A black van loaded to the roof with instruments, seats unhooked and arranged haphazardly to accommodate the band members, hoping they'd never have to brake suddenly, otherwise they'd be crushed between the various objects. Laughter, songs, shouts, slogans, and lots of pats on the back to congratulate them on how the last performance had gone.
The only discordant note was the cigarette smoke that Didi, the drummer, constantly inhaled.
When Belinda went to audition, following an announcement, but didn't believe she'd be part of the band, Dark Water, because she saw them as different from her and didn't think she'd fit in.
Didi, with black hair, with fuchsia streaks peeking through; Taro, the very blond bassist with a perpetually cheerful air; Pixi, the miniature guitarist, even shorter than Belinda; Alex, the vocalist and band leader; and Walt, the other guitarist.
They were looking for someone to sing backing vocals and play guitar at the same time, because Pixi had a small daughter and couldn't always find someone to look after her.
They sounded like a ramshackle band, and after singing and playing a few songs, she decided to leave, partly because she was annoyed by Alex, who kept rubbing himself against a very tall, half-naked platinum blonde with a voice like a crow.
However, as she walked through the door of the garage converted into a rehearsal space, the boy's voice brought her back, telling her that, if she wanted, the place was hers. She remained staring at him with her mouth open.
Laughing, Alex ruffled her hair and, placing a finger under her chin, closed her mouth, saying goodbye and asking her to come back the next afternoon.
When, some time later, Belinda reminded him of the incident, asking why he hadn't hired the buxom blonde, he, smiling slyly, replied: "Who told you I didn't hire her? Maybe not to sing, but to perform in my bedroom!"
If she hadn't laughed, she was sure she would have vomited from the crudeness of that sentence and the brutality with which he'd uttered it.
Belinda was only sixteen and didn't know the boys well yet, but she appreciated Alex, arrogant and obnoxious as he was, because he worked hard for the band, establishing contacts, booking gigs, and even managed to get a small fee from the venues for their performances.
With the first installment, she'd bought her black star and had a beautiful star with silver wings silkscreened on it. With the second installment, she'd treated herself to the tattoo on her hip.
She was thrilled with how things were going and put so much effort into what she did, even managing to maintain a very high grade point average in school, so her parents wouldn't take away her music.
And so, little by little, without her realizing it, Alex entered her heart. He kissed her for the first time one autumn evening two years later, while they were leaving a concert. They'd stopped for a drink, and Alex had ordered a soft drink for her, saying that her voice shouldn't get ruined and also because he'd promised his father he'd take care of her.
She'd found his protective air incredibly cool and felt a shiver run from her feet to her spine. She must have let her emotions show because, after a moment, he'd muttered something and leaned over to kiss her, sweetly, in the empty room.
She'd been shocked, happy, and trembling. She couldn't believe Alex had chosen her over the many girls surrounding him. The blonde had long since disappeared, and Belinda could only dream of the two of them on stage, singing, playing, and... living together. Yes, she was young, she knew that, but she felt madly in love and couldn't see any threatening shadows on the horizon.
She had begun writing new songs, increasingly inspired music, with notes that touched the heart.
With the help of Sissi, a talent scout they'd become friends with, they'd had the chance to open for a well-known emerging Italian band, and the audience loved their music so much that they were convinced to record an album.
The dream seemed real when a producer, a friend of Sissi's, asked Belinda to send him a demo to get an idea of their musical genre. The girl, thrilled, asked Alex to handle it, but he specified that the label would only take her. Furious, Alex reminded her that they were a band and had argued for the first time, accusing her of being a greedy careerist and rebuking her that without him she would be nothing.
She cried all night because she'd been unfairly mistreated, and the next day, he didn't seem to have changed his mind.
Pixi consoled her, advising her to be careful with Alex because he'd been a bit unstable lately. He'd also pointed out that he was jealous of her because her voice was growing stronger and developing unique tones.
"Do you realize you're the only one who writes the songs?" he'd said. "You're doing the creative work alone, while he takes the credit."
