“The night before he was arrested, Gaetano dropped a bunch of girls at a party. Then, they made him come back and pick up this girl. She was super high. Crying and bleeding everywhere.”
“Bleeding?”
“Yeah. Her face was all bloody, he said. That happened sometimes.”
Ravenna’s eyes met Valerio’s.
“The women would be injured?” said Valerio. “This happened more than once?”
Natale had been speaking confidently. Now, for the first time, she seemed uncertain.
“That’s how rich people are, isn’t it? Do whatever they want. That’s what Gaetano said.”
“Gaetano took women away from the parties when they were hurt?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, she seemed to switch off, arms hanging limply, the light dimming in her eyes.
—
Valerio and Ravenna walked together in silence down Via dei Tribunali. Valerio was moved by the awkward teenager and her dead boyfriend. Natale exhibited the same type of reckless bravado that Gaetano had shown: a childish aggressiveness that must be a sort of barometerfor the everyday terror they lived with. As if to convince themselves that they could survive a world where they were so out of their depth. Their desperate powerlessness felt horribly akin to his own, and he understood the need to lash out, to insist that he could solve this, that he could survive it.
Ravenna broke the silence: “What the hell kind of parties were they?”
—
They stopped at a café to duck out of the rain that had started during the interview.
Taking an empty table by the window, they ordered espressos and Valerio went to the toilet. On his way back, he stopped by the counter to buy a sfogliatella.
At the table, Ravenna was looking at her phone.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve found Alta Visione Talenti. Address in Rome.”
She passed over her phone and Valerio flicked through the various pictures of beautiful young women, displayed like items on a menu. Each had smooth skin and parted lips, eyes seducing the camera. He was reminded, uncomfortably, of a photo some shithead had taken of his teenage daughter a few months ago.
One picture made him pause. He zoomed in, and examined the features before deciding he was right.
“I know her,” he said slowly.
It was Maria. Raw vegan Maria.
“How do you know her?”
He opened his mouth to say—but was suddenly reluctant to talk about it.
“I went on a date with her,” he admitted.
Ravenna’s eyebrows raised. She took the phone back and examined the picture.
“She’s very beautiful.”
“She wasn’t what I thought,” he said. “She was looking for…a sugar daddy.”
“Oh dear,” said Ravenna. “And you didn’t want a sugar baby?”
Valerio blew out through his teeth. The coffees arrived, granting a brief reprieve. He bit into the crunchy sfogliatella, scattering pastry flakes across the table.
