from Robbie, she eyed the sleek tubes and pots resembling candy. How did he know what colors to pick? Makeup had always been a foreign concept and she couldn’t remember the last time she bought a tube of lipstick.
Thankful y Robbie had left her instructions and number coded every step with the particular item of makeup. Nervous but determined she dipped a brush into a pot of coco-colored eye shadow. After a few false starts, she deftly applied the color to her lids. She fol owed this with a few strokes of bronze blush to her cheeks and forehead and a light application of gold lip-gloss.
“Wel , I’l be a monkey’s uncle.” Yvonne stepped back and eyed her handy work. What looked like nothing but fancy pots of brown and gold dust had come together in a toasty blend that emphasized her dark skins’ reddish undertones, high cheek bones and big brown eyes.
Yvonne suddenly felt like she could take over the world. And in the pair of thigh high boots Robbie laid out for her, she could definitely step over it. Amazing how a lit le bit of makeup and new clothes could change her into a new woman. She felt vibrant, sexy, in control. And she wanted to show the world or at least a certain Brazilian she wasn’t a woman to be messed with.
Yvonne frowned. Who was she kidding? Every time they crossed paths, Paolo always had a way of stripping her bare and exposing her weaknesses. One of them being him.
* * * * *
Rome’s Series A teams played in the Stadio Olympico , a seventy-two thousand seat forum located just north of the city center. Built in 1960 for the Summer Olympics, the open-air stadium was the second largest in Italy. And probably the worst in finding your seat, Yvonne quickly surmised once again looking down at the wil call ticket Robbie arranged for her.
After walking around for more than twenty minutes, Yvonne final y gave up and sought the assistance of an usher. Thankful y, only a few awkward exchanges were needed to solicit his aide and fol ow him down several flights of steps to the stadium’s lower level and the very last row of spectator seats. Any closer, she would have been sitting on the running track circling the field.
Due to the two teams’ rivalry, the Stadio Olympico was filled to capacity. With one side a sea of sky blue and yellow, while the side Yvonne sat on, drowned in red and black.
During the first thirty minutes of play, Roma found themselves constantly on the defensive against Pisa who scored twice.
Losing on one’s home field must have dampened the fans’ spirit because her side of the stadium had become disturbingly sober during the first half.
Just before half time Roma caught their second wind, ral ying, they drove the bal down the pitch in a concerted effort with Robbie scoring seconds before the half-time buzzer. Never an impartial bystander at Robbie’s games, Yvonne sat on pins and needles while wishing away the longest fifteen minutes she’d ever experienced in her life.
Less than five minutes out of the locker room and against the run of play, Roma scored again. On a smart counter, Freddy MacDonald robbed a defender of the ball, sent a low pass into the center where Paolo forced his way in between two forwards and shot the bal past Pisa’s goalie. Yvonne wondered at the strange feeling of exhilaration and pride that overwhelmed her as she watched him celebrate his game tying goal with the rest of the team.
She was merely excited, nothing more, she mused. Then why do I feel like a school girl with her first crush?
The rest of the second half was plagued by numerous fouls, several unsuccessful charges by both teams and more than one fight in the stands. Neither side looked as if they could break the other’s defenses, but then Robbie took advantage when a Pisa midfielder lost his footing. Winning the bal after a brief scuffle, he set up another teammate for a cross fol owed by a game-winning head shot into the net.
As she erupted from her seat, cheering with the
Thankful y Robbie had left her instructions and number coded every step with the particular item of makeup. Nervous but determined she dipped a brush into a pot of coco-colored eye shadow. After a few false starts, she deftly applied the color to her lids. She fol owed this with a few strokes of bronze blush to her cheeks and forehead and a light application of gold lip-gloss.
“Wel , I’l be a monkey’s uncle.” Yvonne stepped back and eyed her handy work. What looked like nothing but fancy pots of brown and gold dust had come together in a toasty blend that emphasized her dark skins’ reddish undertones, high cheek bones and big brown eyes.
Yvonne suddenly felt like she could take over the world. And in the pair of thigh high boots Robbie laid out for her, she could definitely step over it. Amazing how a lit le bit of makeup and new clothes could change her into a new woman. She felt vibrant, sexy, in control. And she wanted to show the world or at least a certain Brazilian she wasn’t a woman to be messed with.
Yvonne frowned. Who was she kidding? Every time they crossed paths, Paolo always had a way of stripping her bare and exposing her weaknesses. One of them being him.
* * * * *
Rome’s Series A teams played in the Stadio Olympico , a seventy-two thousand seat forum located just north of the city center. Built in 1960 for the Summer Olympics, the open-air stadium was the second largest in Italy. And probably the worst in finding your seat, Yvonne quickly surmised once again looking down at the wil call ticket Robbie arranged for her.
After walking around for more than twenty minutes, Yvonne final y gave up and sought the assistance of an usher. Thankful y, only a few awkward exchanges were needed to solicit his aide and fol ow him down several flights of steps to the stadium’s lower level and the very last row of spectator seats. Any closer, she would have been sitting on the running track circling the field.
Due to the two teams’ rivalry, the Stadio Olympico was filled to capacity. With one side a sea of sky blue and yellow, while the side Yvonne sat on, drowned in red and black.
During the first thirty minutes of play, Roma found themselves constantly on the defensive against Pisa who scored twice.
Losing on one’s home field must have dampened the fans’ spirit because her side of the stadium had become disturbingly sober during the first half.
Just before half time Roma caught their second wind, ral ying, they drove the bal down the pitch in a concerted effort with Robbie scoring seconds before the half-time buzzer. Never an impartial bystander at Robbie’s games, Yvonne sat on pins and needles while wishing away the longest fifteen minutes she’d ever experienced in her life.
Less than five minutes out of the locker room and against the run of play, Roma scored again. On a smart counter, Freddy MacDonald robbed a defender of the ball, sent a low pass into the center where Paolo forced his way in between two forwards and shot the bal past Pisa’s goalie. Yvonne wondered at the strange feeling of exhilaration and pride that overwhelmed her as she watched him celebrate his game tying goal with the rest of the team.
She was merely excited, nothing more, she mused. Then why do I feel like a school girl with her first crush?
The rest of the second half was plagued by numerous fouls, several unsuccessful charges by both teams and more than one fight in the stands. Neither side looked as if they could break the other’s defenses, but then Robbie took advantage when a Pisa midfielder lost his footing. Winning the bal after a brief scuffle, he set up another teammate for a cross fol owed by a game-winning head shot into the net.
As she erupted from her seat, cheering with the
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