by Bella Donnis
Erin’s face softened. “I know you must probably think I’m insane for choosing this city over some of the others but…”
“…But ‘it’s a central hub for the Amalfi Coast, Pompeii and other places’…I know. Plus your friend is here.” He took a sip from his wine, raising his eyebrows in appreciation. “But I don’t think my blood pressure can handle being in this city for more than a couple of nights, I already feel like I’ve knocked several years off my life.” There was nothing wrong with his blood pressure, but Erin could sympathise nonetheless.
“It’s a, um, interesting city.” She placated him.
“Now, that, it certainly is…Beautiful and would be more so with less people and less noise.” He smirked and shook his head. “Those bloody scooters, they are everywhere. Like flies you can’t shake off.”
“I don’t think this city was built with cars in mind. It’s a very old place.”
He reached over and touched Erin’s hand. “I’m sorry I lost my temper before, you know it’s not like me. I’m not used to this kind of thing. I was taken completely off guard by the, um, locals.”
“Hey, it’s ok. I understand. You handled it very well…You got us here in one piece.” Erin took a sip from her wine. “What do you suggest with regards to your blood pressure?”
Ben answered right away. “It’s probably best you visit your friend as soon as possible and then we should take the car along the coast, preferably north and find a peaceful hotel overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. Sound perfect or what?”
“It does.” She kept her smile even as her heart thumped with her next thought. “Then I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
Gianna
She pressed her ear against the door, the muffled voices audible but not comprehensible. Why was he still here? “Just pay your bill and leave.” She whispered against the wood for the third time.
Vedetta’s voice grew more desperate. Gianna would have to intervene. She always preferred keeping the physio side separate from everything else, particularly having to ask clients for money as it looked more professional when her receptionist took care of that.
Gianna opened the door, emerging in reception. “Signor Costa, is there a problem?” She noted the look of apology, mixed with relief on Vedetta’s face as she slumped back in her chair.
“Yes there is. I keep telling your assistant that I will pay next week, but she refuses to believe me.” Signor Costa, in his mid-forties stood with the aid of a stick, the sweat trickled down his bare arms and hairy neck to disappear below a white vest which almost became transparent from perspiration.
“Could you pass me Signor Costa’s account card please?” She held a hand out to Vedetta, even though Gianna already knew the standing of this particular account. The man cleared his throat as she pretended to read the details from the card. “Signor Costa, you booked in for a block of six treatments, which entitled you to the discounted rate of five hundred euros. The discounted rate is only applicable when you pay up front in advance. We’ve already allowed you to defer your payment several weeks.”
“Yes, I know and I told the lady I’ll pay next week.” He waved a hand to dismiss them and half-turned toward the exit.
“Signor Costa, you’ve just had your sixth treatment.”
“Sixth? That was my fifth.”
Vedetta shook her head and squeezed the fleshy area of skin at the top of her nose.
Gianna waved the card at the man. “Signor Costa, we keep thorough records…That was your sixth treatment.” She knew this oaf was playing her for a fool.
The door opened, the rattle distracting everybody for a brief moment. “Excuse me.” Vincenzo entered and took a seat, squeezing all the air out from the sponge before opening up his newspaper.
“Signor Costa, that was your sixth treatment. You should have paid six weeks ago, you kept on deferring and now you must settle your account.” There was more than a hint of panic to Gianna’s tone.
“You see this?” He bounced the tip of his stick on the floor, threw it up into the air and caught it half way along the shaft. “This stick…Which after six visits, I still need to walk about the place, to get to my car, to visit my mother, to take a shit.” He pointed the stick’s handle in Gianna’s face, she held her ground, the tip mere inches from her nose. “If your treatments were worth the money, I wouldn’t need this confounded thing anymore.”
Vincenzo placed a closed hand to his mouth and forced out a dry cough. Gianna waited for him to abate before continuing.
