Christmas 1909
Veracruz, Mexico
It was Jack Dawson's second Christmas away from home. For the past year he'd been running around the country. Initially, he'd just skipped from place to place just getting by with what he could then he started finding work. First he was a logger in Washington State. Then he swamped decks on a squid boat. After that he lived in Los Angeles near the pier in Santa Monica.
For the first time in his art was supporting him. He got a cheap, run-down little apartment. He spent all day on the town's brand new pier. He made a little sign that said *portraits 10 cents*. He usually made a dollar a day and never had to follow a set schedule either. He went to lunch whenever felt like it, or went on the rides, and went home whenever he got tired.
It was perfect. But by the time the summer dwindled people weren't lined up to have the cute kid draw their picture anymore so he decided he'd go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing. Just like that, he woke one morning and said, "I think I'll go to France."
He'd heard there was cheap transportation going to Europe near Veracruz so he crossed the border into Mexico. It was his first time in a foreign country. He was able to get by with the little Spanish he'd learned in California.
He had just enough money to get a ticket, but getting on to the dock seemed more of challenge. A terrible brawl had broken out between two kids around thirteen or fourteen. The boy was losing desperately to the girl.
"Por favor," he said, "tu ganas, tu ganas." She kicked him. He jumped back. They began rolling around on the ground pulling each other's hair as the other children cheered and yelled. Now Jack would never get through.
"Perdon," Jack tried to push his way past, "perdoname."
"Oye!" Another kid about his age was pushing his way *into* the crowd. "Oye, María!" He reached in and ripped the screaming girl to her feet and dragged her past Jack. "Mamá te matará.escuchas, María?" The boy flipped her over his shoulder and carried her out.
"Lanzame, Manuel! Vete al diablo!" she screamed at what Jack figured was her brother. He laughed to himself and moved through as the crowd of children started to dissipate.
***
The boat from Veracruz took Jack to Cuba; the boat from Cuba went to Morocco. Havana and Casablanca were great, but Jack wanted to go to Paris. His boat out of Africa got him to Gibraltar. In Spain he wandered around Andulucia going in and out old mosques and sketching Moorish architecture.
Then the next boat, which he had to stow away in for lack of money, took him to Naples. From there he hitchhiked through the country. He'd get to Paris one of these days. Meanwhile, traveling the rest of the world was definitely worth it.
But now he was out of the big cities.and he was lost. By early April he found himself in the little town of Nucci, Italy. It was a little like Chippewa Falls: a bustling center of town with farms along the outside, only no factories. Alright, so that was every small town anywhere, but he liked things that reminded him of home.
By this time Jack was tired and hungry. He chanced upon one of the many small farms and decided to find a meal. He plucked a big red tomato from its vine and sunk his teeth into it.
"Ciao." said a voice behind him. Jack whirled around to see a beautiful girl before him. She was tall, dark, and voluptuous. She must have been a few years older than him, Jack guessed.
"Ciao." Jack smiled and waved stupidly. The young woman looked at him curiously. "Buon giorno, Miss."
She still just looked at him. Jack knew he might be in a little bit of trouble, but she looked rather amused. She plucked two more tomatoes off the vine and gave them to Jack.
"Grazie."
The girl put her finger to her lips and gave a little nod to leave. He nodded affirmatively and was about to skip off when he turned back around.
"How do you say.?" he asked holding up the tomatoes.
She got the idea of what he was saying. "Pomodoro."
"Pomodoro." Jack repeated. "Uh.I'm Jack." he pointed to himself, "Jack Dawson. I'm American."
"Americano, eh?"
"Si."
There was yelling coming from the house at the end of the field. She gave a look of urgency and waved him away. Jack tiptoed away, fearing the worst from the fight in the distance.
The girl whispered to him as Jack turned around to look at her. "Octavia." she smiled.
"Ciao, Octavia."
"Ciao, Jack."
