Scott took Rosalia for dinner early in the New Year. She’d bought him a shirt as a Christmas present and he didn’t have anything for her, so that was the first awkward moment.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ he told her. ‘Really, it’s too much.’
The evening became more and more difficult, with long silences and tears obviously not far off, and he regretted that he hadn’t simply suggested a coffee instead. He could have done the deed and been on the way home by now, instead of which he was forced to make small talk about his parents, his work and her family.
‘It looks like this year is going to be very busy,’ he began, after the main course had been cleared. ‘The editor wants me to travel more and I don’t know when I’m going to be in Rome. Under the circumstances, it doesn’t seem fair to ask you to wait for me.’ Coward, he thought to himself. Why can’t you just be honest?
‘But of course I’ll wait!’ she exclaimed.
‘The thing is, I don’t want you to. I don’t want to feel like I have an obligation or anything. I need to put my work first to get my career established and I can’t have any ties.’ It sounded plausible; he was starting to believe it himself.
‘What are you saying?’ She seemed to be rather slow getting the message. Perhaps it was the language barrier.
Scott lowered his voice. ‘I’m saying that I think you should date other guys. I can’t offer you anything. You’re a great girl and you deserve someone better than me.’
She looked puzzled and insisted she only wanted him. It was when he was brutally honest – ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to see you any more’ – that the tears began to flow and he felt like a complete bastard.
He walked her back to the nurses’ home, feeling accusation in the eyes of everyone they passed as she sobbed and blew her nose into his handkerchief while leaning woodenly on his arm. There was a prolonged hug in her doorway and then finally – at long last – he was free.
Scott jogged down the street and the jog turned into a run as he tried to create distance between them in case Rosalia decided to pursue him. He fancied the idea of getting high so he headed up towards Via Margutta and walked along the street until he could hear a party underway. He climbed the stairs to a large open room and entered unchallenged. A girl with brownish-blonde hair that hung down below her bottom approached. She spoke English with a Northern European accent.
‘Do you want to smoke some pot?’ she asked, swaying so that it was obvious she was already high.
‘Sure!’ he grinned. ‘Have you got some?’
She pulled a joint from her pocket and motioned him to follow her out to a balcony, where she sat down cross-legged on the floor. The soles of her feet were black with grime. Scott joined her and, as they smoked, he took the opportunity to ask her some questions.
‘There’s loads of gear around here. Do you know where it all comes from?’
She nodded, with a dreamy look. ‘Yeah. Of course. Those young guys with their flashy cars bring it up from the south. I know a few of them. It’s cheapest if you buy direct from them rather than the dealers.’
‘Where do you find them?’ He was getting a buzz after just a few tokes on the joint. It must be strong stuff.
‘You don’t find them. They find you. They’re always hanging around these parties …’ She swivelled to look inside the room. ‘There’s one by the door, wearing the sunglasses.’
Scott turned to look.
‘Hey, what happened to your nose?’ the girl asked. ‘You’re kind of funny looking.’
‘I got trampled by a herd of elephants,’ he told her. ‘I’m lucky to be alive.’
‘Oh my God, that’s amazing! Did you really? You’re a funny guy.’ She leaned over and touched his nose, running her fingers over the scars, and he closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch. At least it put the difficult early part of the evening with Rosalia out of his head.
When he opened his eyes, the girl had gone, so he got up and went over to talk to the youth in the sunglasses.
‘I heard you know something about how drugs get to the city. I’ll pay good money if you tell me what you know.’
‘Why would you do that?’ the man asked, and Scott had to focus hard to comprehend his thick southern Italian accent.
‘I’m a journalist. I want to write about it. Your name would never be mentioned and I won’t give away any details that could get you identified. But I could pay you …’ He named a price, and the youth took his sunglasses off and stared hard at him.
‘How do I know if I can trust you?’
‘I don’t even need to know your name,’ Scott told him. ‘Make up a name. Just answer a few questions and I’ll hand over the cash.’
The man considered this. ‘OK, but not here. There’s a bar in Testaccio …’ He gave the address. ‘I’ll be there on Tuesday at seven, but only for half an hour.’
‘I’ll see you there,’ Scott promised. ‘What should I call you?’
He shrugged. ‘Enzo. Why not Enzo?’
Scott put out his hand to shake on it, but ‘Enzo’ turned and walked off down the stairs. He went to find the girl with the long hair to say goodbye and thank her for the smoke.
‘Are you going? I’ll come with you,’ she offered. She linked her arm through his and at first he imagined she wanted him to walk her to a taxi, or to her apartment, but when they reached the street she asked where he lived, and it seemed she had decided to come home with him.
Scott noticed her feet were still bare. ‘Where are your shoes?’
‘I lost them somewhere,’ she said airily. ‘Never mind.’
‘It’s freezing! You can’t go out with bare feet in January.’ Scott pulled off his own shoes and let her walk in those, her feet slopping around in them, while he stepped carefully along in socks. It was chilly but at least it wasn’t raining and his scooter wasn’t far.
As soon as they got to his place, the girl pulled off her dress and began to unfasten Scott’s trousers. Wow! he thought. This is something else. She was flat-chested but he liked the blanket of dark blonde hair and her long skinny legs. What would his friends think when he told them?
They had sex, then Scott fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep. When he awoke next morning, he offered to buy breakfast for the girl but she refused, simply pulling on her dress and heading shoeless out onto the street. She didn’t even ask whether she would see him again and he was rather pleased by the convenience of it all. It felt very modern and sexy.
When he got into the office, his secretary handed him his messages. It was only ten a.m. but Rosalia had already called twice asking if she could see him one more time. He decided not to reply.