CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (23 page)

When the loudspeaker came on again to
announce the next band, Dario leapt up from his chair and announced that it was
time to go.  Carlotta did her best to convince him otherwise, but in the end,
even Marika agreed with him.

“But let’s find Federico first and thank
him.”

“How do you think you’re going to find him
in this crowd?” Dario protested, intent on not waiting a minute longer.  “He’s
probably still backstage.  Come on.”

At that very moment, though, a hand went
up from within the chaos below.  “There he is,” Marika said, wading her way
towards him with the groupie Carlotta at her side.

In fact, Carlotta was the first to get a
word in.  “You guys were awesome!  And your playlist was perfect, you know, I
love Billie Joe.”  In fact, she loved all lead singers even more than their
music.  “Eve’s voice is incredible!  You guys should totally win!” she crowed,
not even pausing for breath.

Federico thanked her before turning all of
his attention to Marika, who for her own part added, “You were really amazing! 
I had no idea you would be so good.”

“Thanks, I guess.”  He wasn’t sure how to
take the compliment, making her burst into laughter.  “You’re really beautiful
when you laugh,” he said, flirting.

Self-conscious, she cast a quick glance at
herself in one of the many mirrors about the club.  She had a leather strap – no
studs – around her wrist and a necklace made of discolored metal wires that she
had once borrowed from a friend.  She was wearing dark jeans and a gray t-shirt
with bright patterns, and her face was accentuated by smoky eyes.

“You’re really gorgeous,” he repeated,
squeezing her hand and stroking it with his.

Gagging, Dario put his arms around both
girls’ shoulders to pull them towards the door.

“Dario!” Marika yelled at him, asserting
her freedom.  “What’s up with you?  Leave me alone!”  She squirmed out from
under his arm.

“Hey!”  Federico held back Dario’s arm as
if he wanted to protect her.  “What’s going on?”

“What the fuck do you want?” Dario said,
tearing himself from Federico’s grip.

“OK, night over!  Thank you so much for
inviting us, and I apologize for the way my friend is acting,” at which point
she shot a dirty look at Dario, who headed for the exit.  “He’s not usually
like this; he’s probably jealous because Carlotta kept drooling over the guys
from all of the bands.”

“It’s no big deal,” Federico said, showing
admirable restraint and understanding.  “He’s probably got his reasons.”

“So you’re not pissed?”  She was flirting
now.

“No way.  Why should I be?”  As they
neared each other to say goodbye, he decided to take a chance.  “Can I give you
my phone number?”  He stretched a small scrap of green graph paper towards
her.  “Call me anytime.  I’d like to hear from you.”

Marika nodded, taking the piece of paper
between her fingers.  “Thanks for the evening: I had a great time!  It was a
lot of fun.”  She saw Carlotta waiting impatiently for her at the coat check
while Dario headed out the door, cell phone in his hand.  So she quickly said
goodbye with a simple, “See ya.”

Federico watched her all the way to the
exit before rushing backstage to wait for the results of the Battle of the
Bands.

The girls got into the car, waiting for
their chauffeur to finish talking on the phone.  “Who the hell is he speaking
with at this hour?” they wondered.

Ten yards from the Mini, Dario was having
trouble finding the words he wanted to say.  “So how’s it going there?”

“It’s fantastic!  I met the technical
staff today and was introduced to the coach and some of the players from the
youth squad.  The sports center they have here is incredible, I mean out of
this world, and Beretta seems like an amazing coach.  He explained the
recruiting strategy of the club and how
San Carlo
has decided to build
their team around young talent.  He even told me that he’s counting on me to
come with them on the training retreat in Val Seriana, and that he has high
hopes for me to pass this try-out.  How’s everything there?”

“Fine, fine,” he answered shortly.  “Were
Braidi and Canosi there?”

“Just Braidi.  So where are you?”

“I’m heading home.”  He swallowed
nervously.  “Where are you calling from?”

“I just got back into the hotel on Corso
Buenos Aires.  You should see the room!  It’s got everything: air conditioning,
minibar, safe, wifi, flat-screen TV and pay-per-view.  It’s nuts!  You guys at
the
Cherrybomb
?”

