When in Rome: Part 10

Bobby had been expecting an Uber, or maybe whatever the Italian equivalent was, but after a few minutes of standing awkwardly on the narrow sidewalk, hugging himself, and staring blushingly at the ground whenever a scooter whizzed past or anybody walked by, a shiny black town car pulled up beside him.

For a few terrifying moments, he thought he was being solicited, or maybe kidnapped. Then an elderly Italian man climbed out of the driver’s seat and gave him a courteous nod, as if there was nothing even a little bit weird about a drunk girl running around the neighborhood in a neon pink bikini, and produced an iPad. He made a few clumsy swipes, holding it up so Bobby could read what was displayed on the screen.

Hi Barbie, this is our driver Luigi, he speaks NO English but he is SO sweet and nice and he will bring you right to my house.

Bianca’s message was accompanied by several heart emojis, and for some reason Bobby felt a slight ache in his throat, almost like he was about to start crying all over again. Luigi the driver pointed to the message and gave him a questioning thumbs up. Bobby returned it, blushing, and the elderly Italian broke into a warm smile, moving immediately to open the door to the backseat.

Bobby climbed inside the luxury car, feeling so relieved he could almost kiss the soft leather upholstery. A fluffy white robe was waiting inside, which he eagerly pulled on over his bikini as the chauffeur closed the door. Safe from leering at last, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, slumping back into the comfy seats.

Along with the robe, Bianca had somehow had time to throw several packets of tissues and makeup wipes into a small gift bag. For some reason there was a bar of dark chocolate, too -- maybe she hadn’t seen it in the bottom. Taking another deep breath in and out, Bobby set to work repairing his makeup as the chauffeur started to drive.

In a weird way, it was comforting. It was something he could focus on completely, and that meant not focusing on what had happened in Andreas’s bedroom. All he had to do was follow the steps he’d learned from about a hundred hours of YouTube, make minor adjustments when necessary, and keep his hands steady. Of course, it was a little harder drunk.

By the time he’d fully redone his eye makeup and touched up the rest of his face, the car was no longer oozing through city traffic -- instead, they were gliding uphill past a long, manicured row of hedges. The driver pulled in through a gate that opened automatically for him, and Bobby stared out the window as they passed an absurdly huge fountain and came to a halt in front of an absurdly fancy house. He’d thought Andreas’s place was pretty spiffy, but this was on a whole other level.

Luigi came around to open the door for him, and Bobby slid out a little less gracefully than usual. Feeling like he was in an extremely weird movie, he straightened up, wedge sandals clopping on the cobblestone. Bobby had another sharp pang of regret that he hadn’t been able to meet Bianca as himself: not only was she a 9.5, she was totally loaded.

“Barbie, you made it! Isn’t Luigi such a good driver? I can do my eyeliner even in traffic.”

Bianca’s warm voice wasn’t coming from the front of the house. Instead, Bobby found her standing at a small gate around the side, waving him over-- apparently Italians didn’t actually ever go indoors when the sun was out. He was surprised by just how happy he felt to see her. It certainly didn’t hurt that she was wearing an extremely skimpy bathing suit. He tried to keep his eyes off her boobs as he approached the gate.

“I was out by the pool when you called me,” she said. “So I guess we are, how do you say it?” She gave him a bright smile. “Samesies?”

Bobby blinked. He had definitely never said “samesies” in his life, but he nodded.

“Oh, my poor Barbie,” Bianca said, suddenly frowning. “I’m sorry you’re upset. Come to the pool, and we can talk, or not talk, or whatever you like. Okay?”

“Um, does the pool have water in it?” Bobby asked vaguely.

“Of course!” Bianca said, sounding slightly affronted. “It always has water. It’s a heated pool.”

As Bobby followed behind her, watching her amazing butt pretty much swallow up the thong bottom of her bikini, he suddenly wondered if it was all too good to be true. How could she be this nice when they’d just met? Bobby would definitely never invite some drunk crying foreigner over to his house a day after meeting them -- well, not unless it was a really hot drunk crying foreigner, and he was trying to smash.

But if Bianca was trying to smash, then this was definitely too good to be true. Maybe Kimberly was right, and Bianca was just faking the niceness to get some kind of edge for the Blush campaign. On the other hand, Bianca hadn’t mentioned it even once, and Kimberly had led him wrong before. Very recently, in fact.

Shuddering involuntarily as he got another mental image of Andreas’s dong, followed by one of the Italian boy’s smirking face, Bobby nearly walked right into the pool.

