The Breakup (7 page)

Chapter 11

Rome was the most interesting city she’d ever seen. Aja wandered around with her mouth half open, stopping every few minutes to take in a new sight. She loved the colors, the Old-World feel of everything. The people were animated and intense. They made Aja feel washed out, tepid. The sun was perfect. Having spent most of her life living in the rainy city of Vancouver, it was wonderful to experience the Mediterranean climate. Aja longed for someone to share everything with. She pushed away depressing thoughts, stopped in front of a display of pottery, and was nearly knocked off her feet by someone behind her.

“Mamma mia!”

She turned to see a man looming over her, a jug of wine balanced on his shoulder.

“
Mi scusi. Ti ho fatto male
?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Italian.”

He switched to English. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you. Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. It’s my fault for stopping so quickly.”

He smiled at her, his dark blue eyes crinkling in the corners. “You are visiting Roma?”

It sounded exotic, spoken with his Italian accent. “Yes. Just here on holidays. Sorry, I have to go. My husband is waiting for me.” She peered around as though looking for someone, ignoring his pointed look at her bare left hand.

She’d seen him earlier in the day, staring at her from across the street. It made her nervous to think that he might be following her. Maybe Stephen had found her already. Maybe he’d hired an Italian hit man. Or maybe she was just losing her mind. He didn’t look like someone who murdered people, but she was sure there were handsome hit men out there.

Aja hurried away, pretending not to notice that he watched her go with a sad face.

She spent the day browsing shops in the Piazza Navona district, gawking at the sights. With so much to see, her eyes felt strained. The sun beat on her head fiercely enough that she broke down and bought a hat. The relief was palatable. She walked out of the store and stopped dead. She had that prickly feeling again.

Aja didn’t want whoever was following her to know she suspected anything so she moved to the store window and tried to see the people around her, just like she’d seen in the movies. It was impossible. There were too many people milling around to get a fix on the person who had given her the eerie feeling. Stephen couldn’t have found her already. Could he? Despite the heat, an icy chill settled in her bones.

No longer interested in being a tourist, she turned in what she was sure was the direction of her hotel. As she walked, she could feel the heat leaching the liquid from her every pore. She stopped at a food stand and purchased a bottle of water. She glanced behind her, but didn’t see anyone she recognized from her other furtive glance around.
Am I losing my mind
?
Maybe not, but she herself was definitely lost.

Aja decided to get a cab to the hotel. There was no point trying to find her way on foot - besides, if someone was following her, maybe she’d lose them.

She stood at the side of the busy street waiting for a cab to come by, hoping to flag one down, being jostled as people shoved past. She was irritated by the bumping, but was more interested in finding a cab than in looking for a less crowded area.

Without warning, she was shoved from behind, and was only saved from flying into the path of oncoming cars by her unknown assailant’s hold on her purse. They had a brief tug-of-war - thankfully the strap held, and Aja swung around, yanking it fiercely toward her. The small boy attached to the other end gave a squeal, let go, and took off. With the force on the other end suddenly gone, she flew backwards and slammed into another body. Arms wrapped around her, stopping her headlong fall into the street.

The arms didn’t let go as she expected. Aja struggled out of their grasp, turning around with a fierce glare. It was a young man with a wicked grin on his face.

“
Stai bene
?”

She brushed off her jeans and looked busy for a few seconds, to collect herself. She tucked her purse under her arm, said, “
grazie
,” - the only Italian word she knew - and moved away from him. He didn’t get the hint. He followed her, talking all the while.

Aja saw a cab and lunged for the curb, waving her arms like a lunatic. She’d narrowly escaped having her purse stolen and now she was being stalked by a handsome, but irritating man. Whatever had possessed her to think she could visit a foreign country on her own?
 

The cab pulled up to the curb. She grabbed the handle, pulled open the door, slid inside and slammed it so hard the cabbie jumped and looked back. The young man was at the door yammering at her and trying to open it.

“Drive!”

The cabbie put it into gear and stomped on the gas, just missing another car and a bus. Aja’s heart leapt into her throat and pounded as though it were trying to escape.
 

“
Dove
?” The cabbie asked her. “Where?” He added, probably used to tourists.

Aja gave him the name of her hotel and leaned back with a sigh. The mad race through the streets was nothing to what she’d just experienced. She had no idea what the man had been trying to tell her. It wasn’t until she reached her hotel room that it all became clear. She opened her purse to find her passport was missing. He was probably trying to give it back to her and she ran from him like a crazy person.
Stupid, stupid Aja
.

Chapter 12

The sun made the top of Aja’s head warm. She leaned back in the chair to let it hit her face. She sat outside a little bar in the town of Siena in Northern Italy. She’d seen advertisements for Siena while touring Rome, and decided that it was the perfect spot for her to spend a few weeks. While spectacular in many ways, Rome had been far too busy for her. The incident with the pickpocket and then the man she’d thought was stalking her was enough to send her to the hills. Although she’d gotten her passport back - the man had turned it in to the consulate - she still wanted to get away from the crowds. She’d spent only a few more days in Rome before renting a car and driving to the peaceful city of Siena.

Aja took a sip of espresso and felt her lips pucker. It was the only thing she recognized on the menu. It was fast becoming apparent that, no matter how charming the country, living in Italy without knowing how to speak Italian was going to present some challenges.
 

Just as she took another sip of the coffee, her arm was bumped and the cup dropped into her lap. Aja jumped up with a screech, her hands slapping at her crotch, trying to pluck the wet jeans away from her skin. She looked up with a glare, and met the same gorgeous pair of dark blue eyes she’d seen in Rome. His brows were crinkled in concentration. He didn’t seem to notice her at all.

