Read In a Heartbeat for Free Online

popped out everywhere. Piazza del Duomo, however, looked like a Christmas manger. There were Christmas trees, fake reindeer and even an ice rink in the shape of a frozen lake where children glided around to the sound of waltz music. The monument of Vittorio Emanuele on horseback was covered in pigeon shit and surrounded by giant television monitors. I stared blankly as a video-game commercial burst onto the screen. It was light years away from the Atari games that I used to play. Technology had taken a giant leap forward. Hello, Obi-Wan Kenobi!
    I came across a group of Japanese tourists taking pictures with miniature cameras, pressing themselves around a souvenir stand full of postcards and various knick-knacks. I pushed through and bought a wool cap with I Love Milano written across it, plus a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. I put them on and looked at myself in the mirror that the guy waved in front of me. I wasn’t really unrecognisable, but they would do. I made a mess with the money like one of those old people who make you curse if they’re in the queue in front of you. I used the large, heavy coins to buy a pack of cigarettes from a vending machine. It spat out a pack with the words ‘Smoke Kills’. The taste, however, was the same. Thank God!
    I got to a line of spotless taxis and slipped into one that looked like something out of the future. The old taxis were nowhere near as aerodynamic and flexible. The bright numbers on the meter were reflected on the rear-view mirror so the passenger could see them. Another improvement.
    ‘Where to, boss?’ the driver asked. The cab drivers however hadn’t improved. They always seemed to take pleasure in ripping you off.
    ‘Via Ricciarelli.’
    ‘Here we go.’
    Here we go like hell. It took five minutes just to get out of Piazza Fontana; between turns and one-way streets the trip took almost an hour. Not even Hong Kong was this congested with traffic. Calculating the new exchange rate I paid an alarming amount for the fare.
    I got out in front of Ines’ building on Via Ricciarelli close to the San Siro stadium. In my time, the area had been a mess. There was mainly public housing with old men in wifebeaters and little kids who threw stones. Now, it had been given a lick of paint.
    Paying a visit to my old friend Ines had seemed like a good idea last night. I was beginning to have some doubts, however. Smoking a cigarette to kill some time, I made a move and went up the stairs. It was cleaner than last time. The walls were painted bright pink, and most of the graffiti was gone. There was also a brand new lift that I only noticed about halfway up. I kept walking, out of breath. Shit, I really needed to get into shape.
    Ines’ front door was a nice, bright brown with a welcome mat that looked fresh out of the washer. I rang. A girl in jeans and a cut-off T-shirt with a hoop through her navel opened the door. I saw the belly ring first and then her face. I had to get used to these new trends.
    ‘Yeah,’ she said annoyingly.
    ‘Excuse me; I was looking for a woman who used to live here. Her name is Ines.’
    The girl blew the nails on her right hand. She was painting them black to match her lipstick and was about halfway through. ‘Mamma! Someone’s here for you.’
    Mamma?
    When Ines came to the door I almost didn’t recognise her. She was thin, and her face was dried up like a prune. Her grey hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked like one of those old ladies that you see walking to church every morning.
    ‘Can I help you?’
    I suddenly forgot the words. ‘I … I … ’
    I watched her swallow. ‘Trafficante? Is that you?’
    I couldn’t say anything. She stretched her hand out to touch my face, but I stopped her halfway. ‘Santo … You’ve changed. You’re … a gentleman.’
    ‘Time flies.’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Can I come in?’
    She glanced over her shoulder. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘I just want to talk.’ I gestured inside. ‘May