by Damon Suede
Join the party.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m okay,” Loretta lied, her voice hoarse.
Griff wondered why she was so upset and why she’d come over to her brother’s house on such short notice. But mainly, he wondered if he was going to be able to talk like an adult person after what almost happened.
What almost happened?
“Hey.” Loretta’s smile didn’t reach her whiskey eyes.
Dante’s did. “Hey. C’mon in.”
Had Loretta heard anything out on the stoop? Had he said anything… bad?
Her eyes were puffy and her hands were shaking. “I didn’t mean to hijack your whole boys’-night-in deal.” Griff choked. The place on his back where Dante’s face had rested felt scorched. “Uhh.” Dante covered smoothly. “We were talking business. I got, uh, an investment I cashed in and Griff thought it was a dumb move.” Loretta wasn’t listening to her brother teling something way too close to the truth. She headed back toward the cooking smels, and the guys folowed her.
Nicole squirmed in her arms, too old to be hauled around like that anymore.
Loretta and her husband Frankie had probably had another phone fight. He was under civilian contract in Baghdad, and Loretta hated him being gone so much, but the money was great and his gig was nearly done. They were planning to buy a place with enough rooms for their growing family if he didn’t get blown into chowder. She had plenty of reasons to be upset.
In the dark hal that went past the unfinished dining room, Nicole finaly wriggled to the floor and took Dante’s hand. They al folowed Loretta into the steamy kitchen.
“Are you idiots eating fish heads? Gross!” The horror on Loretta’s face was operatic, her corkscrew curls wild around a tragic, mascara-smudged mask.
Everything was so big and nutty with Loretta, al her reactions. She used tantrums like a sedative. Griff found it kind of endearing, but he knew that her hysterics wore the family to a frazzle. For two seconds, Griff thought she was actualy about to open her mouth and sing a crazy aria about fish heads while waving a cleaver around her brother’s stainless kitchen. He smothered the smile that he felt creeping across his face.
“What?! ” Loretta turned, wide-eyed, to glare at Griff, even more crazed now, even more like she was onstage at the Met wearing a horned helmet over her brown mane while a fish head palace burned down around her.
Griff couldn’t help but let the laugh out. “Nothing, nothing. No. We don’t eat the heads. Your brother’s making broth for the stew.” Dante stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, then added a handful of black pepper. “Cioppino. Or cacciucco, depending on what vilage. Mishmosh fish soup.
Nonna used to make it.”
Griff nodded at her, his cheeks stil burning. “Cheap and tasty. It’s like one of my favorites. Whenever your brother makes cioppino, he lets me come over and test for poison. Extensively.” He tried to smile so the lame joke would land and he’d start to feel normal again.
“Sounds like a total pain in the ass. Who can cook for that long?” Loretta finaly put her enormous shoulder bag down on a chair and leaned over the pot and the sauté pan to take a deep breath of the savory steam: lemon and pepper. Nicole wiggled and sort of slid down her front, landing on the floor with sturdy little legs.
“Cioppino is poor people’s seafood. Junk fish, realy. And crab. Olive oil. Fennel. Tomato. Garlic. Some other bits which are seeee-cret.” Dante’s mouth worked as fast as his hands juggled his ingredients, which was saying something. The pans hissed on the burner as he flipped the diced onions into the mix.
“You’re so effing irritating.” Loretta crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself. “Out of al of us, you’re the only one who could cook and the hottest, and you’re a dude.”
Griff knew that was a sore point with her. “It’s the firehouse. Dante cooks ala time so he gets practice.” After wiping on the towel draped over his shoulder, Dante held Nicole up to the sink, washing her chubby hands with practiced ease. He’d helped a lot of younger Anastagios do the same growing up. “It takes no time. The shopping is the longest part. And there’s more than enough, as long as we trank Griffin or chain him up in the garden.”
“Hey! I’m not that greedy.” But Griff smiled at the ribbing.
Dante smiled back with a wink. “You’re worse than that, my man.” After drying Nicole’s hands, Dante held her against his chest and kissed the top of her head while she yanked on his long hair. “Nope. No hair in the soup.” He stirred the pot and tasted the wooden spoon, passing her off to his buddy. “Pester Uncle Griffin.”
