Read Online Vipers by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar - Free Book Online

had sent her far away from his wife. He’d lost his senses too: Rosaria’s beauty is like the
vino novello
, the light sweet wine that, when the weather is hot, knocks you flat on your back before you know what’s happened. Was. It was like the
vino novello
.”
    He seemed beaten by his inability to come to terms with Viper’s death.
    â€œI found out that she’d had a baby, a son. That’s when I realized that I’d lost her for good. That child was the definitive destruction of our dreams, of our afternoons spent dreaming, sitting on the scattered straw under the sun. And that’s when I started working hard: there was nothing else left to me.”
    Pietro, standing behind his brother, whispered:
    â€œYou cared about us, Peppi’. Your family.”
    â€œYes, I cared about you. And it was for you that I really started working. I bought a horse and a cart, Commissa’. I brought vegetables into the city. I thought to myself: why sell them for pennies to wholesalers, when I could sell them directly? It wasn’t easy, they don’t let you just bite into their market: they split the districts up among themselves. More than once I found myself with a knife in my face, and I was forced to react. Maybe you know this, Commissa’, but when someone doesn’t care about his own life, it becomes difficult to reason with him. I didn’t kill anyone, but I had no choice but to split a few skulls. But in the end, I won a place for myself.”
    Pietro, standing, had a clear surge of pride that Ricciardi didn’t miss. The relationship between the two brothers, despite the younger brother’s obvious subservience, must have been extremely strong.
    â€œI spent all my days on that cart, I’ve always liked horses, and that’s why I have the nickname I’ve had since I was a boy. As soon as Pietro here was old enough, we got another cart: and with the money we made we bought another garden, and my sisters started working that one. And then another cart and another garden, until we grew to become what we are today: the biggest fruit and vegetable company in all Vomero.”
    Ricciardi listened very closely.
    â€œAnd Rosaria? When did you see her again?”
    The momentary distraction of telling how he’d built his business was swept away like a cloud in the wind, and pain welled back up in the man’s face.
    â€œI hadn’t heard from her in a couple of years. I’d learned that the bastard who stole her from me met the end he deserved: somebody took a stiletto and gutted him like a fish. Rosaria had left, no one knew where; she’d given the boy to her mother, he still lives with her back in the village. I’d landed a number of important customers—when you deliver to them at home they’re willing to pay extra; one of them was the bordello. One day when I was unloading crates, a woman came into the kitchen and said: ‘Say, do you have any good apples like the ones we eat where I come from?’ Commissa’, you have to believe me: if she hadn’t spoken, I’d never have recognized her. She’d always been beautiful, but the girl I was looking at wasn’t just beautiful, she was a miracle. Still the voice, that voice, I knew it. And I said: ‘Rosa’, is that you?’ ”
    Overwhelmed by the power of that memory, he was speechless. His brother, embarassed, once again put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and he went on.
    â€œShe gave me a look, and who could forget that look. And she burst into tears, and ran upstairs. But like I told you before, Commissa’, I’m a hardheaded customer; so I gathered my courage and one night I walked in through the front door, climbed the stairs, and sat down to wait. Every so often the Signora would ask me: young man, what, are you waiting for a train? And I would say: no, Signo’, I’m waiting for a girl I like, the ones I see here are clearly