Frank nodded, savoring the memory of some truly outstanding pranks. In the years before the Ring of Fire, they’d often enough been confusion to the jocks. “The Lothlorien Hippie Ninja clan is once again ready to wreak havoc in the darkness.” He turned to Giovanna. “On no account open that box.”
“Please, why?” She looked worried.
“Because, milady,” Gerry said, “this box contains everything you need to embarrass and humiliate anyone who annoys you. We are highly trained and highly motivated pranksters, and this box contains the old standards of our repertoire. Guys, it’s all in working order, and what with Dad opening his lab I added a few new items.”
The new items probably didn’t include nitro, or the box would have exploded already. On the other hand, Gerry was inventive, smart, and had a mean streak in him to reckon with. Frank decided it was time to introduce calm and relaxation. “Say,” he said, “now we’ve made out like we’re a crew of madmen, where’s the Freedom Arches in this town? Any chance of a few beers?”
Giovanna smiled. “No Freedom Arches in Venice! Not with the heel of the Council of Ten on the necks of the populace.”
The words were said lightly, though, not with a snarl. Frank had learned enough of Venetian politics to know that the secret police of the Senate’s clandestine governing body were nobody to fool with. On the other hand, they seemed to be more concerned with plots among the nobility than with the doings of Venice’s working population. Not surprising, that. The artisans of Venice—especially the workers at the Arsenal—had a rather fearsome reputation themselves, and the Venetian powers-that-be had always been careful not to aggravate them.
Giovanna’s smile kept widening and Frank found himself no longer thinking of politics at all. For a wonder, the girl even had straight teeth! Dimples!
He was lost, lost.
“We are free of our duties for the day at sunset—and it is Carnevale!” she announced. “We can meet my father and brothers and cousins at one of the taverna. I know which one they will be at, too, because it is right here in the palazzo.”
Lost. And didn’t care in the least. Even the prospect of meeting Giovanna’s father and brothers on their first not-date didn’t faze him at all.
“Frank?” said Gerry. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Frank frowned. “Problem?” How could there be any problems on this most sublime of all days?
“Astlay imetay ouyay amecay omehay unkdray, Frank,” Ron said in a sing-song voice. “Aren’t you going to have to speak with Dad about that?”
“Ah,” Frank said. “No biggie. Dad calmed down, and I think you’ll notice he didn’t mind us staying up on the way down here as long as we were with Father Gus.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ron nodded. He could see the plan, right enough.
“Guys?” Gerry was looking worried. “If this is going to be anything like—like—” He gave Giovanna a nervous glance. “I mean like a date—”
Now the nervous glance came to Frank. “Okay, dates, I’m not trying to horn in on you but aybemay eshay’s otgay riendsfay—I’d like not to bring the priest, okay?”
Giovanna was frowning. “I don’t understand some of those words. But if you want me to give you dates, I warn you it is expensive. How much money you have?”
All three Stone brothers stared at her. Frank’s heart stopped. The girl he was completely fascinated with—practically the love of his life already—turned out to be a prostitute!
She spread her hands, a bit exasperated. “What you expect? Dates have to be imported into Venice. From the Levant, I think.”
Frank’s heart started up again.
“Now, Gerry,” said Ron, “leave it to your big brothers to be ahead of this situation. If Frank’s thinking what I think he’s thinking, I think we’re thinking of the same plan.” To Giovanna, he added: “Uh, the word ‘dates’ is just a slang expression. We’ll explain it later. It’s, uh, complicated. But it doesn’t mean those fig things.”
Gerry stroked his chin theatrically. “Hmmm. I think I think that I’m thinking what I think you’re thinking, Frank, I really think so.”