His friend pretended not to hear him.  “You
been out to any clubs yet?”

“I went with a few of the other guys who
are here for medical tests to Corso Como; it’s a pedestrian-only zone
absolutely packed with clubs and people.  Is Marika with you?”

He could no longer avoid the subject, but
Dario decided to leave out a few details.  “Yeah, she’s waiting for me in the
car with Carlotta; I’m taking them home now.  Everything’s cool.”

“OK,” he said.  “I’m coming back tomorrow
night.  See you Monday!”

“Perfect.  See you then,” he replied, his
hands sweating.  He didn’t like to lie, especially to Matteo, but he thought it
was the right thing to do: he was out of town, and at the end of the day,
nothing significant had happened between anybody.  At least not yet.

TWO MISSING VARIABLES

Thursday, third
period: sixth major test in Mr. Bottazzi’s math class since the beginning of
the year.  Topic?  Power inequalities.

After slipping the usual answers to Gloria
seated behind her, taking advantage of the teacher’s distraction as he read the
daily newspaper, Marika handed in her test and was allowed to leave the
classroom early.  She patiently waited for Carlotta, munching on a packet of
chocolate-covered rice cakes.

“What are you doing here already?”  She
snagged one of her cousin’s rice cakes.  “Didn’t you have a math test?”

“I finished early.”

“How did it go?” she asked, the corners of
her mouth sticky with chocolate.

“Fine.”  Carlotta looked at her, waiting
for a more detailed answer.  “Better than fine,” Marika said.  “Relax!”

Satisfied, Carlotta kept gnawing and
talking.  “So, did you call Federico?”  She smiled coquettishly.

“No.”

“So you don’t know if they won the Battle
of the Bands?”  Carlotta’s tea-kettle was about to hit its boiling point.

“No.”

“What are you waiting for?”  She was
almost bursting.

“Nothing,” Marika replied, serene as an
angel.

“Come on, call him!”  She stomped her
feet.  “Call him, please?  Call him!  Call him!”

“I don’t know...  what would I say?”

“Then at least send him a text.  That way
he’ll have your number and can call you!”  Sneaky.

“Hmmm.”  Marika started thinking out
loud.  “Yeah, I guess a message could work.”  It wasn’t a half-bad idea.  “After
all, he was so nice to us on Saturday.”

“Yes!” Carlotta cried, celebrating.

“It’s the least I can do to ask him how
his band did.”  She pulled her phone from her pocket and began tapping away:
“Hey, it’s me, Marika, u remember? :$ We
were wondering how the competition went.  We still think u guys were the best
^_^ Bye.”

Carlotta
was reading over her shoulder, and wrinkled her brow.  “That’s all?”

“It’s more than enough.  You, on the other
hand,” she said to her cousin, pushing her away and laughing, “are going
overboard.”  She hit the send button.

“No!  Wait!  Oh, why did you do that?” she
protested.  “I could have given you some good flirty phrases.”

“Too bad,” Marika snickered.  “Next time.”

“You’re still thinking about Matteo, admit
it!”  She was harrying her.  “In two weeks he’s leaving for Milan and, don’t
forget, he’s sleeping with Lucrezia.”

Marika felt that sharp pain in her stomach
again.  “Don’t even tell me about it.  I’m not interested.”

“Well, you should be.”  Carlotta threw her
hands up theatrically.  “Otherwise you might miss out on someone truly special.” 
Federico, obviously.

“Maybe.  But you, perhaps, should worry
about going to see a shrink.  I’m starting to worry about these post-television
stress attacks you’re suffering from.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” she rebutted
confidently.  “You haven’t been to
The Rook
in ages, but the word on the
street is clear, and besides, Lucrezia herself is telling everybody that she’s
Matteo’s girlfriend.”  She examined Marika’s face, looking for emotions.  “And
he hasn’t said anything to the contrary as far as I know.”  Her know-it-all
tone had become shrill.  “He’s never with the crew, and from what I hear, they
always meet up in private.”  Carlotta raised her voice.  “And guess what for?”

“Cut it out,” Marika pleaded.  “Why do you
want to hurt me?”

