Work Text:
Bucciarati lit a cigarette while looking at the sea. Five in the morning.
It was cold outside, but the window was open. Wearing only his underwear, he took the first puff, nervous, and then turned towards the bedroom door: no noise. Turned back to the sea and shivered with cold at the thought of the temperature of the water but God, how he would have liked to jump into that icy liquid that would freeze his breath and his thoughts.
Yet you have done far worse things, Bruno Bucciarati.
His mind went over the previous hours again: the evening began at the Crystal, one of the game rooms that Passione controlled. Everyone knew it was adjacent to a strip club, the Red Zone, but only a few were aware that the two businesses cooperated for the pleasures of wealthy politicians and entrepreneurs. Clandestine gambling activities frequently took place in the back of the club, with exclusive private shows for the participants.
Passione not only guaranteed the regularity of the game, providing trusted dealers, but also controlled that no unfortunate events occurred and protected the girls from some customers a little too exuberant.
That evening Bucciarati's entire team was required on site. It was the birthday of young De Simone, the mayor's son, and the program included a lavish celebration: open bar, live music, waitresses wrapped in leather bodysuits, poker table and burlesque show. The team was there to prevent anyone from thinking of spoiling the boy's party and make sure no one went away unhappy.
The gaming table was occupied by Neapolitan youngsters: sons of politicians, judges, financiers but also bastards of cardinals and fallen nobles. Abbacchio checked from a corner that everyone was behaving properly while Narancia was standing in front of the door as a lookout. Fugo was chatting with the girl in the checkroom - he was reasoning about whether or not to give her his number. Mista was leaning against the bar, chatting with the barman: every now and then he turned around to discreetly offer some chips to the Pistols who were swirling around him, noisy but invisible to all apart from his teammates.
"Our girl is ready to perform whenever she wants." Bucciarati approached De Simone, who had just lost a thousand lire in chips but didn't seem particularly concerned.
" Uè Bucciarati" De Simone patted him on the back, getting up from the gaming table and offering him a cigar " UNA PAUSA, RAGAZZI! " he yelled to the other players. "You're making a name for yourself, huh? A phenomenal party! My dad told me that you people from Passione are serious!".
Bruno politely declined the cigar and lit a cigarette, for company. "Friends should be treated well, De Simone. Hospitality is sacred in Naples, right?"
"Right, Bucciarati! Right! But call me Antonio, please, we'll be the same age! We could be brothers from what I know, considering all the bitches my father fucked," he laughed loudly and his friends laughed with him, crudely.
Bruno barely smiled and sucked in more smoke from his cigarette. "We could" he merely said, smiling politely. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll go tell her to come out."
He turned away impassively and entered a small door adjacent to the stage where an acoustic ensemble was playing until a few minutes ago: there was a girl with long blond hair gathered in an elegant hairstyle who was putting on her earrings, looking at herself in the mirror of a modest dressing room. She was wearing only a robe and a fine black underwear suit, complete with garters.
"Mary, anytime."
Mary smiled, seeing Bucciarati's reflection in the mirror.
"I'm ready, Bucciarati." She slipped on her heeled shoes and fixed her hair for the umpteenth time. "But it's still missing the finishing touch!" she pointed out to him what looked like a complicated wrap made of... "Balloons?" Bruno didn't quite understand why that sash was so oddly shaped.
"Here, I had an idea! Since it's a birthday party..." he took the balloon band and slipped into it: the strange decoration covered many hot spots. Seeing that Bruno's expression remained questioning, Mary grabbed a long knitting needle. "It's for our birthday boy, isn't it? He's going to pop the balloons. Like I'm a present to unwrap... But it's more fun."
Bucciarati looked more closely at the girl's creation, admiring "Even a custom show, what can I say... You're just the right girl for the job, I had no doubt."
Mary smiled shyly but proudly "Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I thought I would get some good exposure and I wanted to do my best, I really did. It's not every day you get a hire like this and so..."
"We'll give you some publicity. I'm sure your show will be excellent."
