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Piccolo Rosa: The meeting

Short story By: Odio Cuore

In a city full of life, Ragazzo is finding it hard to live. He has everything; the money, the attention of the press and the admiration of the women. But not one could catch his eye in terms of love. Sure, they were beautiful. But they weren't worth knowing, they only liked him for his money. Then there was that one girl, Rosa, who stood out from them all. He had to get to know her without all the cameras, all the unwanted eyes and gossip...

Submitted:Jan 20, 2013    Reads: 50    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


The Meeting

"Ragazzo, we've heard your father has just started a new line of perfume. This would mean he will be spending a lot less time at home and more time at the studio. What are you feelings on this?"

Bombarded by the dazzling array of camera flashes and the tweaked sound of each click, Ragazzo stood motionless before a crowd of at least three dozen journalists and countless fans of his father's work. A few women were batting their thick lashes and pouting their lips towards him but he wasn't fazed. The answer was forming in his mind, 'My feelings? It isn't as if the situation would be different...' he thought, teasing himself with the possibility of telling them it. But that's what they wanted, the vulture's of the press. A juicy story of a rebellious son to one of the world's most well known fragrance and clothing designer. A natural feud between father and son would be put down to Ragazzo's hatred towards his father's sexuality, when that was not the case at all. They had a way of twisting words...

"I fully support my father's career decision and his way of life. I'm more than capable of looking after myself, but thank you for your concern."

"Ragazzo! Ragazzo! You have recently begun to work at his side though, as a model? How is it going so far and what is your current relationship status?" A loud man from the front with a little sass in his voice poked, forcing his microphone past the many already at the front.

"Good. And as for a relationship..." For a second, his mind was smothered with blankness. Then he saw her, he had seen her before, he knew, but this time was different. The ghost of a cheeky grin formed on his thin lips as he slowly leaned closer to his own microphone, hand adjusting it as he replied coolly, " I'm still in search for that special one."

The cameras went wild in that moment, creating a blur of light and melody of sharp clicks. They caught shots of his face but more of his back as he made his way off the stand and into the scarcely lit room behind him. He shut the white framed doors behind him, pulled the heavy curtains together and strode over the kitchen just across the way. He didn't waste time in turning on any of the lights; he liked it in the shadows. Pulling a shot glass from the cabinet above the sink, Ragazzo smirked at the odd little irony behind it; he liked the shadows yet he was always in his fathers. He didn't care much about it, had his own life. But it did scratch at him with the thought that he had an expectation to live up to. Whiskey sloshed against the bottom of the glass and swirled up the edges as it was eagerly poured out. The amber liquid sparkled from the moonlight that broke through the curtains. He drank the shot straight then poured another. Then another. And another. Slumped over the counter with his fingers loosening up his tie, his other hand pushed the half drunk shot aside with a begrudging grunt. No doubt the man was tipsy as he staggered off into the dark of the house, up the centre stairs before the double door entrance and into his room. All the while he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his crisp white shirt.

"Another beautiful night. Florence, my love, you are the only woman for me..." Ragazzo called out to the city as he brashly pulled up his sleeves. A breeze lifted the loose curls of chocolate brown hair that hid his ears and graced his heated cheeks with some chilled comfort.

Gorgeous lights lit up every building, every street. If he weren't so cheery with the liquor Ragazzo would find the usual charm in it all. But tonight he was feeling jestful and hearty with warm whiskey in his stomach. He twirled about with a giddy chuckle though grazed his elbows as he slammed against the marble balcony.

"Ragazzo Bacio?" A soft voice called from below.

"Eh?" The joyful drinker replied as he peered down into the streets.

"I can smell your breath from here!" A curvaceous woman loudly whispered up with a suave grin on her plump lips.

"Che cosa è essa le voi?" Came a slurred and curious response, his own lips slightly curved.

"vorrei un po..."

Obviously startled by her clear usage of Italian, it wasn't until he really looked at her did he realize it was the woman from the conference. As if she were his shot of espresso Ragazzo suddenly broke from his tipsy daze and straightened himself up. The expression on his drawn face was priceless to her and made those perfect lips part to blow an out of sight kiss.

"I'll be right down!" The man now cured of his loathing state chirped, "I'll be right down..."


Che cosaèessa le voi? - What is it to you?

vorrei un po... - I would like a little...


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