“I just want you to know the truth.”  She
felt misunderstood, and softened her voice.  “Don’t speak to me that way, I don’t
deserve it.”

“And what, I deserve to have you throw all
of this trash at my feet?  Even if you do call it the truth.”  She was holding
back her tears.

“Now you’re angry, and I understand.  But
I’m only doing it for your own good.”  Carlotta tried to smooth back the hairs
that had slipped out of Marika’s ponytail.  “Not hanging out with us anymore
means exiling yourself to a past that no longer exists.”

The end of break couldn’t come soon
enough.  The sound of the school bell had never sounded sweeter.

Carlotta disappeared behind the first door
to the left, while Marika headed all the way down the hall to the last room on
the right. 
Ding, dong!
  Carlotta was already in her classroom when
Marika’s cellphone beeped:

“Hey Marika, nice 2 hear from u :D I was hoping
I would... We got 1st prize: 2morrow we’re in the studio.  Wanna come? I’ll
pick u up ;)”

“Awesome!” she whispered to herself, just
before an avalanche of doubts filled her mind.  “
It would be so cool to go
with them.  But how can I? – Maybe we can get together sometime, just as
friends! – And Carlotta?  Dario certainly didn’t take to him very well, he’d
never accept him.”
  She stood back as her mind entered into a vociferous
debate.  “
That’s enough!”
  She shook herself.  “
For the moment, it’s
no problem... I can’t go tomorrow anyway.  As for the future... we’ll see
.”

Grinning, she quickly tapped out a
response:
“Wow :-o! I knew u
would win: u couldn’t lose! 2morrow I have 2 go 2 Padua for an orientation
about university :-(  But I’d love 2 have the demo:*”
  Talk about being open to interpretation!  Marika, in fact, had
left just enough space for Federico to make a move.

She was already at her desk, waiting for
her world lit teacher to make her entrance, preceded by a mountain of teased
hair, when the phone vibrated:

“u want me 2 give u a ride ‘-)? I’ll take u b4
I go 2 the studio... it’s on my way! ;)”

“Yeah, the same way the Eiffel Tower is
on my way to school
...” she said to herself giddily.  She sent another
flirty text: 
“Either u have
an awful sense of direction, or u are way 2 nice :-) I’m going with a bunch
from school, tho, so thanks anyway!  Talk soon (:-*”
 
Marika hit the send button just as her
teacher was arranging her pleated 50’s skirt, an operation that, on average,
lasted at least two minutes.

Fighting with her own windmills, Mrs.
Costa described the masterpiece by Miguel de Cervantes,
Don Quixote
...
and it was exactly between one windmill and another that the final text
arrived.

Holding her phone under the desk, and
hiding behind the large literature textbook, Marika assumed the look of a
student who was absolutely enthralled by 1600s Spanish novels while she read:

“I’m counting on it :)”

This was more than she had expected, and
it made her uncomfortable, as if Federico’s interest in her hadn’t been fully on
display before this. She didn’t want to lead him on, but she didn’t want to
push him away either; she needed his kindness, his attention, his affection. She
wanted his friendship, and hoped that that would be enough for him too.

It wasn’t until the last period on Friday
that she learned that the rest of her classmates had decided to ditch the “Start
your Future with Us” presentation at the University of Padua, which was
supposed to be a first look into university life for high school juniors and
seniors. But Marika decided to go anyway, having previously booked seats for
the conference, and so she got on a regional train in Vicenza, headed to Padua.

While Marika was seated in a large
amphitheater at the university law school, Matteo was seated in his car next to
Lucrezia. They had parked near Lake Fimon, a place she had begged him to take
her to....

Giving in was inevitable for someone
like him, who was trapped in the web that he had spun around himself.

Even more so when you consider that
Lucrezia had made up her mind that that very afternoon she would be making love
to him: sex and fireworks, rated X. He didn’t know it yet, but she made sure
everyone else did. To her mind, it was long overdue.

In truth, contrary to what she had been
letting the whole world know, nothing more than a handful of kisses had
happened between them, and always far from the prying eyes of
The Rook
.
He had been honest from the very start with her, telling her that he felt
nothing for her, but this didn’t seem to bother her in the least... for the
moment.

