CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (57 page)

Marika hid nothing from him, telling
Matteo the whole story about that special guy and his music, about what
Federico felt for her, and of their one kiss.

Matteo’s mind went foggy and his breath
began to shorten.  He felt like he had been struck in the ribs with a heavy
object when he imagined her with Federico.

“I like him a lot,” she admitted, “but I
could never love him the way I love you.”  She stared at his face, silently
begging him to understand.

The spyder pulled into the town of Orgiano
when it was already pitch black outside, forty minutes past midnight.  But even
in the thickest of fogs, he would have known he was home, welcomed back with
open arms by his hometown....

“
What the fu...?  Where did all these
people come from
?”  Their eyes widened as they saw friends and family
running toward the car.  “What the hell are they doing here at this hour?” 
Maybe it was time for Matteo, and Marika too if she planned on being with him,
to get used to unexpected intrusions by paparazzi and fans.

“Matteo!  Matteo!” they called from every
direction, surrounding the roadster.  “Everyone to Palladio Road!”  Absolutely
everybody was there, from the most intimate friends to the most distant
acquaintances, and they were all invited to the Vendramini Estate to toast the
return of their prodigal son.  Luckily, Matteo’s convertible was only a
two-seater and the top was up, otherwise they would have been attacked by those
locusts, who wouldn’t have thought twice about kicking Marika from the car in
order to make space for themselves.

For the rest of the drive to 23 Palladio
Road, the only noise in the car was that of the dolby surround sound, while
dozens of eyes stared openly at them, or perhaps just at the spyder.  They
arrived at Marika’s home without adding another word to what had already been
said.

Marika waited for Matteo to unlock the
doors before getting out of the car and being blown over by a million questions
by the usual curious onlookers.  Whoever was interested in the sporting side of
things was speaking to Matteo, while all those who lived for gossip and scandal
turned to her.  It was only when the assault had lifted that Marika noticed
Federico leaning against his Fiesta, with Eve partially hidden inside.  “I’ll
be back in one second!” she said to Matteo as he took her elbow to escort her
into the house.

“No problem,” he said, though
unwillingly.  “I’ll be waiting for you inside.”

He was right; they should have entered the
house together, but she couldn’t ignore Federico.  “I’ll be quick.”  Just
enough time to explain things to him.

Matteo watched her go until he was again
interrupted, this time by his former teammates.  “You guys absolutely
hypnotized Möller’s team with your ball possession.”  They surrounded him,
thrilled to have him back and to be able to talk soccer with one of the
starting
San Carlo
players.  “You need to change your speed more often,
and go straight at your defender.”  Coach Esposito acted as if he was still his
mentor.

While just a few yards away....

“So, you’re with him now.”  Federico was
trembling with rage, exchanging a long-distance stare with Matteo.

Marika nodded uncomfortably, while Eve got
out of the car and hugged her affectionately.  “Hey hot stuff.”  Her hair, dyed
amethyst with streaks of violet, engulfed them both in its warmth.

“I’m so happy to see you.”  Marika hugged
her even harder, almost as if she didn’t want to let her go.

“You know he finished writing your song?” 
The dark Lolita with porcelain skin acted as if nothing at all had happened.  “It’s
amazing, you really should listen to it.”

“I didn’t know he was writing one.” 
Marika smiled sadly, trying to find Federico’s face behind his long, unkempt
bangs and get a glimpse of those sweet, chestnut-colored eyes.

Eve embraced her again, tenderly,
whispering into her ear: “Don’t hurt him.”  Then, without turning back, she
left them alone and headed into the winery’s furnished cellar, where Carlotta
was waiting for her.

“You want to go inside?”  Marika lead the
way into her house, where the temperature was at least 40 degrees warmer than
outside... and it was about to get hotter still.

