Page 31 of Two Chances With You

“Well, Isaidthank you. It would have taken me a little longer, but believe me, I would have changed the tire just fine on my own. Trust me!”

The big guy looks at the other two and smiles. He’s wearing a loose sweater, burgundy in color, with a tight neck and a black stripe across the chest. “Well, okay, but at least give us a little kiss.”

“That’s out of the question.”

“Hey, it’s not like I asked you to blow all three of us…” He laughs, delighted with his joke. “Come on, you’re getting off easy with the kiss.”

The guy just scoops Ginevra up and pulls her close. Ginevra looks stunned. He puts his arm around her waist and tries to kiss her. Ginevra instinctively draws her face back. The guy sort of licks her on the cheek and continues to try to stick his tongue in her mouth. Ginevra tries to wriggle free. The guy is strong, and he holds her tighter. Ginevra tries to hit him between the legs with a sharp blow of the knee, but he’s on top of her, overpowering her. She can’t do it. The little guy, the one who changed the tire, watches the whole scene in silence. In fact, he seems somewhat annoyed. The other one is off in a corner, laughing, rooting for his friend. “Good work, Pie. Stick your tongue in her mouth.”

Pie, which I imagine is short for Pietro, can’t seem to do it. In fact, Ginevra is wriggling and flailing so much that, before she’s done, she’s basically given him a sort of headbutt to the face.

“Ouch, damn your eyes.” Pietro lifts his hands to his forehead.

“That’ll teach you, asshole!” Ginevra straightens her hair, standing in the middle of the road not far from him, without running away, without calling me.

“You calling me an asshole? All right, now I’ll teach you.” The guy heads straight at her with determination. Ginevra lowers her head and wraps her hands around it protectively, curling up like a hedgehog. Pietro grabs her by the jacket.

It’s time for me to take action. “Hey, you guys have been entertaining, but enough’s enough.”

Pietro lets go of her, and the other two turn in surprise when they see me emerge from the shadows. I head toward them.

“So who the fuck are you?”

“A guy who just happened to be passing by. How about you, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Pietro looks at me. He’s weighing whether it’s worth his trouble to answer me. In other words, whether or not he can take me on. He decides to go for it. “Oh, get the fuck out of my sight, why don’t you.”

Wrong answer. I let fly instantly with a straight punch, and it’s perfect. He’s not fast enough to even see it coming. I catch him with the edge of my knuckles, but still with plenty of oomph, just enough to smash in his nose. I see him wobble on both legs, and he desperately tries to get off a reaction.

I hit him again, with a left straight this time, square to the right eyebrow, and this time the impact is full and precise and nasty. He crumples to the ground with a dull thump. He doesn’t have time to move before I catch him midway with a kick right to the face. Thump. As soon as I pull my leg back, a puddle of blood starts to form. Lots of blood pours out from his nose to the asphalt, slow and gooey, in the dim light.

Pietro, or whatever the fuck his name is, is lying there openmouthed, and as he breathes, he’s making strange little bubbles with that rivulet of blood that’s catching on his lips. Every so often he spits out a few drops, mixed with saliva here and there. He’s not laughing anymore.

“Okay, then.” I look at Ginevra. “Come on, let’s go. Otherwise we’ll be late.”

I take the flat tire, and I toss it into the trunk and shut the hatch. I walk past the little guy who changed the tire, and once I’m past him, I notice the other one, closer to the car. He’s slow to figure things out. I smash his face in with a right straight. I find his ear somehow caught between my thumb and forefinger, and I grab it tight, twisting it angrily. I’d like to rip it off his head.

“Ouch, fuck, ouch.”

“Get the hell out of my way, asshole.” I give his ear one last brutal twist, and then I let him go. He stands there, bent over, his hands clasped in pitiful prayer over his ears as I get into the car. I wait for Ginevra to shut her door, and I take off, fast. I look at the three of them in the rearview mirror. By now they’re far away, enveloped in the night that separates us from them.

“So, how are you doing?”

She sits in silence.

I try to make her laugh. “Those three don’t know how lucky they were. If the third dan went to town on them, they’d be sorry now, wouldn’t they?”

But I can’t get her to laugh. She’s not even going to talk. I look at her. Her hair is hanging down, as if defeated, covering part of her face. Her lips, half open, look out from her hiding place, uncertain and undecided, trembling slightly.

“Come on, Ginevra. It’s okay now.”

“What the fuck do you mean, it’s okay? Just think if I’d had a flat tire and I’d been alone.”

“But you weren’t.”

“Still, it could have happened. What if those three had stopped, then what would have happened?”

“Maybe what could have happened is that I was passing by on my motorcycle, instead of them, and very simply I helped you to change your tire.” I try to calm her down.

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