***
It was a stupid idea, Jack thought as he stood on the edge of that same farm. There was a fight and a pretty girl. General human interest, but what made him so compelled to come back? Something was strange with the people that lived with the beautiful Octavia.
It was late at night, but lo, more yelling and screaming. An older woman's voice was pleading. "Paolo, no!" Then the loud smack of human flesh.
Paolo, Jack could only assume, emerged from his home with what look to be a lead pipe or something like it. "Octavia! Loren-"
Octavia crossed in front of him. "Papa." she said as if the words went against her religion. He yelled something unintelligible at her and she went inside. Jack wasn't sure whether it was unintelligible because Paolo was drunk or because Jack didn't speak Italian. PIt was then Jack realized why returning to the farm had been a bad idea. Paolo spotted him.
"Oh shit." Paolo yelled something at him that he was sure would be unrecognizable even if he spoke Italian.
Jack yelled something that wasn't English and ran for his life. He dashed through tomatoes and eggplant tearing some down as he went each time provoked an enraged shout from Paolo.
Jack kept running through the field and into the night. Harder and harder. This guy was something fierce. Whoever the hell he was.
At some point Jack realized he couldn't a damned thing and it was a wonder he hadn't crashed into anything yet.
Then he crashed head on into *somebody*.somebody running just as hard as he was. Their bodies repelled off each other make a V shape before their backs smacked the ground.
Jack sat up in shock. One minute he'd been running for his ever-loving life, then something came full force into him.now he was just sitting and dizzy, not even thinking about the crazy man chasing him, just staring at the face across from him.
The other runner sat up a moment later. "Aye." He grabbed his head.
Then he looked right at Jack. It was dark, but Jack could see him just enough. He was about his age and looked a bit like Octavia.
"Hey, kid, you alright?"
"Eh.?"
"Same here."
"Better you now leave." The kid said. Jack popped up.
"You speak English?"
"Little. My sister said about you." P "Octavia?"
The kid nodded. "What's your name?"
"Fabrizio."
"Jack Dawson." He put out his hand.
"Fabrizio!" roared Paolo as he grabbed him by the shoulders, dropping the stick in his hand. Yep, a lead pipe.
Jack sprung to his feet. Paolo shook the boy violently.
"Hey, it was my fault I was the one who was stealing!" Jack pleaded. Paolo shot a stare and said something to him in Italian. Fabrizio beseeched Paolo for something it seemed, but he was unmoved. He started growling to Jack again.
"Um, sir.I don't speak Italian.sorry.I'll leave." Paolo drew closer. Fabrizio desperately rambled again. Until Paolo started shouting, which led to Fabrizio's continued panicked rant, he begged and pleaded until he started screaming.
"Mi difetto! Mi difetto! Per favore!"
"What he said!" Jack pointed at Fabrizio with conviction, agreeing whatever he said before the other boy and Paolo told him to go away-at least he thought they meant go away.
***
Dear Maggs, April 10, 1910
I told you all about the De Rossis last time. Well, I've found out a little more. I figured I'd tell you first because I know if I keep any thing that could remotely be construed as gossip I reckon you'll hunt me down and beat it out of me. I asked around town and Fabrizio speaks English pretty well. Here's the story so far: Paolo Corbo is Fabrizio and Octavia's stepfather. They've got another brother named Lorenzo, who is the middle child. Catalina's late husband, Giovanni died when the children were young and she married Paolo. I get the impression husband number two was not quite as kind and gentle as number one. He beats them to hell sometimes. Signora De Rossi just started walking again.broken ribs.three of them. Paolo is a particularly contemptible creature. Beats his wife and her children near to death on a daily basis it seems.more than what people usually do to keep someone in line. Lorenzo's never there and Paolo can't really take him anymore. He's about nineteen, I think. But Fabrizio's my age and takes the bulk of the shellacking to protect his mother and his sister. Now Octavia is just married the guy that runs the café in town. Too bad, she's gorgeous. Fabrizio's got this idea about running away and starting a whole new life.crazy as that sounds.