"But there's this division in so many bands!" He'd protested, refusing to listen to her.
"Linda, open your eyes wide: Alex is a great leader, I've known him for years and I love him, but he's not the same as he used to be."
"Don't say that! It's just a bad moment..." Belinda continued to defend him.
"You're just in love, and you're so young." Pixi had hugged her affectionately. "But promise me not to do anything stupid... like sleep with him."
Belinda hadn't responded and kept her eyes downcast.
"Oh my God, Linda. No!" she exclaimed, shocked.
"He loves me."
"Like he loved all the others, only he sold his soul to you." Pixi was furious. "A clean girl like you must have seemed like a Grammy to him!"
Belinda was dismayed. "But why are you so angry?"
"I repeat: you don't know him! Linda, don't do the stupid thing of getting pregnant now!"
"Don't…" she stammered, but the other girl grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out, heading toward the Po River Park, a short distance away.
She hadn't said a word the entire way, leaving the girl in complete confusion. They finally stopped on a pedestrian walkway that spanned the river.
Finally, Pixi turned around, and her gaze seemed like her mother's, reminding her of the things she wanted her to remember.
"Listen carefully, darling, because we won't be going over this again. Do you know who Alex really is?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
"Do you know his full name? Where does he live? What does he do for a living, besides playing music?"
She shook her head because she'd never asked herself those questions, accepting the situation for what it was.
"His name is Alessandro Amedeo Amati, second in line of succession in the great Amati family. Do you know who I am?"
Surprised, she nodded.
"Good. Since his brother got married and lives in Brazil to run the family branch, who do you think will be in charge of the Italian one? Him, good job! Now…"
"…if he can have it all, why would he want me?" Belinda interrupted with tears in her eyes, realizing what her friend's words were revealing to her.
"No, you're wrong." The other woman corrected her. "If YOU can have it all, given your talent, why would you want someone who won't even tell you who he is? And don't you dare try to foist that story on me about the prince and the pauper, because I think you're too smart to tell me such bullshit."
"I don't know," Belinda muttered, shocked.
Given that information, she couldn't believe he loved her enough to have considered making her a part of his future life, but why not tell him? Had he thought she was after his fortune? Was it possible that after three years, he still hadn't figured out what kind of girl she was?
"And if that's not enough, just know that he takes drugs," Pixi blurted out in one breath.
"No, I don't believe that!" she shouted, covering her ears.
"Why? Just because his holes are covered by tattoos?"
Belinda felt a wave of pure dismay wash over her: Alex was taking drugs!
Sometimes she'd seen his eyes a little watery and attributed it to lack of sleep; or she'd noticed his mood swings or his sudden euphoria, but she'd never thought about drugs.
She was just a little girl who'd wanted to see herself as a woman!
Her desperate cries had been soothed by her friend, who'd hugged her tightly and stroked her hair.
"Little moon," he'd whispered. "Cry, but don't give up your soul to a bastard like that. There are worse things you still have to discover about him, but I don't want to tell you more. Observe very carefully what happens, but don't let him find out."
After a while, having regained her composure, she freed herself from that embrace, wiping her eyes.
"What do I do now?" she asked desolately.
"Nothing. Learn to look around, Linda, and above all, don't let anyone know you know."
"And then?"
"At the first opportunity, get out of here."
"Alex will never let me go, you know that! You saw how he reacted when he thought I wanted to leave the group. It hurts just thinking about the mean things he said to me..." she noted, anguished.
She took her arm and set off to walk her home. "Let's wait a while and see what happens."
Belinda nodded silently.
"Forgive me, but I had to tell you!" she smiled as she said goodbye. "Even though I'm not that old, you're like a daughter to me. And that's what I would have done with my little Sara. When she grows up, I really hope she'll be a little like you!"
She slowly stroked her hair and with a sad smile took her leave.
Belinda remained on the threshold of the front door, watching her, while dark clouds gathered above her head.