“Whoops,” Bianca said, catching him by the arm. “Maybe we sit down first, and then swim later, okay, babe? Here, drink some water.”

Bobby lowered himself woozily onto the lounger Bianca was indicating, then accepted the glass bottle of what was apparently glacier water. He managed to spill a bunch down his robe, which set Bianca clucking sympathetically. She reached forward, untied his sash, and slipped the robe off his shoulders.

“There,” she said. “Now you can get wet. Oh my God, Barbie, that swimsuit is so hot! That stupid, stupid boy did not deserve to see you in it.”

Bobby squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. “I actually put it on just for him,” he said, in a small voice. “Fuck, can you believe that? Isn’t that so messed up?”

“Fuck, I think yes, but I’m not sure?” Bianca echoed uncertainly. “You wanted to look sexy for him, but he was an asshole?”

“A huge asshole,” Bobby said darkly. “And a liar.”

“Oh, Barbie.” Bianca sat down beside him on the lounger and leaned her head on his shoulder, brushing his bare skin with her silky hair and enveloping him in the flowery smell of her shampoo. “I’m sorry.”

Bobby felt his stomach flutter. “It was stupid,” he said. “The whole thing was stupid. He tricked me, and I fell for it like a dumbass.”

“I don’t think you’re a dumbass,” Bianca said sharply. “I think he is a dumbass. You are very brave, and cool, and super pretty.”

Once Bobby would have accepted the first two compliments as a matter of fact, and balked at the third, but now, drunk and a million miles from home on possibly the most messed up day of his life thus far, Bianca’s words made him choke up.

“Thanks,” he said, actually meaning it. “Seriously. Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “I just want to forget about the whole thing.”

“What thing?” Bianca asked, standing up.

“The whole thing with the asshole,” Bobby said, puzzled. “We were, like, just talking about it.”

“I don’t know about anything like that,” Bianca said sweetly. “Maybe I did, but I forgetted. I forgot.” She made a little gesture beside her head. “Poof. Gone.”

Bobby gave her a teary smile. “Oh. I get it.”

“Such a blonde,” Bianca said affectionately, reaching into her swim bag. “You need sunscreen. Flip over and I’ll do your back first, okay?”

Bobby swallowed. If there was anything that could wipe the memory of Andreas’s smirk away, it was a bikini-clad Bianca straddling him with a bottle of sunscreen. Before the universe could change its mind, he rolled over on the lounger.

While Bianca opened up the sunscreen, he scrabbled his phone out of his purse and composed a more-or-less comprehensible message to his mom, to tell her he was hanging out with Bianca for the rest of the day. He’d just sent it off when Kimberly started calling him again.

Bobby already knew what she would say -- some bullshit about how this plan hadn’t worked out, but she had a back-up plan, or a new plan, and this one would work for sure, and get him the Blush campaign, and make everything worth it.

He turned off his phone.

#

Kimberly and Vincenzo had done three laps around Andreas’s neighborhood, rattling up and down the cobblestones at speeds she was pretty sure were illegal in residential areas, when the mystery of the disappearing blonde abruptly solved itself. Her phone buzzed with a new message from Bobby’s mom, she read it twice, and that was that.

Kimberly tapped her ride on the shoulder and shouted at him to pull over. Vincenzo brought them to a halt back outside Andreas’s house, where the faint sounds of techno music and drunken conversations could still be heard.

“What is it?” the young Italian asked.

Kimberly held up her phone in answer, displaying Mrs. Vickerson’s message: Hi sweetie, I’m assuming you’re with Barbie at Bianca Buccino’s house, right? Please make sure they do an Instagram story together. :)

Vincenzo squinted at the English text, mumbling the words aloud, then blinked. “So your Barbie is friends with Bianca?” he asked. “I thought they were competing, you said.”

“They are,” Kimberly said. “But Barbie has apparently, like, forgotten about it.”

“Barbie and Bianca,” Vincenzo muttered, looking off into space -- Kimberly guessed he was busy fantasizing about having both of them in his bed. “Is funny,” the young Italian said, shaking his head. “Sometimes, life is very funny, you know?”

Kimberly frowned. There was something strange about the way Vincenzo was behaving, and it triggered a memory from the previous night, when she’d mentioned Bianca’s name and he’d reacted so strongly. The memory collided with something Andreas had said, much more recently: You really think Rome is so smalI? Like, we all know each other?

“You’re not just jacking off to Bianca’s Instagram feed,” Kimberly said slowly. “You actually know her. Or knew her. Didn’t you?”

