Chapter Four
Game day dawned bright and clear. With purple scarves stashed in our pockets, we sat in front row seats in the large Stade de France stadium, watching the Les Bleus team come out on the field, dressed in blue jerseys and white shorts. French team supporters shouted “Allez.”
Monterra’s team wore white jerseys and purple shorts. Mario followed the captain out onto the field. We cheered and waved our scarves.
Stephanie pointed to the giant screen. “There’s Gino Campo, right behind Mario, and that must be Ernesto, standing by the bench.”
After the referee blew the whistle, Monterra won the coin toss and elected to receive. The captain of the French team kicked the ball off from the center of the field.
Mario kicked the oncoming ball, passing it to a teammate. I watched him carefully, hoping his shoulder wasn’t hurting too badly. He kept on playing, and I knew he’d feel awful by the time the game was over.
The ball went out of bounds, and Stephanie pointed to the coach. “It looks like he’s calling for a substitution. From the look on his face, I think he’s unhappy with Mario.” I crossed my fingers, knowing Mario wouldn’t want to be taken out of the game.
Everyone paused while another teammate walked to the sideline at the center of the field where a new player waited, then took his place. I let out the breath I’d been holding.
The players ran again. Mario was kicking the ball toward the goal, but a French player was trying to get it away from him. Mario managed to kick it into the cage, making the first score of the game. Stephanie and I jumped up and cheered.
But then the French team made a goal, tying the score.
A French player ran into Mario and knocked him down. The referee blew the whistle and gave Mario a chance to kick. He kicked and made the goal. Now Monterra was ahead.
Stephanie and I joined the Monterra supporters in cheering.
The French retrieved the ball and scored, tying the score again.
The players ran all over the field, kicking the ball back and forth, but no one scored.
Now Mario had the ball and was close to the goal. He kicked the ball up, then winced before head bumping the ball. The shot missed the goal. The French got hold of the ball, kicked it down the field, and made a goal. French fans yelled and clapped.
In the screen above, I saw Mario’s face now revealing his pain. The coach signaled for Mario to leave the game. He made his way to the side. He sat slumped on the bench, a study in dejection. “Why isn’t anyone going to take his place?” I asked Stephanie.
The man sitting next to me said, “We’ve had our three substitutions. Now we have to play with ten.”
A French player shoved a Monterra player, but the referee didn’t blow his whistle. Scowling, Mario waved his arm and yelled at the referee, who held up a yellow card.
Puzzled, I frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“That’s a cautionary card,” the guy next to me said. “If he gets another, he’ll get a red one and be suspended from the game.”
“Oh.” I hoped he would keep his temper from now on.
Les Bleus made more goals. Finally, the game was over, and Les Bleus had won. Mario shuffled along with the team as they left the field. Ernesto hurried after them.
Stephanie and I waited outside the stadium for Mario and Ernesto to emerge. It was hot, so we sat on a bench shadowed by a large shrub.
On the other side of the bush, next to the stadium wall stood a tall man with dark unruly hair that kept falling over his forehead. He looked big and strong. He was frowning and tapping his foot.
Footsteps sounded, and Gino emerged. His cap was emblazoned with the Monterra name and logo.
“I need your help,” said the other man.
Curious, I peeked around the edge of the bush. They looked like brothers, but I couldn’t be sure.
“What do you need?” Gino asked.
“You’re riding back on the bus with the team. You don’t need your passport. Let me borrow it. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”
“Vito, you’ve been banned from Monterra. What if you get caught?”
“I won’t. I want to meet with the EMI group to plan another protest march. You’re friends with the king’s nephew. I need you to—"
I leaned closer, trying to hear, but he lowered his voice. Maybe he’d seen me looking. He grasped Gino’s arm and led him away. Several more teammates walked out. I pulled Stephanie with me to go meet Ernesto and Mario as they emerged. Gino walked up and joined them.