He's been planning this for a while. He wants to go to America, make his way, and then send for his family. For years now he's had his hands on an Italian-English dictionary. He speaks pretty well for someone who learned solely from a dictionary. You'll kill me for this one, but we're leaving for Naples.right after I mail this.tonight.
All my love to the family and take care, Jack ***
"Ready go?" asked Fabri.
"Yeah, pretty much."
"I say goodbye to Mama first." Jack nodded and Fabri went inside.
Mama came out and pulled Jack aside and spoke to him in the little English she knew. "Take care of him. He is my son."
"I know, Signora De Rossi."
"Don't you lose him, ragazzo mio." She gripped his shoulder. She couldn't give a good reason why, but she trusted this strange boy.
"I promise."
"Fabrizio!" Octavia waved from the window. Paolo was off carousing in town that night so Octavia felt free to shout to her little brother. She scurried down the stairs and out the door. "Take." She handed him a little bag of coins. She was newly married and came by the house for a visit. She intended for Fabrizio to have some of her wedding money.
"Oh, no." Fabri shook his head. "No, Sorella." He gently pushed the pouch back into her hands. The whole point of him going away was to send *them* money.and also to get to America and send for them. The baby had taken it upon himself to save the family and give them a new life.
"Si, Fratello."
"Lorenzo?" Fabrizio asked, hoping his brother was not wandering aimlessly on the night he would leave Nucci indefinitely.
Both his mother and his sister hung their heads. No Lorenzo would not come.
Fabrizio sighed. "Arrivederci, Mama. Arrivederci, Octavia."
The women embraced their boy in a final farewell, believing that things would turn out all right in the end.
***
Somewhere near Lyon, one month later
"I think prefer Rome to Naples." Fabrizio De Rossi gripped the rails outside the moving train, letting the sun hit his face. For the first time since he was a little boy, since his father was alive, he was beginning to feel free again.
"Venice was good, too," his friend, Jack Dawson nodded, "what was the name of the Abbey we had a sword fight and the brothers tossed us out?"
"Monte Cassino?"
"That's it!" Jack's eyes lit up.
Fabrizio laughed. This crazy kid wanders onto his family's farm one day and from there proceed to turn his life upside down.
"So Paris next, eh?"
"Paris next. I can't believe, Fabrizio, we're going to Paris. Do you know how long I've wanted to go to Paris? And Montmartre, that's the center of the Bohemian Revolution. We could live there. Two guys from far away coming to be a part of it all.what are you thinking about? What do you wanna do when we get to Paris?"
"I just thinking about French girls." he smiled.
"Yeah, French girls." Jack thought distantly, his thoughts wandered again to Judy. He wasn't sure if he'd ever go for the stereotypical French girl. Walking sex seems like anything two seventeen year-old male virgins could want.or any male for that fact.but he could never quite get over Judy. She'd probably found some other guy. Tobey or Milo? Who knew? And Fabrizio's sister.well she was married. Falling in love wasn't necessarily on his mind, but he always wanted a girl who was something more than even a nice girl. Maybe he and Jude weren't meant to be, but he knew they were both meant for two other pretty amazing people.
***
"I think I'm going to keel over and faint." Jack and Fabrizio were now walking through the streets of gay Paris.
"Well, your life is complete now." Fabrizio smiled.
"This is PARIS! My whole life, Fabri.PARIS!" Jack waved his arms up and down.
"With Parisians that speak Francese and everything."
"I know! It's like something out of an Emile Zola novel."
"You never read any Zola."
"Someday I might."
"You think we find actual roof to sleep under tonight maybe, eh?"
"Actual roof.not as Bohemian as sleeping outside."
"Jack." Fabrizio narrowed his eyes.
"Alright, alright. We'll find a place to live."
***
On their first day in Paris Fabrizio exchanged his sister's money for francs and the boys found an apartment.
