My Dirty Detour: An Alpha Male Mafia Comedy Romance

by Grace Risata

  After stopping at another food stand for fully cooked BBQ pulled pork sandwiches, Rocky dragged me over to the first shade tree and plopped down. He leaned back and admitted, “I could not handle one more fucking second of torture. No amount of pussy is worth listening to those two morons. Damn.”

  “They’re better at remembering names then YOU are,” I scolded.

  Rocky closed his eyes and chugged the last drop of his remaining beer. I took this as an opportunity to resume my interrogation. “So…do you have a girlfriend?” That had been on my mind since the moment we met.

  “I’ll make you another deal, Violet. I will answer that. In return, I get to ask you anything I want and you have to be honest. Deal?”

  There was really nothing to hide, therefore no reason not to accept his offer. “You’re on,” I agreed. “You answer first.”

  “No, I most definitely do NOT have a girlfriend. All the girls go for Sergio. He has the looks and the charisma. I’m the silent one in the background, suspicious of everyone, constantly watching out for the next threat. My last relationship was two and a half years ago. I was supposed to marry her. I never proposed, but certain people wanted us to end up together and my opinion didn’t matter. That manipulative whore betrayed me. Some seriously messed up shit went down. That’s one of the reasons Sergio and I came out here to start the business. I had to get away and make a fresh start. I will not go into more details, so don’t waste your time trying to ask. Now it’s my turn. Ready?”

  No! You can’t just throw all that information at me and not expect thirty-two follow up questions! What was her name? What did she look like? How did you meet? Why did you break up? Who wanted you to end up together? Why did you have no say in the matter? Was she good in bed? Why did you have to make a fresh start? Wasn’t a break-up simply enough, without running away too? Was she prettier than me? Unfortunately the answer to that last one was probably, “Yes, she’s way more attractive than you.” I bet she was definitely not funnier than me. Small consolation, but it was better than nothing.

  He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Violet. Still there?” I must have zoned out imagining all sorts of scenarios with him and supermodels.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Ask away.”

  “Why did you get divorced?” Of course that would be the question he picks. There’s no good way to answer that without looking like a miserable failure.

  Adopting a cross legged position and taking a deep breath, I remembered the events that led to my greatest humiliation. “We were married for seven years and together for three years before that. I wasted a decade on him. His name was Nathan. I guess it still is. I only refer to him now as the Rat Bastard who ruined my Life. I hadn’t dated much before him and I was lonely and vulnerable. Maybe if I wasn’t so desperate then I would have seen how wrong we were for each other. We met when I was only twenty-two. I was at the DMV to renew my driver’s license. Rat Bastard started to hit on me. It was very rare for a guy to flirt with me, so it really got my attention. He was a computer programmer. In his mind that made him one step under the president, because his job was so fucking important. He worked long hours. When he wasn’t toiling away over a computer screen, he wanted to be out socializing. He had a big circle of friends that were always throwing parties and dumb fuck insisted on being the center of attention at each and every one. He was the life of the party, always telling idiotic stories and putting on a show. Having always been a shy outcast, it was a welcome change for me to be included as part of the group. By ‘included,’ I mean I was invited but never really accepted. I was still the wallflower observing from the corner.”

  I paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I ignored how self-absorbed he was. We couldn’t pass a mirror without him staring at his own reflection. He always insisted I buy the latest trendy fashions and he gave me jewelry for every holiday. It was all for appearances. He had to keep up with his friends and look successful. Not a minute went by where he could just sit still and relax. He always had to be somewhere doing something, preferably with an audience to feed his ego. I tolerated his behavior because he gave me no concrete reason to leave him. I believe he was faithful during our marriage. There was never lipstick or perfume on his clothes, no hiding his cell phone or going into another room to have a mysterious hushed conversation. Near the end, I came to my senses and started getting fed up. I was already beginning to consider bringing up the possibility of a divorce, but he did something sooner to force my hand.”

  I picked some blades of grass to shred, not wanting to remember the day it all fell apart. Rocky reached up and touched one of the curls hanging around my face. He gingerly tucked it behind my ear. “What happened next, Violet?”

