Page 12 of Better Than Gelato
“I know!” she squeals. “This is why we come here!”
Today is going to be a good day.
Two hours later, I’ve collected a pair of black pants, a black skirt, a black shirt that says Dolce and Gabbana (that is definitelynotDolce and Gabbana) and black stiletto ankle boots. I’ve blown through all my money, but I’m on my way to dressing like a real Italian. Isa is going to be thrilled.
Carmen and Paolo offer their fashion opinions, sometimes subtly and sometimes not-so-subtly. Paolo has found a dark gray peacoat and is doing everything in his power to convince Jake to buy one too, but Jake won’t budge.
“But it is such a nice coat,” Paolo pleads.
“It is,” Jake agrees. “And it looks great on you. When you wear that coat, you look like a handsome Italian man. When I wear that coat, I look like a goofy American trying to look like a handsome Italian man.”
“It is true, you cannot look as handsome as me, my friend. But you could look a bit better…” Paolo gestures vaguely at Jake’s clothes. Valentina gives Paolo a poke in the ribs.
“I love the pants you found,” Carmen tells me. “They’ll be perfect for dancing on Wednesday.”
“Dancing?” I ask.
“Yeah, there’s a club that lets foreigners in for free on Wednesdays. We go almost every week. You’ll love it.”
“Nonsense,” Paolo says. “Juliet is way too sophisticated to enjoy a terrible club like Calypso.”
Carmen smirks. “Paolo doesn’t like going there because he’s the only one who has to pay.”
“And because the music is awful and the decor tacky. Juliet’s going to loathe it.”
But Paolo is wrong because when we walk into Calypso five days later, I absolutely love it. A chandelier filled with lights of every color showers the dancers in shimmering rainbows. Black velvet booths and couches line the perimeter. Everyone is good-looking and dances like they’re in a music video. It’s hands down the coolest place I’ve ever been. I try to look nonchalant, like I go to places like this all the time, but I can tell I’m not pulling it off.
The air is humid and smells like warm bodies and cologne. I can feel the bass pulsing through me. It’s too loud for anyone to talk so we all just dance. Jake dances like a dorky American, but I think he’s doing it on purpose, which makes it kind of adorable. Paolo barely moves, he simply sways enough to look elegant and not awkward. Carmen and Valentina and Diego move like they’ve got the rhythm flowing through their veins. I feel self-conscious for a moment, then the music takes over and I relax.
A salsa song comes on and Diego offers me his hand. I take it and he spins me dramatically. By the third twirl, I’m giggling like a goose. A few songs later, I attempt to teach Paolo, but I keep getting the steps wrong. Paolo pretends to be exasperated, but I don’t think he actually minds.
Toward the end of the night, Cotton Eye Joe comes on and Jake and I teach the others the line dance.
“Juliet, look at me,” Diego says. “I’m a real American cowboy.”
Diego pretends to lasso Paolo, who’s sitting this one out. Paolo brushes the imaginary lasso away like it’s a piece of lint on his clothing. I’m laughing while trying to keep up with Carmen and Valentina who have added their own twirls, dips, and stomps to the line dance. By the time the song ends, I’m exhausted.
“Thatwas a good time,” I say, flopping into the chair next to Paolo.
“I especially liked when Diego took off on his own, riding a horse only he could see,” Paolo comments.
“Perhaps next time you’ll join us,” I say.
“Ah, Juliet, you do not know me very well yet.”
We watch the others dancing, and I marvel at my good luck falling in with this group.
“Tell me, Dolcetta, what are you doing this Friday evening?” Paolo asks.
I scramble to think up something clever or flirtatious, but nothing comes to mind, so I just answer truthfully. “I have no plans.”
“Perfect,” he replies. “My boss gave me tickets to the theater. Would you like to accompany me?”
A simple yes would have worked, but like a total dork I blurt, “That sounds fantastic! I’d love to go! What a great idea!”
Paolo’s lips quirk in amusement.
We leave Calypso shortly afterward and walk back to il Duomo to catch our buses home. Diego checks his phone and says, “They’re showing the new Mission Impossible at Cine Centrale on Friday night. Should we go?”
