Previous Chapters : I | II | III
I love the early morning on a fine day and don’t much care whether it’s in a warm summer or frosty cold winter as long as the sky is brilliant blue. I was pounding the sidewalks of Rome earlier than I’d usually run because jetlag had weighed on me through the night.
My backpacking roommates were still asleep when I silently rolled out of bed, so I grabbed my gear and dressed for a run in the corridor. I strapped on my Garmin Fenix 5 and set up a recommended scenic five-mile route taking in Rome’s greatest sites. When I slipped on a pair of long abused Nike’s they pinched my toes so I vowed to replace them soon.
It felt exhilarating to run past a fish market in full swing, before dashing through pristine clean piazzas where half-sleeping vendors assembled the rusty pole sections of their stalls. Rome was awakening. Coffee shops, bakeries, and people of the late night and early morning added vibrancy to an already exciting city.
I’d reached two-thirds of the way through my route when I heard heavy panting from behind, suggesting another runner was hunting me down.
I smiled inwardly, loving a challenge, so I stretched my legs just enough to keep my competition at bay. It sounded like a man who was seriously laboring either on a sprint finish or to overhaul me. I loved the chase because there was plenty left in my tank if I needed to kick on.
I rounded a street corner and adrenaline flooded my body when I leaned over and a shoulder scraped the building’s rough stone wall dragging my t-shirt along its surface. It felt like a race and I was determined to win.
“Carla! Wait, please.”
A man's shout surprised me and I pulled up sharply, spinning on my heels. I recognized Liam immediately and laughed, jogging back towards him to help prop up an ailing fellow runner.
“I’m fucked, Carla. I chased you for the last half mile.”
“Stop talking and get your breath back.”
Liam slumped over, with his hands gripping both knees while he sucked in big gulps of air. He sweat profusely, pock-marking the paving stones between his feet with tiny drops that formed an abstract pattern like the stars at night.
He had evidently chased me quite desperately, and that impressed me a little. It’s nice to be chased one way or another.
“It’s better if you stand up straight with both hands on hips. You’ll get more air into your lungs that way.”
When he stood up, I helped him place one hand on my shoulder to lean some weight on. The other went onto his hip in an effort to follow my advice. He forced a generous, albeit pained smile between struggled breaths and I felt surprised that he seemed so pleased to see me.
“My sandwich must have made quite an impression.”
“I recognized your ponytail disappearing around a corner and gave chase. I should have thought twice, but I didn’t realize you were such a great runner.”
Did you chase me because of a ponytail?
“I’m staying not far away in a backpackers' hostel and there’s a decent cafe nearby. I’m on a timetable this morning, but I could enjoy an espresso together if you have time.”
He seemed relieved and glad for my invitation, nodding, but I had to wait a minute while his lungs caught up for a verbal response.
“My next meeting is with a naked guy carved from a stone who isn’t going anywhere. Lead on and I’ll follow, but please slow down.”
I jogged at my usual winding down pace and Liam kept up easily. When I snatched a few sidelong glances I noticed he was fit, heavily muscled, and probably ran infrequently because of that ripped mass. He looked very different and somewhat impressive in a sports rig than on the aircraft wearing traveling clothes.
“But then, who doesn’t?”
“Who doesn’t what, sorry, I don’t understand?”
“Nothing. I was thinking aloud. Do you work out in the gym a lot?”
“Yeah, maybe two hours a day for the last five years but I recently started doing more outdoor cardio, running, cycling, and stuff to trim down a bit. You’re bloody fast, Carla.”
“I’ve been running for twenty years. Dad got me into it when I was a little kid, jogging up and down local fields while he walked our King Charles Spaniel. It helps keep me grounded and gives me time to gather my thoughts.”
“How have you been?”
“Do you mean since you saw me yesterday afternoon at the airport?”
“Ah, yes. There’s the slightly salty girl I met on the airplane.”
I grimaced because Liam was right again and had no problem pointing straight to my character flaw this time. My defensive nature resulted from years of doing the wrong jobs and hanging around toxic people thereby developing a cynical outer layer. In short, being salty was my fault.
