Page 40 of Two Chances With You

“Your license plate readsRome R24079. It would take me all of ten minutes and a phone call to a friend of mine at city hall to find out your address. And I’d have to do a lot less driving. Come on, get going!”

I take off, tires screeching. Jesus, Step knows my license tag by heart. I haven’t even memorized it yet.

In a flash, he’s right behind me. I see him in the rearview mirror. He’s following me, but he doesn’t pull up too close. How strange, he’s cautious. I never would have expected that. Well, all things considered, I guess I don’t know him all that well. Go figure!

***

I downshift and hang back at a safe distance. You never know, Gin might pull some prank like slamming her brakes on. That’s the best way there is of putting a motorcyclist out of commission. If you’re not paying close attention, you can’t brake in time. You can kiss your front fork and motorcycle goodbye. You smash into the car and you can forget about chasing them down.

Corso Francia, Piazza Euclide, Via Antonelli. She’s showing off, conceited thing. She doesn’t stop at any of the lights. She zips past the Cinema Embassy at top speed. She roars around the cars lined up at the red light and then goes straight and turns first right and then left, never once using her turn indicators. One sleepy driver honks his horn at her but far too late.

Via Panama. She stops just short of Piazzale delle Muse. Gin parks by whipping between two cars without touching them, in just one fell swoop. The product of practice and precision.

“Hey, you’re good at parking.”

“You say that because you haven’t seen the rest.”

“So do you ever let people say things without insisting on getting the last word with your little wisecracks?”

“Okay. Well then, thanks for dinner, I really enjoyed myself, you were fantastic, your friends areepic. I’m sorry about that little mistake with the keys, and thanks for seeing me home. How was that? Am I forgetting anything?”

“Yes, aren’t you forgetting to invite me upstairs to your place?”

“What? No way in hell. I haven’t invited any of my boyfriends upstairs, so you can just forget about me invitingyou, a complete stranger. The very idea!”

“Why, have there been many boyfriends?”

“Lots of them.…Ah, buonasera, Signor Valiani.”

I turn around to see who she’s saying good evening to, but there’s no one there. I hear the sound of the gate behind me.

“Ta-dah!”

I turn back around. Gin is on the other side of the gate, which is still quivering from being slammed. She shut it behind her. She was super quick.

Gin runs toward the street door. It only takes me a second. I vault over the gate, and I run toward her while she looks in her pocket for the key to the street door.

I wrap my arms around her from behind. “Ta-dah! When you were little, did you used to play red light, green light? You weren’t fast enough to turn around before I caught you. Now you’re mine.”

Her hair is scented. But nothing sweet. Oh, God, I hate sweet-smelling perfumes.Herhair smells fresh, electric, cheerful, full of life.

I’m holding my cheek close to hers. Her check is smooth, soft, and cool as a magnificent peach. I open my lips and press them against that cheek. There’s a faint evening breeze that brings the scent of jasmine from the garden.

“Knock, knock, Gin, can I come in?”

“You don’t know what you might find there.”

“I never walk into a place I don’t know how to walk out of.”

“What a striking phrase.”

“You like it? I let the screenwriters for the filmRoninuse it for free.”

“You jerk.”

While I embrace her, I hold her tight and rock her gently right and left. I sing her a little something under my breath. It’s a song by Bruce Springsteen but I’m not sure if she recognizes it. The soft slow bars of music I sing are transformed into a warm breath that mixes with her hair and down onto her neck.

Gin lets her arms relax. I continue singing, slowly, moving my body. She follows my movements now. I see her mouth, and it’s beautiful. It’s partly open, dreamy, sighing, and it’s shivering ever so slightly.

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