"A garret! Our own little Bohemian garret with no breathing room!" Jack flew up the ladder of the bunk bed.
"I take a nap. Try not to piss your Bohemian pants from excitement. I'm below you remember."
"Happy you finally get to sleep in a legitimate bed?"
"Yes.but I can't believe you get top bunk." He kicked the bed playfully.
***
A week later the boys set out to find work. Jack found a guy whose father owned a little café. He and Fabri were welcome to wash dishes during the day. Unfortunately, two heads are not always better than one and they lost the address.
"It's Rue de Apoil." Jack frowned.
"But quoi numero?"
"One with three digits."
"This is beautiful, Jack."
"We'll find it, we just gotta hope Jean miraculously shows up."
"Wait it was 100-something, right? Across from a jewelry shop, no?"
"But there are three jewelry shops on this block." Jack bit his lip.
"I guess we just go in and knock on everything across from a jewelers.?"
"Yeah. Let's try." Jack squinted around for a jewelers' and looked across the street, "that one."
The two friends walked across the street and knocked on the door.
"This would help if we could read Francese." Fabrizio acknowledged. This place seemed more like a brothel than a café. *A brothel,* Fabri shook his head. What a silly thing to think.
Jack knocked again, harder this time. "Hello? .Let's go inside." Fabrizio nodded, they went inside "Hello?" They went upstairs and passed by an open room. A girl wearing an orange wig and lots of face powder nodded seductively at the boys. A man came up behind, snaking his arms around her and kissing her neck. She laughed.
"I foresaw doubt in it before." Fabrizio started, Jack nodded slowly. His English was still weird sometimes, but maybe not as bad as Jack's Italian. "Jack, I think we're in a brothel."
"I think we are, too."
"I think we should leave now."
"Yeah.'Farm Boys in a Brothel', Fabri, I think I just thought of a name for my masterpiece."
"Very funny."
Jack and Fabrizio headed for the stairs again when they found themselves.airborne?
"Oof!" They each landed face first on the floors. Less than a second later something came crashing in front of their noses.
It was Jack Dawson's second Christmas away from home. For the past year he'd been running around the country. Initially, he'd just skipped from place to place just getting by with what he could then he started finding work. First he was a logger in Washington State. Then he swamped decks on a squid boat. After that he lived in Los Angeles near the pier in Santa Monica.
For the first time in his art was supporting him. He got a cheap, run-down little apartment. He spent all day on the town's brand new pier. He made a little sign that said *portraits 10 cents*. He usually made a dollar a day and never had to follow a set schedule either. He went to lunch whenever felt like it, or went on the rides, and went home whenever he got tired.
It was perfect. But by the time the summer dwindled people weren't lined up to have the cute kid draw their picture anymore so he decided he'd go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing. Just like that, he woke one morning and said, "I think I'll go to France."
He'd heard there was cheap transportation going to Europe near Veracruz so he crossed the border into Mexico. It was his first time in a foreign country. He was able to get by with the little Spanish he'd learned in California.
He had just enough money to get a ticket, but getting on to the dock seemed more of challenge. A terrible brawl had broken out between two kids around thirteen or fourteen. The boy was losing desperately to the girl.
"Por favor," he said, "tu ganas, tu ganas." She kicked him. He jumped back. They began rolling around on the ground pulling each other's hair as the other children cheered and yelled. Now Jack would never get through.
"Perdon," Jack tried to push his way past, "perdoname."
"Oye!" Another kid about his age was pushing his way *into* the crowd. "Oye, María!" He reached in and ripped the screaming girl to her feet and dragged her past Jack. "Mamá te matará.escuchas, María?" The boy flipped her over his shoulder and carried her out.
"Lanzame, Manuel! Vete al diablo!" she screamed at what Jack figured was her brother. He laughed to himself and moved through as the crowd of children started to dissipate.