“Shall we have that espresso, Liam? I’ll make sure they take away any salt from the table.”
He smiled and nodded, so we jogged to the coffee shop near my hostel in thoughtful silence. I mulled our chance encounter wondering what we’d have to talk about. The cafe's outdoor seating area looked deserted but its ever-vigilant patron was keen to get his till rolling and shot out of the door like a kid on their new bike when he spotted us.
“An espresso, please. Mine’s a triple shot.”
I held up one finger and the patron paused mid-step while I glanced at Liam who nodded, so I added a second finger.
“Two triple shots coming up, madam.”
Liam sat down heavily on the wrought iron, cushion-clad seats chained to our table and stopped his watch. I watched him diligently review his fitness performance, something I’d do later after full recovery.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t mean to be blunt, Liam.”
“It just takes a little getting used to. In fact, and let’s be honest, food is life and without a little salt both would be bland.”
I bobbed my head from side to side, pursing my lips tightly, weighing up his philosophical gem. Liam impressed me by having defused a potential friction with his compliment and I found that endearing.
“Why though?”
“Why what, Carla?”
“Why would you want to get used to it? My saltiness, I mean. If that’s what we’re calling it.”
It was a moment when something decisive could happen. We’d been casual traveling acquaintances so far, but Liam seemed to want more.
“I thought we might become friends. We do share common interests, after all.”
“Such as?”
“The same taste in sandwiches and we both agree you’re a bit salty.”
“It’s a step up from acerbic, I guess.”
“And you did kiss me, after all.”
My heart stopped momentarily as memories of my indiscretion flooded back. I forced down the powerful emotions that suddenly had my heart fluttering. My hormones activated and adrenaline demanded I run while dopamine anchored me to the spot, wanting more.
“Oh fuck. I thought you hadn’t noticed.”
“Do you neglect to notice when someone flicks a delicious tongue inside your mouth, then?”
“You were sleeping.”
“Until an angel visited, yes.”
If a metal spoon were nearby I would have dug a hole to Australia and fallen into it such was my shame. Being of fair skin makes it hard to conceal a sudden flush of the cheeks, and I cursed my body for revealing its reflections on our kiss.
“Jesus Liam, why didn’t you say anything or at least try to stop me.”
“I didn’t want to stop you.”
I shook my head, utterly embarrassed, and sipped the steaming espresso our patron slid in front of me. The cup was too small to hide behind, but I welcomed its tendrils of caffeine that snaked through my body and mind, stimulating me. I stared up at the sky, felt alive and reborn by recent good fortune in the employment field, and used that to shake off my embarrassment.
When I glanced back at Liam he seemed to wait for an answer. I shrugged because I’d forgotten his question. Tracking back through our conversation took me less than a minute before a lightbulb flickered on in my gray matter.
“Shall we be friends then, Liam?”
“Yes, please. Are you staying in Rome for long, Carla?”
“Nope. I leave in two hours for Venice and for at least one of those, I’ll be fighting for shower time with a horde of filthy female backpackers.”
“Filthy, as in X-rated ones?”
“No, just fucking dirty like, they don’t give a toss about their personal hygiene.”
“Like a sorority house then?”
“Yes, but without a washing machine.”
We settled back into silence. It didn’t feel awkward because we were at a stage of our relationship where there was little common ground for a continuous conversation and nothing to be disagreeable about. I would let Liam decide how to move our meet cute forwards.
Although I want to lead in the workplace, I’m neither definitively dominant nor submissive in a relationship, but I enjoy a guy who is interested in me and does some chasing. I find it helps them attach, allowing me to explore the potential for us both.
I had no interest in acquiring a boyfriend anytime soon, especially one that was at least partly broken, but there was no harm in being polite to Liam even if it served as good practice for the next guy in my life.
And you never know, Carla.
Liam didn’t take long to probe more thoroughly.
“Is your stay in Venice a short one?”
“No, I landed a sous chef position there and it’s one I intend to keep unless the proprietor decides otherwise.”
“Long distance friend’s then? I’m leaving for Florence in a week, then coming back here a month later.”
