Giacomo strode across the empty Piazza di Sant’Anastasia the collar of his navy trench coat turned up at the rain. It fell in marble like drops which exploded upon impact sending microscopic bursts of water skittering across the cobblestone square and into the street. Giacomo glanced at the Basilica di Sant’Anastasia al Palatino. Its face lit by golden streetlights he crossed himself out of habit then shoved his hands into his pockets coat pushing it closed against the wind.
Giacomo didn’t mind the rain or the cold. There was something magical about those times when the city shimmered, every surface a mirror and the piazzas normally congested with people stood empty.
The only people left were those like himself who enjoyed their solitude or those forced out into it for one reason or another. This morning he was both he conceded as he passed under the chipped yellow and red sign of the Mercato di Campagna Amica.
Renovated and opened to the public on Saturdays the old farmers market carried some of the region’s best wares. Better, without a heavy tourist presence it reverted to its industrious roots selling exclusively to chefs during the week. Inside rows of stalls stretched out around him, encircling the perimeter.
The collective scent of olive oil, vegetables, citrus, and freshly butchered meat melded with the cool rain from outside. Shaking the water from his coat Giacomo began to meander in search of the day’s ingredients.
He had of course a set seasonal menu like most chefs but he had long since learned to truly make the most of those held back or underused ingredients he needed to combine them with the best ingredients he could find. So every morning before the sun had broken over the city he would walk down the narrow alley behind the dirt ruins of the Circus Maximus.
The last few days Giacomo had vaguely become aware of a ghost at his back. Missing when he turned to face it there was the vague impression of a figure constantly on his heels each morning. Today was no different, he plucked a peach from a stack at the far corner of the hall ignoring the cold chill as it crawled up his spine. He focused intently on the fuzzy orb in his palm, his fingers smoothed over the surface with the gentlest touch, searching for imperfections.
Two weeks out of season the peach should have been a hold over, Giacomo knew better. Those few fruit who had somehow clung to the branch would carry with them the extra tart sweetness. Just slightly out of season it could be combined with the right spices to send someone cascading back to the first cool nights of autumn or with the simplest change launch them into the warm hearth of the holidays. It was without a doubt his favorite fruit for this reason alone. Giacomo raised it to his nose to smell it but he couldn’t shake the chill of being watched.
Looking over his shoulder to confront the near empty market he was greeted by a serpentine grin set into an aquiline face which hissed “Ciao Giacomo.”
The peach fell from his hand as he jumped back like a child.
The figure in front of him was well dressed in a cashmere navy down jacket, with a taupe wool suit underneath, his chin coated in an untrimmed grey stubble.
“Ciao.” Giacomo wasn’t proud of his yelp but as he found all eyes in the market focused on him he felt some form of collective security. “Excuse me for asking but do I know you?” He said composing himself.
“No but I know you and your little trattoria.” The well-dressed man said with admiration.
“A fan? I’m honored.” Giacomo answered, still on edge. He could only wonder if this man been stalking him. It would be a weird coincidence to have the feeling of being followed only for someone to accidentally present themselves in the thick of it.
“Let’s say I am an investor.” He took a step closer attempting to brush aside any apparent awkwardness by extending his hand.
Giacomo glowered. “An investor I don’t even know your name.”
“I am Stefano.” He bent at the waist and snagged the peach from the ground, studying it.
“Interesting to meet you Stefano but I don’t need any investors.” Giacomo said turning back to the produce stall.
Stefano laughed mercurially taking another step closer so that he was almost at Giacomo’s back. “Oh but we have made a sizeable investment already, or do you think that licenses for new trattorias are always so easy to come by?”
Giacomo’s blood ran cold and his spine straightened. Rome had gone through many chances since the start of the 20th century, even since the start of the 21st, organized crime had been one of them. Unlike other criminal networks, Rome’s had grown with the city. When the police cracked down in 2014 and 2015 they hadn’t retreated, instead they slithered deeper into legitimate businesses and government offices alike. “I filed my paperwork with the magistrates’ office just like everyone else.” He said defiantly.
“Oh sure but we wanted you to get your approvals. You my friend have potential.” Stefano hissed. “Of course talent only goes so far but with the right strategies you could have VIPs, then critics, then the city knocking on your door.”
“I don’t go for those strategies.” Giacomo reached into his pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “I guess that means were done here.” Giacomo kicked the pack twice then pulled one out a cigarette and lit it off the lighter he had produced from his left jacket pocket like magic. The small blue flame licked at the end of the cigarette till it glowed with orange rage.
“We are just getting started Chef.” Stefano answered.
“I doubt that. Now if you’ll excuse me I really need to buy some peaches.” He said turning to see the space where Stefano had stood empty. His eyes darted around the market finding only the standard fare. “Damn it.” He swore to himself. Giacomo knew better than most the corruption that lurked in Rome’s hallowed corridors. After all the work to build his dream, he would have to die to keep it, just like his grandfather.
Colubrine: of, relating to, or resembling a snake; of or relating to a large cosmopolitan family (Colubridae) of chiefly nonvenomous snakes
Author’s Note: Day 16 of 365. So I should begin by saying that I adore Italy and Rome in particular. There are few cities in the world capable of holding a candle to the sheer brilliance of its culture, history, food, and charm. During the year I lived in the Eternal City and over the numerous times I have visited I have fallen more and more in love with it by the minute. There are few places which can demonstrate the best and worst of humanity, its peaks and valleys, literal angels and demons so completely. However, one of the most intriguing parts to Rome is the noir elements associated with life there, due in no small part to the continued presence of highly powerful organized crime syndicates. These syndicates, which have been exposed and come under attack in the last two years, are largely secret organizations that operate throughout the city. Encounterable in any number of civilized and uncivilized fashions they represent both incredible danger and the way Rome has historically functioned for more than a hundred years. When I first began writing about Giacomo I knew that this would play a part and am really excited to begin weaving it into his short stories. If you would like to read Giacomo’s first short story, check it out HERE.
The Flask/Pen 