Chapter 18

Chapter 18

December 28th Rome

R achael and Randy's non-stop flight arrived at the Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport at eight o'clock in the morning. They were a bit foggy from the time change and the eight hours in the air. The airport was bustling with passengers, elves, and music.

"Frankie was right," Rachael announced. "Italy at Christmas has to be one of the best places to celebrate!"

Randy was in awe. "If this is how the rest of our trip is going to be, then I am over the moon, girlfriend."

"Giovanni has a lot of things planned for us once we get to Naples and Salerno."

"I'm longing for a real slice of pizza," Randy said, licking his lips.

"For sure! He has a bet with Peter about the best pizza in the world."

"Peter can't possibly think it's in Boston!" Randy sneered.

"Everyone who lives in Boston thinks Boston has the best of everything."

"Well, beans, for one. Baseball, for another," Randy mused, then suddenly grabbed Rachael's sleeve. "I'm going to have to hang onto you. This place is crowded!"

Rachael picked up the pace. "Did you know almost thirty million people passed through this airport in 2022?"

"I think they're all here right now!" Randy exclaimed. "Let's grab a coffee before we wrestle through customs, immigration, and watch suitcases go around in a big circle."

Even though Randy had Rachael's sleeve as she steered them through the throngs of people, he could barely keep up with her. She pulled him into a café, where a young man greeted them.

"Buongiorno!"

Randy held up two fingers, and the young man nodded for them to follow him.

"This place is really busy for this hour, isn't it?" Randy posed it more as a statement than a question, but then the young man answered.

"Many flights from the U.S. arrive early in the morning." He nodded and glanced toward the packed concourse. "This airport is busy. Always."

Rachael and Randy understood the hordes of travelers. It was an international hub.

Once they finished their cappuccinos and brioche, they wiggled their way through the crowd, and completed the process of entering the country and retrieving their baggage.

They were lucky they booked their room months ahead at the Roma Hotel, in the heart of the historic section of the city. It was within walking distance of all the sights they planned to visit, and there were no hotels with vacancies during the holidays.

Having been friends for a few years, they decided to share a room with double beds, since most of the time they would be sightseeing. Plus, there wasn't going to be any hanky-panky going on between the two of them. There wasn't anything neither of them had seen before. When they were doing competitive dancing together, there were many costume changes behind someone holding up one sheet for both of them.

Once they got settled in their room, Rachael announced, "I think we should start at the very beginning where the city was founded, in Palatine. Then to the Colosseum."

"Okay, but I'm going to need a little snooze time before we walk two miles," Randy responded with a yawn.

"Not a bad idea," Rachael replied. She threw herself on top of one of the beds and immediately dozed off. Randy did the same, except he removed his neatly pressed blazer first, which had been carefully hung in a closet by the flight attendant on the trip. Randy couldn't help but flirt with the very handsome young man. And it paid off. By the time the plane was making their final descent, the attendant returned Randy's jacket unscathed.

Around noon, Rachael awoke with a start. It took a minute to get her bearings when she realized it was Randy snoring. Maybe sharing a room wasn't such a good idea. She threw one of her socks at him. It didn't wake him but made his nose twitch.

"Randall! Wakey-wakey!"

He batted his eyes several times and rubbed his nose.

Rachael laughed. "Welcome to Roma!"

"Oh, my. I was in la-la land." He sat up and looked around the room. "So here we are!"

"Yep! Now get up, and let's get busy!"

When they got to the lobby, they asked the concierge the best route to Palatine and where they could grab something for lunch.

The concierge explained they could purchase a standard ticket to visit the Colosseum, the Forum, and the Palatine Hill and Gardens.

"Sounds like a good idea to me!" Rachael said with enthusiasm. "What about the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon?"

"I recommend you do that separately, and do not forget the Spanish Steps. Lots of walking."

"Sì!" Rachael answered. "Grazie!" She knew she could never pull off a good Italian accent, but at least she was giving it a try.

As they made their way to Palatine Hill, the sidewalks were filled with merrymakers. Street performers, Santas, musicians, and artists were scattered along the sidewalks. Rachael and Randy stopped for a few minutes to listen to a trio consisting of a stand-up bass, a guitar, and an accordion. Several blocks from there, a one-man band entertained dozens of onlookers. No matter what the entertainment, it was meant to make you smile.

