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“You don’t have to point it out.” I shiver at the thought of another woman having her hands on Daisy. I know she’s not mine. She can be with whomever she wants. I’m certainly not one to judge. I lost count of how many women I’ve been with, but it still claws at me. Did they treat her right? I hope so.
“Callie, I literally found you because you left a string of women behind.”
“Can you not remind me?” Even though this is an awkward conversation, I’m just glad to be having it with Daisy.
I take her to a couple of museums, which she seems to enjoy. I prefer it when we grab some gelato and chill by the river. Although, twenty euros for a scoop of ice cream is a tad excessive. A girl’s got to budget, you know.
The hotel is tiny, there are only a dozen or so rooms. I’m more than happy to be sharing a bed with Daisy again. This time with nobody to interrupt us. We head to a restaurant that’s a few streets away. It’s cosy and inviting. To the outside world, I’m sure we look like any other couple going out on a date. I’ll pretend too, just for this evening.
Daisy picks the wine because I have no idea what is good or not. It’s friggin’ grape juice. How different can one bottle be from the next? Daisy gives me a death glare when I share that bit of wisdom with her. I order wild boar pasta. Daisy has something with truffles, it looks nice. We eat in relative silence. Maybe it’s just the day catching up with us?
“I need to message Betty,” Daisy signs when she’s finished her main course. I knew we would have to talk about it, but I kind of hoped we could have one night off.
“What do you want to tell her?”
“The truth, well, as much of the truth as possible. If she knows I’ve found you and we are retrieving the book, I think that will get her off my case for a while. She doesn’t need to know we’re planning to fuck her over. I think that would be a little counterproductive.” Her cheeky grin makes me smile.
“Tell her what you need to. I’m cool with whatever. By tomorrow evening, we will have the second part of the book. We will then need to make our way to Copenhagen for the third. After that, well, one more stop in the Scottish Isles and we’re home free.” Oh, how I wish it was as simple as that. In a way it should be. The pages in Orvieto should be easy to pick up. Copenhagen might be a tad more difficult, but I don’t want to tell Daisy that yet. As for Scotland, well, I hope she doesn’t mind getting dirty, and not in the fun way.
We sit in the hotel room after our meal and a walk. I think Daisy enjoyed the day. The conversation got a bit stilted after we started talking about Betty. One day we might be able to converse like regular people. I’m not going to try anything on with her tonight. Best to leave it for a while. Probably best if I let Daisy come to me.
I sink into the surprisingly comfortable mattress. I practise some deep breathing whilst Daisy uses the bathroom. I picture the underground section in Orvieto, where I hid the pages. There is no reason to think they have been disturbed, not unless there has been a major catastrophe down there. I cross my fingers and pray that won’t be the case.
At least this time I know I won’t run into any women I slept with. Orvieto was a day trip for me three and a half years ago. I love Italy and have visited many cities but Orvieto always stuck with me. I think it was because of the way the town sits high up. It’s superb to see when driving. It’s like a fairytale city in the sky.
The door to the bathroom creaks and Daisy gets in bed. I don’t move, I’m still trying to deep breathe my way to sleep. I’m laying straight with my hands down by my side. I feel the quilt move and Daisy takes my hand. She intertwines our fingers. That’s all I need to relax. I shut my eyes and visualise my happy place.
* * *
The smell of coffee wakes me up. Wow, I feel great. I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly. I woke up once in the night which isn’t unusual for me. I learned to be a light sleeper. Daisy was curled up against me, her head buried in my neck. That was nice. It didn’t take me long to drift off again.
I’m not trying to be a soppy mare, usually I wouldn’t be caught dead snuggling with a woman or talking about my feelings, but Daisy is different so you might as well get used to it. Anyway, back to my current reality, which is the smell of Italian coffee permeating my senses.
I shift myself into a sitting position. I am positive my hair looks like a bird’s nest. I forgot to tie it up last night and now I have to suffer the consequences. Sitting on the bedside table is a to-go cup of coffee and a cornetto. I know what you’re thinking and, no, Daisy did not bring me a wafer cone ice cream for my breakfast. A cornetto is an Italian croissant and I fucking love them. Did I tell Daisy that?
Sometimes I forget that living alone has diminished my social skills. I shouldn’t be surprised that Daisy raises her eyebrows at me as I shoved half the cornetto in my gob like the Neanderthal I am. Flaky pastry falling all over my tank top and the bed covers. I realise my mistake too late. I try to chew with my mouth closed but it’s difficult considering it’s bursting with buttery pastry. I give her a smirk.
Once breakfast is finished, I inhale the coffee vapours. Italian coffee is like having your brain kicked by a mule. It wakes you the fuck up! Daisy has eaten her food with a lot more grace and delicacy, but at least it looks like I have amused her.
We need to sort a vehicle out. I’m ready to shake things up a little. Daisy is not going to like what I have in mind but that’s half the fun. It’s less than two hours to Orvieto if we take the highway but I plan to go the scenic route. Rural Italy is friggin’ stunning. I know a place not too far away where I can acquire what we need. In fact I have a stash bag on the other side of the city. I’ll grab it to give us a bit more cash.
All my stash bags have the same things in them. Money (cash only), fake IDs and a disguise of some sort. Since Torreguadiaro I haven’t worn a disguise. I can’t see the point anymore. Not having my hair pinned up is a relief, wigs are really uncomfortable.
The clock on the wall reads eight-thirty. We should probably get going soon. I look over to Daisy who is now engrossed on her laptop. That’s new, usually she asks me to leave the room when she’s on that. I so want to ask her if she’s Jane Bond. She’ll tell me when she can, if she can I suppose. I sign to her that I’m going to take a shower. She nods and then gets back to whatever she’s doing.
Smelling better and thoroughly caffeinated, I am ready to get on with it. It’s not uncommon for me to feel restless. I usually counteract that with being efficient. Once I know I need to be somewhere I don’t mess about. Now though, I have to wait on someone else so it’s difficult. Daisy takes half an hour in the shower! Half an hour. What the hell is she doing for half an hour? Okay, so my mind went places then, but I doubt she’s actually doingthat.
I’m just about to bang on the bathroom door—because I’m getting impatient—when she strolls out smelling fresh and wonderful. Her hair is silky and hangs down by her shoulders. I forgive her completely. From now on she can spend as much time as she wants in the shower. She’d tell me to go fuck myself anyway if I complained about her bathroom time.
The bags are packed and are by the door. I leave Daisy to collect her laptop bag. We hit the streets of Florence with some newfound energy. The place I need to go to get our transport is twenty minutes away by foot. First though, I want my stash bag.
Daisy follows me without question. I ask her to wait outside whilst I go in and collect my bag from the luggage storage I use. We only need the money, so I shove that in my duffel. I hesitate before taking the ID, too. Never know when we might need something like that. The disguise gets left in the bag and shoved back into the locker. I need to make a note to cancel the rental. Once this is over, I’ll have no need for any of my stash bags.
Daisy is waiting over on the other side of the road when I come out. She doesn’t ask me what I collected and I don’t offer an explanation. We continue winding through the streets until we come to a motorbike dealer that I know. I want to laugh at Daisy’s furrowed eyebrows.
Alberto is a cool guy. I once rented a Vespa off of him and we ended up chatting for ages. He left a lasting impression on me. I think it was our shared admiration of naming inanimate objects that really solidified our bond.
We enter the shop and head for the counter. Alberto is clacking away on his keyboard. I clear my throat and hope that he remembers me. The bright smile he gives me tells me he does. A few minutes of me conversing in broken Italian gets us where we need to be. Standing in front of the prettiest motorbike and sidecar that I have ever seen.
