Burning The Map. Laura Caldwell

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СКАЧАТЬ her, when I know for a fact it’s not. She has hundreds of crazy stories about getting it on with rock stars, sneaking into movie premieres and getting ludicrously expensive gifts from men of all ages. But I’m glad she’s happy, and there’s no denying how hot Poster Boy is.

      “Would you like to come?” Poster Boy asks the rest of the group.

      Francesco barely glances at me before he answers with a definitive, “Sì.”

      “No!” I say, more harshly than I intended. I’m not a big fan of people answering for me, and I’d suddenly envisioned myself in an Italian housedress (okay, it is cuter than the American version), beating out a rug on the side of a dirty pensione, while Francesco yells at me to cook his favorite fusilli arribiata. When I see everyone’s surprised looks, I add in a nicer tone, “I need some sleep.”

      Francesco nods graciously. “I will take Casey to the hotel.”

      I give him a smile, not wanting to ruin his image of me, not wanting to erase the talk we had. I’d actually enjoyed the last hour more than any other in recent memory. Still, I do have a boyfriend at home. “That’s all right. I’ll walk back with Lindsey,” I say.

      “Actually, Case,” Lindsey says, a sheepish grin playing on her mouth, “I think I’ll go check out the Vatican, too.”

      “Oh,” I say, stumped. Sin is usually not the type to follow in Kat’s footsteps. She has little tolerance for men. She gives them a whirl now and again, but her hopes are always too high, or the guy’s ambitions too low. Her one major boyfriend, a charming, curly haired guy named Pete who was as short as she, she’d dumped about two years ago.

      “Sorry,” Lindsey whispers, leaning across the table to squeeze my hand.

      Kat sees the gesture and wakes up from the sexual stare she’s exchanging with Poster Boy. “Are you cool with this, Case?”

      “Sure, sure.” I push back my chair, which makes a screeching sound on the pavement. I tell Francesco I’ll take him up on the ride.

      “We’ll see you in a bit,” Kat says, her hand on Sin’s shoulder.

      I nod, but I don’t expect either of them until dawn.

      

      On the ride home, I try to remain aloof. Well, as aloof as one can get while straddling the end of a battered moped designed for one, and clutching Francesco’s midsection like a life preserver. He chatters over his shoulder, pointing out famous churches and hotels and mansions.

      “You know, I’ve lived in Rome,” I tell him when we stop at a light. “I know all these places.”

      “Oh,” he says, a mocking tone in his voice. “You know them all? You have been everywhere?”

      “Yep.” I match his tone with a smug voice of my own. I was zealous about seeing everything when I lived here. I’d fallen in love with the sculpted fountains and the steeples shooting from the churches.

      Francesco revs his sad little bike, which answers with a chug and a whine before it starts moving again. “Tomorrow night we will take you and your friends to a place maybe you have been, but you have never been there a notte, at night.”

      It sounds mysterious, but I refuse to take the bait. “Fine,” I yell into the wind so he can hear. “Whatever you want.”

      I tell myself I’m not interested, that I’m only accepting because if I want to see my friends while in Rome, they’re obviously going to be a package deal with Poster Boy and his crew.

      Francesco pulls into the courtyard, and I climb off the scooter as elegantly as possible.

      “I will call you early tomorrow evening,” he says, “and we will make arrangements to pick up you and your friends, sì?”

      “Sì,” I reply.

      He moves toward me, and I panic for a second, thinking he’s going to kiss me on the lips. Then I get a weird shot of hope that he is going to kiss me. Instead, he plants a soft, chaste kiss on each cheek, the Italian greeting, which is about as sexual to them as cleaning a closet. He smiles at me and gives the scooter another lame rev.

      “Tomorrow,” he says, and putters away into the night.

      3

      I’m surprised to hear Lindsey and Kat clomping into the room only an hour or so after I crash, but I’m too tired to find out what brought them home so soon. The next morning I wake them at eight o’clock, determined to show them all of Rome within the next two days, since we’re planning on leaving tomorrow night for the Greek islands.

      “It’s too early,” Kat moans, looking as stunning as the night before.

      While my appearance always does a nosedive by the time I get up in the morning, Kat is blessed with long, black lashes and smooth skin that never blotches. Her perpetual good looks come in handy, especially on Sunday mornings at 7:00 a.m. when she starts a twelve-hour shift as an ICU nurse. She still goes out every Saturday night without fail, and she almost always picks someone up, but it never seems to affect her nursing. In fact, she’s won awards. She even gets flowers and cards from her patients and their families.

      “Too bad,” I say to her now. “We’ve got lots to see.”

      Lindsey groans and props herself up on her elbows. “You are not going to believe the shit those guys pulled last night.”

      I immediately sit on the edge of her bed, ready for some of the good girl talk that’s been missing from my life. I’ve certainly had no interesting stories of my own. “What happened?”

      “Apparently—” she shoots a mean look at Kat “—the boys’ idea of a Vatican tour was to drive by Saint Peter’s from a mile away and point at it.”

      I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh.

      “Don’t even,” she says, before she continues. “Then they just sped away, and when I asked Massimo where we’re going he tells me Monte something.”

      “Monte Mario,” I tell her. It’s a nice neighborhood just outside the city limits. “And then what happened?”

      “Well, it was obvious they were looking for an evening of Love American Style,” Lindsey says, again glaring at Kat, “which I guess I should have expected the way those two were making out at the table—but I really did think we were going to the Vatican. One minute we’re cruising along real slow, and Massimo’s being nice, telling me things about Rome. Then we pull up to a light, the two guys talk in Italian, and the next minute they floor the scooters and start flying down the street away from the Vatican.”

      We both look at Kat, waiting for an explanation. The way she was tonguing Poster Boy at the table, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was groping him on the scooter.

      Kat gives a guilty shrug. “Alesandro asked me if we wanted to have a beer at their apartment, and I said ‘sure,’ assuming he meant after the tour. But before we got anywhere Sin started arguing with Massimo at a stoplight.”

      Lindsey snorts. “He made a comment about bringing me home the next day before work, and I didn’t appreciate the СКАЧАТЬ