Rachael was intrigued by one man who seemed to be levitating on the sidewalk. She even waved her hand under his suspended body!

When they reached the ancient ruins, Rachael overheard a tour guide explaining why legend has it that Palatine Hill is the birthplace of Rome. It is said that Romulus and Remus could not agree on how to build a city; therefore, Romulus killed Remus, and the city was born. In ancient times, it was the most desirable area to live in, with aristocrats and emperors occupying the elite hill. On one side is Circus Maximus, and on the other is the Roman Forum.

As they gazed upon the centuries-worn edifices, it gave them pause. So much had happened in the very place where they stood. This time it was Rachael's turn to grab onto Randy's jacket. It was almost overwhelming. After several minutes of silence, she turned to her companion. "You can actually feel a certain energy that is different from anywhere I have ever been."

"Ghosts, perhaps?" Randy wasn't being facetious.

"More like spirits," Rachael said solemnly. "But it's not creepy."

"Wait until we get to the Colosseum. You might get the creeps thinking about all the people that were killed for sport."

"Thanks for the history lesson."

They worked their way down to the Forum, where much of the Roman laws were made, processions occurred, elections, speeches, and day-to-day life observed. It's been referred to as the most important meeting place in history, perhaps the world.

Once they arrived at the Colosseum, Rachael wasn't sure she could endure any more ancient history. The jovial atmosphere of the streets was in sharp contrast to the historical proportions she was staring at. "Can we do something else?"

"Too much?" Randy asked. He, too, was feeling flooded and dazed.

"What time is it?" Rachael asked.

"Almost five."

"Let's get a glass of wine and decide what and where we want to have for dinner."

"Excellent idea." He hooked his arm around Rachael's and said, "Come, my lady. We shan't want you to have the vapors."

The temperature was in the upper fifties, and most of the outdoor cafés had heaters. They stopped at the first one that had a table available. As soon as the waiter appeared, Rachael blurted, "Vino, per favore!"

Randy snickered, "Your Italian greatly improves with wine!"

"Ha! And to think I haven't even tasted it yet!"

It took several minutes for the waiter to return with an unlabeled bottle and two glasses.

"Antipasto? Cheese?"

"What do you recommend?" Randy asked.

"Salumi, provolone."

"Well, as the saying goes, ‘When in Rome!' Sounds divine."

"Assolutamente!" the waiter replied, and retreated into the café.

Randy crossed his arms and leaned back. "I think that meant absolutely."

Rachael mimicked him, leaned back, and crossed her arms. "Assolutamente!"

When they finished their wine and apps, they took another long stroll to the hotel. Neither was in the mood for more food, wine, musicians, or ruins, and they decided to call it a day, maybe order room service later, and watch a movie. Exhaustion had fallen upon them.

Sometime around eleven, Rachael got a second wind. "Hey, want to see what the Romans do at this hour?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well, do you?"

"Yes, but do we have to do it now?" he moaned.

"That's what it means when you say, ‘at this hour,' bucko. Come on. Don't be a party pooper."

"But I'm not even dressed."

"That's never stopped you before!" Rachael cackled.

"Oh, stop. I'm really tired, Rachael. I can't believe you want to go out after the long day we had today."

"Well, you can't let me go out by myself. Who knows what trouble I might get into." Rachael was now standing over Randy as he lay on his bed.

"Alright. Alright. But you're gonna owe me for this."

"Understood." Rachael checked her face in the mirror. "Good enough. Your turn," she called out to Randy.

He moaned and groaned his way off the bed, slipped on his jeans and a polo shirt, and hooked his finger in his jacket and slung it over his shoulder.

"Where to?"

"Let's just go for a walk and make up our minds while we stroll. A Zen kind of thing."

"You sound like Frankie," Randy said, pouting.

"Why are you such a sourpuss?"

"Because I. Am. Tired. Capisce ?" He really was beginning to sound very cranky.

"Fine. I'll go alone."

"Oh, no you won't. God forbid something happens to you. Frankie will kill me."

Rachael crossed her arms and began tapping her foot. "Move it!"

"Now who's cranky?" He stuck out his tongue at her.

"Ha! We're in Rome. Let's enjoy as much of it as we can."

Randy swung the door open, waved his arm, and bowed. "After you, your highness."