***
The boat from Veracruz took Jack to Cuba; the boat from Cuba went to Morocco. Havana and Casablanca were great, but Jack wanted to go to Paris. His boat out of Africa got him to Gibraltar. In Spain he wandered around Andulucia going in and out old mosques and sketching Moorish architecture.
Then the next boat, which he had to stow away in for lack of money, took him to Naples. From there he hitchhiked through the country. He'd get to Paris one of these days. Meanwhile, traveling the rest of the world was definitely worth it.
But now he was out of the big cities.and he was lost. By early April he found himself in the little town of Nucci, Italy. It was a little like Chippewa Falls: a bustling center of town with farms along the outside, only no factories. Alright, so that was every small town anywhere, but he liked things that reminded him of home.
By this time Jack was tired and hungry. He chanced upon one of the many small farms and decided to find a meal. He plucked a big red tomato from its vine and sunk his teeth into it.
"Ciao." said a voice behind him. Jack whirled around to see a beautiful girl before him. She was tall, dark, and voluptuous. She must have been a few years older than him, Jack guessed.
"Ciao." Jack smiled and waved stupidly. The young woman looked at him curiously. "Buon giorno, Miss."
She still just looked at him. Jack knew he might be in a little bit of trouble, but she looked rather amused. She plucked two more tomatoes off the vine and gave them to Jack.
"Grazie."
The girl put her finger to her lips and gave a little nod to leave. He nodded affirmatively and was about to skip off when he turned back around.
"How do you say.?" he asked holding up the tomatoes.
She got the idea of what he was saying. "Pomodoro."
"Pomodoro." Jack repeated. "Uh.I'm Jack." he pointed to himself, "Jack Dawson. I'm American."
"Americano, eh?"
"Si."
There was yelling coming from the house at the end of the field. She gave a look of urgency and waved him away. Jack tiptoed away, fearing the worst from the fight in the distance.
The girl whispered to him as Jack turned around to look at her. "Octavia." she smiled.
"Ciao, Octavia."
"Ciao, Jack."
***
It was a stupid idea, Jack thought as he stood on the edge of that same farm. There was a fight and a pretty girl. General human interest, but what made him so compelled to come back? Something was strange with the people that lived with the beautiful Octavia.
It was late at night, but lo, more yelling and screaming. An older woman's voice was pleading. "Paolo, no!" Then the loud smack of human flesh.
Paolo, Jack could only assume, emerged from his home with what look to be a lead pipe or something like it. "Octavia! Loren-"
Octavia crossed in front of him. "Papa." she said as if the words went against her religion. He yelled something unintelligible at her and she went inside. Jack wasn't sure whether it was unintelligible because Paolo was drunk or because Jack didn't speak Italian. PIt was then Jack realized why returning to the farm had been a bad idea. Paolo spotted him.
"Oh shit." Paolo yelled something at him that he was sure would be unrecognizable even if he spoke Italian.
Jack yelled something that wasn't English and ran for his life. He dashed through tomatoes and eggplant tearing some down as he went each time provoked an enraged shout from Paolo.
Jack kept running through the field and into the night. Harder and harder. This guy was something fierce. Whoever the hell he was.
At some point Jack realized he couldn't a damned thing and it was a wonder he hadn't crashed into anything yet.
Then he crashed head on into *somebody*.somebody running just as hard as he was. Their bodies repelled off each other make a V shape before their backs smacked the ground.
Jack sat up in shock. One minute he'd been running for his ever-loving life, then something came full force into him.now he was just sitting and dizzy, not even thinking about the crazy man chasing him, just staring at the face across from him.
The other runner sat up a moment later. "Aye." He grabbed his head.
Then he looked right at Jack. It was dark, but Jack could see him just enough. He was about his age and looked a bit like Octavia.
"Hey, kid, you alright?"
"Eh.?"
"Same here."
"Better you now leave." The kid said. Jack popped up.
"You speak English?"
"Little. My sister said about you." P "Octavia?"
The kid nodded. "What's your name?"
"Fabrizio."
"Jack Dawson." He put out his hand.
