I pick up my wine, taking a sip, trying to figure out what to say to that. I know what my rancher mother would say to that. My CPA of a father too. “He sounds nice,” I finally offer.
“Nice to them, yes,” Chiara says. “But when he died, all the money he owed, all his debts, plus the unpaid taxes for the business and for their home, they all became due. Plus an estate tax, just to transfer it all to Maria.” The words land hard on the table, and please, let her be joking. Except, she doesn’t look like she’s joking. She glances at the table next to us, then her eyes flick back to me. “Massimo ran his father’s shop for a while so he could help,” she says with a resigned shake of her head. “But even that was not enough, so he did…other things. Things I do not agree with,” she says, her eyes flaring a little. “But he has always taken care of his family.”
I make a mental note to ask Massimo about that later, carefully. “What about racing, though? At that age, he would have been training all the time, preparing for the Rookie Cups.”
The corner of her mouth turns up. “He quit.”
“He what?”
“For about a week,” she says, taking a sip of her wine. “Then Vinicio took hold of him and said, ‘Massimo, you want to help your family? Follow your dreams and be a big moto star, and then your family will be saved.’ So he did.”
Hope perks up in my chest. He signed with some official sponsors pretty fast, I remember. And all those win bonuses, even at that level, they would have made a huge difference. They must have. “Did he save the shop?”
A funny look flits across Chiara’s face, a little surprised and a tad disappointed. But I’m not sure if that’s in me or because of the story. “No. It was seized.”
“Jesus.” He’s lost, just, everything. I take another deep pull on my wine, wishing I was drunker. “I never knew…any of this.”
Chiara shrugs like she’s not surprised and not sure why I am either. “Of course you would not. The man does not talk anymore except to say something probably rude because he thinks it is funny. He only has one thing on his mind, and that is how to protect his family. The rest is all bullshit.”
I try really hard to ignore the whisper in my heart that wonders if that was directed at me.
Chiara sits back in her chair, stretching like she’s got all the time in the world before tossing her hair. “You like Batman?”
“What?”
“Batman,” she repeats. “You know, Bruce Wayne: wears a mask and a utility belt, is a vigilante in Gotham City?”
“Okay,” I say with a chuckle. “No more wine for you.”
Chiara laughs, sitting forward again and propping her chin in her hand. “I love comic books.” She bites her lip like comics are a delicious lover. “When Batman’s parents died, he had so much pain and so much money, he did not know what to do with it all. So he gave his money to an orphanage, to help the little boys who were like him.” Her smile grows wider, her voice a little softer. “Batman has a big heart, but he spends so much time fighting crime, being Batman, that people sometimes forget he is still little orphaned Bruce Wayne.”
My brow furrows, trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. Then my eyes widen. “No…”
She laughs. “Oh yes.” Chiara leans closer, whispering over tiramisu and cannoli, “Listen with your eyes, Lorelai.”
I sit back in my chair, the white linen tablecloth tickling my thighs as sunlight glints off crystal water glasses. All I can think about is his room.
It’s basically just a bed. One table, one lamp. One clock, not even digital. No art, no TV. Just one small cluster of three-by-five-inch photos hung with thumbtacks.
He lives like a freaking monk.
It takes me a second before I’m able to speak. “What does he do with it? The money, from racing?”
She shrugs, digging back into chocolate crepes. “He takes care of his family. When the debt collector came for Maria’s house—”
I hold up my hand to stop her for a second, because it’s too much after them losing the shop. But Chiara keeps going.
“—Massimo made him a deal. If Gabriele would move the inheritance and all the debt from Maria’s name to Massimo’s, Massimo would pay him an additional interest on the whole sum. Cash, under the table.”
“What?” I nearly shriek. “Why offer to pay him more?”
“So that whatever Maria earned would remain hers, and she could take care of Dario.” Chiara levels a look at me, reality blaring from her eyes. “Lorelai, making sure Dario’s future is secure, that there is no debt tied to Maria’s name, this is very important. He cannot inherit the mess that Massimo did.”
“This can’t be real,” I mutter. “All that money…”
She tilts her head, squinting. “Not all of his money. Just most. Vinicio takes his manager salary, and Massimo hides the rest in my name, because the official debts will not allow him to buy anything. Not a moto, not a car, not a house, not anything until he pays that off first. And if he doesn’t meet his interest payment, his accountant will move the debt back to Maria’s name, seize everything she’s built for herself since, and take Dario’s security with it.”
I glance around at the rest of the piazza, moving right along like the center of the world didn’t just shatter, a big gaping hole left down the middle. “That is…so messed up.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “But with every win, Massimo becomes closer to freedom. And after Austria, he is now very, very close. He should be happy. Celebrating. But for some reason, he’s not.”
I look back to Chiara, and I don’t know why she expects him to be happy about any of this. I’m pissed. Furious for him, for his family. Everything he’s fought for…every time he races, he puts his life on the line. And it’s all going to some greedy accountant? “Does his mom even know? I mean, this is…”
Chiara nods slowly, now looking as mad about the whole thing as I am. There’s no love lost between her and Maria either, though I’m not sure what the specific beef is. Just that it’s old. “Yes. She knows. She was furious when he told her, but there was nothing she could do. And in a way, she has to know that she would have lost even more if he had not done what he did.”