They asked the concierge where they might find some nightlife nearby. He told them about a retro bar with live music that was a few blocks away.

"That sounds perfect." Rachael smiled. "Come on, Spanky," she said as she yanked Randy by the sleeve.

Randy turned to the concierge and rolled his eyes. "That's not really my name."

" Sì ," he replied with a grin.

The streets were still lively.

"Talk about a city that never sleeps," Randy observed. "No wonder they usually have dinner at eight-thirty."

"And take a nap in the afternoon!" Rachael hooted.

A man on a unicycle whizzed by, juggling several balls. "I wonder what his day job is," Randy joked.

"Maybe he's in the insurance business."

"Well, I hope he has some!" Randy quipped. "Liability, at the very least." He watched as the man swerved in and out of the crowd, with people scurrying out of his way.

On one of the side streets, they saw a sign that read R ETRO .

"That must be the place." Randy pointed to the small neon sign.

The small bar was packed to the brim with people laughing and chatting, while a small jazz trio played. The atmosphere was lively, but it was difficult to talk without shouting over the din. There was a crowd in front of the bar that would require some elbowing to get through.

"You wait here. Don't get yourself into any trouble," Randy shouted at Rachael.

She gave him a salute.

He moved through the swarm, excusing himself over and over. No one seemed to mind and made small openings for him to waggle through. He ordered two Negronis and held them over his head as he maneuvered his way back to where Rachael was standing.

He wasn't gone for more than a few minutes, and there she was, chatting it up with a very beautiful woman in her late thirties.

"And who do we have here?" Randy asked as he handed the drink to Rachael.

"This is Sienna Brown."

Randy held out his free hand. "Randy."

"Benvenuti a Roma!" Sierra replied. "How long will you be staying in our beautiful city?"

"One more day," Randy replied.

Sierra eyed Randy up and down. "Such a shame. I would like to take you to see the many special places of Roma."

Randy was a little uncomfortable with this obvious flirtation. "Maybe next time." He smiled.

" Sì . Perhaps." Sierra took the hint and moved on.

"What was that all about?" he asked Rachael.

"I think she was interested in you."

"So it appeared," Randy replied.

That's when Rachael burst out laughing. "Randy, it was a dude!"

"What?" Randy was stunned.

"She's a drag queen."

"Get out of here."

Rachael laughed again. "She told me she's in a show at a club up the street, and all the performers come hang out here after their show."

"Wait. All these beautiful women are drag queens?" Randy looked around incredulously. "This bar is even more fabulous than I thought!"

"I don't know if they are all drag queens, but the Italians are certainly beautiful people," Rachael quipped.

After one more round of drinks, they decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel. When they got back to the room, Rachael called the front desk and asked for a six o'clock wake-up call.

"As in morning?" Randy questioned her.

"Yes! They say early morning is one of the best times to visit the Trevi Fountain. Fewer people and great lighting."

"Well, you know how I feel about great lighting," Randy said, turning his face back to catch the light from the wall sconce.

"I knew that would encourage you," Rachael laughed. "Now get some sleep. We have another big day ahead."

"Yes, ma'am."

"We should probably hit the Spanish Steps first, then the fountain, and then the Pantheon. After that, we can take a cab to Trastevere."

"You're beginning to sound like Ms. Bossy Pants."

"I learned from the best. Nighty-night." Rachael hit the switch that turned off the lights.

The phone jostled them out of bed at six as requested. Shortly thereafter came a loud knock on the door.

"Who can that be?" Randy pulled the blanket up to his chin.

"Room service. I ordered cappuccino and brioche to get us started."

"I will have to thank Frankie for bringing you up to bossy-speed."

"What's so bossy about coffee?" Rachael threw the covers off and scurried to the door.

"Your organizing skills, madame," Randy called out, ducking completely under the covers.

"Buongiorno," a man with a rolling cart greeted her.

"Buongiorno," Rachael replied, and held the door open for him. He handed her a small black folder. She signed the check and gave him a tip in euros.

"Mille grazie," he thanked her, and left.

Randy peeked out from the covers. "How much did you tip him?"

"I have no idea," Rachael said. "What's a euro in U.S. dollars?"

"Right now, the euro is slightly less than the dollar."

Rachael's eyes went wide. "Then he got a twenty-dollar tip. Well, it's the holidays. Merry Christmas to him. Now get up!" she said, yanking the covers off him.

