Free In a Heartbeat by Sandrone Dazieri

the doorman gave you. He’ll do anything for you since you got him the job.’
    I pushed myself away and backstroked along the width of the pool.
    ‘You’re in your underwear.’
    ‘Do you think that they’ll fine me?’
    ‘I won’t snitch.’
    I grabbed the ledge close to her legs. ‘I don’t have a towel.’
    ‘I’ll get you one from the locker room.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    She came back with a white towel. When I got out she covered me. ‘Full service.’ We looked at one another. Then she said, ‘Santo … ’ her eyes welled up with tears. I took her face into my hands and then I kissed her.
    ‘Oh God, Santo.’ I nibbled her neck. My fingers went under the elastic of her underwear. I breathed in her ear.
    ‘Wait.’
    I gently fingered her. She was wet. She arched her back and dug her nails into me.
    ‘Who are you?’
    We went up to the apartment.
    Monica hesitated at the door, and I pushed her inside. We had sex on the rug in front of the fireplace that I couldn’t work out how to switch on.
    It was strange but nice.
    It was the first time in a lifetime that I had had sex without being wasted. For a moment there I thought that I couldn’t do it, but then the old motor kicked in.
    ‘It was … different,’ she said afterwards.
    I was trapped, trying to untangle myself from my trousers that were still around my ankles while my shoes were still on. I had dressed because I didn’t want to get caught leaving the pool half-naked.
    I reeked of chlorine.
    ‘Was it better or worse?’
    ‘It was different,’ she said again.
    ‘How long has it been?’
    She took a pillow from the sofa and put it under my head. She rested her head on my chest. ‘It’s been a while.’
    ‘Not even yesterday for your birthday?’
    ‘No. I was hoping … ’
    ‘You know, executives are stressed out. No pussy.’
    She punched me on my shoulder. ‘Bastard.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    I lit a cigarette. ‘I dealt and I stole.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I was answering your question from before. Who I was? Who I am? I’m riff-raff, bad news, I’m a criminal.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Are you scared?’
    She didn’t say anything for a long minute, then …
    ‘How did you become a criminal ?’
    I shrugged my shoulders. ‘A friend got me into it. It seemed better than breaking my back doing manual labour at the market loading and unloading fruit. I was self-employed without anyone telling me what to do.’
    ‘Selling drugs.’
    ‘If someone wants to smoke a joint or do a line, they’re free to do it.’
    ‘Drugs kill.’
    ‘What is that, the slogan for a ‘Just Say No’ commercial? You can die from crossing the street. Who says it’s better than dying from drugs?’
    Silence.
    ‘And the bullet?’ she said.
    ‘The one in my shoulder?’
    ‘Yes, that one.’
    I rubbed my shoulder and could actually feel something small and hard.
    ‘I don’t know, it’s gone, along with my memory.’
    ‘Did it happen often, I mean getting shot at?’
    ‘From what I know that was the only time.’
    She took the cigarette from my lips and took a drag.
    ‘I thought that you didn’t smoke?’
    ‘Every now and then, but never in front of you. You didn’t want me to smoke. You were against drugs including caffeine.’
    ‘Now that explains the crappy breakfast.’
    ‘A big change from what you remember, isn’t it?’
    ‘I want to know why.’
    ‘Because, Saint, life goes on. You found your path and it’s a better one now.’
    ‘I wish that I could believe, you but I know from experience that it’s never that simple. Did you know that I had to do with a private investigator?’
    ‘No, why?’
    ‘I was just asking.’ I lit another cigarette with the last one.
    ‘How was Roveda killed?’
    ‘They said that someone stabbed him in the eye while he was in the pool.’
    ‘That’s terrible.’
    ‘It was done with something sharp. He became unconscious and drowned. It happened yesterday afternoon but they only found him later last night. He was