Griff felt awkward holding a little person and looked it too, lifting her a little away from his body like a sack of broken glass. He couldn’t remember anyone picking him up as a child. It would never occur to him that someone would want to be picked up. It seemed so easy to drop them or hurt them. None of the Anastagios present seemed nervous about the danger, so Griff looked at the kid to find out what he was supposed to do.
“Juice?” Little Nicole looked at Griff patiently, as if she knew she was talking to a giant halfwit.
Loretta rummaged in her overstuffed bag without looking, stil on autopilot; a juice-filed sippy cup appeared. Nicole claimed possession immediately and slurped fiercely.
Thumpa-thumpa. Dante was squatting in front of the refrigerator digging in one of the drawers, his lower back exposed where that old navy sweater rode up. He stood up holding yelow onions and another tomato in his caloused fingers.
Griff tried not to look at those beautiful hands. Or think about complete strangers watching Dante use them on himself on the Internet. He could smel Dante’s hair and skin hovering there under the cooking. Getting the counter between them, Griffin plunked Nicole on a high breakfast stool and stood next to her to make sure she didn’t fal to her death or catch on fire or anything. He hadn’t been around smal kids even when he was a smal kid, so what did he know? Maybe this was normal.
Nicole seemed hypnotized by the vegetables faling into slices under Dante’s flashing knife.
Griff was too, but for more embarrassing reasons; he coughed, wondering if his family had ever done this, just cooked in the kitchen while he watched as a little boy. He didn’t remember it, but then it would have been a long time ago, so maybe. He hoped so, for his sake. Maybe when his mother was alive. Maybe he wasn’t a complete freak, raised by wolves.
“Dante, she ain’t gonna eat seafood. Right now, Nicole won’t eat anything but peanut-butter-n-banana on rye and chocolate pudding.” Loretta puled a wrapped sandwich and a pint of Kozy Shack pudding from her bag and put them in the fridge.
“Bulsh—yes, she wil. Wanna bet?” Dante handed Nicole a raw squid to play with, which she did with glee.
“Wow-wow! Skish.” Nicole tugged at the little critter as if it were made of rubber, fascinated by the legs, petting the skin. “Cool.”
“Wow! S’like a little monster. Huh, Nicole? See the suckers?” Dante’s pirate smile widened as he turned to his sister. “See? Kids wil eat a boot if you make them curious. Trust me.”
A smile stole across Griff’s face; seeing Dante like that made his heart do somersaults.
For a moment, Griff imagined that this was their kitchen, that Loretta had come to their house. He bit back the urge to lean over and kiss his best friend on the cheek.
Loretta took the little squid away before it went in her daughter’s mouth. “I pity the woman who marries you, Dante Anastagio.”
“Wel if you let me cook the boot, my wife would eat it too.” Dante boned the snapper and cod, which went into a sauté pan for browning. The kitchen smeled like buttery seaside heaven.
Loretta started to pour a glass of wine from the bottle Dante was using for the stew, but he shook his head.
“Nah. That’s too sweet for drinking. G, you wanna…?”
Griff’s stomach rumbled. “I’l grab a bottle, and you want some beer for the fridge?” Dante nodded thanks and started to ask Loretta what was going on.
Griff left them talking in low voices.
GRIFF clumped down the rough stairs into the celar where Dante kept his storage freezer and another fridge stocked with drinks for his parties. It was always cooler down here, and a little damp. He knew exactly the Chianti Dante would want, and he also tugged out a twelve-pack of Guinness, but before he climbed the stairs, he paused.
He figured he should kil time so brother and sister would have a little time to talk. He put the wine and beer on the steps and sat down on a trunk labeled
“SKI SHIT” to count to a thousand.
Had Dante been serious about going back to the porn thing again? It seemed too crazy to be real, but then again Dante was too crazy sometimes. He wouldn’t let that Alek guy touch him, right? Dante wouldn’t actualy have the bals to….
Yes, he did. Jesus. Of course he did. Dante had plenty of bals.
