Adam's Rib by Antonio Manzini

you pray to God, but if you don’t believe in God, you read the morning paper. But for me, this is my morning prayer.” He raised the joint to his lips and took another puff. “Every morning, before I start my day, unless I smoke one of these, I’m irritable, I have a hard time thinking, and I’m pissed off at the world. And smoking one at night every now and then is good for me too.”
    Fabio nodded with an idiotic grin playing over his lips.
    â€œDo you have a realist’s morning prayer of your own, Fabio?”
    The kid thought it over: “Francesca.”
    â€œWho’s that?”
    â€œMy girlfriend.”
    â€œGood boy. You ever been behind bars?”
    Fabio said nothing, and just shook his head no.
    â€œAll right, then. Let me give you a little useful information. Behind bars, you’ll meet plenty of nasty people, and someone like you could become the realist’s morning prayer for some guy standing six feet five and tipping the scales at close to three hundred pounds. But not three hundred pounds like Deruta, the one who arrested you. I’m talking about almost three hundred pounds of hard muscle, looking at a twenty-year sentence for murder, a guy who hasn’t laid eyes on a woman for at least three years. You understand? That’s no fun at all. And you’re kind of cute, aside from the fucking zits you have, and I’m here to tell you that you should stop eating all that junk food. But in the slammer, behind bars, you’re Miss Italy, believe me. Nope, no fun at all, no way. Trust me.” And he stubbed out the joint in the ashtray. “Now, I know that you can’t actually give me the names. ’Cause if you do, you’ll wind up lying in a gutter somewhere, sliced open like a baby lamb at Easter. And actually I’m not interested in knowing the names of the guys who give you the shit, not from you anyway. But you could give me the name of your friend, the kid who assaulted my officer. Now that might constitute a bargain. We could bring him in, bust his ass a little, andif the two of you manage to keep from pulling any more fuckups for the next few years, you might even be able to lead a reasonably peaceful life in this town.”
    â€œI don’t even know the guy I was with. This was the first time I saw him.”
    â€œSure, and I’m a veteran of the First World War.”
    â€œReally?” the dealer asked in a serious voice. Rocco glanced over at Italo, who spread both arms wide.
    â€œIt’s late, I’m sick and tired, and I’m going to bed now. Pierron, lock him up and tomorrow we’ll call the DA’s office. A special-priority trial, one judge, no jury, and behind bars you go. So long, Righetti, say hi to Francesca for me when she brings you a dozen oranges. Actually, as long as she’s coming to see you, ask her to bring you an extra-large tub of Vaseline. It’ll make things easier.”
    AS HE LEFT POLICE HEADQUARTERS HE RAN INTO Officer Scipioni at the entrance: “What’s up, Dottore? You going to the hospital to see D’Intino?”
    â€œNot a chance. I’m going to bed. What time is it?”
    â€œAlmost midnight.”
    â€œShit,” he said. Even the highlights of the Roma-Inter game were shot by now. “Can you tell me how the game ended?”
    â€œTwo to nothing, Inter.”
    â€œHurrah. Take care of yourself, see you tomorrow.”
    â€œYou be well too, Dottore. And if you want a piece ofadvice, pick a new soccer team. At least you’ll get a little more fun out of life.”
    â€œSo I should take your lead and root for Juve?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? Juve? I root for Palermo.”
    â€œIf I ever start rooting for Palermo, make sure you send me to an analyst. Buonanotte , Scipio’.”
    â€œYOU KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING?” I SAY TO MARINA the minute I walk in the door. I don’t know where she is. Somewhere in