"Thank you Bucciarati. You've really been..." she walked up to him, as if to hug him, but wondered if that was a good idea and stopped with her arm in mid-air, brushing his shoulder. "Really nice. It's hard to do shows here in Naples if you're not a stripper."
He reached over to take her out of awkwardness and placed his hands on both her shoulders for a few moments. "Don't worry, everyone deserves a chance. Not to mention that your family has always been obliging to us, I thought of you immediately when I was given this assignment..."
The crowd began to clamor and boo.
"HEY, BUT WHEN DOES THE SHOW START?"
"C'MON, DON'T KEEP US WAITING!"
"I'm going." Bucciarati walked away. He winked at her. "Go charm them."
Mary nodded. She took a few moments after Bucciarati had left to regain her focus. There were plenty of men out there who would kill to spend a night with her but the object of her interest, well, he had just walked out that little door.
***
When the music started and Mary peeped out from the stage, all the men in the room broke into thunderous applause.
"COME ON GIRL, DON'T BE SHY!"
"YEAH, COME ON OUT! SHOW YOURSELF!"
Feigning bewilderment, the girl showed up on stage in a balloon dress that left the audience puzzled until she asked, "I need the birthday boy to get this show started..."
At that point, booing and screaming erupted.
"HE WANTS YOU, ANTO"
" JA , MAKE HER COME!"
While the guests were having a good time, Mista approached Narancia bringing him a cocktail.
"Here, a Blue Angel. But how can you like this shit?"
"Mind your own fucking business, Mista. Look, what's the difference between a burlesque performer and a stripper?"
"Well, I guess you put money in the stripper's underpants and this one doesn't."
"Ah but then this one is cheaper"
"No, I don't think so, they pay a lot more for burlesque."
"Ah, so instead of putting the money in her underpants, you give it to her first."
Fugo's voice interrupted them.
"Ohi Mista, nothing for me to drink?"
"Oh, you could have had the chick bring it to you, Panni."
"She's working. And don't call me Panni."
"I'm working too, you're the one who's picking up on duty."
"You're just jealous."
The conversation was interrupted by a loud popping of a balloon.
"WO-HOOO! COME ON POP IT ALL OVER!"
"NAKED!"
Narancia wasn't entirely convinced by Mista's explanation. "Ohi Fugo, listen, you who know everything, what's the difference between a stripper and a burlesque performer?"
"Well, burlesque is actual entertainment. It's something where you get the audience to interact, it's like... a show, that is."
"But sorry, also strippers entertain me, I don't get it."
"Mista, it's more of an intellectual thing, it's normal that you don't get it."
"Intellectual what, I mean, it's still a pretty girl in her underwear, right?"
Fugo sighed. "Forget it."
Another thunderous balloon burst.
" Madonna these fucking balloons, it sounds like they're shooting."
"I can tell you're not a shooter, Fugo."
"What are you implying?"
"Ohi, morons!" the voice of Abbacchio, leaning against one of the tables with a glass of white wine in front of him, intruded on the trio's chatter. "You're here to work, not make conversation. If you want to take a moment, do it quietly. The party is not for you."
The three looked at each other as they rolled their eyes.
"You're boring, Abbacchio! Come on, not even a pretty girl taking her clothes off relaxes you a bit?"
Leone pulverized Narancia with his gaze, but before he could answer Bucciarati approached the rest of the group, "Guys, you're raising your voices. It's unprofessional."
Abbacchio huffed and took a generous sip from his wine glass.
Narancia put on a pout and turned back to Mista, whispering something to him.
Fugo said he was going to get something to drink as well.
They were all fiery types but they respected Bucciarati too much to ignore what he said.
That's why he was the boss.
"What are you drinking, Bucciarati?" asked Leone, still annoyed after emptying his glass. Bruno looked at him with some concern, but the other didn't even let him speak and quickly added, "I'm not drunk. I am working. I can handle two glasses of wine. Now, tell me what you want to drink."
"The same as you drink" Bruno replied, raising his hands in surrender.
"Mnh" Leone walked away and then went back to the table with two glasses of white wine.
In the meantime the show was going on: De Simone had burst all the balloons and Mary, now in lingerie, was literally giving lessons in seduction to the men.
