I slow down until I'm right in front it. There are coins in the well by the gearshift, and I grab them along with the number written on the piece of paper. I leave the car at the curb, engine running, and get out.
The payphone receiver is cold against my ear, as I smooth out the folded notepad page against the metal housing of the phone. Reading the number out loud I start feeding coins into the slot.
Click. The first coin drops. A small, definitive sound that cuts through the silence.
Click. Second coin.
Click. Third.
I dial. The line rings. Once. Twice, and my jaw tightens because if there's no answer, if this number is old, I'll be fucked. I hedged all my escape plans on this and it better?—
"Sì." One word. Alert, not groggy. Thank god.
"Gabriella, it's Violet."
Silence. Long enough that I hear her breathing change. Then a laugh.
"The American whore. Calling me." Another laugh, shorter and uglier. "Did he finally bore you, or did you just run out of ways to spread your legs for a living?"
My hand tightens on the receiver. Every muscle in my body wants to slam it down. Three weeks in a concrete cell because of this woman. Beaten, groped, photographed, prepared for sale. Because Gabriella Rossi decided I was an obstacle on her path.
I don't do any of that. Because I need her.
"I need to leave. Him. Sicily. I need to get away."
The silence I'm met with is calculating. I can practically hear the gears turning, the ledger opening, the numbers rearranging themselves behind those cold, beautiful eyes.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"It's a trap. A revenge plot."
"I'm in his car, Gabriella. Alone. It's not a trap. I'm leaving whether you help me or not."
She's silent for a bit. "Why call me?" Her voice has shifted. Still hostile, still laced with venom, but underneath it now there's interest. The sound of a woman scenting an opportunity.
"Because you're the only person in Sicily who wants me gone as badly as I want to go. And because you owe me, Gabriella. You put me in that compound. You know it. I know it. And Elio doesn't know it yet. So right now, you and I are going to have a very short conversation about how you're going to help me disappear, and in exchange I'm going to keep your name out of my mouth for the rest of my life."
Nothing. Just breathing. Then, very quietly. "What do you need?"
Perfect, I've landed exactly where I aimed.
"Transport. Money. A way to get off this island that won't need my passport. He could track that."
"When?"
"Now, Gabriella. I need this all now. I've got two hours, maybe three before he wakes up and notices me gone."
"Puttana, couldn't you have called me a week ago? Given me some time to get things in order?"
"No." It's the truth. I couldn't have risked calling her from any of Elio's landlines. He'd have known and there would have been a trail. "Listen, Gabriella. You wanted me gone? Well, here is your chance. Take it or leave it."
She sighs. "The car has GPS you'll need to ditch it." The venom is still there but it's leashed now, working alongside the calculation instead of against it. "Drive to the old harbor road that runs past a flooded quarry, South of Villabate. I'll meet you on the coastal road, half a kilometer south. I'll have clothes, money, documents. Nothing traceable."
"How will I leave the island?"
"There's a fishing vessel that leaves before dawn, they often take things for my family. It'll take you to the mainland." Hervoice hardens again. "After that you're not my problem. You were never my problem. You were just a cockroach who crawled into a kitchen where she didn't belong."
