The door crashed and Marianna burst in.
- I looked up from the bar. “Bon giorno, Marianna… Finished early today?”
- Her tan glistened. She sidled on to a bar stool and her skimpy black skirt slid up her thigh. “Bon giorno, senor… It's too hot out there... my feet ache, they're worn out.”
- Still working at your age, that's not all that's stuffed, I thought. “Café?”
- She pushed her auburn hair back and raised her painted face. “No, grazie. Not today. I'm dry, I need water, yes just a water.”
- She drained the glass without pause for breath and then pulled at her stretch top trying to pump air through next to her skin. I refilled her drink. “How's business, this heat can't be good in your line of work?”
- She glared into my face and her bloodshot eyes closed to slits. “You're not suggesting I'm past it, are you? I'm too old to attract the johns?”
- That was exactly what I though. Marianna, old enough to be a grandmother, had worked her corner opposite Aspromonte park since before I started in the bar. “No… no. You've got to keep working while you're still fit. Look at my old Dad; stopped working and died within six months. Nothing to do, see.”
- I escaped that encounter with Marianna my reputation intact. The local street walkers were our best customers, but you had to be careful. Marianna particularly had a reputation; if she took a dislike to you you'd be boycotted. Might as well shut your doors, the boss wouldn't put up with that.
- Milan's summer heat didn't let up. A white plastic chair appeared on Marianna's pitch and her early finishes became more frequent. “Still hot, Marianna, you could fry an egg on the pavement, eh,” I said, one particularly hot day.
- She shook her head. “The heat's bad enough, but my problem's that young tart up on via Luosi. She's taking all the younger trade. I hear she offers all sorts of extras. Men like the dark look too; her father was an American mulatto, you know.”
- That'd be Jackie. All plump curves of exposed flesh, skin of dark teak and a mass of black Roman curls, I could see she'd pull the punters. “But you've still got plenty of regulars, Marianna. And you'd know how to handle the older set.”
- “Yeah, off course I know how to show a man a good time. Some of my clients have been coming to me every week for years, but I draw the line at anything way out.”
- I nodded.
- “You know old Senor Francisco, he comes in here, eh. He's typical. I see him twice a week. He pays well too.”
- The weather cooled. Marianna reverted to her evening coffees at the bar, until one afternoon several weeks later when she stormed in and slammed the door behind her. “That black whore, I'll kill her.”
- I guessed she meant Jackie. “Slow down Marianna, or you'll explode. You need a shot of caffeine…” I turned to the espresso machine. “Now, what's the problem?”
- “That damn bitch Jackie has taken one of my regulars. I was waiting for him when I saw her getting into his car up the street. He always wanted a bit more and she's into kinky stuff, I'll never get him back. That's fifty Euros a week down the tubes.”
- What could I say, the poor dear was past it. One good look at her'd put you off sex for life. It was a wonder to me she still had any business. “Don't let her get to you, Marianna, you've got to look forward.” I slid a café across the bar.
- She downed the coffee without a blink. Her shoulders slumped and the tension stretches up her neck eased.
- I put a glass of water beside her empty cup. “Prego.”
- “Thanks.” Her lips turned up at the corners, “Yes, I've still got old Senor Francisco. He'll keep the landlord happy.”
- Marianna calmed down, but I did wonder what the future held for a tired old hooker. There was no pension plan in her job and there was no way she'd kept up her social security payments. Hopefully, old Senor Francisco wouldn't fall off the bed before she did.
- I didn't have a conversation with Marianna for a few weeks, until one afternoon she slunk in the world heavy on her shoulders. “Bon giorno… Café por favore.”
- What's eating her, I wondered as I measured out the coffee grounds. “You okay, Marianna?”
- She didn't look up. “I'm well enough, senor… but I'm in trouble.”
- “Trouble?”
- “Yes, trouble, I'm finished. It's the girl, Jackie, she's taken Senor Francisco. God, she'll wear him out poor old chap.”
- “What about your other customers. You've other regulars? Surely they'll keep you going,” I said, more in hope than expectation.
- She shook her head and her lank hair clung to her scalp. “No. The black hag has got them all… I'm through.”
- “Oh hell, what'll you do?” Would she have a go at Jackie? Now that'd be a sight.
- “Don't you worry about me, I've got plans and at least she's kept it in the family.”
- “In the family?”
- “Yes, didn't you know, she's my daughter.”
