style="font-size:15px;"> And yet he followed Massimo’s advice.
– Hello.
Clutching the apple, which had been bitten several times, in his teeth, Lorenzo put the revolver behind his back in his jeans, extended his hand and said, taking the apple out of his mouth:
– Salute.
Without further delay, Massimo got down to business:
– Listen, Lorenzo, I know you don’t sell anymore, but can you tell me where I can get a washing machine inexpensively?
– Just a moment.
Lorenzo went somewhere deeper into the apartment. He returned half a minute later with a piece of paper, handing it over and saying:
– Here. Call this number. Just ask Rodrigo. He is a first-rate nit, but he will help solve the issue about washing machine.
– What did he do?
– What do you mean?
– Well, you said he’s a nit.
Continuing to stand on the threshold, Lorenzo said, waving his hand:
– Forget it. Former competitor.
Manuela’s voice came from the apartment:
– Who are you talking to?
– Okay – said Lorenzo. – Sorry, I have an emergency there.
– Thank you – Massimo said goodbye, after which he heard Lorenzo’s loud voice even before he closed the door:
– How many more times to repeat!? Shut up and take off your panties!
During the day, a used washing machine was delivered to Massimo’s apartment, but in very good condition. The workers provided free services for connecting to sewerage and water supply. Rodrigo himself turned out to be not such a nit. He offered to sell Massimo the faulty washing machine for parts for ten percent of the cost of the one he brought. Massimo agreed without hesitation. In a couple of starts, he washed all the dirty laundry.
Towards evening the apartment took on a neat appearance. Massimo visited the grocery store and shopped for the week ahead.
For a week he went to the hospital every day. Every day he took Aunt Barbara strawberry peanut ice cream, which was her favorite. In the evenings, Jorge and Pablo dropped in to visit him. Following a certain ritual, they invariably, according to a set schedule, went to have fun in local latitudes. On weekends, Jorge occupied his father’s Volkswagen and they had the opportunity to get out of Little Rome to travel around other areas of the city.
On the ninth day after the trial, Massimo had his birthday. He bought a small cake at a pastry shop, which he took to visit his aunt. By seven o’clock Pablo and Jorge appeared on the threshold of the apartment. From the very beginning, fanfare thundered, after which, with congratulatory words, Pablo shook the birthday boy’s hand, pushing three $100 bills into his palm. Jorge gave a marble money box in the shape of Jesus with a lid at the bottom. Massimo later found another three hundred under the lid.
The birthday has passed. The next morning, Massimo was getting ready to go to the hospital. Aunt Barbara had an operation scheduled for nine o’clock. He was already planning to leave when someone rang the doorbell. Massimo turned the key twice and pulled the door out. Pablo stood in front of him. His T-shirt was stained with fresh blood. It was the blood of Jorge, whom he struggled to hold, keeping his hand on his neck. He dragged him three floors up the stairs and who knows how many more to the house.
In a hurry, Massimo helped drag Jorge inside and then slammed the door.
Jorge lay on the couch, wincing in pain from the open wound left by a twenty-five-caliber shot in his left shoulder.
– What happened!? – Massimo asked, feeling his heart begin to beat in his chest against his ribs.
The apartment was filled with Jorge’s loud, painful moans.
With a shaky breath, Pablo replied:
– His… his father was robbed yesterday when he was driving home from work. We… found out what kind of scum it was… We caught him and started pressing him. Who knew this SON OF A BITCH had a gun!
– Where was it?
– Three blocks from here.
Massimo looked at Jorge, who was doubled over in pain, and asked, spreading his arms:
– How did you drag him?
– This scum stole the car, which we took back. DAMN! We thought we would return it to the father!
Massimo froze for a moment. His face froze, retaining a grimace of fear. His next question sounded frighteningly wary:
– And where is it now?
Pablo’s response came without delay:
– At the entrance.
Massimo rubbed his face with his palms, but was still able to snap out of his stupor. First of all, he rushed to get bandages and alcohol. While the wound was being treated, Jorge’s moans intensified slightly. Having felt the hole on the back side, Massimo was convinced that the bullet had gone right through. He hastily sealed both holes with several layers of vapor barrier tape.
– Didn’t you see the cops? – asked Massimo.
Pablo replied, still in shock:
– No. But this bastard took someone’s car and chased us.
Massimo did not react at all to Pablo’s words until he glanced at the floor. His eyes ran along the trail of blood smeared on the floor, which was visible from the very threshold. Massimo rushed to the exit and looked out into the corridor. A few seconds of silence were followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He went into the kitchen, took a knife out of the drawer, then went to Pablo.
– What does he look like?
Pablo was sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa. For some time, with tension, he examined the blade clutched in Massimo’s hand, and then, swallowing a lump of saliva, he said:
– I’m with you. I won’t let you in there alone.
As soon as Pablo lifted himself off the floor, Massimo pressed his friend’s shoulders and said:
– He saw you. But he doesn’t know me.
It didn’t take long to persuade Pablo. He told Massimo about the thick black beard of impressive length, short hair, red and white checkered shirt and glass eye. He pulled a Makarov pistol from his belt.
Massimo said, shaking his head:
– Keep it for yourself.
Massimo walked out the door, having previously asked Pablo to lock himself from the inside. Drops of blood could be seen all over the corridor.
