Chapter 7

Padre Matteo drove us home. 

Slowly but surely, I thought while he kept giving out blessings whenever a regular churchgoer passed by. Or he did the holy cross every time someone drove past us at more than twenty miles per hour. 

Our street was so narrow, there was no way two cars could fit next to one another. There was a sometimes malfunctioning stop sign at each end of the street to avoid some very loud altercations between drivers eager to get home. And tonight was like many other evenings, with cars stuffing up the street, men acting pretty much like animals, shouting and honking aimlessly. 

We knew not to go down the rabbit hole. Instead, we asked the good priest to drop us off around the corner. It was faster to walk back on foot. 

"I hope to see you at Mass on Sunday," Padre Matteo said, hinting at my sporadic church visits. 

Nonna got out of the car first. I staggered after her, my head spinning from all the high-pitched Hallelujah songs on the radio. 

"She'll be there, Matteo. She has a lot of gratitude to show to the One Above," she said. 

Padre Matteo nodded, then replied.

"She does indeed. God bless you both. Buona Notte (good night)." 

Nonna waved back with a big smile on her face. But how she rounded the corners up I instantly recognized it wasn't a genuine one. 

"Buona Notte," she grinned.

I loved this woman, but she was a tricky person. She was the nicest old lady in front of others, but as soon as she got home and closed the door behind her, all her sweetness vanished. As if she hung it on the coat rack with her cardigan. 

"Now don't get me wrong," she started, after closing the front door. "I love God and everything about him. But at nine o'clock in the evening, I wanted to throw that buzzer out. You think as a priest he'd be more considerate."

Curses and complaints left her lips, one after another. The incident with Nonno (Grandpa) left her quite bitter. And she snapped for all reasons because everything reminded her of him. Yet she stubbornly refused to even mention his name. 

We lived in a three stories high pre-world-war-two building, in a two-bedroom apartment, with wonderful neighbors under and above us. These walls were so old and thin, you could hear your neighbors fart. 

"Regarda qui, dolce ragazza (look here, sweet girl)," she took my hand and looked me in the eyes. "And don't you dare to lie to me. What happened to you today?" 

I sat her down on the settee next to the kitchen entrance and told her about the ledger, Cosimo's test and me going to the Palazzo for a while. 

"Che stronzo (what an asshole)," she jumped up. "You shouldn't let him do this." 

"Nonna, calmati, ti prego (granny, calm down, please). I work for the company. It's my job to see if this is insurance fraud or not. And we're talking about way more money than Nonno's professional fishing gear." 

"Tss, say no more. I thought he'll put me in an early grave, but God had enough of his cheating and took him before me. Grazzie, Dio (thank you, God)." 

She placed her tote bag on the table and took out a new pack of cigarettes. 

"Nonna, you said you'll keep it less." 

"I know, Tami. Just a few puffs. My nerves have been really tested today." 

I watched her clip the filtered end between her thin lips and try to light it with shaking hands. 

"Let me help you, Nonna." 

But she dismissed my offer with a playful slap on my wrist. 

"Get away from me. I've been doing it for sixty years." 

I grimaced back at her as she sat down to enjoy this vice. My ringtone startled me. 

I don't remember putting it on maximum, I thought as I clawed it out of my purse. Private number. At this hour?

"Yes?" I answered it. 

"Did you get home well?" 

Hearing Cosimo's deep voice at the other end of the line made me feel uneasy and my palms sweaty. 

"How did you get my number?" 

“I took your advice and did a background search," he said in a calm tone. "I know not just your phone number, but your friend, Sofia's number as well. I also know you failed your driver's license test twice already." 

"The first time, yes. The second time, the instructor was too handsy. I reported him and he failed me," I explained in a hurry, not that he needed to know. I was afraid he'd say he knew my ballet teacher's maiden name or that I got caught stuffing my bra with cotton pads in middle school. 

"Why on earth are you pocking into my life like that?" I snapped at him. 

"Mi dispiace (I'm sorry) but it's a necessity. Look out your bedroom window, ti prego (please)." 

I rushed out of the kitchen to check it. 

"Why? What's going on?" I asked, my heart thumping in my throat. 

"You'll see two cars lined up before the entry to your street, both gray Fiats. Those are incognito police cars. I sent my men to guard you." 

"Guard me from what?" 

"There are things written in the ledger in molti dettagli (much detail). The truth about events that shaped history and perception the way it is today..." He paused for a few seconds, then continued. "These are secrets that are not meant to be publicly known. And believe me, when I say, people killed to get their hands on it for centuries." 

I sat down on my bed in sheer silence. I just realized this might not be a simple theft or a black market deal. This went deep into state secrets. And the Maggio bloodline spread across the globe through marriage, monetary, and military alliances, turning the suspicion on every single state. 

"Is mia Nonna in danger too?" I asked in a shallow tone. My throat still hurt. At times it felt as if I drank fire or swallowed barbed wire. 

"Very few people know it's missing. The men are stationed there just as a measure of precaution. We will discuss the situation in greater detail once you arrive." 

I walked to the window and looked out again as I played with a piece of skin on my thumb. I noticed the mess I made only when it started bleeding. 

"By the way, you have gorgeous thighs." 

"Excuse me?" My eyes widened as I remembered the image of him sitting back on the sofa and enjoying the full view of my hairy front beneath the see-through material. 

"Signore di Maggio, leave such compliments to your girlfriend," I said, sharpening my tone. 

"Beautiful things must be appreciated," he replied. "Ci vediamo domani (see you tomorrow)."

"Wait a second. How did you know which bedroom is mine?"

Cosimo let out a mischievous chuckle. 

"Buona Notte (good night), Signorina Banks." 

Argh, he hung up, I threw my phone onto the bed. You're so annoying. But good thing you reminded me. I'll have time to do something about it, I thought, searching through my drawer for a new razor. Instead, my fingers got caught up in the pouch I kept my vibrator hidden. 

And just when some naughty thoughts started catching fire, Nonna knocked on the door. 

"Tutto benne (everything okay)?" She asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes. 

"Si, Nonna (yes, granny)," I said pushing the drawer back as calmly as possible. "My condition wasn't so bad. They sent me home with only..." I lifted up my discharge letter and read without breaking the initial tone and tempo, "one pack of tablets to regulate the chemical and fluid imbalances in the body." 

Then I took in a deep breath. 

"Va bene, ragazzina. Buona Notte (Alright, girly. Good night)," she said, leaving my room and closing the door behind her. 

Where was I?! Ah, yes, I pulled my drawer out again after a few seconds of stillness, and took out my purple friend. I haven't used you in a while; I giggled.