“I’m sorry Monterra lost,” Stephanie said.
From his pinched face, I knew Mario was in pain. “Does it hurt badly?” I asked.
“It hurts, but I’ll live with it. The fates weren’t with us today. And the media wasn’t kind to us either. I couldn’t wait to get away from the sports announcer who caught me as I left the locker room. He wanted me to spell out why our team lost. I hated having to say the French team played a better game.”
“I saw that first goal you made. That was awesome.” I debated whether to add anything else and finally said, “Maybe it would have been better not to play today. I saw you favor your shoulder while you made that last attempt at a goal.”
He frowned. “You didn’t need to say that. First you talked me into seeing the doctor, and now you’re trying to give me advice.”
Oh, no. Now I’d offended him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was only trying to look out for your best interest.” My stomach churned. I studied his face, hoping he’d accept my apology.
His eyebrows came closer together. “I can take care of myself without anyone meddling with me. I was going to stop at a tavern to have a beer and commiserate with Gino, but he must have left.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go to a home-cooking restaurant.” I pulled up Google on my phone and found a place. “Hugo’s looks like such a place. It will be my treat.”
Mario shook his head. “I’d planned to just go somewhere with Ernesto. He won’t criticize my efforts.”
Now I felt bad. “Please come. I promise I won’t say anything more.”
Stephanie laughed, then whispered to me, “Are you sure you can go without speaking for a whole dinner.” She faced Mario. “Please come. It’s better to be with friends than to drink with just Ernesto.”
His bodyguard touched his shoulder. “Home cooking sounds good. I’m hungry, and I bet you are too.”
“We could just go back to the hotel and eat with the team,” Mario said.
“But,” said Ernesto, “they aren’t likely to cheer you up.”
Ernesto waved at a taxi standing by, and we all climbed in. Mario hesitated a moment, but then said, “Oh, all right. I guess I could use some food.”
Mario sat next to me in the taxi. He frowned. “My father will criticize my playing today. He’ll probably say it’s time I quit playing football and became serious about working in the family business.”
I patted his forearm. “Welcome to the club. I’ve been there, too. My folks don’t think much of what I do, either. My family calls me a wild child. Mom and Dad, and even my sister, say I should stick to being a librarian and finish getting my masters in library science.”
“They shouldn’t tell you that. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re doing something you enjoy.”
I was stunned. After how he’d criticized my comments earlier, I couldn’t believe he’d said all that, but it made me feel good. “That’s why I’m taking this vacation, to see if I can do more travel writing. If I could do that on the side, it would be a welcome break from working in the library.”
Later, Mario was quiet as we walked into Hugo’s and were seated. I waved to a waiter. “Would y’all like some beer?”
They nodded, and the waiter left. What could I say to cheer him up? “Tell me about your childhood. What did you do for fun?”
“As kids, we played football behind my house. That’s when I knew I loved the game.
That was before I left to attend the Ajax school. I no longer just played football. We practiced all day long. Whenever I saw anyone watching, I always tried to do my best. We never knew when there would be a scout for some professional team watching.”
The beef stew at Hugo’s was hearty, and we all enjoyed baked pears with a caramel sauce for dessert.
Mario seemed to be in better humor. He rested his chin in one hand. “Kelly, tell me all about your passions in the United States.”
“Passions?” I leaned closer to him and caught a whiff of aftershave. It smelled woodsy, like cedar. I remembered dancing with him at Maxims. I really liked this man, and I wanted to see him again. I hoped he’d forgive my rash comments soon and not hold them against me.
“What do you call them, hobbies? Activities to pass the time? I would like to know how you amuse yourself,” he said.
“As you may have guessed because I’m a librarian, I love to read. I like reading about how things we take for granted were first invented. I sometimes wonder why someone didn’t feel the need for them sooner, like Gutenberg who revolutionized book production in 1455. I wrote an article about it, which was printed in the Smithsonian magazine.”
