Page 25 of Marcello

“Wait – do you have one?” I asked.

“Of course.” She reached in her purse for her keys and brought out a keychain with a little red horn attached.

“You really believe in it?” I asked, surprised.

“There’s a saying in Naples: Non è vero, ma ci credo.”

It’s not true, but I believe it.

She shrugged. “Even though I know it’s crazy, I still kind of believe it.”

“So if I want good luck, I should buy one, huh,” I joked.

“NO,” she said, suddenly very serious. “There are rules you have to follow if you want them to work.”

I thought it was all ridiculous nonsense, but I played along. “Like what?”

“You can’t buy one for yourself. It has to be given to you from someone who cares about you. And it has to be red coral, silver, or gold. It’s supposed to be tuosto, vacante, stuorto e cu’ ’a ponta – twisted, hollow, short, and pointed. And if you really want the magic to be strong, the giver has to poke the cornicello into the palm of the recipient and draw blood.”

I stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

She smiled. “Non è vero, ma ci credo.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Okay…”

“Come here.”

She grabbed my hand and led me over to an artistic-looking jewelry shop much nicer than the average tourist trap. As she searched the peg boards beside the door, she asked, “Do you want a necklace or a keychain?”

I made a face. “I don’t need one of th– ”

“Hush. Necklace or keychain?”

I sighed. I knew Fede well enough by now to know when she wouldn’t give up on something.

“Gimme a keychain.”

She found a small red pendant no bigger than my pinky, then went in and asked the shop owner how much it was.

Forty euros.

“Federica, no – ” I protested.

“Shhh,” she said as she handed the money to the shop owner. “Now hold out your hand.”

“What, are you kidding me?!”

“Just do it,” she implored.

“No thanks.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “If you do, I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had in your life.”

My cock started to get hard.

That was one thing Federica did – and did enthusiastically – that none of the other girls I’d dated had ever liked.

But I wanted something else, too. “Promise you won’t smoke pot before you do it.”