‘No. I mean, plate! I’m a chef. Everything in my world is connected to food. This morning at the market, I bought eight kilos ofpeperonifor the restaurant because I loved the colour, not because I wanted to cook them. But anyway, now we havepeperonata, pollo con i peperoniandpeperoni ripienion the menu tonight.Che palle!’ She threw her free hand in the air with frustrated passion. ‘I’m so stuck in my ways!’
‘So, how would you sleeping with Vincent help us? I’m a little confused here.’
‘Tesoro.’ She paused, taking Stella by the hand. ‘My lips can do lots of talking,no? But my hips have magic powers.Guarda!’She bounced from side to side, setting her impressive bosom into motion.
Stella giggled, throwing her free arm around Marcella. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘Well,piccolina, you would starve.’ Marcella playfully grabbed at Stella’s bony rib cage. ‘And your life would be a lot less entertaining.’
‘Ain’t that the truth! So, what was with all the underwear in the bathroom this morning? A political move?’ Stella eyed Marcella sternly.
‘Underwear? Me?Impossibile!’ Erupting in a fit of laughter, Marcella was unable to keep a straight face. ‘La luna pienamade me do it.’
‘The full moon?’
‘Sì. Last night. A supermoon, they said.Boh!’ Marcella shrugged.
Quickly scanning the endless Roman sky, Stella wondered if the full moon had been responsible for the return of her anxiety. The cold sweats. The racing heart. Shaking her head, she tried to put it out of her mind. The bright blue dancing overhead seemed far from the melancholy and torment that had accompanied her slumber.
Finally arriving at Bar Luna e Lupa, Stella was amused – though not at all surprised – to find that the signage banner had been installed at a slight angle. She grinned to herself, noting for the first time the moon and she-wolf graphics which had been added.
Marcella noticed Stella’s amusement and clarified, ‘If they put it up correctly the first time, they wouldn’t have generated the work that needs to take place tomorrow. It’s called job creation. They are simply stimulating the economy.’
Stella pressed a passionate finger into Marcella’s chest. ‘That’s your Italian ick, right there! Let’s get this done quickly, I’m starving!’
Inside, Bar Luna e Lupa was a mess. A chaotic dumping ground of plastic-wrapped furniture, clumsily laid tools and half-used paint tins. Long, thick wooden beams perched precariously against the rear wall and boxes upon boxes, each labelled differently –piatti, bicchieri, tazze, posate, speranze e rimorsi– were piled high in the opposite corner.
Marcella coughed to clear her throat as they entered the bar. ‘Dio,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘It’s going to take more than your little painting to make this place—’
‘Scusate il casino!’ Marco arrived, cutting her off and stumbling towards them.
‘Sì, un vero casino!’Marcella confirmed, taking in the surroundings.
He greeted them with a kind smile and a kiss on each cheek. ‘Welcome, I guess!’ he chirped. His tone changed abruptly as a large crashing noise erupted from the back of the bar. ‘To a hell of my own making.’
‘Marcella!’ she said, introducing herself.
‘Marco.Piacere. Welcome. We have a lot to do before Monday, as you can see.’
‘Yes. Clearly. Well, I just stopped by on my way home to drop this off,’ Stella said gesturing to the painting. ‘It’s almost dry. It might be best to not touch it until tomorrow.’ Another crash, louder than the first, shocked all three.
‘Santa Maria!’ screeched Marcella.
‘I’m thinking it might be best if I hold onto it until you open.’ Stella winced.
‘Ah,sì. Yes. Perhaps that will be better. I’m sorry, but we are behind on our plans and I’m a little worried that I won’t be able to get everything ready in time. I would offer you a coffee, but as you can see,’ he gestured to the semi-structured counter behind him, ‘that’s not exactly possible right now.’
‘Tranquillo,Marco,’ assured Marcella. ‘You can offer us two on Monday.’ She gave him a cheeky smile and strolled through the chaos, leaving the pair standing by the front door.
‘I have a proposal for you, Stella.’ Marco’s chestnut brown eyes were hopeful and a little lost, soaked in desperation. ‘Would you help me?’
‘Help you, what? Renovate a bar? I don’t know if I would be much help to you there. Unless of course you need anything else demolished?’ she joked.
‘Stella, you are a very giftedartista. Will you help Bar Luna e Lupa come to life?’
She recognised a familiar helplessness in his expression. Perhaps it was the same face she had given Giulio the day they met. ‘How would I do that, exactly?’ Stella asked cautiously. She wasn’t keen to commit herself to work she was incapable of, or that would rob her of job-hunting time.
‘With this.’ Marco pulled a paintbrush from a hole in one of the seams of Stella’s satchel. ‘See that wall over there?’ He gestured to the long stretch that ran the entire length of the bar. ‘It needs you.’
