Main > Series > Chapters > Fame Book 2 > Chapter 8

When Bruno Martelli finally rolled out of bed late on Saturday morning, he found that his dad had left him a note taped to the dressing-table mirror. It seemed that Dan Gooch had telephoned in sick, and Angelo Martelli had been asked to cover his shift on overtime. Juice in the refrigerator, cereal in the box. Go get 'em kid.

     Bruno's immediate reaction was one of immense relief, followed by a slight tinge of guilt. Today had been planned as the day when Angelo was to be told that his son was dating a thirty year old woman, but fate had stepped in and made a few adjustments. Nancy would still be coming around that afternoon, but Angelo wouldn't be there to see her.

     By early afternoon, at a time when David Reardon was sitting in a converted warehouse close to the East River and listening with a kind of sick apprehension to his director's new thoughts on the staging of Everyman, Bruno had run a vacuum over the carpets and straightened the furniture. Yesterday's newspaper went behind the sofa, and Angelo's half-read copy of Reader's Digest went on the shelf with most of Bruno's schoolbooks. As a last move, he went through the rooms with an aerosol can of air freshener.

     The doorbell rang at two. Bruno had one last panicky thought; what if she'd taken a cab out to Queens, and the cab turned out to be Angelo's? He'd be sitting there at the curb now, and his face would be set like concrete. Bruno almost couldn't bring himself to open the door . . . but he did.

     There was a cab, but it was pulling away and its company marking was one that he didn't recognise.

     And, of course, there was Nancy.

     She was wearing jeans and a loose sweater, a white bag slung casually over her shoulder, almost no makeup. She didn't look as if she was turned out for a date; it was more the way she might dress to take a little brother for a walk in Central Park . . . but then Bruno told himself that he was being over-sensitive.

     'Hi,' Nancy said.

     'Hi.'

     A pause, and then, 'Do I get to come in?'

     They went through into the sitting room, and the enormity of the situation began to settle on Bruno. The entire afternoon lay ahead, and he didn't know what he was going to talk about; as far as he knew, they had almost nothing in common. Talking about school - that was definitely out. He wanted to give Nancy an interesting time, not to sit there making her even more aware of the absurdity implicit in their situation.

     So he talked about music. Ten minutes later, they were in the basement and he was showing her his synthesizers.

     'My Dad and I think it's tacky to use a decorator,' he explained as they reached the bottom of the stairs. 'Or did you guess?'

     'It should be on the cover of Basement Beautiful,' Nancy said diplomatically.

     Bruno moved across to the ARP, the electronic heart of his system. 'Over here is where it all starts,' he explained.

     But Nancy shook her head as she moved around with him, and she tapped Bruno's chest lightly with a forefinger. 'Oh, no.' she said, 'Here is where it all starts.' And then she lowered her hand and ran the same finger along the ARP's keyboard. The keys dipped, but there was no sound. Bruno hurriedly reached to switch on, and almost fumbled it in his nervousness.

     'Because I like you,' Nancy said, seeming to read the question from his mind even before he'd formed it.

     'What?'

     'Because I like you. That's why I'm here. It's what you were going to ask me, isn't it?'

     'Uh, yeah,' Bruno said, a little taken aback. 'How did you know?'

     'I just did. Look, it's no big deal that you're younger than I am - you're more mature than most guys, period.'

     'Everybody doesn't look at it that way.'

     'You don't impress me as the kind of person that puts much stock in the way other people see things.' She turned to face him again. 'Come on, Bruno. What's really bothering you?'

     He looked at the synthesizer, at the floor, at his hands. Finally, he said, 'I feel sort of inadequate with you. Like I've got a crush on my teacher, or something.'

     'Bruno,' she said gently, 'I'm not trying to seduce you.'

     Relief and disappointment rushed through Bruno in roughly equal proportions. His X-rated fantasies about this occasion had suddenly become very scary when he'd realised that Angelo wouldn't be around to ensure that they didn't come true.

     Seeing his blush, Nancy said, somewhat downcast, 'This may not have been a good idea.'

     'I'll fix us some lunch,' he offered.

     'Suppose I'm not hungry?'

     'Then I stay down here with you.'

     A long moment, and then; 'You better go fix us some lunch.'

     Bruno stacked bacon, lettuce and tomatoes on toast, spearing the sandwiches with a couple of cocktail sticks to hold everything together. They took the BLTs into the breakfast nook, and sat with the FM radio tuned to a rock station. They talked mostly about Nancy; her father's motel in Arizona, her unfinished college course, the dismal cold water flat that she'd had to live in when she'd first moved to New York. She had some portrait blow-ups made and had typed her resumé onto the back of  each one; it had taken her more than a week and cost her most of her savings, but one of the agencies that she'd hit had landed her with the soap company photo session. They'd also given her some prints of the unused shots, and she'd passed these around other casting directors; and that, apart from the two off-Broadway roles that had resulted, had been her career to date.

     Finally, she checked her watch. 'Your father's due home in a little while,' she said.

     'Great guy,' Bruno said. 'You'll like him.'

     'He won't like me, though.' Bruno was about to protest, fearing that his heart wouldn't really be in it, but Nancy went on, 'Bruno, you and I have about as much future as a puddle in the noonday sun. Let's make sure we don't waste what little time is left.' She stood up. 'Thanks for lunch, Bruno, and thanks for the afternoon.'

     Here it comes, he thought; the brush-off. But in spite of himself, he said, 'Can we do it again, sometime?'

     'I'd like to,' Nancy said, 'but I'm leaving it up to you. Give me a call, okay?'

     'Okay,' Bruno said, and together they went to the front door. He'd already decided; he would call her, and he would  tell Angelo - but not today.

     She kissed him lightly, inside the door where the street couldn't see, and then she was gone.