Deleted Scene #5 - Nicola
WARNING: Please do not read these scenes if you've not yet read my novel DREAM WAR. Out of context, these scenes will likely either mean nothing to you, or worse, they'll confuse you.
Awwwwww. Sweet Nicola. The girl mentioned in Angela's deleted scene. She's also mentioned quite late in the novel (the girl Stanley ultimately rides with) and this scene tied that thread together. At one point in the novel, there was a short scene with Nicola looking up at Vesuvius the night before the eruption.
In the end, the scenes with her (especially once Angela's scene was cut that mentioned Nicola by name) just proved too random and discordant. They were fun though and knowing Nicola existed--if only in my creative imagination--was a fun exercise in character development that's done "offscreen".
Nicola sat behind the desk at the Palazzo Turchini Hotel. Her long, dark curls obscured most of her face as she scanned through the pages of her Donna Moderna magazine searching for tips on the latest fashions. She turned the volume of her radio up until the echoes of Eros Ramazzotti’s latest hit ballad drown out the tick tocks of the annoying grandfather clock.
The building shook.
Room keys, hanging from their hooks in the wooden box below the counter, rattled less violently than when the big earthquake hit but the clatter lasted longer than the aftershocks that had rumbled most of the day.
Outside, people flocked across Via Medina and, as they proceeded towards the piazza at the end of the block, disappeared from view. Nicola wondered if the tremor had caused a crash. When drivers slowed on the road to gawk at traffic accidents, she equated it to the mindset of those that seemed always prepared to pounce with criticism and judgment on her every move. She took pride on not listening to gossip about others, and refused to slow down traffic to peer at other’s misfortune.
She cranked the volume higher. The music would have been too loud had there been any guests in the hotel but it was empty. The few guests that had stayed last night were out sightseeing. Nicola engrossed herself in an article listing fifty ways to get the man of your dreams. It was good advice but ultimately a girl needed only two things to snag a man, to be thin and—
The hotel lobby door slammed against the stone wall outside. It was Massimo! Before she could even smile at her new boyfriend, he rushed in, his hands, positioned like a symphony conductor, motioned vigorously as he spoke.
“What in Christ’s name are you doing? You’re just sitting here? Thank God you are safe!”
“What are you talking about?”
“My treasure,” his tone changed and he motioned for her to come with him. “Vesuvius. It’s erupting.”
The beautiful voice of Laura Puccini echoed off marble tiles, her lyrics complaining about loves that she’d lost, or those that had forgotten her. The words seemed as shallow as the article Nadia had just been reading. Meaningless were her paltry grades at school, her planned trip to Prague, even the discovery of the dead body days earlier. Nothing mattered except reuniting with her mom and baby brother south of the volcano.
Massimo quit waiting. He reached over, his large hand surrounding her thin wrist, and led her around the counter to the opening. He thrust a helmet to her chest, and dragged her outside to his bike. Two teenaged boys stood next to it and appeared ready to hijack the scooter.
“Get the fuck out of here. It’s mine!”
Massimo was shorter than most of her ex boyfriends but he sounded threatening enough to scatter them in search of other transportation. She looked back trying to catch a glimpse of the volcano. The hotel blocked her view of Vesuvius but, in the sky above, a dark gray cloud had begun to overtake the city.
