Free For All the Gold in the World by Massimo Carlotto, Antony Shugaar

things, I’ve had to refrain from telling her one important detail that threatens to ruin everything.”
    â€œNext week I’m playing with Marco Ponchiroli and Francesco Garolfi. Cora promised she’d come hear us. You could swing by,” Camardi invited me.
    â€œI don’t think I’ll wait that long,” I retorted, checking the time.
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    I was the first customer to enter Pico’s. I set myself up at the bar and got ready for my meeting with the jazz woman by ordering a couple of gin and tonics. There was no danger of getting drunk. The bartender had standing orders to skimp on the alcohol, to keep from knocking the clientele straight to the floor.
    The piano player arrived. He was thirsty, so I bought him a round. He told me that Cora was getting ready and wouldn’t be on for at least an hour.
    I discreetly slipped him a fifty-euro note. “Would you go tell her that I’m waiting for her here and that I’d like to buy her a drink?”
    â€œWhy don’t you go?” he shot back, pretending to be offended. “I’m nobody’s errand boy.”
    â€œI know that very well. In fact, this money is just to get you to play a couple of songs outside of your usual repertoire.”
    He grabbed the bill. “Sorry, I misunderstood.”
    â€œNo, I’m the one who should apologize to you. I failed to make myself clear,” I said to put an end to that stupid little routine.
    The piano player came back a few minutes later. “She’d like a Singapore Sling,” he explained with a wink, “in her dressing room. With you.”
    I thanked him and put my order in at the bar. The piano player watched me, perplexed. “What is it?” I asked.
    â€œI tried so many times with her that, in the end, I decided she was totally indifferent to sex. I’m curious to see if you can get her into bed.”
    â€œI assure you that, at the moment, all I want to do is talk.”
    He shook his head. “I know jazz singers, I’ve fallen victim to them all my life, and I’m willing to lay odds.”
    Cora was all ready to go on stage; her makeup just needed a little touch-up. She drank her cocktail in silence. Every now and then she looked over at me. She seemed uncertain and I did everything I could think of to put her at her ease.
    â€œCamardi said that you were an all right guy and that you know how to listen,” she said all of a sudden.
    â€œHe’s a friend,” I replied, thinking to myself that it was with her of all people that I was behaving badly.
    â€œI like you, but I don’t feel like throwing myself into an affair with one of those dull men you always meet when you’re going through kind of a strange time in your life, know what I mean?”
    â€œI think so,” I replied cautiously.
    â€œThen you need to listen to me because I have some things to tell you first.”
    â€œAll right.”
    She lit a cigarette. “Do you know why a woman like me sings jazz twice a week in this dive?”
    â€œI honestly can’t even begin to guess,” I answered sincerely.
    â€œI’m a nurse and I work in the serious burns ward and I need some distance from that,” she explained. “I love the work but I’m not made of steel, and you can never really get used to other people’s suffering.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œI’ve never cheated on my husband, and now I’m ready to do it. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong but I want it to happen. Our marriage isn’t on the rocks and I love him as much as I ever did but I’m irresistibly attracted to you because you pursued me. You made me feel important. Is all that clear to you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen go to the bar and get me another cocktail. I’m suddenly thirsty.”
    â€œYou don’t want to know anything about me?”
    â€œNo. I was told that you’re basically reliable but