Mario rubbed his shoulder. “So, you’re already a writer. Good for you.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks.”
“I read mostly sports-related news,” he said. “I like to follow other football players’ records, how many goals they made. I even follow some American football stars. I’m amazed at all the yards they make while trying to avoid being tackled. Sure, we get injured while playing, but not like American football players. What else do you like to do?”
He looked at me as if I were the most interesting person he’d met. He was a prince and a football star who must meet all sorts of interesting people, and he was concentrating on me now. What a heady feeling.
“I love to travel,” I said. “But since I can’t afford to go everywhere I wish, I read about different countries. I’d love to see the Taj Mahal and touch that white marble with all the carving. It’s so sweet the emperor loved his favorite wife so much he dedicated the huge monument to her and placed her tomb there.”
Mario smiled. “Maybe you can go there one day.”
I imagined strolling toward the lovely building holding hands with him. “Oh, I’d love that.”
Mario pushed his dessert dish away. “The season’s over, since we lost our chance at the playoffs, and Monterra didn’t win a spot in the European Championship Tournament in June. Monterra didn’t have much of a chance to be picked last fall because we’re a small team. But we won 32 out of 38 games this season. How can you say we won’t be picked as a wild card for the playoffs?”
“It’s not good for business,” Ernesto said. “Face the reality. Television networks will want viewers from bigger countries and encourage the leagues to pick more well-known teams.”
Stephanie nodded. “I’ve seen it happen in the U.S. when TCU, a small southern university, won all their games, but the leagues picked another team from a bigger, more well-known university.”
Mario leaned forward in his chair. “I guess you’re right, but I thought we might have a chance. Wait until next year.”
Thank goodness, Mario seemed in a much better mood now. He’d apparently accepted the defeat and was ready to move on.
Later, as we walked into the hotel lobby, Ernesto told Stephanie and me, “Don’t worry. I will see he puts ice on his shoulder like the team doctor advised.”
Mario glanced at me. “I can’t see you as the head librarian. Where are your glasses and a tight bun instead of long silky hair?”
I laughed. “Don’t stereotype librarians. And I’m still a library technician until I finish my degree.”
“If you’re not the head librarian, what can’t you do besides manage the whole place?”
“I can shelve books, but I’m not considered qualified to catalogue them and assign Dewey Decimal numbers.”
Mario and Ernesto said good night to us in the hotel lobby. Mario held my hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be busy tomorrow. Our team will meet with the coach and review the last game. I’d rather spend the day with you, but I have to be there.” He pressed a quick kiss on my lips. I wanted more, but we were in a crowded lobby. I hoped that was the only reason he wasn’t more demonstrative… instead of a lack of interest.
He smiled, making me feel a little better. “I’ll call you tomorrow about lunch.” And then he pulled me to him for a real, heart-stopping, totally delicious kiss that went on and on. “I knew kissing you would be like this,” he said. After he finally said, “Goodbye,” I floated into the elevator and into my room. Man, that prince could kiss.
Stephanie and I went to church and visited the bazaar again to buy a few souvenirs. Stephanie bought a handwoven scarf, and I picked up a figurine of a dancing girl for my niece.
Since Mario hadn’t called by lunch time, we ate at the hotel restaurant. Had he forgotten? As soon as we returned to our room, the clerk at the desk called to say Mario was on the line. “Put him through, please,” I said. I could hardly wait to talk to him. I loved hearing the sound of his voice.
“Hi,” he said. “I would have called sooner, but the meeting lasted all morning, and it was ugly. I don’t even want to talk about it. Since you said you want to do travel writing, would you like to visit Mount Etna? They have tourist tours, and you can walk on the rim.”
“Oh, wow. That sounds exciting. Does Mount Etna still erupt?” I asked.
“Yes, but it usually gives off steam as warning for a few days ahead of time.”
“But they can’t actually tell when it’s going to erupt.”