The living room was filled with evidence
of a victory party.  “I watched the final of the
Wagon Cup
,” Federico
said limply.  “I also saw the dedication he made to you after the goal.”  He
leaned against the living room wall.  “I have to admit it, he was great. 
Totally knocked me out of the competition, a real master stroke.”  He hated to
lose.  “It was second only to Iker Casillas.”  He looked up at the ceiling.  “But
he had just won the World Cup.”  At the end of the final against The
Netherlands, the captain of the Spanish team kissed his girlfriend live on TV
while she was interviewing him, giving in to the excitement and romance of the
moment in a gesture that became part of the legend of the South Africa World
Cup.

Marika stared at him, collecting herself. 
There was no more time for beating around the bush, for dilly-dallying, for
running away, or for putting off what had to be said.

Federico began: “I’ve always liked you,
from the first moment I saw you at the Pigafetta Stadium.”  Federico kept his
distance because he wanted her too much.  “And ever since that day, I knew that
you were in love with another guy, and that he would sooner or later feel the
same way I did.”  Cutting ties with her was excruciatingly painful.  “I just
hoped that he would be stupid enough to let me have you,” he gasped.  “But he
wasn’t.”

Maybe it was for what he said, or for how
he said it, or maybe it was the fear of losing him, but at that moment, Marika
felt her stomach churn and her heart grow cold, overwhelmed by an intense need
to cry.

Federico, for his part, wanted nothing
more than to give in to his desire to take her into his arms and hold her
there, but reason held him back.  He wanted to love her, but it was better not
to touch her, because her body was like poison to him.

“Oops, sorry!”  The unwelcome,
ear-splitting voice of Lucrezia hit her from behind.  “I didn’t mean to get in
your way.  I’m just passing through.”  Hard to believe, since the house and the
winery had separate entrances.  “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“What do you want?”  Marika’s muscles
tightened.

“Don’t get all huffy,” Lucrezia purred,
rubbing herself against Marcello.  “
Matteo can’t really have chosen this dog
when he could have had me!?
”  She had hooked up with Bassani now, but her
mind was clearly elsewhere.  “I wanted to talk to you,” she snickered.  “Like
friends.”

“Strange... I never would have said we
were friends.”  Marika shot a look at Federico, who was itching to say a few
choice words to Lucrezia about sexgate.  “But go right ahead.”

“I wanted to warn you about Matteo.”  She
swayed on her heels, playing with her artificially blonde curls.  “Don’t trust
him,” she said, “‘cause he’s a real bastard!” she howled like a jackal, before
spinning on her stilettos and disappearing into the night, her hips swaying.

“You’re wrong, Lucrezia.  So wrong.” 
Marika shook her head, turning to Federico, hoping to convince him, or maybe
herself, that she really could trust Matteo, regardless of the fame and fortune
that was to come.  “I know him.”  Fame may make you feel like a god, but every
man is born free, free to choose between good and evil.

“I know.”  Not even Federico doubted the
feelings that Matteo had for her.  “I know that he is not an asshole,
unfortunately.  I had so hoped he would be.”  He took her hand, delicately
stroking her fingers.  “It would have been so much easier.”  He pulled her
close, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her head to his chest.  He had
always thought that life itself was overestimated, but with her he had learned
how to love and never let go.  “Thank you for everything you have given me.” 
He brushed his lips against the half-open palm of her hand, whispering, “And
even if our kiss meant something different for you than it did for me, that can’t
take anything away from what I felt.”  He had been looking for someone who
wanted to be with him, and she had done that in her own way.  “You’ll always
have a special place in my heart.  It could never be any other way.”  It was
time to go.  “Marika, you were really important to me.”

“What do you mean,
were
?”  She
could hear, hidden beneath the sweetness of his words, the bitter hints of
farewell.  “I’m not important to you anymore?”  Her nausea was making her
sweat.

“You’ve got him now.”  Federico shrugged
his shoulders, but his eyes melted into a hot mixture of honey and sap.  “What
do you need me for?”

“I just need you, you know that.”  Having
him in her life was worth fighting for.  “I was afraid you wouldn’t have even
wanted to speak to me.”  She mixed a sugar pill into her voice.  “But you’re
here and you’ve said wonderful things to me, and I don’t want this to end.” 
Federico was a part of her life, and she wouldn’t allow that to change.

