The plane had landed at the airport of Catania Fontanarossa two hours late, just had to wait for luggage. Paolo and Francesca were rather tired, they began to hire a car and took their journey. The destination was a farm in the town of Aci Trezza, twenty kilometers from Catania. Paul had discarded the idea of \u200b\u200bgoing to a hotel, he needed space and quiet, do not know how long it would take to gather the necessary information. If the place was warm, I could stop there to write the book, he thought.
The farm was a stone cottage, isolated and surrounded by lemon groves not far from the coast. On two floors had been above a stable. On the ground floor had been converted into a kitchen, living room with a monumental fireplace and a bathroom. Upstairs there were two double bedrooms and a bathroom with tub. When Frank called to check availability, the owner was happy to be able to rent at that time poor tourists. Paul was just because no one would have bothered. The two
previous days had been hectic, the time when Paul was out of the house of Frank, had not had a moment's pause. I have to go to an important meeting in the afternoon, it was justified to the mother of Francesca, otherwise they would have more left to go away, those people are really adorable and Francesca has inherited from them that character, thought Paul.
Such was serene and smiling as he became sad and worried when he found himself at the door of the massive and austere publisher John Blacks. How can you stand as if nothing had happened, after several months, before a friend and employer betrayed? Wondered Paul. The certainty of finding a publisher was gone and soppravvento distrust had taken, not only that, he realized that he could handle the past events in a different way. He should speak directly with John Blacks before leaving instead of sending to fax a notice of termination of contract. He should not have to carry everything to Anna Feltrinelli. He was wrong and now it was right to pay the consequences.
The door opened when Paul rang the intercom, it was announced, someone was waiting for him. It was not always so. If any budding writer had wanted to try to leave a manuscript would sound vain. He had seen many people who camped outside the headquarters trying to speak with a single employee despite having the hope that the their work was read and published. No one had succeeded in the business. All they left, the door was locked without fail.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Good afternoon, what a pleasure seeing you again. I'm just glad it's back here>> he said cheerfully Mariangela, personal secretary to John Pozza, as soon as he saw it.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;time is telefono, but is waiting to receive subito>> he continued, smiling.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;I'm glad to see you again. Fit as ever, I see. How is your child?>>, Said earnestly, and looking to mask the emotions Paul.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Bene, is now growing by d'occhio, all'asilo>>, Mariangela motioned for Paul to get closer and softly said,
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;but I would not make me feel ' I bought her novel, even if we do not have it published. It 's very nice. Here everybody says softly but regret losing Virus ... behold, now is free. Come in and good luck>>.
Paul expected to find a person in front of him triumphant, ready to say, have you abandoned me and now crawling back to me, without me you could not do anything, you have to accept my condition. Instead, nothing of what was expected happened. John embraced him as a friend who finds his partner after so many years of school or as a father who reconciles with his son.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Do you know why I'm here. Have you also read the papers. How and why I broke the previous contract do me honor. Should I find the right words to let you know how many mistakes I made>> he said, his voice trembling, Paolo Martinelli. He was mentally prepared a speech that had tried and tried all the way but at that moment he had forgotten everything. He spoke from the heart. He was interrupted, John did not let him finish.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;So everything. I understand all that has happened and what you mean, no more words needed. See, there's a writer who over time have not tried to change the publishing house to get more money or visibility. There is a writer who has given me no time to hurt or wronged. In work as in life all wrong, but it seriously when we show ourselves proud and we refuse to admit our mistakes. I trust the people who are willing to forgive and are ready to begin again. I trust you. Now you're here, we put a lid on the past and begin a new journey>>.
Paolo Martinelli when he came out from the building of the publishing house was Blacks back to being a writer. A true writer, free to write whatever they want, without limits, without commercial constraints. The new contract was the same as the previous year from an economic standpoint and did not provide binding legal obligations of any kind. When you're done, handed me the manuscript and publish it. You just write and give the best of yourself, John told him before leaving. They had also decided to publish a response to the Feltrinelli. The next day, the publisher Blacks have issued a press release stating that it had been agreed with the writer and soon would publish a new novel.
The next morning Paul woke up at dawn and began writing the first chapters of a new novel, robbery, name it after thought. The book was based on the theft took place fifteen years before the headquarters of the Commercial Bank of Catania. Some people had them already clear in mind, others would have included them once had more talking to the Chief Commissioner Andrea Parodi and some witnesses. It would also go on site to inspect the place.
Francesca was ten when he entered the studio. He had several newspapers in his hand and looked happy, he said:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Hello, you have not read the papers? Did not you read the press?>>
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;No are still out. When the story begins to take shape, and I forget everything I just wrote, it always has been. What does it say?>> Said Paul.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Back to the Future, the headline in the Corriere. They talk about you, say you have been unemployed a single day. Play: The publisher, John Blacks, he took advantage of the termination of the contract between the Feltrinelli Paolo Martinelli and acquiring the rights to the next writer's novels. He continues: rumors report that the virus writers have passed the crisis and is working on a new novel. Finally, listen to the commentary of your journalist friend, what you did yesterday so criticized, perhaps decision to terminate the contract by the Feltrinelli was very thoughtful, it deserved more attention this writer?>>.