“That’s right. It gave off steam last week, but it has been quiet ever since, so would you like to go?”
I could hardly believe my ears. “I could take lots of pictures and write a very good travel article about that.”
He smiled and squeezed my hand. “I’d be happy to take you and Stephanie there on Monday.”
“But then I won’t have a chance to see the Eiffel Tower. I’ve scheduled visits to several art galleries and the Eiffel Tower tomorrow. I’d planned to write about those places. I mean, how can I write a travel article about Paris without including the Eiffel Tower?”
Mario cleared his throat. “Monday’s the only time I can go. Gino, the team captain and I have a meeting with the coach this afternoon to plan next season’s strategy. After that I plan to visit my family in Barcelona. Call me if you change your mind.”
When I told Stephanie what he’d said, she sighed. “I’d love to go, but I have to leave tonight. Kelly, I’m so jealous you get to stay longer. Right now, I’d even give up a few day’s pay to stay longer, but that won’t sit well with my boss.”
“I’ll help you pack and call a taxi for you,” I said.
Stephanie smiled. “Thanks, but Gino promised to drive me there.”
“You’d better call him now and tell him when to pick you up.”
She did and held the phone close to my ear so I could hear.
“Hi, Stephanie,” Gino said. “I’m tired, but I’ll be okay after a good night’s sleep. I hope I impressed the coach during yesterday’s game. It would be great if he’d recommend me to the owner as the next captain. Maybe I’ll hear in a few days.”
“Pick me up at four-thirty,” Stephanie said. Just call from the lobby, and I’ll come down.”
“Why don’t I come up to your room? I can carry your bags.”
“No thanks, I can manage.” Stephanie said and hung up. “So,” Stephanie said. turning to me, “are you going to spend the rest of your vacation with Mario? He didn’t offer to take you to Mount Etna another time so you could see the Eiffel Tower.”
She was right. He seemed to think everyone would fall into his plans. Did I want to change my plans just to go with him?
Stephanie turned to face me. “You seem pretty taken with him, but a long-distance relationship might be difficult, even if he’s interested.”
“I don’t know. I really like him, and he seems to like me, but he hasn’t said anything more about seeing me after my vacation’s over. I can’t afford to take time off to visit him, let alone pay for the airfare, and he’s planning to spend time with his folks now that the season has ended.”
Stephanie looked pensive. “Do you suppose he’ll make up with that other redhead?”
“I don’t know why. Mario claimed she had a terrible temper.”
Stephanie looked at me. “Why don’t you go see the Eiffel Tower today?”
“It looks like it’s going to rain. I’ll go tomorrow as I planned. Maybe Mario will invite me to join him for dinner tonight.”
Stephanie finished packing, and we waited in our room. When the desk clerk called to say Gino was there, we rode the elevator down.
Gino waved to the back seat. “I’m sure you’d like to see her off at the airport. Mario called and said he was going to meet with the coach this afternoon. Why don’t you come with us? I can bring you back to your hotel afterward.”
“Okay,” I said, and got in his car, a Porsche. He must also like sports cars.
At the airport, I waved to Stephanie as she stood in the security line. “I’ll see you next Wednesday after I get back.” We always met for lunch on Wednesdays to talk.
On the way back from the airport, I looked around. He wasn’t going back the same way. “Gino, where are we going?”
“There’s a nice little restaurant you probably haven’t been to. I thought I’d take you there for dinner. They have singing waiters and waitresses.”
“That sounds nice, but Mario might call me tonight.”
Gino turned to look at me. “You have your phone with you. You won’t miss his call, if indeed he does call you. He may be so tired he’ll just go to bed early.”
“Thank you for offering, but please take me back to my hotel.”
He looked disappointed but headed back toward my hotel as I’d asked. “I wanted to talk to you away from Mario. You need to know what kind of man he is before you let him fly you to Mount Etna and perhaps later to Monterra.”