Aja stared after him in shock, unable to believe his rudeness. “Of all the nerve,” she muttered to herself, trying to mop up with the thin napkins on the table. “What an arrogant...”

Antonio, the owner of the bar, walked up and stood in front of Aja’s table, a concerned look on his face. He wiped his hands on his stained apron.

The bar was close to her hotel, and Aja had met Antonio on her first day in Siena. She’d found herself visiting there several times a day, and so enjoyed the quaint liveliness, that she had soon become one of his regulars. The first time she’d met him, he’d spoken to her in Italian, thinking she was a native.

“
Buongiorno. Che cosa desidera
?”

Aja shrugged her shoulders. She said the only phrase she knew in Italian. “
Non parlo italiano
.” He looked surprised. Everyone seemed to think of her as a native - which she was, just not the kind of native they were thinking. Her father’s ancestors were Cree Indians, though the blood was much diluted by the time it reached her. It was Aja’s mother’s Italian ancestry of dark straight hair and olive skin that caused her to blend in so well. Her green eyes were the only feature differentiating her from many of those around her at the bar.

The bar owner had smiled. “You not from here, bella.”

“Thank you. No, I’m visiting.”

“Where you from? A
donna bella
like you not traveling alone, no?”

“I’m from Canada and yes, I’m traveling alone. I’m tough, though, don’t worry.” She had given him a bright, confident smile.

“You too small to protect yourself,
bella
.”

Aja stuck out her chin. He’d unknowingly hit on the one phrase she’d endured since she was old enough to walk. Her family had coddled and protected her until she was ready to scream. She was the smallest one of the family, the runt of the litter as Olly loved to say. She had no idea how she’d ended up so small; even her mother was taller. Aja’s worst feature, in her opinion, was her height. She was short and only reached most men’s shoulders. She had to shop in the kid’s department which presented a problem. Most twelve-year-olds don’t have boobs and a round butt. Consequently, Aja was forever on a search for the perfect pair of jeans. She was wearing her only pair and now they were covered in coffee.
 

“You OK, Aja?” Antonio asked, as he handed her a towel. He glared at the offender’s back and said what sounded like a few nasty words in Italian.

“I’m okay, thanks.” Aja mopped up as best she could, thankful it was only an espresso. The skin under her jeans stung, but it didn’t feel too damaged. She handed the towel back and smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.”

Antonio left to deal with his other customers. Aja smiled at his back. It was nice to make a friend, even if it was only the owner of the local bar.
 

It was time to decide what came next. She’d taken a room at a hotel, but she wasn’t on vacation. Aja wanted to make a new life for herself for a while. So, a job was the next thing on the agenda. What she wanted most was to prove she could make it on her own. The trust fund was for emergencies. She’d taken out some cash upon her arrival in Italy and it was going to have to last until her first pay check. It was a bet she’d made with herself, to see if she could be independent. She was determined to win that bet.

Aja considered getting a newspaper for the want ads and then threw out the idea. A newspaper in Italian wouldn’t do her much good. She thought of asking Antonio if he needed someone, but dismissed that idea because he might do it so he could keep an eye on her.

Aja dropped a few bills onto the table. She hoped she was making the right change. Just to be sure, she dropped another. It would be horrible to leave with the bill unpaid. That was another thing she had to find out: how to tell if she was paying the right amount for her purchases.

Her sticky jeans reminded her she needed to change. Aja headed toward her hotel while her brain raced through all the options for a job. The square she was in - her map called it Piazza del Campo - was packed with people. She remembered seeing a vineyard on the edge of town when she arrived from Rome. The workers were tending it as she passed, making her think how fun it would be to be part of something so ancient. In the clear light of day, she realized that actually tending to vineyards - romantic as it might seem in theory - was sure to be difficult. But wasn't that what she came to do? Work hard and be tough?
It’s do or die
, she thought.
Time to be adventurous, daring, and most of all, strong.

As she walked back to the hotel to change and get her car, Aja planned what she would say. Given that her experience with wine, which boiled down to “consuming large quantities at co-ed parties”, wasn’t going to cut it, she had to come up with something good. Being the only girl in a family of boys had taught her a few things, and lying was up there at the top.

Aja felt crumpled and sweaty by the time she arrived at the winery. There was a large parking area near the main building. She got out of her car and stood watching the workers. What they were doing didn’t look too hard. She might be a little slower than them, but she would learn.
 

Aja stiffened her back and made her way up the path to what looked like the main house in the distance. The scenery was astounding. Everything had an aged, sun-baked look about it. It was so different from the fresh green lushness of Vancouver.

She knocked on the door and crossed her fingers behind her back. It was opened by a tiny woman. Aja took a deep breath and asked, “
Parlo Inglese
?”

“Yes.”
 

Aja was relieved the woman could speak English. It would have been much more difficult to apply for a job if she couldn’t understand what they were asking.

Aja gave the woman her pitch and then held her breath for her response.

“Have you ever worked in a vineyard before?” The woman peered at Aja, sizing her up.
There’s no way she’s going to hire someone as small as me.
The only thing that gave her hope was the fact that the woman in front of her was, if anything, smaller than Aja. She was tiny and wiry, like a small package wound up tight and ready to burst into action if necessary. Her hair was dark brown with threads of grey woven through it, her skin weathered like a topographical map which had many stories to tell.