  “It began innocently enough. Fuck face had plans to go to the bachelor party for one of his co-workers. He told me they were going to a strip club, but promised he would behave himself. He gave me his word. That’s why your word didn’t mean shit to me last week. Promises were made to be broken. I figured he’d be back around two in the morning when the bars closed. He never made it home. I got a phone call at eight o’clock the next morning. Turns out he met a girl. A stripper. Some dirty whore who gave him a lap dance. Candy or Cinnamon or Fake Big Tits. I don’t know and I don’t care. He told me that they were soul mates. One look at her and he just knew. It was love at first sight. He said he was ready for the next phase in his life. He needed passion and adventure. Evidently his new slut fit the bill. I filed for divorce the next day. I was only thirty-two and already a failure in life. He went back to the house when I wasn’t there and got all his crap. It took a year from the time I filed until all the paperwork went through and the divorce was official. We split the money down the middle, sold the house, and I got all the stuff that was leftover. I had a giant garage sale and sold anything that he left behind and everything he’d ever given me. He ended up moving to Vegas with his skank and I haven’t seen him since we met in court to finalize the divorce. That was about ten months ago. Do you know what the worst part was?”

  “Tell me,” Rocky whispered, hanging on my every word. “Tell me what the worst part was.”

  “The worst part was all the control I let him have over me. We did what he wanted or he’d pout. We had to have all the latest electronics and newest cars to keep up with all his friends. It was always about him and never about me. I was a shell of my former self. I had no voice. The cool part of me, the weird girl who has a snappy answer for every situation...I lost her. I hated who I’d become. I hated him for the humiliation he caused me. I was forced to explain the reason for the break-up to my family as well as his. He was too much of a pussy to tell them what he’d done, so it became my job to answer their frantic calls when they tried to track him down. I had so much anger and bitterness. I blamed myself for not realizing it was doomed from the start and getting out sooner.”

  “It sounds like that son of a bitch was a fool who couldn’t see what he had right in front of his face,“ Rocky growled. “I asked you about the divorce because I wanted to know if you still cared about him and were hoping to get back together. But most of all, I needed to know if he ever hit you. If he had, then I would have made sure he lived to regret that,” Rocky vowed, staring intently at me. Wow. Why does he care? Maybe this IS a date after all.

  “No, he never smacked me around,” I replied. “I would have hit him with a baseball bat in his sleep, if he ever would have touched me like that.” I would have too. Or at least I liked to think I would have.

  Rocky nodded, as though happy with my answer.

  He wasn’t done with his interrogation yet. “Why didn’t you ever have children, Violet?” Wow. This conversation was getting too serious for my liking. I had no idea where all these questions were coming from.

  “To give my mother something else to bitch about?” Maybe he would sense my discomfort and change the subject. Or maybe he would just stare at me waiting for a reply. Of course, it had to be the latter of the tw
o choices.

  “Seriously, Rocky, this is turning into a counseling session. I don’t have brothers or sisters and I’ve never been good with kids. I like dogs better than babies. My ex never pressured me to have children, probably because he was immature and refused to grow up himself. I’ve never felt the maternal instinct. Some people are born to be mothers and some are not. Society makes you feel like you’re not a real woman if you don’t procreate. I’ve never really fit in my whole entire life, you might as well just add that to list of reasons I’m not normal. “

  “I admire how easy it is for you to open up to me, Violet. It feels good to sit and listen to you and be able to be myself. Where I came from...I had a reputation. If I did something that didn’t fit in with who I was supposed to be, I was judged for it. Instead of taking the chance on saying the wrong thing, I’d usually say nothing at all. It was easier.“

  Rocky continued, “In case you were wondering, I don’t have any kids either. My parents...well, I’m not getting into details. Let’s just say they did a number on me. I vowed early on that I’d never have kids and risk fucking them up. At least we have the ‘no kids’ thing in common, huh?” There must be more in common between us then just that! Good to know though. If he would have said he was dying to knock someone up and raise half a dozen kids, I would have run for the hills without looking back.

  Much to my relief, Rocky ended the serious line of questions. “Do you know what time it is, Violet? I’m hungry and I think it’s time for more beer. Let’s find Sergio and his new friends and see what trouble we can get into.” Now THAT was a plan!