"So gentlemen, do you want to conquer these girls? Come on, give me one of your belts and I'll teach you how to pull it off in an irresistible way!".
Shouts and screeches of jubilation, the entire male audience unbuckling their buckles.
"So, what do you think of Mary?" exclaimed Bruno, sipping his Falanghina.
"She's not my type," cut Leone short.
"No, I mean... She's good, right?"
"Ah, sorry. I was thinking about the talk of those three fools..." Abbacchio let the wine catch air by swirling his glass. "Well, she's good at it, no doubt about it. I've never seen so many people stay in their underwear all at once."
Bruno chuckled. "Mary knows her stuff. It was lucky she was available."
"Of course, you asked her to, Bucciarati. For you, she'd even get whipped."
Bruno turned to Abbacchio, frowning. "Excuse me?"
Leone remained silent a few seconds, took a sip of wine and finally answered. "You didn't notice anything then. That one has a soft spot for you. Trust me."
Trust me, Bruno. I've seen the way she looks at you. She looks at you the way I look at you.
Bruno turned back to the stage but did not respond. He couldn't say anything.
He would have wanted to say many things, but took another sip of wine.
"So what's your type, Abbacchio?" he decided to deflect, as he always did.
Abbacchio swirled his glass again, but this time more firmly, as if to vent his nervousness. "I prefer black haired ones."
They both looked at the stage, not having the courage to look at each other.
"With very clear eyes. Not too pale."
Bruno drank again.
"Sounds like a pretty accurate description to me."
Abbacchio shrugged.
"Of a particular person, I mean."
They drank again.
"It is," Leone concluded.
I can't tell you that. Stop thinking about it. He's not talking about you, Bruno. It's not.
Bucciarati felt he was running out of saliva and kept drinking, hoping that feeling would go away. He knew he had gone to a point where he didn't know how to continue without exposing himself and revealing his feelings. He wanted to tell him "Tell me you're talking about me, say my name, please" but he couldn't speak. Why had he done that?
Leone drained his glass of wine, as an antidote to the silence between them.
Stupid idiot. What the fuck did you think you were doing, declaring yourself to Bucciarati?
What are you, a fucking little girl? He's not a faggot like you.
"You should tell him, then" Bucciarati finally said.
Abbacchio placed the empty glass on the coffee table.
"No. I don't think so" Leone cut short. "That would be...a risk. I don't feel like it."
"But..."
"Maybe someday...that person.... Will figure it out."
Bruno looked at his reflection in the half-full glass.
I can't tell you that, Leone. I'm too afraid of ruining what's between us.
I'm afraid you'll see me for what I really am.... I'm just a coward.
"I hope so. You deserve to be happy, Abbacchio." was all Bucciarati could manage to reply. Then the music got louder: Mary's show was over.
***
At the end of the evening, Mary had asked Bucciarati to drive her home.
It was late, it was dangerous. Bruno was too nice to refuse.
Fugo, Narancia and Mista would have continued their night elsewhere. Abbacchio had returned to his house, not before taking away a bottle of his favorite poison.
Once he arrived under her house, Mary invited Bruno to come upstairs.
They drank another glass of wine, and then another, until she took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. As she began to unbutton his corset, he stopped her.
"Turn off the light." she didn't understand. All the men usually wanted to look at her.
"I'll do it. Don't take away some of the fun," he hastened to explain.
She thought it was romantic, he simply didn't want to see her.
If he took it in the dark it would be easier to think it was him.
Mary also had long hair but it was far too soft.
It wasn't important, he needed to let it out.
"Turn around."
Damn wine.
When they finished she fell asleep in his arms and he was overwhelmed with nausea.
It wasn't the damn wine.
It was ten past five, still dark outside.
He thought of leaving her a note, something kind, but maybe this way he would have only deceived her. If she had brought up the subject again he would have told her it was just a one night stand. My life isn't fit for a good girl. Bruno had said it many times before but this time really felt he had played with the feelings of an innocent.
I'll add that to my list of sins.
He closed the front door behind his back and walked towards the sea.