I filtered the last few drops of my coffee without sucking up the grains. It was a judicious process requiring accuracy between my hand, lips, and tongue. One tilt too far and I’d spit out or swallow and choke.
Having squeezed out full value from my $1.75 espresso I set the brilliant white porcelain cup down and stared at my new potential buddy.
“Why is it important to you that we become friends?”
He considered my question thoughtfully and I realized that Liam was the kind of person who acted with deliberate, planned intent.
“I like to surround myself with positive people. Not necessarily those who can help me, but gentle souls that bring peace to my life and accept my offer to return the same to them.”
“So, I’m not salty anymore, then?”
“Your tongue and lips tasted like sweet nectar from the gods.”
“You’re definitely sassy, Liam, but I guess we could be friends.”
“At least you know someone from your homeland in Italy has your back, if you have a problem.”
It was a good point that I hadn’t considered. I was alone in a foreign country, Liam was too and both of us only had the US Consul services to turn to in an emergency. I reached a hand across the table and we shook, confirming our friendship.
My fingers tingled with excitement when our fingers and palms touched, and I cursed a sudden chilly breeze that forced my nipples to stand erect. I was fairly sure he noticed and was impressed when Liam averted his gaze, which surprised me for the guy who’d chased half a mile having recognized me from behind.
“You must promise not to chase after any more girls until you’ve got the heart rate down a bit. I can’t travel across the whole country to visit you in hospital for a self-inflicted injury.”
“It was your ponytail that caused my problem.”
Yeah, fucking right it was.
I paid for both of our drinks being the only one with the foresight to stuff a ten euro note into the tiny inside pocket of my shorts. When I bid farewell to Liam for the second time in twenty-four hours and strolled to my hostel, I figured it wouldn’t be our last meeting.
At the hostel's front door, I turned instinctively around and saw him observing me from across the piazza. He waved enthusiastically, I did too, and then walked into the carnage of a backpackers' hostel waking up to a new day filled with adventure.
When I retrieved my phone from a locked cabinet in the dormitory room my messenger app found Liam’s number in my directory and I sent him a text.
Trattoria Bella, if you’re ever in Venice. You owe me a coffee, anyway.
I set the phone down on my bunk and it vibrated after a few seconds, flashing Liam’s response.
It's a date.
I queued with the girls who had turned our room into a hybrid somewhere between a bordello and a refuse sorting room. I hoped they did laundry for the sake of my imprinted memory, praying nobody wore the dirty underwear that lay haphazardly on the floor.
“Hi, sorry about last night.”
It was the pretty young thing that half tried to seduce me. Her friends all turned and stared, appraising me from head to toe as though I were fresh meat. They looked like social media stars and were probably wondering if a lesbian faux hook-up photo with me might squeeze them a few more likes.
“You guys take care on your journey. Plenty wouldn’t have turned you down last night and they may not all be so nice as me.”
“Okay, right, thanks.”
It was an annoying, grave tone of voice, dragged from someplace that knows it all conveying their I don’t care a fuck attitude. I should have expected it. If they didn’t listen to Daddy then what chance did I have?
It was a good job three shower cubicles became available inside a thirty-second window allowing me to take refuge from their hostile burning eyes. Some people know everything there is to know, including about their personal safety in a foreign place. I used my couldn’t give a fuck shampoo to wash them out of my hair and languished under the warm shower long enough to give them a head start.
Back in our communal dumping ground, it was all business for the backpackers posing their first semi-naked Instagram post of the day. Towels were wrapped tightly around lithe bodies, revealing just enough tits, ass, and shaven legs to encourage a few more vacuous followers to sign up for a pointless journey.
Their make-up flew around the room on ferocious currents of blasted warm air from expensive dryers, while a perfumed washed hair aroma pervaded where stale junk food had prevailed last night.
I dressed quickly, grabbed my gear, and left with damp hair, needing to escape the havoc of social media and its selfish acolytes.