“As I told you from our initial consultation, Signor Costa, you’d require more than a mere six sessions before you became fully recuperated. The body does what the body does, but you’ll require treatment for a while yet before you’ll be walking unaided.”
“Well then, I’ll pay you when that day arrives.” He jabbed the cane’s handle against the bulk of Gianna’s shoulder as she took a step back.
The phone rang in the treatment room, which could only be one person and Gianna tried not to be distracted by the chiming.
Vedetta interjected. “Signor Costa, did not book in for any more treatments, Dottoressa De Luca.”
Gianna watched as Signor Costa opened the door to the outside. “So that’s what you’re going to do is it?”
Vincenzo stood and looked on at Gianna with raised eyebrows like he was expecting permission to intervene. She shook her head at him and silently mouthed the word no.
Signor Costa flapped an arm to dismiss Gianna. “That’s what I’m doing.” And then the door slammed after him.
“I’m sorry, Dottoressa.” Vedetta said, visibly shaken. “I really did try.”
“I know you did. It’s ok, you did your best.” Gianna handed the card back to her, blew a few stray strands of hair from her eyes, smiled at Vincenzo and nodded toward the treatment room. “Let’s go in here.”
The large man plodded past her. “You must enjoy losing money, Dottoressa.”
She closed the door behind them just as the phone silenced. “Vincenzo, what can I do for you?”
He glared at her as though it was obvious why he was there, then paced about the surgery, picking up a small ornament of a man in the sprinting start position and studied it. “How are you Dottoressa?”
“As well as can be expected.” She stood upright by the window, placing the fleshy part of her arm on the ledge for support.
“How’s your moth…” He stopped himself, closed his eyes and exhaled. “Don Sabbatino sends his regards and he hopes business is going well?” He replaced the ornament and continued pacing the room. His grey shirt had become untucked where his gut pushed it out at the front. Grey really was the worst colour to wear on such a hot day, the damp that originated from his armpits staining both his flanks. All Gianna could concentrate on though was his slicked back hair and pock marked face. On realising she was treating his question as a rhetorical one, he continued. “It’s that time of the month.”
“Well, why else would you be here?” She shuffled to her desk and opened the safe at its side, pulling out a bundle of notes. She threw the money down on the table and hesitated before speaking. “This is most of it.” Her thumb nail ascended to her teeth.
He took the money and flipped through it. “Only most?” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Dottoressa, I’m not sure I can even look at you right now.” His eyes flew open as he rushed a handkerchief from his pocket, pressed it to his face and rasped a painful cough from his system. The ends of the handkerchief flared as it struggled to contain the force from his throat.
Gianna threw up her arms just as the phone rang again. The caller ID read Agata. Gianna lifted the receiver then pressed the end call button, leaving the receiver off the unit – She’d pay for that later.
Vincenzo recovered from his ordeal, screwing up the sodden handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket. “You know how Don Sabbatino wants you to succeed, but you’re not making it easy o
n yourself.” He shook his head again.
“You saw what happened out there…Times are tough…I’m doing my best.” Gianna thought forward to the inevitable consequences, though in reality she was more concerned with expelling the odour after Vincenzo left. Were there faint lines of steam drifting up from his neck?
“You’re five hundred short. Don Sabbatino has been very accommodating towards you…You know he has.”
“I know he has and I appreciate his kindness.”
“But you understand that if word were to get out that one of his clients had taken bad council and refused to pay then it wouldn’t be long before others took advantage of his good nature. I want you to know that it pains me.” He looked like he was in enough pain already despite adding more to his burden.
“If I don’t have it then I don’t have it. So go on, do what you have to do.” She took a small step toward him and folded her arms, trying and probably failing to look defiant. All she wanted was the oaf gone. She held her stance and waited for him to act.
He took a step toward her. “Signor Costa was it?”
Her arms flopped to her sides. It was obvious where this was going. “What about him?”
“You know how Don Sabbatino insists on looking after his clients.”
“No!”
“All I need is an address, Dottoressa, and I’ll recoup the money from your client.”