"Fabrizio!" roared Paolo as he grabbed him by the shoulders, dropping the stick in his hand. Yep, a lead pipe.
Jack sprung to his feet. Paolo shook the boy violently.
"Hey, it was my fault I was the one who was stealing!" Jack pleaded. Paolo shot a stare and said something to him in Italian. Fabrizio beseeched Paolo for something it seemed, but he was unmoved. He started growling to Jack again.
"Um, sir.I don't speak Italian.sorry.I'll leave." Paolo drew closer. Fabrizio desperately rambled again. Until Paolo started shouting, which led to Fabrizio's continued panicked rant, he begged and pleaded until he started screaming.
"Mi difetto! Mi difetto! Per favore!"
"What he said!" Jack pointed at Fabrizio with conviction, agreeing whatever he said before the other boy and Paolo told him to go away-at least he thought they meant go away.
***
Dear Maggs, April 10, 1910
I told you all about the De Rossis last time. Well, I've found out a little more. I figured I'd tell you first because I know if I keep any thing that could remotely be construed as gossip I reckon you'll hunt me down and beat it out of me. I asked around town and Fabrizio speaks English pretty well. Here's the story so far: Paolo Corbo is Fabrizio and Octavia's stepfather. They've got another brother named Lorenzo, who is the middle child. Catalina's late husband, Giovanni died when the children were young and she married Paolo. I get the impression husband number two was not quite as kind and gentle as number one. He beats them to hell sometimes. Signora De Rossi just started walking again.broken ribs.three of them. Paolo is a particularly contemptible creature. Beats his wife and her children near to death on a daily basis it seems.more than what people usually do to keep someone in line. Lorenzo's never there and Paolo can't really take him anymore. He's about nineteen, I think. But Fabrizio's my age and takes the bulk of the shellacking to protect his mother and his sister. Now Octavia is just married the guy that runs the café in town. Too bad, she's gorgeous. Fabrizio's got this idea about running away and starting a whole new life.crazy as that sounds.
He's been planning this for a while. He wants to go to America, make his way, and then send for his family. For years now he's had his hands on an Italian-English dictionary. He speaks pretty well for someone who learned solely from a dictionary. You'll kill me for this one, but we're leaving for Naples.right after I mail this.tonight.
All my love to the family and take care, Jack ***
"Ready go?" asked Fabri.
"Yeah, pretty much."
"I say goodbye to Mama first." Jack nodded and Fabri went inside.
Mama came out and pulled Jack aside and spoke to him in the little English she knew. "Take care of him. He is my son."
"I know, Signora De Rossi."
"Don't you lose him, ragazzo mio." She gripped his shoulder. She couldn't give a good reason why, but she trusted this strange boy.
"I promise."
"Fabrizio!" Octavia waved from the window. Paolo was off carousing in town that night so Octavia felt free to shout to her little brother. She scurried down the stairs and out the door. "Take." She handed him a little bag of coins. She was newly married and came by the house for a visit. She intended for Fabrizio to have some of her wedding money.
"Oh, no." Fabri shook his head. "No, Sorella." He gently pushed the pouch back into her hands. The whole point of him going away was to send *them* money.and also to get to America and send for them. The baby had taken it upon himself to save the family and give them a new life.
"Si, Fratello."
"Lorenzo?" Fabrizio asked, hoping his brother was not wandering aimlessly on the night he would leave Nucci indefinitely.
Both his mother and his sister hung their heads. No Lorenzo would not come.
Fabrizio sighed. "Arrivederci, Mama. Arrivederci, Octavia."
The women embraced their boy in a final farewell, believing that things would turn out all right in the end.
***
Somewhere near Lyon, one month later
"I think prefer Rome to Naples." Fabrizio De Rossi gripped the rails outside the moving train, letting the sun hit his face. For the first time since he was a little boy, since his father was alive, he was beginning to feel free again.
"Venice was good, too," his friend, Jack Dawson nodded, "what was the name of the Abbey we had a sword fight and the brothers tossed us out?"