Outside, Luca waited patiently in an open-top Alfa Romeo. It was predictably bright, deep red, and absolutely gorgeous. When I approached, he popped the boot for me to stow my gear, smiling, as only Italian men can get away with doing when they see a pretty girl.
“Have you eaten already?”
“Not yet. Just a coffee Chef.”
“Call me Luca. Pretty soon you’ll call me lots of other things so don’t worry about the respect I didn’t earn yet.”
That’s refreshing.
He passed me a croissant wrapped in white kitchen toweling. When I peeped beneath the covers, I saw the surface of his baked offering look like a crusty sunrise over a golden desert. Butter hinted at its presence between many layers of perfection that were the secret art of its maker. I bit into his kind offering and whimpered as if descending gently from an orgasm.
Luca examined me disapprovingly.
“What?”
“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t get anything decent from that hostel. Don’t stay in shit-holes like that again, Carla. Trattoria Bella has standards.”
“You saved my life, Luca.”
“It’s okay. You won’t say that after a shift at Bella’s. Make the most of it because that is the last perfectly baked croissant you’ll see for a while.”
The drive from Rome to Venice isn’t spectacular and can frustrate anyone by the number of toll booths along its autostrada, so I slept fitfully on and off, recovering from the travel time displacement ex USA.
Luca spoke to half of Italy during our six-hour drive, sometimes screaming but mostly ordering stock, discussing the menu, and chatting with tour companies looking for Groupon-type discounts.
“Fucking restaurant deal aggregators will destroy us all. They don’t care about quality, only price.”
I was halfway between sleep and the nightmare of traffic everywhere, unwilling to fully open my eyes, but I wanted to help, so my brain formed some words that I inadvertently allowed my mouth to convey.
“Do a specific night for deals. Choose a date or season when business is down anyway and cook what you want. Brisket with an over-enriched sauce, for example. Insist on a minimum number of covers.”
I peeped one eye slightly and glanced across to see if he’d heard me. Judged by his expression and surprisingly to me, Luca hadn’t considered the idea before and I wondered to whom he spoke on the phone in his native tongue immediately after engaging his brain for five minutes.
I fell asleep, waking when we exited the autostrada and were headed for Jesolo city on a side road crossing marshland and a river estuary. We were on the north side of Venice and our road took us along the Adriatic coastline, which I hadn’t expected.
“I park my car in Punta Sabbioni because the city and airport are too costly. From there we take a water bus into Venice. My father runs the car park and we get free tickets.”
“That seems sensible.”
“I like cheap and free except in women, food, and cars.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but it seemed prudent not to ask questions. Luca hadn’t tried to hit on me, paid no compliments and, to my astonishment and comfort had little time to engage with me at all. We’d become colleagues and that felt great.
The thirty or so kilometers spit of land he drove down took us to the outer ring of Venice lagoon. We parked up and I chased him across gravel and potholes to a nearby water taxi chugging at a dodgy-looking wooden pier. Luca carried nothing and left me struggling.
Having heaved my suitcase, holdall, and rucksack aboard the water bus, a cheery ancient sailor who had ignored my struggles, grinned through yellowed teeth and fixed a rope across an otherwise dangerous gap in the gunwale.
He pointed to a small luggage room where I stowed my gear before dashing off to find my guide. Luca was at the stern, shouting into his phone mic that pointed at his mouth inches away while leaning precariously above churning steel propellors.
I’m always amazed at how precariously some Italian men enjoy living. When Chef finished his call and turned to face me, he looked smug.
“I took your advice.”
“Come again?”
“Two months from now, we’ll do a Groupon night serving Brisket. I’ll leave the rest of the menu up to you.”
“Why?”
“Because it was your idea. You can plan a menu, right? I can’t wait to see how you cook brisket without a rich sauce.”
Me and my big fucking mouth.
I rolled my eyes at Luca and he whooped. It wasn’t worth asking if he would have helped with my luggage had I slept with him, because I could manage anyway and didn’t care.
I quickly figured out that Bella was probably a very tough lady to manage this frenetic man.
Next Chapter:
Yes, great fun Kate. There’s lots of promise in this story, with another character hovering in the background. I loved it.