“
I love you, Marika
,” he said to
himself without interrupting her.  “
Can you say the same thing
?”

“I don’t want to lie to you.”  She
embraced him possessively, reading his thoughts.  “I love Matteo, and I always
have.”  If she had looked into his eyes at that very moment she would have seen
the inferno that she had thrown him into.  “But I care about you a lot too.”

“It’s not the same thing.”  Federico shook
his head, racked by the truth.

“But one thing doesn’t exclude the other.” 
She was being so wholly spontaneous and sincere as to boil things down to the
essential.  “You and Eve, for example?”

“But I don’t feel for Eve what I feel for
you,” he thundered, shocking their hearts.

“I need you.”  She was about to degenerate
into a sobbing fit.  “I never wanted to hurt you.  And I ask for your
forgiveness if I took everything that you gave me without being able to give it
back,” she sniffed.  “I was being selfish, forgive me,” she said, moaning.

“Marika.”  He stroked her hair, asking her
to look at him.  “I never mistook what I wanted for the truth.  You haven’t
done anything wrong, you were just in need of a friend.”  He dried her cheeks
with his warm hands.  “And if that is what you need, then that’s exactly what
you’ll get from me.”  How hard it was to make that promise.  “I will be
whatever you want me to be.”

“Nothing has really changed, right?  We
are still us,” she whimpered, squeezing her arms around his neck and getting
his skin wet with her tears.  “So you won’t leave me again?” she blubbered.  “Promise!”

“
How can you even ask me that
?”  He
sighed, accepting the death blow from her.  “
I dream of having you, but that
is not the only reason I want you in my life
.”  The epilogue was nearing.  “I’ll
always be there for you.  Whenever you call, I’ll be there.”  Federico allowed
his feverish lips to touch her forehead.  “Never forget that.”

“So you’ll call me?  Soon?”  She stared
hopefully into his eyes.  “You have to let me hear the song that you wrote for
me.”  She batted her eyelids.

“
Why are you so beautiful that my brain
becomes paralyzed and my heart goes numb
?”  Federico took her hand in
leaving when he noticed a metallic object hanging there.  “Of course I’ll call
you.”  He handed her her jacket, snuffing out his jealousy.  “Did he give you
that?”  He nodded at the steel bracelet with the colored stones which Marika
was wearing on her wrist.  “Nice,” he said, trying to act cool.

She nodded, her face breaking into a wide
smile at the thought of when, just a few hours earlier, Matteo had given her
that stupendous gift inside his car, and she had forced him to block the
nighttime traffic of Milan at a green light while she smothered him with kisses
and urgent caresses.

Matteo hadn’t left the winery’s cellar all
this time, giving her time and space to clear her head, but suffering every
minute away from her.  He had been able to hug his family, had been toasted by
his friends and relatives – a high-five here, a friendly punch to the ribs
there – and he had answered all their questions.  All but one of them, the only
one he didn’t know the answer to.

“Are you waiting for Marika?”  Dario had
noticed all of the times his friend had looked toward the door, the sparkle in
his eyes dimming when she wasn’t there.  “Maybe she’s not ready for all this....”

“Hey, Matteo!”  His former teammates,
making up for lost time, kept up the barrage.  “You know who’s really great at
midfield?  The right winger.”

“Amedeo.”  Matteo answered monotonously,
like an automaton.  “He’s one of the best under-25 midfielders in all of Serie
A.”

“Hear that?” his interviewer said to the
group.  “Didn’t I tell you he’s good.”

“Maybe you should take it slow.”  Dario
was more worried about their love than about Serie A, except for the extent to
which soccer might prove too difficult for their union.  “You’ve had time to
get used to things in Serie A, and it was even hard for you.  And so....”

Matteo listened to him without
interrupting, a sad look on his face as he thought about that moment in their
past when it would have been so much easier, so much more natural, for their
love to blossom.