Griff was a coward, but Dante had no fear and no shame. Hel, he’d flashed his pecker at his English teacher in high school just to hear her shout. Detention be damned. And everyone knew he always wandered around his house bare-assed; he’d been the same way as a teenager. Mr. and Mrs. Anastagio had fits making sure he wore pants when people came to visit. Thing was, Dante knew how fucking gorgeous he was—that sleek muscle, that tawny skin, the crow’s-wing curls, and those eyes glinting black-black-black like the ocean at night.
Griff had another erection. Great. He pinched under the head to make it go down.
Jealous. Horny. Ashamed. Weak. E) All of the above.
There had to be a catch in the HotHead deal. That website wasn’t going to just fork over thousands of dolars for Dante to jerk off over and over the same way. What if this Alek pushed for more? What if Dante agreed? Dante yanking it for some Russian was one thing, but what about al the guys watching from al over, members of HotHead.com who’d log on to type pervy shit to him and encourage him and dare him to go further?
And Dante would. Griff didn’t doubt it for a second. The dare was too tempting, like a burning building. He’d just run in without thinking. Dante would say yes and give in to those Internet dirtbags to prove he had the bals.
Suddenly Griff was so jealous he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t sit stil. He stood up and wiped his hands on his cargo pants, not caring if he left dusty streaks.
He wanted to punch something, maybe something Russian.
Asshole.
Not sure if he meant Alek or himself, he scooped up the wine and beer and stomped back upstairs, making enough noise that no one would be surprised and Loretta would have time to finish al her high notes.
IN THE kitchen, Loretta was chopping some kind of leaf and had almost stopped hyperventilating. That was a good sign. Maybe she was just lonely and bored tonight, trapped at home with her man on the other side of the planet, trying his best not to die in the desert. Griff could sympathize.
Nicole was seated on the counter carefuly puling parsley apart and sprinkling most of it into the pot with her tiny fingers.
- Thwack -
Dante cleavered a crab into perfect chunks, puling the white meat free of the iridescent shel and plopping it into the simmering pot. “This is lazy man’s cioppino. Now that it’s cooked down, we get rid of the shels so little sea monsters won’t choke. No tools required.”
- Thwack -
Dante winked at Griff and nodded that everything was okay. “It’s a mix. And the fish has to be fresh—real fresh, like just-off-the-boat, flopping-around fresh. Which means local. I go up to the Fulton Fish market. They moved it uptown but the place in the Bronx is way cleaner than South Street Seaport. You can even buy barracuda from a couple stals. Barracuda! RRawwrrr-rraurrrr.” He bared his lower teeth to Nicole, who giggled at his growls.
- Thwack -
The thought struck Griff that his best friend would make an amazing dad if he’d ever let himself grow up enough to have a kid. Griff looked over at Loretta leaning against the pantry door and knew she was thinking the same thing as she watched her brother cook, a crooked smile on her face.
- Thwack -
Dante looked handsome and happy in the steamy light, as if he should live right here in this kitchen making cioppino for the rest of time.
Griff had to swalow, and then he was thinking about the goddamn website again. He jerked the fridge open and cracked a beer before he started to get angry. HotHead-dot-com, my ass. Where could he come up with a couple thousand dolars that fast? Maybe he could get a loan at the bar?
He plunked onto one of the high breakfast stools, which let him watch the kitchen and kept his traitorous anatomy out of sight.
Moving around the kitchen with efficient grace, Dante kept chopping and growling and chopping and growling until he finaly got his niece to grimace, showing her tiny baby teeth and growling back at him.
“Ba-rra-cu-da!” Dante crowed in triumph and shoveled chopped cilantro into the pot with his knife.
“Rrrr. Bahcuda.” Nicole was growling through her teeth and climbing onto her knees on the scarred wood of the counter, trying to see what fascinating weirdness Uncle Dante was up to across the kitchen.
Loretta scooped up her snarling darling and roled her eyes at her brother. “Knock it off, fathead. She gets enough bad habits from me.” She looked to Griff for support.
Griff shook his head in sympathy. “Feel lucky. At least he ain’t teaching her to swear or shoot tequila.” But a baby barracuda had been born. Nicole and Dante continued to growl at each other as he chopped and fed her garlic and sips of broth off a battered spoon.
