Page 37 of Livia in Rome
‘Sì, certo.’ I try to sound nonchalant while my stomach sinks a little. I mentally scold myself for being ridiculous. Obviously he’s here to talk business. What else would he need me for? ‘So, how did we do?’
He scrolls through some numbers on his phone.‘We made just under four hundred euros. Better than Sunday morning...but even if this keeps up, we’d never pay off the debt in time – even with the Vespa as a down payment.’
I chew the inside of my cheek. ‘How much is it worth?’
He pauses, then sighs. ‘A vintage Vespa, in good condition? Around seven thousand, maybe more. Bertolli’s only offering five.’
I frown. Bertolli clearly knows Giulio’s in a difficult position and is taking advantage. I do a quick mental calculation. Even with today’s earnings, it would take too long to make that money – and that’s without taking the rest of the debt into account, or the bills and overheads and all the other things Ma’s been muttering about. I feel silly for getting my hopes up earlier – as if a bunch of teens can really make a difference.
‘Five thousand...’ I repeat, my voice trailing off. ‘That’s a lot.’
Giulio leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. ‘And the bank isn’t going to wait for ever.’
I force myself to focus. ‘What if...we trial the swap for another day or two and, if it carries on like this, we invite Bertolli to see for himself? He might give us more time if he thinks business is picking up.’
He considers it. ‘You think?’
I warm to the idea. ‘If we show him there’s potential for real, long-term change, he might. But...’ I check over my shoulder, making sure we’re alone. ‘We’ll have to keep it from Ma somehow.’
Giulio lets out a long sigh. ‘It’s worth a try, I suppose.’
As he goes back on his phone, I catch myself staring at him for a moment too long. Why did I even think for a second he came to see me? I shake my head, reminding myself to stay focused. It’s just the bar, the Vespa, the debt.
Besides, even if there was something more, Ma would go into overdrive. All the progress I’ve made at fitting in would be gone in a blink. I can practically hear her voice now:Another foreign girl bites the dust.
The language swap gets busier with each passing day, and today is the busiest yet. Laughter and languages fill the air. I even overhear Enrico teaching a French tourist the art of creative insults – something modern-day Romans are renowned for all over Italy.
I’m tempted to join in, but I can barely drag my eyes away from the entrance. Giulio has been begging Bertolli to come and see our initiative, and, with only two days to convince him the bar’s an investment worth saving, I’m both relieved and terrified he’s finally agreed.
Giulio’s as tense as I am, his head snapping up every time someone new arrives. Our mission: intercept Bertolli before Ma sees him. The idea – a flimsy one – is to hide him in plain sight, but we’ll only be able to do that if he comes now while the bar is busy. And more importantly, he needs toseeit’s busy if we’re going to convince him to give us more time.
I tell myself he’ll be there on the count of ten, butI’m only at eight when a shadow moves in the doorway. It’s him – Bertolli. He’s stopped on the threshold as if his gaze has caught on something. Following his line of sight, I see it – Giulio’s Vespa, parked by the entrance. His greedy eyes roam over the bike like it’s already his.
‘Here we go,’ Giulio mutters before putting on his best smile and going to greet him.
Bertolli strolls around the bar, hands clasped behind his back, pale grey eyes sliding over every detail – inspecting, weighing...calculating. He reminds me of a briefcase, all leathery and square-angled, full of importance. It’s clear he’s not here for the swap, and my eyes dart nervously to Ma. She’s stuck behind the counter, serving customers, but she’s craning her neck, like she wants to know who I’m talking to and is frustrated she can’t see properly. Weirdly, Bertolli always seems to have his back to her, as if he’s just as keen to avoid her as we are.
‘Interessante...’Bertolli circles back to the entrance where Giulio and I are waiting for him, as far from the counter as possible. ‘I see the potential, I really do...’
Hope sparks in my veins. Maybe this will work. Maybe he’ll see we’re making real progress. I force a smile. ‘We’re hoping this will really turn the business around.’
Bertolli wets his lips, eyes straying once more to the Vespa. ‘But potential does not pay off debts. If you had not already missed a number of payments...perhaps. But the terms of our agreement have been breached.’
Giulio shifts beside me. ‘We just need a bit more time.’
I clench my fists at my sides, my thoughts spinning as I try to come up with a convincing argument.
Bertolli’s voice cuts through the noise in my head, calm and unbothered. ‘If I have the Vespa as a down payment, that will give you time to get established.’
My heart sinks. Giulio’s standing rigid, his jaw locked tight. I can’t let this happen. I step forward, my voice shaky but determined. ‘It was his nonna’s...It has sentimental value. What if we sold something else?’
Bertolli eyes me with cold indifference. ‘Only the Vespa. Or seven thousand euros. You have three days left.’
‘But you said it was worth five!’ Giulio exclaims, then he hushes, looking to see if Ma noticed. ‘You can’t.’
My skin crawls at the snake-flicker of Bertolli’s tongue. ‘Five is what I’m willing to pay, to help you out of this fix. But if you do not need my help, then seven is what you need to come up with.’
It’s clear he’s not interested in saving the bar. Hedoesn’t care if we make it or not. All he wants is the Vespa, and he’s just biding his time, knowing we’re running out of options.