The real problem was the fact that Marika
still occupied his every waking thought. They hadn’t seen each other since
Mardi Gras, but she remained a vital force in his life, essential and
untouchable like the air he breathed.

Lucrezia pulled off her skin-tight leather
jacket, her hand stroking his knee.  “Let yourself go....”  She pushed her body
against him. “We’re both so gorgeous, and so willing!”  But he was less willing
than she hoped.

Matteo jerked away from her coldly, forcing
her hands away from his chest.

“Take it easy... I want it too.” She
kissed his neck, just beneath his right earlobe, ably unbuttoning the top
button of his shirt. “It’s not my first time.”

“I know.” It didn’t dampen her ardor, and
he gripped her wrist in order to make her stop.

“Come on!” she exhorted him, absolutely
unfazed by his statement. In truth, she rather liked her reputation. “It’s not
your first time either, and we both know that you don’t have problems with
performance anxiety.” She was trying to pique his interest, pulling his hand
toward her supple skin. “In fact, there’s been a lot of gossip about your
off-field performances lately.”

“Those meant nothing to me; just like now.”
His voice sounded strange. Gone was his warm, gentle tone; in its place was something
colder, more cutting. He pushed her away forcefully. “And anyway, I don’t feel
like doing it now.” He stared at her.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” She
forced tears to her eyes in order to make him feel guilty.

“You’re wrong,” he said quickly. “I’m
being nice to you. I want things to be perfectly clear between us so you don’t
get hurt.”

Lucrezia threw herself back against the
passenger-side seat. “You’re not in love, are you?” A rhetorical question, one
that expected a decisive
No
as an answer.

“None of your business.” Matteo didn’t
want to lie about his own feelings, but he didn’t want to reveal them to the
Berici
Hills Gazette
either – another of Lucrezia’s many nicknames – especially
since he had decided not to reveal them even to the person he loved.

“I hope you’re kidding!” She didn’t take kindly to that thinly-veiled
confession.

“I don’t want any involvement.  No ‘can
you pick me up after school’ or ‘where are you taking me for Valentine’s Day’.” 
He wanted this to be an open-and-shut case.  “Agreed?”

It was just past six when Marika called
her parents to tell them excitedly about her afternoon at the university.

“Sweetheart, we’re in Verona for a
convention with the local wine brokers....”  Her mother’s metallic voice
sounded worried over the phone, knowing that her daughter was alone.  “Your dad
can come pick you up if you need him to.”

“No need!  The university seminar is
already over and I’ve got lots of time to catch the 6:30 train.”

“Are you sure?  The convention is just
about to start, and they’ve asked everyone to keep their phones switched off.”

“Don’t worry!  Worst case scenario, I’ll
have Dario and Carlotta come and get me,” she reassured her mother.  “And
anyway, I’m already in front of the station.”  She lied to make her feel
better.

“OK.  Be careful.  Call your uncle if you
need anything.”

“
As if I’d call him!
” she muttered
under her breath.  “Everything’s fine here.  See you tonight.”  With her
backpack slung over one shoulder, she crossed the large piazza in front of the
grandiose white train station with Tuscan columns.  Her head down, she crossed
through the entry hall, where the only person she encountered was a cleaning
woman.  She walked toward the ticket counter.

A flyer was taped to the window:

GENERAL TRANSPORTATION
STRIKE

The 24-hour strike of train, bus, and tram
services,

involving all of the major transportation
unions,

will begin today at 6 p.m.

“
It can’t be!  What do I do now?
” 
She stared dumbly at the printed words of the flyer that she had so
conveniently not noticed a few hours earlier.  “
How come nobody told me
about this damn strike?
”  She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket,
hoping that her parents’ phone would still be on, but...

“
The person you are calling is not
available at this time,
” a computerized voice informed her.

“
No... no... no!
”  she thought,
anxiously.  “
Now what?
”  She took a deep breath.  It was starting to get
dark, and taking a taxi from Padua all the way home was totally over her
budget.  Having ditched a variety of options, including that of “calling
Matteo,” she opted for the only realistic solution at that moment: call
Carlotta!