“Batman…” I breathe, Chiara nodding as she returns to shoveling whipped cream and strawberries into her mouth. “What about the rest of his family? Or the church? Can’t they help?”
She shakes her head, wiping her mouth. “No. Cesare was the last of his brothers, and Maria’s family does not have that kind of money. And Massimo will not ask for help from anyone else. He turned from the church many years ago.” My brow furrows as she takes a deep drink of wine, then sets down her glass with a sigh. “It was my fault.”
I wait for her to elaborate on that, but she doesn’t.
I clear my throat. “He still wears his cross, though.”
She shrugs. “It was his father’s. He may not believe in becoming attached to any of his possessions, even though his obsession with his mother’s house makes him a hypocrite—”
“Thank you!” Finally, someone agrees with me on that.
She laughs, nodding. “But if he has one thing he would never sell or give away, it is that cross. It is his Wayne Manor.”
I look over our plates of half-eaten desserts. “Massimo as Batman.”
“Yes,” she repeats. “Only now, he wears his mask all the time, and very little is he Bruce Wayne. Except for this.” Chiara digs in her purse until she takes out an envelope, but not a letter-sized one. This is larger and square, like for photographs. “I have wanted to give this to you for a while, but I did not want to do it with Massimo glaring over our shoulders. So…here,” she says, handing it to me.
My nerves spike more than justifiably for an envelope, but I open the folded flap and slide out the picture. I instantly smile, looking at Massimo in racing leathers in front of a track. He’s yo
ung, maybe sixteen, possibly seventeen.
“MotoB,” I realize when I pay closer attention to the leathers he’s wearing.
Chiara stands and brings her chair around to my side of the table, sitting next to me. “Now,” she says, scooting closer, “look at his face, and tell me what you see.”
“He’s smiling,” I answer, fighting the craziest urge to cry, because that’s not quite the word for it. He’s grinning like everything is perfect. Like he’s alive with joy, and the thing is, it’s just a profile. He’s looking off to the side at something, but I don’t know what.
“Yes, he is smiling.” Chiara chuckles. “And this is why.” She messes with the back of the picture, and I distinctly hear the sound of tape popping off. Two more inches are added to the side of the photo, Chiara straightening it from where it had been folded back.
The tears I was fighting come rushing in, because Massimo is smiling at me. Walking away, not looking at him but flipping him off over my shoulder.
“Lorelai,” Chiara says, her voice low and more serious than it’s been all day. “I know you love Bruce Wayne, and he loves you, more than you realize. But right now, I think that maybe Gotham City is under attack, and whether we like it or not, all we have left is—”
“Batman,” I answer.
Chiara lays her hand on my arm. “Batman can be cruel, even to those he cares about. Batman can be cold and yell and hide away in his bat cave. But I beg you, Lorelai. Do not forget that underneath, he will always be Bruce Wayne. And one day, if we are lucky, he will remember too.”
I swallow, looking at her. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Just…deal with it?”
She smiles, wiping off my tears. “No. You will be Wolverine. And you cut that mask off if you have to, any way you can.”
BRITISH GRAND PRIX
Silverstone, Sunday, August 25
Pos
Pts
Rider
Time
World Rank
1
25
Giovanni MARCHESA
46’15.617
125
2
20
Santos SAUCEDO
3.010
209
3
16
Lorelai HARGROVE
4.117
130
4
13
Massimo VITOLO
10.726
177
5
11
Mason KING
11.132
124
6
10
Billy KING
25.467
226
7
9
Diarmaid DEAN
26.717
25
8
8
Aurelio LOGGIA
29.393
65
9
7
Harleigh ELIN
38.815
48
10
6
Gregorio PAREDES
41.712
63
11
5
Cesaro SOTO
44.776
25
12
4
Rainier HERRE
52.489
54
13
3
Gustavo LIMÓN
1’11.211
28
14
2
Donato MALDONADO
1’15.292
45
15
1
Deven HORSLEY
1’17.863
73
16
Elliston LAMBIRTH
1’19.310
47
17
Cristiano ARELLANO
1’19.735
90
18
Timo GONZALES
1’58.086
17
Not Classified
Galeno GIRÓN
1 Lap
57
Fredek SULZBACH
6 Laps
57
GP OCTO DI SAN MARINO E DELLA RIVIERA DI RIMINI
Misano Adriatico, Sunday, September 15
Pos
Pts
Rider
Time
World Rank
1
25
Massimo VITOLO
44’06.586
202
2
20
Lorelai HARGROVE
4.001
150
3
16
Santos SAUCEDO
6.451
225
4
13
Billy KING
9.078
239
5
11
Giovanni MARCHESA
13.939
136
6
10
Cristiano ARELLANO
19.615
100
7
9
Mason KING
25.309
133
8
8
Timo GONZALES
31.812
25
9
7
Diarmaid DEAN
36.225
32
10
6
Cesaro SOTO
42.701
31
11
5
Deven HORSLEY
47.493
78
12
4
Rainier HERRE
51.998
58
13
3
Aurelio LOGGIA
54.048
68
14
2
Gregorio PAREDES
1’02.396
65
15
1
Harleigh ELIN
1’12.775
49
16
Fredek SULZBACH
1’25.469
57
Not Classified
Elliston LAMBIRTH
20 Laps
47
Wreckless Page 27