That sounded ominous. “I know he’s King Dominic’s nephew and must have been in and out of the palace as a child. Does he still visit them regularly?”
“Oh, yes. He’s still on good terms with them. What I want to tell you about is his relationships with women.”
Not sure I wanted to hear this, I said. “That’s not any of my business. What’s important is how he treats his family and how he treats me. He seems to have a good relationship with his parents, although he’s told me his father would rather he spend more time learning the family business since his older brother, Armando, has set up his own security business.”
“Did he tell you anything about his last girlfriend?”
“He only said she was a redhead with a bad temper who cheated on him.”
“Have you noticed he tends to take charge in restaurants and order for you instead of asking what you’d like?”
“Well, yes, I do remember him doing that.”
“Delores is high spirited and independent. She doesn’t like people making decisions for her. He’d gotten tickets for the opera for the only night her favorite rock group would be in town. She threw a fit because he hadn’t asked her before getting the tickets.”
“That seems like overreaction.”
Apparently, she’d hinted weeks earlier she wanted to go there. He claimed he’d forgotten she’d said anything. He took another woman to the opera, and Delores went to the rock group by herself. Then she broke off with him and refused to answer his call, so he never called her again.”
“I see.”
“Sometimes, he’s unreasonable and unbending. If you don’t go along with him, he’ll cut you out of his life completely.”
“But that was only one instance. I don’t think he’ll act that way with me.”
“I’d be careful. It may not be a good idea to get involved with him. He lives and dies for football. He won’t let anything else get in the way of being appointed captain for next season.”
“You must work hard to stay on the team.”
“I do, but I don’t let it run my whole life. I do my best at practice and during games. If the owner thinks I’m the better player, he’ll choose me as the next captain.” Gino met my gaze. He touched my wrist but didn’t pick up my hand. “You are an outstanding woman. I’m not sure Mario realizes how special you are.”
I smiled. “Thank you.” It was always nice to receive compliments, but did he really mean that, or was he putting on an act?
A while later, Mario called, and we talked for a while before he said, “It’s late. I’ll call you tomorrow. Let me take you out for breakfast?”
“To the brunch in the hotel?”
“No. I’ll take you to a coffee shop which has the best chocolate croissants I’ve ever tasted. Armando’s girlfriend, Danielle, loves them.”
“That sounds good. What time will you pick me up?”
“Is seven thirty too early?”
“That will be fine. I’ll see you then.” I hung up quickly before Gino said anything to let Mario know I was still with him.”
“Where is he taking you tomorrow?” Gino asked.
“To a coffee shop for breakfast.”
I’d had enough of Gino’s comments about Mario. He’d claimed Gino was a good friend, but now I wasn’t so sure. Could I even believe all Gino had said about Mario? I’d have to wait and see. Luckily, we’d reached my hotel with its round stone towers reaching at least three stories. Gino walked me inside, and I thanked him for taking Stephanie and bringing me back.
After he said goodnight in the lobby, I took the elevator, walked to my room, and went inside. The room seemed empty without Stephanie. I left a wake-up call with the front desk.
As I lay in bed, I wondered how much of what Gino said about Mario was true.
In the morning, Mario welcomed me with a smile in the hotel lobby and escorted me to his car. At the coffee shop, an apple-cheeked waitress set two cups of coffee and two chocolate croissants in front of us. I was about to pick up my croissant when Mario took hold of my hand. “You sounded excited about visiting Mt. Etna, I’m asking you again. My plane is all fueled and ready. Won’t you fly with me to Mount Etna instead of visiting the Eiffel Tower? It might erupt, and you could get some great pictures.” He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my palm. “I’d so love to spend another few days with you before you leave.”
I was torn. I loved being with him, but he had a way of taking over my life. But his smile was so endearing I couldn’t say no. “Okay. Maybe I can fit the Eiffel Tower in before I leave.”