Vincenzo flashed his innocent grin. “I already tell you, Kimberly,” he said. “I have a weakness. But a gentleman, you know, he does not say stuff.”

“Then you’re in the clear, right?” Kimberly kept her tone light, but she was suddenly deeply invested in her line of questioning. “So you slept with her? Like, before she got all this buzz?”

Vincenzo’s face fell. “I will be onesto, Kimberly,” he said. “We only kissed. But later, I found out why.” He stared wistfully into the distance.

“And why was that?” Kimberly prodded. “I mean, a girl would have to be crazy to miss out on the second best view in all of Rome, right?”

Vincenzo smiled. “You are funny, Kimberly,” he said. “But I shouldn’t say more.”

Kimberly clenched her jaw. Then she shrugged, letting a smile slip onto her lips. “You’re right,” she said. “I can think of better things you could do with that mouth.” She held up the bottle of stolen wine she’d been holding in her lap. “Barbie’s safe and sound,” she said. “And that also means my hotel room is empty.”

Vincenzo’s grin widened. “I do like making love in hotels,” he admitted. “They always have free, how you say, condoms. Is it close?”

“Depends how fast you drive,” Kimberly said, raising an eyebrow.

Vincenzo didn’t need to be told twice. Kimberly barely had time to slide her arms around the young Italian’s waist before they were zooming off down the street.

#

After a couple hours of relaxing by the pool, drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice and listening to a curated playlist Bianca had saved as “music for chilling and looking cute in a bikini,” Bobby was actually feeling a lot better. The booze was starting to wear off, leaving him less drunk and more sleepy, and he was already convincing himself that what had happened in Andreas’s bedroom wasn’t even that big a deal.

It wasn’t like he had never seen another guy’s dick before, for one thing. He was an athlete. He spent half his life in the locker room, and half on the court. He’d seen plenty of dicks, and there was nothing gay about it. As for the fact that he had been on his knees in front of Andreas’s dick, well, that had just been a weird spatial coincidence. He hadn’t actually touched it, after all, and he definitely hadn’t been going to put his lips on it. Because that would have been really, really gay, and Bobby Vickerson was only into girls.

Andreas playing with his nipples? So what, guys gave each other titty twisters all the time. Andreas pinning him on the bed? Just horseplay, rough-and-tumble “boys will be boys” type stuff. Andreas sticking his tongue down his throat? Kissing wasn’t gay, kissing was just, you know, kissing.

The fact that in mid-kiss Bobby had stopped fantasizing about the gorgeous Italian model currently sitting on the lounger across from him, and instead started fantasizing about Josh Delacroix, his basketball rival turned friend turned something turned enemy? That one he was still trying to crack, but he was sure he would get there eventually.

“Barbie? Are you listening, babe?” Bianca asked.

Bobby sat upright. “Um, yeah,” he said. “But maybe say it again.”

Bianca propped herself up on one elbow, in a way that gave him a terrific view down her cleavage, and pursed her lips. “I said I was wondering…” She trailed off, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I was wondering if you feel like we have a special connection?”

Bobby swiveled around in his lounger, eyes widening. “Def,” he said. “Like, absolutely.”

“I know why this is,” Bianca said, more serious now. She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Barbie, can you keep a secret?”

Please be into girls, Bobby thought, for the first time in his life. Please, please be into girls. “Totally,” he chirped, his heart pounding. He’d been hoping to hook up with Kimberly to get his mojo back, but if he could hook up with Bianca, holy shit.

“I’m trans,” Bianca whispered.

Bobby blinked. His brain short-circuited momentarily as he looked from Bianca’s breasts to her face and back again. She was smiling nervously at him, clearly waiting for a response, but he had no idea what to say. Bobby opened his mouth, hoping that would help. Still nothing. Wait. What would “Barbie” say?

“Wow,” he squeaked. “Samesies.”

“You’re not mad?” Bianca asked tentatively.

“Nope,” Bobby said. “I mean, why would I be mad?”

Bianca let out an enormous sigh of relief, sitting up on her lounger. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “I was so worried. It’s because you are so, you know, “out.” And so brave. And meanwhile, me…” She gave him a pained smile. “I was not born in Rome,” she said. “I was born in a small village. Very small, very traditional, and very Catholic. My father died while my mother was still pregnant. Not so long after I was born, my mother knew I was a girl. From the very start, I was different, you know? But she was very scared for me, because people did not understand.”

Bobby was still trying to process the first part, the “I’m trans” part, but he nodded vigorously.