“I do not give out client details…It’s confidential.”
“If Don Sabbatino was here now, he’d beg you.” To be fair to Vincenzo, he did sound sincere. “Can you really call him a client if he’s never paid you a single dime or morsel?” He just didn’t get it – Breaking the guy’s legs to get the money he owed kind of defeated the object of visiting a physiotherapist in the first place. But Gianna very much doubted that Knuckles saw the irony. “It’s your call.” He said, sliding out from his belt what looked like a foot long iron tube.
She didn’t have long to think about her options. She could set the oaf on Signor Costa to recoup her five hundred euros and be done with it. At worst – She’d lose a client who refused to pay and have his being crippled further on her conscience. But this wasn’t why she came into physiotherapy, to see the people she was supposed to be helping get beat up by the Camorra. In truth, she’d rather administer that beating to Signor Costa herself.
“Please, Dottoressa, all I need is an address.”
Gianna sighed. “I can’t do it, Vincenzo. Do what you have to do.”
He struck through the air what Gianna now saw to be a cosh. Two narrower cylinders snapped out from the larger outer pipe to form one long iron baton which he gripped in his hand. “You may wish to step back.” He walked toward the ceiling lamp above the treatment table and reached up, pulling it down on its arm; the shirt tucked into the back of his trousers came loose to expose the matted hair above his crack. He positioned himself and turned to Gianna. “I want you to know that this pains me deeply.” Then he struck the light, shattering a million fragments of glass over his face.
His first reaction, much too late, was to shield his eyes with his forearm. He staggered back, in obvious pain with an outstretched arm, as if even now he was searching for something to strike. To give the man credit, as blood from his eyes poured to the floor, he took it as well as any gangster could. Glass shards poked out from his face and neck where they’d penetrated the pock marked flesh. The bulb from the sky light would cost a couple of Euros to replace. The mess on the otherhand…
“Oh my God, Vincenzo, are you ok? Here let me help you.” Gianna rushed forward but was rebuked by his warning hand.
“Don’t come close.” He urged her, poising with the cosh, his grey shirt morphing red. He unleashed an almighty hacking cough lasting several seconds, on this occasion not troubling to bring out the handkerchief which had probably already taken enough punishment.
“Vincenzo, you need an ambulance.” She said, backing up against the window.
“Just stand back!” He approached the monitor that was hooked to the electrotherapy short wave diathermy. The first swing with the baton missed, the follow through almost sending him tumbling over but he regained his balance and senses enough to make a much better second attempt. Gianna saw the spark – The cosh smashed through the monitor’s glass just as the large man shot backwards across the room, crashing into the floor several metres away. The monitor would cost considerably more to replace.
Gianna unplugged the offending piece of equipment then opened the door to reception.
Vedetta was already standing, telephone receiver grasped in hand. “Another ambulance, Dottoressa?.”
“Thank you, Vedetta.”
Twenty minutes later, Vincenzo regained consciousness as the paramedics dropped him on the stretcher. They’d required the extra help from both Gianna and Vedetta to carry out the lift, the blood over his face having dried to an insane crust, his eyes menacing like a creature from the folklore of some long extinct culture, and good riddance.
“I’ll be back in three days, Dottoressa,” he croaked, “and Don Sabbatino will require a late payment fee of five thousand Euros.”
Gianna sighed and turned to the paramedic. “Will you make sure he recovers well?”
Then the ambulance pulled away, immediately finding itself trapped within a dense mass of stationery vehicles. It would be a while before poor Vincenzo arrived at the emergency room.
Gianna turned to Vedetta, “so, how’s your first week going?” She could only smile in apology.
Gianna returned to her desk, found the receiver still off the hook and replaced it. The phone rang within five seconds, the caller ID flashing Agata.
She collapsed forward against the desk, enshrouding herself in darkness, exhaled and braced herself for a few precious seconds before having to answer. “Agata.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“Hello Agata.”
“You hung up on me!”
