Page 44 of Two Chances With You

“This is the dance troupe,” Marcantonio says.

“Yes, that much was clear to me.”

They file past us, smiling, all in a bit of a hurry, all overheated but still sweet smelling and light. Two of three plant a kiss on Marcantonio’s cheek. “Ciao, girls.” He seems to know them well.

He glances at me, lifting his right eyebrow. “Dancers…God, I love TV!”

I smile, looking at the last dancer in the line. She’s a bit smaller than the others, and she goes out at a run. She’d lingered behind to grab her sweatshirt. Rounded and fast-moving, carrying a little more flesh but all of it in the right places. She smiles at me. “Ciao.”

I don’t have a chance to answer before she’s already flown away. “I’m starting to love them too.”

“There you go, that’s what I want to hear. So, this is the stage, andthat’sour logo. You see, right there, on the proscenium.The Great Geniuses. Modestly speaking, my creation.”

“I had no doubt about it, you can tell from the touch.” I’m lying shamelessly.

“Wait. What are you doing, mocking me?”

“Are you joking?” I smile.

“Well, that same logo is already in 3D in the graphics. This is the idea behind the program: A series of ordinary people, actual inventors, come up on stage and show us how they solved a small or a large problem afflicting our society with just a simple insight.”

“That’s a powerful idea.”

“We introduce them, we array the dancers around them, we build a show around them, and they show us the idea that they’ve come up with, along with their prototype, already registered with the patent office. It’s a pretty simple program, but I think people will find it interesting. That’s not all. The people who present their ideas here with us already have a springboard on TV that can take them who knows where. They can make some real money with their inventions.”

“Ah, certainly, if those inventions are interesting and if they actually serve some purpose.”

“Oh, they are, and they do. Trust me, this is a great show. It’s Romani’s idea. If you ask me, it’s going to be a big hit, like everything else he does. They say Romani has the Midas touch when it comes to TV.”

“Because of how much money he makes?”

“Because of all the hits he churns out. Everything he touches really brings in the viewers.”

“Well then, I should be happy to work with him.”

“Sure, you started at the top. And here they are.”

I see them come in, practically in a procession. Romani is leading the group. Following him are two men about thirty-five years old, one heavyset and completely bald with a pair of sunglasses pushed up on his head, the other one skinny with a slightly receding hairline. Behind them is a guy with long but neatly groomed hair. He has an aquiline nose and a darting gaze. He’s wearing a green corduroy suit that no longer has cuffs. The cuffs of his trousers were recently altered, and you can see the dark crease. That certainly gave his legs another inch or two, but at the cost of a portion of sartorial elegance.

“All right, then, where are we?” Romani looks around. “Isn’t anyone here?”

A short man with blond hair and blue eyes comes galloping up. “Buongiorno, Maestro. I’m just putting up the last lights. It will all be ready for this evening.”

“Bravo, Terrazzi. I always say you’re the best.”

Terrazzi smiles. “I’ll head back to the console to fine-tune the focal points of the lights.”

“You go, go on.”

The guy with long hair approaches Romani. “You always need to encourage them, don’t you? Warm them up so they’ll be more productive, am I right?”

Romani narrows his eyes and glares at the man. “Terrazzi is seriously good at what he does, the best of them. He’s been doing lighting since before you were born.”

The guy with long hair goes back to his place in line in utter silence.

Actually, now he’s at the end of the line. He starts looking around again, pretending to take interest in any old random corner of the set. At last, he goes after his right hand and starts chewing on his nails.

“Those are the writers. Romani is the director too. You remember him, don’t you?” he asks me in an ironic tone.

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