It took them about an hour to get themselves ready, taking turns in the shower and all the other morning rituals.

It was just before eight, and they planned to cover the Spanish Steps and the fountain before nine. As they made their way to the famous steps, people were beginning to fill the streets. Some on their way to work, while others worked the streets with their wares, music, and art.

Once there, both Rachael and Randy were awed by the magnificence of the sight before them. The polished stone of the Spanish Steps were as spectacular as everything else they had seen so far. Even though it was December, and the steps were void of the beautiful pink azaleas that adorn them in April and May, one could still appreciate their magnitude. Built in 1723, the wide Baroque steps were funded by a French diplomat, with the purpose of connecting the Bourbon Spanish Embassy with the Spanish Square below.

Randy gave Rachael a stern warning: "Do not sit on the steps. Not any of the one hundred thirty-eight of them."

"What if people get tired?"

"Then they should take the lift, or not bother and go shopping." He noticed the area was dotted with boutiques from Gucci, Dolce otherwise, you may be groggy instead of refreshed.

"We're just resting our eyes," Rachael reminded him.

Before they could count too many sheep, Rachael's alarm was beeping. "What the heck?" Then she remembered it was only supposed to be a short nap. She must have fallen into a deeper sleep than she expected. She had to admit she was tired. How can anyone do Rome in two days, let alone one? There were a dozen more things they could have seen or done, but it was time to pull in the reins. Just the few things they visited were a lot to absorb, especially if you considered when they were built and the millennia they survived. Throw in a few dozen wars, conquerors, famines, disease, floods, and volcanoes, yet these structures were still standing. It was rather extraordinary. And it wasn't just one building. It was dozens. Hundreds.

Rachael looked over at Randy. He was still in slumberland. Too bad. It was time to get up; otherwise, his body clock would be worse.

"Yo, Rand-man. Rand-droid. Up and at 'em."

Randy rolled over and whined, "I'm still sleeping."

"You are not. Time to rally, dear boy." Rachael got up and slapped him on his hiney. "I'm going to take a quick shower. I expect you to be vertical when I get back."

He saluted and rolled back over.

After Rachael got out of the shower, she couldn't help noticing that Randy was still horizontal. For the second time that day, she yanked the covers off him.

"Stop it!"

Rachael burst out laughing. "Nice. Scream like a girl, why don't ya?"

"Ugh," he grunted, and tried to pull the blanket back on top of him, but Rachael wasn't letting go.

"Come on, Randy," she whined back at him.

"Remind me never to sleep with you again," Randy sassed.

"Like that might happen, never," she laughed.

He finally rolled himself off the bed and walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and began to sing "That's Amore" at the top of his lungs.

Rachael banged on the door. "Is someone being murdered in there?"

He sang even louder. Rachael hoped no one could hear him. Dean Martin, who made the song popular in the 1950s, would be rolling in his grave.

Rachael realized the more she protested, the more he continued, so she stopped. Then he went quiet. Men are so predictable. What's that expression? Let them chase you until you catch them? Or was that dogs? Same difference. No. Dogs are often better. That's when Rachael realized some of Frankie, Amy, and Nina's crazy love for animals was rubbing off on her. A dog! Why hadn't she thought of that? When they returned to the States, she was going to get a dog!

Randy exited the bathroom wearing a robe, with the waft of Versace Eros following him into the room. "Well, at least you smell good."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" His arms were akimbo.

"Nothing. You smell good."

"You said, ‘at least.' That's a preamble to something else."

"What are you talking about?"

"At least. As in less."

"What? Oh, for heaven's sake. Do you realize we're starting to sound like an old married couple?"

Randy's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my. Well, darling, perhaps we should consider a divorce."

Rachael wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. Not that they could divorce, but was he implying that they should get separate rooms?

Instead, she took it in a lighter direction. "But what about the children? Who'll get the station wagon?"

Randy stopped and thought for a moment. "The kids go with the station wagon."

"But with whom?" Rachael asked impishly.

"Who cares, as long as we get rid of them!" Randy howled, and Rachael echoed his delight.

"Now aren't we really having fun?" she asked.

He sat down on the bed across from where she was sitting. "Rachael, this has been an incredible trip so far. Sorry if I was cranky. It's been quite overwhelming. As in all of it. The traveling, the sightseeing, the time zone."