A light caress on her arm jolted her out of her thoughts, and raising her head, she saw Bill looking at her with a questioning expression. A tear fell from her eye, rolling down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away, hoping he hadn't seen it.
He leaned over to peer at her closely. "Are you okay, Bel?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied quickly. "Sorry, I must have dozed off... It happens to me a lot lately."
She noticed they had arrived and that the others were coming downstairs to enter the house.
The boy held her hand, but she didn't feel like explaining; so, she gently freed herself and, without turning to look at him, rushed into the house to lock herself in her room.
She lay down on the bed, put her arm over her eyes, and began to cry silently.
Damn Alex, he always came back at the worst times!
She hated herself for those thoughts, and she hated that Bill always caught her off guard. She'd been so satisfied when she'd played the seductress, but that constant rambling, the delving into memories, was undermining the little stability she'd desperately sought.
She didn't want to play with Bill anymore; she feared he'd win a few pointless arguments, losing a bit of herself each time. That thin thread that tied her to him made her feel alive, but she feared he'd suffer if she let him get close to her true self.
She was living more in those days than in the last year, but she didn't intend to let anyone get to her heart. Contrary to what she'd thought the first time she'd seen him, beneath the glittering veneer of an artist, there was a boy who seemed to know everything she felt.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to venture down that arduous path; she didn't want to discover that maybe she actually liked him. She could try to act like someone interested in a little adventure, but the fear that he would find out right away and force her to admit her true feelings kept her from trying. He'd already told her she was a terrible liar.
On the other hand, though, she was very good at causing trouble.
She lay on her stomach and put the pillow over her head, calling herself stupid dozens of times, wondering if she was a masochist for hurting herself like that.
She'd sworn to herself that she'd come away from this trip a new person, but she didn't like the direction it was taking: she'd find herself, as usual, defeated and alone with her pride for company.
Naomi entered the room at that moment. "Are you okay, Linda?"
"I have a terrible headache. I took a pill and hope it goes away soon."
"I wanted to suggest a game of ping pong, but I guess you can't do it."
"If I feel better, I'll join you later, okay?" she promised, still holding the pillow to her head.
"But you're not eating tonight either," she asked urgently.
"I feel incredibly nauseous!" Seeing that her sister wasn't leaving, she begged. "I promise, Tinker Bell, if I feel better I'll come down, okay?"
Although hesitant, her sister walked away and, before leaving, turned off the light.
Belinda felt even worse: everyone was worried about her, but she acted so arrogant and continued to lie to everyone.
You made yourself a promise when you took this job! he said to herself. You decided to fight and put everything else aside... now what
With an angry start, she stood up, went to the sink, and splashed her face with cold water, repeatedly, taking deep breaths. She dried herself slowly and walked to the window, looking up at the sky and admiring the splendid full moon.
"Oh Selena, how I wish I were truly like you, impenetrable and cold! Instead, I'm just a scared girl trying to escape her demons, but unable to adapt to a new life. I'm hopeless," she murmured, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek.
She decided to go out into the open air and, climbing over the window, reached the small garden. She walked in small steps, gazing at the starry sky and feeling overwhelmed by all that grandeur.
She let herself fall onto a small stone step, half-hidden by a majestic palm tree, right under the window where the boys were playing. Their laughter and shouts of encouragement made her realize that Tom was, as usual, undefeated and showed no signs of giving in to the others.
Bill's tone, a little loud and forced, told her he was nervous. She knew it was her fault, since she regularly slammed the door in his face whenever he tried to be nice.
She imagined he'd put on the B.K. mask, making himself attractive and cocky, to hide his anxiety and try to attract the attention and approval of the other girls, who laughed and cheered him on tenaciously.
Obnoxious and childish! she thought, wrinkling her nose.
She didn't know why, but she felt irritated by his attitude, and the fact that he did it even when he was offstage, with people she knew, like his sister, Annalisa, and Hellen, bothered her even more.