\u0026lt;'I am glad that things are less aggiustate, male>>, Paul replied with cheerful air as he continued to write, then turned to Frank looked at her in the face and announced:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Now I need you to do some calls. You must book this farm, I saw last night on the internet, it seems to me nice and calm, tell the owner that we do not know how long we will stay. After trying to make contact with the police station in Catania and fixed an appointment with Commissioner Andrea Prodi, to finish book two plane tickets to Catania with the first available flight>>.
Francesca immediately set to work. He was able to talk to the commissioner only to twelve, after several phone calls.
\u0026lt;'No I do not intend to respond to the usual questions inutili>,' said the Chief Commissioner Andrea Parodi Francesca who had asked him if he could arrange a meeting between him and the writer Paolo Martinelli. Parodi was a fine player, he loved the classics and books of all kinds but hated the yellow. Someone had tried to read but had a torment for him, it was like to work. Reason, understand the psychology of characters and their motivations to take some action, that was enough for the job. Did not read the yellow and then did not know their authors, Martinelli confused with any journalist from a magazine yellow.
Francesca Paolo Martinelli and explained who he was because he wanted to talk to him
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Sta writing a novel based on a robbery of which she is occupato, the bank robbery business for fifteen years fa, precisione> >. The Commissioner then listened intently when he realized what it was, mood swings before hanging up abruptly and said:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Do not intend to release statements on the affair>>. Francesca
not gave up, did not understand the reasons for the commissioner but he was determined to meet with Paul Parodi. Ritelefonò. Twice he found the office phone busy. Among the other Francesco undertook an attempt to answer dozens of calls from journalists who in turn asked for any statements relating to the new novel and a return to the old publishing house. When things go wrong, but when they all run well, you all are friends. Yesterday silence, all looking for him today and they want it, Frank thought.
was the fifth call in the afternoon, that Parodi answered the phone again:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ah, you still miss her! I've already said I do not mean ...>>.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Maybe I explained badly. Martinelli wants to meet her to know her better, is an admirer, has always followed its investigation. Wants to write a novel in which the main character inspired by her. It would be a great honor for him to meet you>>. Frank had found the right key, he knew that the praise would be successful in doing so. Commissioner Andrea Parodi was happy to make an appointment with Paolo Martinelli.
The first available flight to Catania was that of next day. Would have had to leave and arrive at five o'clock in the afternoon, instead just leave the airport at nine.
the rental car, a Mercedes Class A metallic black, was comfortable and fast. In the dark, the light of the lanterns were the only illuminate the road deserted. Take twice the wrong path before arriving at your destination. It was past midnight when Paul got out, he had to take a flashlight because the darkness was total, there were neither a lamppost or a house nearby. The silence was absolute. He found the key under a pot, as he said the owner of the farm on the phone to Frank. He opened the door, walked in, turned on the light and carried the bags into the house. Frank followed him with his personal effects.
The two rooms were spacious, and that Paul had taken the view to the east, he liked to see the sun rise. Frank settled down in the other, larger and with the best view.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Before going to bed I go before I can make myself a doccia, io?>>, tired and sleepy voice asked Francesca.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Do not worry, go ahead! I would write something before I fell asleep>> said Paul.
In the room there was an old desk, surely a piece of craft very expensive. Paul, I settled on his laptop, connected it to the outlet and began writing. She was describing a love scene between the two main characters, when he began to think of his life.
From the moment she met Frank, her life had changed for the better, of course. First thought to love Anna Feltrinelli but in reality had never been in love with her, she was just infatuated with her beauty. Later he had known better and had discovered it was a "piece of ice" and too different from him. Frank, however, was just as beautiful but had, in large part, his own desires and liked what he liked. During the day, often bursting to laugh together and when, on occasion, their hands or touching their eyes met, he felt his body vibrate.
also recall the first time I had seen her. He was fascinated and had understood that this could be the right girl for him. Exactly what I had offered him a job as a secretary, I hope to see again. When, however, his wish had come true, he had silenced his feelings, after all was still boyfriend and Francesca was his assistant. Now that more and more thought was free of her. On the morning watching the clock at all times in anticipation of his arrival, he went to bed at night thinking about Frank. Why
hours did not express his emotions? Perhaps he thought that it was not right, that could ruin everything if she had not experienced the same feeling. In that case she would no longer could stay and he did not want to lose her as a collaborator. No, could not express his feelings.
Francesca left the bathroom only covered with a towel. Gave off a sweet scent and legs, still wet, glistened in the glare of neon. Paul came to the room and saw that it was lost in thought. In silence stood behind him and read on the monitor, the love scene he was writing. Paul felt his scent, he turned and looked into her eyes. Both understood the thoughts of each other. The towel fell at the feet of Francis.
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