"Monte Cassino?"
"That's it!" Jack's eyes lit up.
Fabrizio laughed. This crazy kid wanders onto his family's farm one day and from there proceed to turn his life upside down.
"So Paris next, eh?"
"Paris next. I can't believe, Fabrizio, we're going to Paris. Do you know how long I've wanted to go to Paris? And Montmartre, that's the center of the Bohemian Revolution. We could live there. Two guys from far away coming to be a part of it all.what are you thinking about? What do you wanna do when we get to Paris?"
"I just thinking about French girls." he smiled.
"Yeah, French girls." Jack thought distantly, his thoughts wandered again to Judy. He wasn't sure if he'd ever go for the stereotypical French girl. Walking sex seems like anything two seventeen year-old male virgins could want.or any male for that fact.but he could never quite get over Judy. She'd probably found some other guy. Tobey or Milo? Who knew? And Fabrizio's sister.well she was married. Falling in love wasn't necessarily on his mind, but he always wanted a girl who was something more than even a nice girl. Maybe he and Jude weren't meant to be, but he knew they were both meant for two other pretty amazing people.
***
"I think I'm going to keel over and faint." Jack and Fabrizio were now walking through the streets of gay Paris.
"Well, your life is complete now." Fabrizio smiled.
"This is PARIS! My whole life, Fabri.PARIS!" Jack waved his arms up and down.
"With Parisians that speak Francese and everything."
"I know! It's like something out of an Emile Zola novel."
"You never read any Zola."
"Someday I might."
"You think we find actual roof to sleep under tonight maybe, eh?"
"Actual roof.not as Bohemian as sleeping outside."
"Jack." Fabrizio narrowed his eyes.
"Alright, alright. We'll find a place to live."
***
On their first day in Paris Fabrizio exchanged his sister's money for francs and the boys found an apartment.
"A garret! Our own little Bohemian garret with no breathing room!" Jack flew up the ladder of the bunk bed.
"I take a nap. Try not to piss your Bohemian pants from excitement. I'm below you remember."
"Happy you finally get to sleep in a legitimate bed?"
"Yes.but I can't believe you get top bunk." He kicked the bed playfully.
***
A week later the boys set out to find work. Jack found a guy whose father owned a little café. He and Fabri were welcome to wash dishes during the day. Unfortunately, two heads are not always better than one and they lost the address.
"It's Rue de Apoil." Jack frowned.
"But quoi numero?"
"One with three digits."
"This is beautiful, Jack."
"We'll find it, we just gotta hope Jean miraculously shows up."
"Wait it was 100-something, right? Across from a jewelry shop, no?"
"But there are three jewelry shops on this block." Jack bit his lip.
"I guess we just go in and knock on everything across from a jewelers.?"
"Yeah. Let's try." Jack squinted around for a jewelers' and looked across the street, "that one."
The two friends walked across the street and knocked on the door.
"This would help if we could read Francese." Fabrizio acknowledged. This place seemed more like a brothel than a café. *A brothel,* Fabri shook his head. What a silly thing to think.
Jack knocked again, harder this time. "Hello? .Let's go inside." Fabrizio nodded, they went inside "Hello?" They went upstairs and passed by an open room. A girl wearing an orange wig and lots of face powder nodded seductively at the boys. A man came up behind, snaking his arms around her and kissing her neck. She laughed.
"I foresaw doubt in it before." Fabrizio started, Jack nodded slowly. His English was still weird sometimes, but maybe not as bad as Jack's Italian. "Jack, I think we're in a brothel."
"I think we are, too."
"I think we should leave now."
"Yeah.'Farm Boys in a Brothel', Fabri, I think I just thought of a name for my masterpiece."
"Very funny."
Jack and Fabrizio headed for the stairs again when they found themselves.airborne?
"Oof!" They each landed face first on the floors. Less than a second later something came crashing in front of their noses.