the third floor, Massimo Spinazolla walked along the corridor in the direction of his apartment. As he approached the door, an unfamiliar middle-aged guy in a leather jacket approached him. The stranger worked his jaws endlessly over the chewing gum.
– Hey, guy? Where is Lorenzo’s apartment?
Massimo drew a grimace of misunderstanding on his face.
– Lorenzo? Who is this?
– One rascal of this height – said the stranger, holding his open palm at the level of his ears. – Almost bald.
Massimo shook his head and answered in an indifferent tone:
– I don’t know such a guy.
The guy looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds, then headed down the stairs.
Massimo followed the stranger with his gaze until he disappeared behind the stairs, then he inserted the key into the keyhole, turned it and the door was pressed away from the frame. There was no need to turn the door handle, since the tongue in the door lock had not worked for a couple of years. Because of this, the front door was always locked.
At the moment when Massimo pulled the door towards himself, someone was leaving the neighboring apartment. A twenty-two-year-old guy appeared in the corridor. Massimo said sympathetically, turning to his neighbor:
– You should move out of here, Lorenzo. Sooner or later, they will find you. Not here, but on the street. You can’t sit in your apartment all the time.
– Fuck them – Lorenzo said with difficulty in a trembling voice.
Lorenzo did not graduate from school and had been speculating in stolen household appliances for five years. Televisions, tape recorders, radios, electronic watches, mixers, electric ovens, cassette and microcassette voice recorders, cameras. Lorenzo owned an old garage a couple of kilometers from the house. This garage was a compact market for the latest home appliances. He took the goods, bargained over the amount that was due to the supplier, then set his own price, sold and kept for himself everything that was over the price that the supplier asked. But greed is a destructive feeling. Not long ago, another client approached Lorenzo at the garage. He brought for sale five latest model tape recorders, which were still in boxes and remained unpacked. Brand new. Among them was one Sony VCR of the Betamax standard – a real exotic. There was also a Soviet-made tape recorder «Jupiter-Quadro», which, if it gets onto the local market, will only be through illegal means, which is why it was not easy to get it. Such a product cost astronomical money. The only people who didn’t want to overpay for the right to own such a tape recorder were someone who was weak-minded. Lorenzo could not resist the temptation. He secretly sold the tape recorders, held a sale for the remainder of the goods in the garage (only two old electric stoves, a black and white TV, a refrigerator and a couple of irons remained unsold), collected the money and locked himself in his apartment. He did not even pay those whose goods had sold on the clearance sale. He sold them at prices, on average, lower than those requested by suppliers, just to get rid of the goods and quickly fill the cash register. When there was a burning smell and dissatisfied suppliers found out which building his apartment was in, Lorenzo left his apartment and settled with his girlfriend, who lived on the same floor.
He stood in the aisle, dressed in a wrinkled white T-shirt and blue jersey trousers. A wide gold chain with a weighty cross sparkled around Lorenzo’s neck. His feet were bare.
– Doesn’t it bother you that they… – Massimo didn’t have time to finish.
Lorenzo interrupted him, but did so in a slightly bolder voice:
– What can they do? Come here for a day or two, poop and calm down.
After that, Lorenzo took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit it himself, then offered it to Massimo, but he refused. Lorenzo expressed respect to him for not using this poison.
While Lorenzo was exhaling a cloud of tobacco smoke, a thought occurred to Massimo:
– Listen, can you borrow a ten? I’ll give it to you as soon as it’s available.
Lorenzo turned sharply, looked inside and shouted:
– Manuela? Manuela!?
A girl’s weak, barely audible voice came from the apartment:
– What?
– Bring my jacket.
After a long pause she replied:
– OK.
After a few more seconds, Manuela asked:
– Who are you talking to there?
– No one – Lorenzo answered irritably.
– I hear someone’s voice.
Lorenzo said in an even more irritated tone:
– Shut up and bring me the jacket!
After some time, twenty-year-old Manuela Pellegrini, the heroine of the graffiti on the walls of the entrance, approached the threshold with short, sluggish steps. She was wearing a nightie or something, her eyes were sleepy, and the dark red hair on her head was disheveled. Her state was close to autopilot mode. Lorenzo’s leather jacket hung from her right arm, the cuff rubbing against the floor.
He picked up his jacket, looked at Manuela’s frozen body and said:
– Are you waiting for something?
With a stony face, she silently turned around and her legs dragged her back into the apartment.
Lorenzo slapped his palm on Manuela’s buttock and said:
– Better get your ass ready. I’ll be back soon.
Lorenzo pulled out from his inner pocket a stack of bills so thick that Massimo had only seen in the movies. He pulled two ten-dollar bills from the stack and handed them to Massimo. He took it, but did not have time to open his mouth when Lorenzo added:
– You don’t have to return it. This is for not ratting me out.
Massimo addressed him immediately:
– Thanks. But still, think about my words. At least get something for self-defense.
Lorenzo slowly took a cigarette from his clenched lips, maintaining a thoughtful look.
– By the way, this is a good idea.
After these words, Lorenzo hit Massimo’s shoulder with his palm, after which he added:
– When I entered the house, some suspicious guy was sitting across the street and carefully watching our porch. He’s clearly not local.
– Great. The next time you see him, say: «Lorenzo asked me to say: «Fuck you». Now excuse me, man, but I have to go. I’m going to send a part of myself into that ass – Lorenzo said, pointing to Manuela in the back room.
After his impassioned speech, the speculator slammed the front door, and before that he said, pointing his finger
