The Untouchable

Charlotte was awakened by the bright Italy sun shining through her half-closed eyes. Her mom had come in her room, throwing open every window and letting the fresh warm breeze fill the room. It felt good, but Charlotte wasn't about to go easily. "Nooo Mom. I'm still in bed!"
"Charlotte Rien. You will get up right now, or else risk missing out on this fabulous day! We're going sightseeing today!" Fabulous. "Okayy. Give me thirty minutes." It usually took her a lot longer to get ready, but like she gave a hell what others thought here. She pulled a brown tunic over her head, and threw on some clamdiggers under it. Tousling her hair in the full length mirror, she realized, with a bit of self-pride, that it was pretty hard for her to look bad. She gave a little half-smile and applied some lip gloss. Maybe she did care after all.

Her dad was seated out on the veranda, a map in front of him. "My company is providing a private tour for us today. We can get our bearings a little bit. Ready, princess?"
"Yeah, Dad." He glanced behind her to see if her mother was around. "Charlotte, you've been acting very strange lately. Come outside, let's talk about it." She obliged and went outside, plopping down on one of the white chairs that faced the russet rooftops and lofty domes of the surrounding villas.

"What's up, Dad?"
"Sweetie, you haven't exactly been too enthused about everything. I mean, we're in Florence! One of the most romantic, exciting cities in the world. Is something bothering you?" Charlotte did not usually engage in deep conversations with her father. Her mother and Brae were there for that. This time was no exception. "Nope, I'm good. Just jet-lag." It seemed to be all he needed to hear. "That's great! Well, get ready, because the limo is arriving shortly." As if on cue, a horn beeped outside and fast footsteps echoed on the walls. "Yep, your mom is already down there." He grinned.

The limo driver opened the door as Charlotte slid into the vehicle. All the windows and sunroof were open, letting in the last few rays of sunlight. The sun was barely touching the trees, it would be evening soon. They were scheduled to view a few of the landmarks around the city, and then dine at Cibrèo, an upscale trattoria. Charlotte simply plugged in her iPod as the driver commented on the various squares and architectural marvels they passed while her mom bopped from one window to another. Her stomach growled as they passed the Piazza della Signoria, she was relieved to hear they were close to the restaurant.

Inside the eccentric-looking restaurant, waiters ran from table to table, refilling champagne glasses and laying out napkins. charlotte was used to this kind of thing, and went through the night as if she were programmed to do it. While her mom went on and on about Michaelangelo and Giorgio Armani, Charlotte gazed out the full length window into the developing night. She was growing bored, and excused herself to go to the restroom. As she was walking towards the entrace, a lit up sign caught her eye. Prada. A mannequin stood proudly in the window, showcasing the latest in summer fashions.

Charlotte's eyes widened. She had to go in. Her parents wouldn't even notice if she went quick, they weren't even facing the door. Without hesistation, she slipped through the doors and walked briskly over to the outlet. It seemed a lot further than she thought, but she was on a mission. A trio of men caught her eye, and she had caught theirs. She was growing uneasy. One said something to the other two, and together they all started walking towards her.

She was starting to get scared. At a halfway point between the two places, and no one else in sight, there seemed to be no escape. "Signorina!" They called out to her, taunting her. She walked faster, maybe she could make it. She was just about to reach the door when one stepped in front of her, causing her to shriek. "Bella signorina, how goes it?"
"I don't want any trouble." Clutching her Coach purse tightly, she stepped back, only to find they had her cornered. A million things were going through her mind, she was so terrified of these strange men. "A pretty thing you are." One said to her. "We could have a lot of fun with that." Another said, moving closer to her. "Please.." Charlotte could barely utter a scream. She was going to die. She closed her eyes, thinking about her parents, and what she could be doing if she had just stayed put. She felt so hopeless. No. She could fight them. Even though she was outnumbered, she refused to go down without even trying. She opened her blue eyes fiercely. The men were looking her up and down, with hungry faces filled with lust. "Get the FUCK away from me." She got herself into a very commanding position. One of the men looked unsure of himself, and the other two laughed. "Silly little American. She knows nothing about this place. What do you say boys? Give her a private tour?" It wasn't working, the men moved closer in, and Charlotte prepared herself mentally to kick one of them. Her heart was pounding furiously, at least it would give her a little shot.

"Hey!" A voice rang out. The men turned around, and Charlotte looked past their shoulders to see a young man, close to her age, approach them. He had dark black locks that stopped just above his deep brown eyes, and a natural olive complexion that proved he must be a local. He stopped in front of the men, all of whom looked uncertain. "Permesso, signors. Signora." He bowed his head slightly to her, and engaged in a quick conversation with the men in Italian. Charlotte couldn't pick out anything they were saying, but was grateful for the man's interverence. Finally, the men shook their heads and left her with him. She was speechless, she didn't know what he said, but he had saved her life.

His thoughtful browns eyes scanned her face. "Are you okay, miss?" She nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm just a little shook up, that's all- you speak English?"
"My mother taught me to be bilingual when I was a child."
"You're pretty good! I mean, thanks for, you know, helping me. I didn't know what those guys were going to do to me."
"They are just local merchants. They like to, eh, ruffle tourists' feathers." She smiled and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. "Is it that obvious I'm a tourist?"
"Well, I think would remember seeing a face like yours before." That face of hers turned a deep shade of crimson. She looked back at the restaurant. "Um, I should be getting back. Thank you again..."
"Antonio. Nice to meet your aquaintance..."
"I'm Charlotte. Good night, Antonio."

She walked back toward Cibrèo, her back turned away from the outlet that had almost cost her life. She did turn around one time, however, to glance back at her rescurer. He was still standing there, and raised his hand up in farewell. She did the same, and then entered the wooden doors to the inside.

Her parents gave her astonished looks as she sat down. "Where were you? I was beginning to suspect you had fallen in!" Her mother exclaimed. Charlotte laughed and gave a little shrug. "Italian toliets. They're- complicated."

__________________________________________________
Love all the hits this is getting! But where are my precious reviews?? Do you like it? Tell me! See something that needs improvement? Don't hesistate to write! My lack of feedback is not motivating me at all to even keep writing on this site.