“My father -- I do not think of him like a step-father, to me he is my father -- is a doctor,” Bianca continued. “He is very successful. We have, you know, some money.” She looked around at the pool deck and waved her hand, seemingly embarrassed. “He came to our village almost by accident, I think, but he fell in love with my mother. He married her, and we moved to his villa, and life was very beautiful. He knew about me, of course, but my mother, she was still scared. So she told everybody I was a girl, and told nobody I was born with the boy stuff. It was like, our family secret?”

“Right,” Bobby said. “Family secret.” He frowned. “What about, um, school and stuff?”

“I had tutors,” Bianca said with a shrug. “My father is a very private person, and so is my mother, and believe it or not, Barbie, me, I am sometimes very private, too. There were some things I wasn’t allowed to do, like, some extra rules, so people would not find out. But my father is a doctor, and he has money, so he got me on the, how do you say in English? Blockers? Very early. And then later, of course, I started the estrogen, too. And when I wanted some surgeries, he knew the very best surgeon, and the surgeon is a very old friend who would never tell anybody.”

“Wow,” Bobby said faintly. “Um, that’s wild. So nobody else knows?”

“My mother, my father, two surgeons,” Bianca said, counting them off on her fingers. “And maybe… Maybe this is all. Except now you know, as well, because we have this special connection.” She grimaced. “You see why I feel terrible, don’t you, Barbie?”

Bobby mutely shook his head, wide-eyed.

“Because I should have come out how you did, like, many years ago,” Bianca said. “It was easier to have everybody just think I was a girl. But there are so many brave trans people everywhere, all over the world, who don’t have this easy life like me.” She had a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she spoke. “And if I do it now, it’s like I am taking away from them. I am saying, look at me, I’m so beautiful and trans, too! Pay attention to me, even though I never had people teasing me, or telling me I was wrong or confused, or anything bad like that.” She took a deep breath. “And this is not fair to girls like you, who said, you know, fuck you, world! I am Barbie! Compared to you, I feel...fake.”

She leaned back in her lounger, staring off into the distance with a troubled expression on her beautiful features, and Bobby just sat there without moving, completely stunned. Possibly the hottest girl he’d ever met was trans, and felt like a fake compared to him -- because she had no idea his entire “coming out” had been orchestrated by a crazy blackmailer, and he wasn’t trans in the slightest.

Bobby felt an unfamiliar emotion. It wasn’t embarrassment, exactly. He’d had enough of that in the past few months to last a lifetime, and could recognize it instantly. This was a different kind of uncomfortable. It took him a minute to put his finger on it: he was ashamed of himself.

When people called him brave, or a symbol, or an inspiration, or all that other bullshit, he just smiled and nodded, knowing it was all a big sham. He’d never considered that there might be actual trans people paying attention. And the way Bianca was so sad and conflicted about coming out, even though she was a total hottie, made him suspect being actually trans was way more complicated than he’d realized.

Bobby could have sworn he never used to think about feelings this much. It was annoying. But also, Bianca was his friend now. She’d saved him from being stranded in the middle of Rome in a bright pink bikini, she’d shown him a video of her twerking, and she’d helped cover up the hickey on his neck.

“I don’t think you’re fake,” Bobby said. “I think you’re super real. And cool, and sexy. And your secret is safe with me, like, if you want to keep it a secret.”

Bianca looked over at him, tears brimming in her eyes. She reached across the lounger and grabbed his hand. “Thanks, Barbie,” she said. “I’m so glad I met you, you are so different from most of my model friends…” She sniffed, blinking her tears away. “Do you want to take a selfie together?” she asked tremulously. “We look really cute.”

Bobby had been faking smiles all day, and he figured he could fake a few more for Bianca’s sake. “Definitely,” he said. “And I want to take some on my phone, too, okay?”

He scrabbled through his purse while Bianca adjusted her hair, pulling out his iPhone and turning it back on. Kimberly had been messaging him again. He’d been planning to ignore her for a while longer, but the preview of the latest text caught his eye.

Look, I know you’re pissed, but I just found a way to get you the contract, so…

He opened it up to read the rest, and his stomach sank.

...call me. I have some BIG dirt on Bianca Buccino. We’re taking her out.

“Barbie?” Bianca chirped, absently adjusting her cleavage. “You ready, babe?”

Bobby didn’t know how on Earth Kimberly had found out, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what the dirt was. He bit his lip, then deleted the message to make sure Bianca wouldn’t see it on his screen.

“Almost,” he said. “Just let me check my makeup.”

#