Roman Crazy Read Online Free PDF Page A

begin to rally and liven up for the day. We passed the Metro stop and headed a few streets past. Everywhere there was action—a horn honking, a bike passing, a scooter scooting—and under it all just a buzz, an undercurrent of energy, even on a quiet Sunday. Cafés were opening up, people crowding into what looked like standing-room-only coffee shops, drinking their tiny coffees while talking loudly and using their hands more than I was used to.
    My head turned constantly, swiveling back and forth, not wanting to miss a thing. The fact that I resembled an owl, and most assuredly a tourist, didn’t faze me a bit. I was perking up, my feet didn’t hurt so much, and now that I was out and about, I was . . .
    â€œFamished. I am absolutely famished,” I cried, not wanting to move past the window I was currently staring into. Breads, crusty rolls, thin flat pizzas, and sweet and tempting pastries all crowded onto little trays and into pyramids, begging me to walk right in, sit right down, and cram everything into my mouth.
    â€œOnly another block or so,” Daisy assured me, tugging oncemore on my arm to lead me in the right direction. “I know exactly what you need.”
    Ten minutes later I was sitting at a corner table in a café situated at the corner of Incredible and Wow. The shiny coffeemaker behind the bar was bigger than a Fiat, and actually looked more powerful. And speaking of powerful. “That’s heaven,” I sighed, sipping a screaming hot cappuccino, full of frothy foam. “Oh damn, that’s heaven er, ” I moaned, every nerve ending I had sizzling and snapping at the wonder that was the pastry I was eating. “Please tell me again what this little croissanty thing is?”
    â€œ Cornetto ,” Daisy said, her American tongue hidden completely inside this delicious word. “Technically that one is a cornetto alla crema .” Jesus, she even rolled her R’s. “I thought you could use a hit of custard.”
    â€œI could use several hits of several somethings,” I moaned again through my cornetto alla whatever. “How late are you keeping me up?”
    â€œUntil normal bedtime. I’ve already got plans for you tonight.”
    â€œHuh?” There may have been a crumb or five of cornetto alla spittle clinging to my lower lip; she handed me a napkin. “Seriously, plans tonight? Couldn’t I officially start my vacation tomorrow?”
    â€œVacation nothing—this is a lifestyle, Avery. And tonight, we celebrate your first night in Rome.”
    â€œShould I even bother trying to get out of this?”
    â€œYou can try, but it won’t matter. It’s no big deal, really, just a little dinner with some of my friends, some people from work.”
    â€œJust dinner?”
    â€œJust dinner. Everyone’s excited you’re here, they wanted to have a Welcome Avery party.”
    I sipped my cappuccino, humanity seeping back into my bones.
    Just a dinner. A party. For me.
    â€œIf you’re gonna keep me up tonight, I’m gonna need another one of these.” I sighed, pointing at my cup, then at the cornetto crumbs on my plate. “And another of these. Make sure you roll those R’s for me.”
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    WITH THE SHOCK OF FOUR shots of espresso giving me a much-needed boost, I trailed happily behind Daisy, soaking up Rome. The warm air licked up my bare legs, flirting at the hem of my linen shift. I remained mindful of the gaps in the ancient roads, while she glided across them without even glancing down.
    In heels.
    If she was Grace Kelly, I was Bambi on new legs tripping over lifted edges and thick gaps even in my gold Tieks.
    I thought I knew what Rome looked like, based on the fact that I’d studied art history, held a degree in the subject, in fact. Key word there . . . thought .
    The truth was, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
    Studying thin white pages filled with