“Umm-grrood. Rrrarrrrr.” Nicole’s little face squenched up with pleasure, loving her funny uncle.
“Told you she’d eat seafood.” Dante pointed at Loretta with his spoon. “Graawrr.” He turned back to strain the pot of fish heads and crab shels, pouring the aromatic broth into the cioppino.
“Grauwr,” Nicole growled back and laughed, then growled again for good measure at the other boring grownups who weren’t her uncle.
Loretta ignored her brother and the teasing, but for once there was no opera in her eyes. “Griffin, you must be cooking these days?” She’d always hated Leslie for some reason.
Griff shook his head with a grimace. “Nah. I mean, I can do pancakes and macaroni, but mostly I defrost. The guys are always bummed when it’s my turn at the station.” Griff could tel she’d punched a hole in her panic and smiled. “I am a champ at washing up.”
“And chili.” Dante appeared at their elbows with a spoon for Loretta to taste.
“Yeah, I can do chili pretty good. Meat. Packet. Onions. Course that’s a recipe for a building with fifteen guys farting al night. Oh! Sorry.” Griff glanced to Nicole with an apology to her mom, but everyone seemed unfazed. Guess that’s normal too.
Dante stirred the pot firmly. Without turning his head to look at his sister, he spoke quietly. “If you need to crash tonight, I got plenty of room. With floors and wals even!”
Loretta laughed and shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m just a pain in the ass.”
Griff hoped he wasn’t the reason. “You should, Loretta. And I’l get going after supper.”
“G! It’s not even seven. What’s your damage?” Dante looked offended at the idea that Griff might feel unwelcome.
Griff shrugged at the cioppino and his stomach rumbled again. “Or I’l stay.”
“Good. Good thing someone’s hungry.” Dante stirred the pot one last time and nodded. “Soup’s on! Rahhh!” On the counter, Nicole reached for Griff, and he picked her up and set her down on the floor. She wobbled around at their knees, growling at Dante and occasionaly stopping to have conversations with her hands, like they were puppets.
Kids. Weird.
Griff opened the cabinets and puled down the big stew bowls Dante kept high on the fourth shelf. They looked deep enough for Nicole to drown in. He grabbed a smaler dessert bowl for her.
“Thanks.” Loretta took al four bowls and swiped up stainless from the drawer. Her hands had stopped jittering, and
she was keeping it together. “I got the table.”
Dante bent to hand Nicole napkins and the pepper for the table, saluting her. She roled her little girl eyes at him, completely opera-free, and headed for the dining room to supervise her mom. Obviously, she was no dummy.
As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Dante gestured Griff close and muttered an explanation. “Phone fight with Frank out in the goddamn desert and he hung up on her. She’l get over it. I think he was right and she knows it, and she just wants to be mad for a while.” His breath was warm on Griff’s neck.
Griff nodded and stepped back and tried to figure out if there was anything he could carry. There was nothing but the cioppino left.
Dante slipped the apron over his head and hooked it inside the pantry door and held up empty hands. “I got nothing for ya, mister.” He dropped an arm over Griff’s meaty shoulder and squeezed it. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”
“WHO is she?”
Dinner was done and Loretta Anastagio didn’t waste one second. Dante had taken the kid into the kitchen for something sweet. The minute his sister had Griff alone in the dining room, she griled him like a thick T-bone.
Griff didn’t say anything; he kept his face blank like he hadn’t heard her ask him what he knew she was going to ask because she knew him so wel. She’d known him his whole life and had calmed down enough to notice his silence.
The pause got long enough to be weird. Griff squirmed and pretended to be listening to Dante clanking in the kitchen in the hopes he could bluff his way out.
“Who?”
Loretta smacked his head, smiling. “What am I, an idiot? The girl! You got some piece you can’t stop mooning over.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re stupid, but you’re so good-looking we al have to forgive you.” Her nails tickled his beefy forearm. “I know that look, Griffin. Al through high school I hoped you’d give that look to me, so I always knew when you were getting goofy over somebody.” Griff shifted his butt in his chair, not sure what to say. Yeah, only this time it’s your brother. “I’m not goofy.”