Gianna took a long breath. “I’m very busy, you know this.”
“Who are you with?”
“Nobody Agata, just clients.”
“It’s that bitch isn’t it!”
“Agata, I keep telling you, she’s my receptionist. There’s literally nothing for you to worry about.” And Gianna would be damned before she’d allow the paranoid woman to scare away another employee.
“I saw an ambulance outside your surgery.”
“What?” She almost leapt from her chair and subconsciously turned to glance out the window. “Are you spying on me?”
“You didn’t answer!”
Gianna exhaled and slumped back into her seat. “Why did you want me?”
“When can I see you?”
How about never – Gianna paused, hoping to find the courage to rid herself of this woman. “Um, I have a window tomorrow morning, if you’re early. A quick coffee but then I have clients.” Not to mention the small matter of finding five grand – Perhaps escaping to Cyprus would be a better option.
“Great.” Well that changed her tone. “I’ll be over early tomorrow morning...Ciao.”
Gianna replaced the handset, thankful for the conversation to have ended. “Bathroom,” she muttered to herself.
It was whilst washing her hands that she caught sight of something unsightly in the mirror. “Oh no you don’t.” She moved closer and squinted - Another fucking grey hair. “I’m twenty nine!” She yanked it from her scalp and flushed it down the toilet.
She grabbed her panino from the refrigerator, slumped down at her desk and called through to Vedetta. “How long until my next appointment?”
“A little under twenty minutes, Gia.”
That wasn’t long at all. “Thanks.” She unwrapped the panino, prosciutto crudo, opened her mouth and jammed a large portion within. An almighty smash from somewhere close raised her buttocks a full inch from the seat – The usual car horns followed by shouts and screams. How there were so many collisions in a city that didn’t move was beyond her.
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br /> “Time to check the email.” She mumbled, opening up the laptop and signing into Libero. Nothing but the usual Nigerian scams and suppliers trying to sell physiotherapy consumables with the occasional work enquiry sprinkled in with them. She took a bite from her panino, deleting the crap from her account. “Penis extensions, thanks but no…” and a LinkedIn alert from Doctor Erin Baker.
A chunk of ham was pulled down the wrong pipe. She shot to her feet, hunched over the desk as she gasped, trying to induce a cough. Her eyes watered, a thick coating of mucus built in her throat as her face turned red. She heaved from the pit of her stomach and managed to fire a ham projectile over the end of the desk.
Close call - She dabbed a tissue against her eyelids and took a long drink of water, clearing away the built up mucus. She wrapped the panino back in its foil and placed it in the desk drawer. Then she took her seat and rearranged the papers that were haphazard on the desk. “What the fuck?” She glanced outside the window, endured a few moments of noise from outside and thumped the desk. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She froze, still unable to face the laptop screen and found her fingers were tapping a rhythm on the touchpad. Her heart beat hard as sweat built over her forehead.
“Erin.” She whispered. “Sweet, beautiful Erin.”
Gianna braced herself and clicked on the alert. She held her eyes closed tight, breathed deeply, then opened them.
“‘I hope you remember me?’ … Of course I remember you.” She breathed and continued. “‘I also hope you are well and happy’ … Not really, Erin … ‘It’s been a long time’ … Yes it has. It’s been too long … ‘It just so happens I’ll be passing through Napoli for a few days from tomorrow’ … What?” Gianna was unaware of just how hard her hand gripped the edge of the desk. “Wait…tomorrow? When did she send this email?” She checked the date on the alert. “Yesterday…She’s here now?” She yelped, straightening and not knowing her foot tapped against the floor – Must read on. “‘I thought it’d be nice to grab a coffee and have a catch up? How is Friday for you?’ … Friday? What day is today? Shit…Mental block…It’s Thursday. Fuck! … ‘I’ll drop by your practice around mid-morning. If not, then that’s cool’ … Of course it’s cool, you silly goose.” She exhaled and dabbed again at her eyes and cheeks.