Why, she wondered, did he always have to dominate the scene? Why did he feel the constant need to compete with others to attract everyone's attention? Could it be that loneliness terrified him so much?
Like when he's with his disturbed fans. Oh, how I hate him! It's disgusting when he winks, trying to be sexy, every girl's dream, and even worse when he talks all that bullshit about his lovemaking skills or expresses his philosophical thoughts... Pathetic!
Was she jealous? She shrugged, annoyed.
A ball flew out the window and skipped over her head, landing on the lawn. There were murmurs and protests inside the loft, but no one came out to look for it. Belinda picked it up and looked at it, and after a few moments she decided to go back inside and join the group.
She felt guilty and wanted to make up for lost time with the others before it got out of hand. She could allow herself the luxury of succumbing to her ghosts every now and then, but she didn't want to cause tension between Bill and the band.
If he was mad at her, it was better for them to clear things up; it couldn't affect their work.
When she showed up in the doorway, the first person to notice her was Tom. "You look terrible, Bel!" he exclaimed, raising a racket.
Belinda grimaced and tossed the runaway ball at him. "Thanks, I know."
Bill continued playing and chatting with the girls, making proclamations about how he was going to defeat his brother, and he didn't even turn to look at her.
He smiled at her silly behavior and sat down in an armchair, watching the game.
Hellen joined her.
"How are you, Bel? Do you want me to give you a neck massage?" she asked attentively.
"That would be wonderful!" she agreed, turning her chair around and turning her back.
The girl's hands moved gently but firmly, eliciting moans of pleasure. It was truly wonderful to feel the tension disappear and the fluidity of her neck muscles regained. When he finished in that area, he touched her temples, spreading a light, scented oil, which instantly eased the pain and stopped her thoughts.
At the end of the treatment, Belinda stood up and hugged her, grateful for what she had done: she was truly an exceptional girl, always selfless and patient. Indeed, she was the female copy of Klaus...
"Now I feel ready to eat!" she exclaimed and went to the kitchen, where she found a covered plate left on the table.
She smiled when she realized that Madeleine had cooked some baked potatoes especially for her, knowing how much she loved them.
With a smile, she took the plate and carried it into the living room, sitting comfortably and beginning to eat, balancing it on her knees.
The game drew to a close, and Bill clearly lost to his brother. Looking annoyed, she sank into a chair, and her place was taken by the girls and Klaus for a game of four-a-side.
Belinda followed them, continuing to eat heartily, trying to ignore Bill.
We really do look like two naughty children, she thought with a smile, even though she actually liked the situation. She was truly mean!
But she knew Bill wouldn't give up: he would never speak to her if he thought he was right.
She sighed, resigned, and stood up to pull her chair closer to Bill's, sat down next to him, and silently offered him the food.
Bill reluctantly took a few fries, without a word or turning around.
"I won't ask you how it went, I just need to look at your defeated expression." Belinda chuckled. "Come on, don't take it personally, you can always get your revenge! You're not going to let that brontosaurus beat you?"
With a visible effort, the boy smiled and shook his head.
"Come on, stop feeling sorry for yourself!" she urged.
After a moment, which lasted an eternity, Bill turned to look at her, meeting her clear eyes.
"Has the headache gone?" he asked.
"I think so, thanks to a powerful pill and Hellen's prodigious hands!" she replied, satisfied. "When it comes on like this suddenly, I feel really bad and need to stay in the dark to recover."
The boy nodded, thoughtful.
To distract him from his reflections, Belinda, placing the almost empty plate on a low table, slipped her arm under his and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. Bill remained rigid for a moment, but then, slowly, he relaxed and returned her squeeze.
"Hey, we want a rematch!" Belinda shouted at Tom.
"If you play with that wimp Bill, you don't stand a chance!" he teased, without taking his eyes off the ball.
"Are you going to let anyone treat you like that?" Belinda feigned scandal. "I say we teach him a humiliating lesson!"
Bill laughed, and finally that laugh was genuine.