CRAVING U (The Rook Café) Read Online Free PDF

contracts for his players with professional teams.  His cut
fluctuated between 4 and 10 percent of the deal.  Pathologically single, he had
a weakness for beautiful women (he called them his “cheerleaders”), designer
clothes, and fast cars.  He was always elegantly dressed in pinstriped, ton
sur ton suits and perfectly coiffed.  He had two offices: one in Milan for
international negotiations, and one in Rome for Italian affairs.  As a way to
invest the significant fortune that he had amassed over the years, he followed
in the family footsteps and purchased one of the most exclusive restaurants in
Milan.  He knew everyone’s phone number and had contacts with the crème de
la crème of the soccer world.  And when he discovered a young kid with
talent, his first stop was always Carlo, the only man he knew who could turn a
rough gem into a true diamond.
    After a false show of ceremony and a few
tasteless jokes about Michele’s most recent conquests from the world of
showbiz, the sports agent got down to business.  “Carlo, I’ve found the heir to
Roberto Baggio.”
    “Please, don’t be so modest!” Carlo said,
trying to cover his immediate excitement with sarcasm.
    In the triumphant tone of someone who
knows what he’s talking about, Canosi started his tale.  “Last April, I was in
the hills outside of Vicenza at my trusty wine distributor’s and I got talking
with the owner.  We go way back....”
    “Hold on, let me get this straight,”
Braidi interrupted.  “You go where ?... To Vicenza ?  To get your wine ??” 
Carlo put on his best Gallic accent.  “If you please, monsieur , I will
call my loyal secretary Teresa  and have her bring you a copy of the
distributors who sell only the highest-quality vins français . 
Shall I have her open a bottle of Château d’Yquem, Premier Cru Supérieur from
Sauternes, 1973?  It’s in the wine cooler as we speak.”
    “Impressive, but no,” Michele said, taking
a patriotic stance.  “I prefer the wines of my homeland, and only 100% organic.”
    “Ugh, what am I hearing?  My, how we’ve
gotten picky about our wines!  The only thing you have good taste in is your cheerleaders . 
I bet my bottle of Château is older than they are!”
    Michele made his right hand into a pistol
and shot: BINGO!  “Fine fine, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure....”
    “Get to the point!” Carlo begged him.
    “The point is, that the winemaker told me
to check out a couple of local kids who play in the Junior Elite league.  So I decided
to kill two birds with one stone.”
    While Michele passionately and lengthily
expounded the virtues of the two promising players, Carlo listened to him
without the slightest show of interest, faking skepticism.
    “The following week, I stayed in the area. 
I canceled a couple business meetings and more than a couple of, ahem, dinner dates, all to watch their practices, talk to the coaches, and, in the end, get
in touch with the families.”
    “And so?” Carlo asked, gesturing with his
hands for him to get to the conclusion.
    “And so, Carlo,” Michele almost shouted in
his enthusiasm, “you’ve got to come see him!”
    “I thought there were two of them,” he
said nonchalantly.  “In any event, I’m way too busy right now for a scouting
trip.”
    “Fine, have it your way!  I’ll just have
to put together a video for you then.”  Michele lifted himself out of the 1800s bergère , upholstered in sienna leather, and headed toward the door, a
grin on his face.  He knew that he had hooked his prey.

Chapter 2
    AT THE OLD WATERMILL
     
    The week dragged on
slowly in anxious anticipation of the weekend escape: a getaway to Milan
complete with passing through the turnstiles of the legendary San Siro Stadium.
    First week of school brought nothing
remarkable aside from a fortunate two-period break on Wednesdays and the
constant squawking of Livia next to her.  Somehow Marika made it to Saturday
afternoon,