Page 34 of Three Times You

“No, tomorrow, with the music and lights,” I reply, dismissively. “Tonight’s my bachelor party, and then I’ll be staying at the Hilton. Can’t see the bride before the ceremony, you know!”

I head for the office, work a full day, and then check into my room at the Hilton. I lie down, ready for a quick nap before the evening’s entertainment, when the phone rings.

“Good afternoon. Signor Guido Balestri is downstairs, waiting for you.”

“Yes, please tell him I’m on my way down.”

I put my shoes back on, grab the key, shut the door, and call the elevator. Then, as I wait, I wonder what the hell kind of bachelor party lies ahead. Then a wave of panic washes over me. Oh my God! This is my last night as a single man. I’m getting married tomorrow.

Chapter 25

Hey, what’s all this?”

Guido is leaning casually on the hood of a black Mercedes E-Class sedan. “This car is taking us to a delightful surprise.”

“I like that.”

“Then get in.”

I climb into the front seat, beside him.

“No, no, you get in back. I’m your chauffeur today.”

“Even better.”

I get in back, and Guido takes off, driving calmly, like a pro. “All right then, put this on.” He hands me a black sleep mask. “You can’t see where we’re going. Orders from Mr. Big.”

“Who’s that?”

“The guy who helped me to organize all this, a friend you know who’s given us the keys to a world you can’t even begin to imagine…”

I pretend to be afraid. “Take me home!”

Guido laughs. “Too late! You’re my prisoner. Put on the mask and pipe down!”

I put on the mask, and, after a while, I crack the window to get some fresh air. I open my mouth and take a deep breath, filling my lungs. I taste the life outside the car. And I recognize the smell.

“Hey, we’re heading for the seaside.” I imagine Guido looking at me in the rearview mirror.

“No fair. You took off your mask!”

“I don’t need my eyes. I can smell the sea.”

The car keeps rolling, the air buffets my face, and the road rises and falls, rocking me gently into sleep.

Later, though I have no idea how much later.

“We’re here. You can take off your mask.”

Jesus, I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but the sun is setting. “We’re at the port.”

“Yes, and there’s a boat waiting for us.”

I get out and see that I’m at the Porto Santo Stefano Yacht Club. A hundred miles away from Rome.

We board a Tornado 38 that peels away fast from the dock, heading straight out into open water, quickly accelerating to 30 knots. On we roar, until, just as the sun sets off Feniglia, we see a large, brightly lit yacht.

“Here we are.”

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