Rachael smiled. "I'm sorry, too. I know I have been dragging you all around. I just wanted to make sure you had a fabulous time and saw all the sights." The friends hugged, and when they pulled apart, Rachael said, "How much more time do you need to get ready?"

"I'll be ready lickety-split." Randy took out a pair of trousers from the closet, and a long-sleeve polo shirt and a crew-neck sweater from his open suitcase. "Be right back."

Rachael pulled on her good pair of boots. They weren't planning on any more walking around except from the hotel to a cab to Trastevere, where they had a dinner reservation at a restaurant called Otello. Maybe they'd walk a block or so after dinner, but no tourist hikes to, from, in, or out of ancient ruins.

Randy emerged, looking rather spiffy. Rachael decided to make up for the at least comment. She made a mental note to be more conscientious in her choice of words. She had meant nothing by it, but in hindsight, she could see where someone could take offense.

"You are looking quite handsome, Randall Wheeler."

"Thank you, dearie. You're looking rather fetching yourself." He swung the door open. "Shall we?"

The cab ride to Trastevere took less than fifteen minutes. It was the old working-class area of Rome. The bohemian section of the city was filled with ancient buildings, narrow cobbled streets, pubs, and trattorias. It was on the western side of the Tiber River, south of Vatican City.

The restaurant was everything they were told it was. Warm, cheerful, and if the food was as good as it smelled, and as people touted, then it was going to be a delectable meal.

The waiter brought a bottle of wine. It seemed as if that was part of the custom. He welcomed them and rattled off the many specials of the evening.

Rachael batted her eyes and said, "Why don't you bring us whatever you recommend. The only thing I will not eat are internal organs."

"Ditto," Randy chimed in.

"Bene." The waiter smiled and retreated into the kitchen. Several minutes later, he appeared with two small plates of fresh mozzarella with sliced tomatoes and basil. From there, they were served deep-fried artichokes, then spaghetti cacio e pepe, a black-peppery pasta dish. Their second course was beef tagliata, marinated sliced beef served with arugula.

Randy decided he could live in Rome. "Don't you just love this place? Not just the restaurant, but all the restaurants. The food. The wine. The people. La dolce vita! " He raised his glass.

"Cin cin!" Rachael said in return. "But I hear it's very expensive to live here. How would you make a living?"

"Whatever it takes, honey. Whatever it takes!"

Rachael laughed, then stopped. "Seriously, would you ever consider moving out of New York?"

Randy paused, fork in midair. "If there was a good enough reason. I left Tahoe."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Tahoe? My friends, yes. The job? Absolutely not. Kowtowing to spoiled rich people who treat you like you are beneath them? No, thank you."

"But that's how we met, and look at us now!" Rachael was serious.

"Oh, and may I remind you, the reason we met was because you were being naughty."

"And you helped. Which reminds me, what kind of pranks can we pull on everyone this year?"

"You mean you didn't get that out of your system last year with the elves and mistletoe?" Randy dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

"That was because they didn't know I was going to be there."

"So why the pranks now?" He dug into another slice of meat.

Rachael thought for a moment. "Maybe it isn't such a good idea. We have no idea where we will be most of the time."

"Didn't Ms. Bossy Pants put an itinerary together?"

"Yes, but would you know how to get from one piazza to another? Your Italian isn't very good."

He tapped his phone in his breast pocket. "Translator app, dearie. We've been using it since we got here."

"Ah, technology. But you can't expect to communicate that way forever."

"For as long as I want." He gave her a shrug.

"Whatev," Rachael replied, and went back to her dish.

"Is that smoke coming out of your ears?"

"What?"

"I can see something burning in your brain."

"Just trying to decide if we should buy up all the mistletoe in Rome and bring it to Naples."

"You're not serious."

"Not really, but, oh wait! I have an idea."

"Uh-oh." Randy folded his arms and leaned back.

"How many of us will there be on New Year's Eve?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Thinking." Rachael tapped her temple.

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Then don't. I'll let it percolate and then fill you in."

"You're not planning on kidnapping an elf or a jester, are you?"

"No. That would be illegal." Rachael's eyes were twinkling. "But I have to come up with something."