“I filed a flight plan to leave at 9:30, so let’s finish these and head out to the airport. Be sure to bring a jacket or a shawl. It gets cold on the slopes.”
He seemed confident he could talk me into it. That bothered me a little, but I was looking forward to spending the day with him. It was a good thing I didn’t expect to have a real relationship with him in the future. After all, he was a prince and could have his pick of beautiful women. I resolved to enjoy what time I had with him and not expect anything more.
A little while later, Mario, Ernesto, and I climbed into his plane and buckled up. After checking over the instruments, he took off.
And then we were aloft. The engine made a steady hum—well it was louder than a hum, but sounded even, so I relaxed and looked out.
He seemed very adept at piloting the plane. He kept it level except when he dipped the wings to make a turn. He didn’t fly it recklessly, like he drove his Ferrari. At least I felt safe with him at the controls.
I’d saved for over a year for this trip, but from the looks of this plane with peach-colored seats and an instrument panel that extended into a foot-wide console between us, he was a very wealthy prince.
I gazed out the window. The view was breathtaking. The Mediterranean Sea was such a beautiful blue green, lighter than the Atlantic Ocean. He dipped low, and pointed out Cinque Terre, the five villages nestled together along the rocky coast. “If you could stay longer, I could take you there. We’d have to take a train, but the seafood is marvelous. Later, he pointed out Corsica and Sardinia as he flew past them.
We landed at Giardini Naxos Airport on Sicily and took a limousine to Mount Etna. Cirrus clouds scrawled across the blue sky. The air was warm, and the day was perfect. We rode cable cars to 2500 meters. Below, I could see Mount Etna actually had several peaks besides the highest one.
After we got out of the cable cars, the guide leading our group told us the top was 3323 meters or a little over two miles high. Ernesto walked alongside us. As usual, he was scanning the area and the people for possible danger. As I hiked up the mountain beside Mario and Ernesto, I was glad I’d worn sturdy shoes. I wrapped my shawl around me as the wind was brisk and chilled my skin. I walked on black lava sand and crossed rivers of volcanic rock which crunched underfoot. Mario held my hand, and I felt safe beside him. He couldn’t protect me from an eruption, but surely, we’d have plenty of warning.
Before we reached the top, Mount Etna hissed, and sent up a cloud of steam. A light breeze soon dissipated it, but apprehension set waves swirling inside. “Maybe, we should forget this and come back some other time.”
Mario smiled. “Don’t worry, it does this often according to the guide.
The mountain got steeper. I was breathing harder now. Surely, this wasn’t high enough for thinner atmosphere to bother me. Mario strode beside me. He didn’t appear to have any difficulty. I’d heard mountains surrounded the kingdom of Monterra. I guessed he was used to high altitudes.
Finally, we reached the rim. I looked down. Way down. I heard pops and hisses, like when you put a drip of water into hot oil.
In fact, what I saw below looked like something boiling in a pot on the stove, only a hundred times bigger than a mere pan. I took a picture.
A cloud of steam rose, its hiss even louder. The breeze lifted it away, but another cloud rose. I got as close as I could to the rim. Wow, orange lava was spitting up. I snapped a picture, hoping I caught it.
The tour guide waved us back. He stood in front and raised his hands. “This much activity after the mountain has been quiet for a few days is ominous. For your safety, I’m instructing you all to hurry back to the cable car station as fast as you can.”
“I want to take one more picture.”
Mario touched my arm. “We need to leave, now.”
The next thing I knew, he had me running down the slope. Pops and hisses were audible even over the sounds of our footsteps.
We were running too fast to say anything. Huffing and puffing, we finally reached the cable car station. I climbed in. Mario and Ernesto clambered in after me, and the cars started moving.
Mario looked at me. “What if you’d stayed and the lava had risen high enough to flow over the rim? You’d be burned to a crisp and not able to send your pictures anywhere. I don’t think they’d be very popular in Hell.”