded water next to Owen. “We have all the time in the world.” He rolled over lazily and floated on his back.
On the way back from the buoy, Enrico swam closely behind Owen, just to be sure. He certainly wouldn’t want their first guest to drown, but more than that, he felt strangely protective of this American guy.
As they reached the dock, Owen’s cell phone began to play a tune.
“Oh. It’s my phone!” Owen said as if it were something to be excited about. He scrambled up the ladder onto the dock and rushed over and picked it up. But as he did so, the cell phone slipped out of his hands and went flying through the air and fell into the water with a plop.
“Ahhh! Nooo!” Owen cried.
“I’ll get it.” Enrico dove under and disappeared into the murky green. Ten seconds later he broke the surface with the cell phone held high.
Owen dropped to his knees and took the phone from Enrico’s hand, holding it up like a poor drowned kitten. Water ran out from the behind the screen, dribbled along the seams, and down Owen’s arm. “It’s dead!” Owen cried. “I can’t believe I killed my cell phone!” Owen looked as if he were hyperventilating.
Tiramisu After Midnight Page 11