"Do you really? I mean, Giovanni, Marco, and Frankie are going to great lengths to make this a great holiday for us. Do you have to do anything?"

"How will they know I'm there?" Rachael said sardonically.

"Oh, gee, I have no idea. You're so laid-back and reserved."

Rachael let out a guffaw. "I need to work on that."

The waiter asked if they wanted dessert, to which both groaned a "no thank you." Randy picked up the check and settled the bill.

As they moved through the restaurant, everyone they passed wished them "Buon Natale! Buon Anno!"

Randy noticed how friendly everyone had been. "Seriously, Rachael. This city is special."

"From what I've heard, the entire country is special. I'm glad we did this." She hooked her arm through his again.

"You know, if you keep clinging to me, you are going to make it very difficult for me to meet a handsome Italian," he said to her, half-joking.

She pulled her arm out. "You're right! Neither of us are going to meet anyone if they think we're a couple!" She chuckled.

"We're a couple, alright. A couple of dancers and mischief makers," Randy reminded her, as they came upon another trio playing lively music. Rachael took Randy's hand, gave him a look that he understood rather well, and they immediately started to shimmy and shake. People began to gather around, and soon others joined them. Before they knew it, it became a dance-block-party. The musicians continued to play several more songs with a similar beat, and the group grew bigger. It was a good fifteen minutes of foot-stomping and hand-clapping before everyone took a bow. Shouts of "Bravo! Bravo!," whistles, and clapping reverberated off the stone streets. Strangers were hugging each other as if they were all old friends. It was a wonderful send-off for their final night in Rome.

"That was so much fun!" Rachael blurted as they got in the cab.

The driver turned to them. "It was you that made the jam in the traffic?"

Rachael slid down in the seat. Randy fessed up, "We're dancers. Sorry. Did we cause a lot of trouble?"

"Trouble? Rome knows trouble for thousands of years. You? Dance? Music. Dance. Art. That's what makes our city alive. So, no trouble. We wait, and then we go."

"Thank you," Randy said to the driver.

"You see the Vatican?" The driver looked in the rearview mirror.

"Unfortunately, no. We did see the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Parthenon, the Colosseum, the Forum, and the Palatine Hill and Gardens," Randy recited, and turned to Rachael. "Right?"

The driver asked if they were in a hurry to get back to the hotel. Rachael and Randy gave each other a look of apprehension. "Why do you ask?" Randy inquired.

"I can drive to Vatican City so you can see some of it," he said. "Takes an extra fifteen-twenty minutes."

"Will we be able to see anything?"

"We can drive into the city, but you cannot go into the buildings without tickets. It is beautiful at night."

"As long as we don't have to walk anywhere, that's fine with me," Randy said as he looked in Rachael's direction. "What say you?"

"Let's go!" Rachael said. "I'd much prefer a drive-by at this point."

The driver was more than happy to oblige. He had the proper credentials and made a sweep around the perimeter, pointing out the various buildings, including St. Peter's Square.

"Too bad we didn't meet you when we first got here," Randy said.

"Next time," the driver replied. "You go to Trevi Fountain? You toss coins?"

Both answered "yes" in unison.

"Then you will return." He reached up to the visor and pulled out a card. He passed it back to Randy and repeated, "Next time."

When they pulled in front of the hotel, they thanked the driver for the detour and completing their visit. He waved. "Ciao! Arrivederci!"

"Ciao!" Both waved as he drove off.

Rachael was eyeing Randy. "You really like it here, don't you?"

"There is something compelling about it."

"Maybe you were a gladiator in a previous life," Rachael joked.

"Well, I was certainly visiting the baths, if nothing else," he retorted.

Once they got to their room, they agreed they were bone-tired. Their train to Naples left at noon. It was a little over an hour ride on the high-speed transport, but they wanted to give themselves enough time to find Amy and Peter.

The plan was for Amy and Peter to catch a taxi at the airport and then pick up Randy and Rachael at the train station. Then the four of them would head to Pompeii to hook up with Nina, Richard, Frankie, and Giovanni at four o'clock at the address Giovanni gave them. He had arranged for an eight-passenger SUV to take everyone on the pizza tour, and then to Baronissi, where everyone else would be staying and where he left his car.

Rachael packed her bag, leaving out the clothes she intended to wear the next day. Randy did the same. They were ready for the next round of Italian fun.