  Saturday Night

  The Donut Grilled Cheese, Deep Fried Cannoli, and Mac N Cheese Cupcakes were all checked off the list. I think one more bite of anything would have killed me. I was eternally grateful Rocky shared my food. He needed something to soak up all the beer anyway. Not that he stopped drinking. I lost count after his fifth one. That was five in addition to the others he’d already had. Hopefully it would numb his pain from whatever was plaguing him and he would sober up tomorrow. Frankie called to do her required “check in” and Rocky yelled into the phone, “Don’t worry, she’s fine. I made sure she didn’t eat the salmonella burger. It’s all good!” Reassured that I was indeed alive and not poisoned by bad meat, she told me to call her tomorrow and tell me more about the crazy drunk guy in the background.

  We found Sergio, Pennie, and Bridget at the Rock Stage listening to a band unfamiliar to me. Sergio told Rocky the name of the group was “Black Spider Revolution” and they played hard rock. The bass was thumping and the chorus was pretty catchy so I started to dance. Let me explain. I’m insanely neurotic and a major worry wart. Clearly I have flaws. Being a bad dancer is NOT one of them. I could dance my ass off. Quite well, I might add. One time Stella and I went to a rave in the city where she was attending college. There was an eclectic mix of people all letting loose in the middle of a totally insane mosh pit. I really LOVE to dance and Stella has two left feet, so I pushed my way into the middle of the action all by myself. At one point this exotic dark skinned girl turned to me and said, “For an uptight little white girl...damn, you can DANCE.” I ignored the ‘uptight’ part and concentrated on the rest of the sentence. Best compliment EVER!

  Pennie and Bridget did not share my love of dance, or they were restricted by their sky high heels and tight skirts. They stood there and held hands with each other while they swayed back and forth. It was my time to shine. There was some booty shaking, dirty dancing, ass waving, and hip jiggling coming from my spot in the crowd. I was on top of my game!

  Rocky came up behind me, put his arm around my waist, and started grinding up against my ass. Not expecting that! Not to be outdone, I turned around to wink at him before pulling off quite an impressive jersey turnpike. That was all the encouragement he needed. He continued bumping and grinding with even more wild abandon and I thought he might tip over. Dancing + Too Much Beer = Rocky about to land flat on the pavement. Sergio did not share my concern for his friend because he was too busy recording the whole scene on his cellphone.

  Meanwhile, the Barbie Twins stared wide-eyed not realizing that either of us was cable of such epic moves. A bystander would have been struck by all the contrasting emotions: a look of shared awe by the Barbies, giddy unbridled joy on Sergio, and a completely oblivious Rocky.

  As was bound to happen, gravity caught up with Rocky and he inadvertently made contact with a leather-clad biker, knocking them both over. Drunken Rocky seemed a considerable amount more social than Sober Rocky, so it was my hope that there would be no confrontation. Yeah, right.

  The biker rose to his feet, got up in Rocky’s face, and snarled, “You looking for trouble, bitch?”

  Shit, Shit Shit. Any chance of a peaceful resolution just went right out the window. In the blink of an eye, Happy-Drunk Rocky turned into Kill-You-With-My-Bare-Hands Rocky.

  “Not anymore. I just found it,” he replied threateningly.

  Let me take this time to do a quick head count. You have about six king-sized bikers on one side. The other side held Rocky, Sergio, and three useless girls. The odds were not in our favor.

  Sergio grabbed Rocky by the upper arm, pushed me in the direction opposite the bikers, and screamed, “Look they’re handing out free t shirts!” at the top of his lungs. Everyone turned their heads, including me until Sergio pushed me again, and that was how we made our escape.

  The sound of two girls yelling, “Wait, Johhny, don’t leave so soon! Call us!” could be heard over the crowd.

  --------------------------------------

  We ran to the car, or I should say I laughed my way to the car while Sergio dragged Rocky, who stumbled over every step.

  Barely managing a complete sentence without dissolving into a fit of laughter, I snickered, “Look, they’re handing out free T-Shirts?!? Really, Sergio? That was the best diversion you could come up with?”

  “Damn it, Violet, I had to get him out of there before he did something stupid. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen him with people he knows. Try watching him go off on a complete stranger when he has no reason to stop.”

  “He would have gotten killed. Did you do the math? It was six to two and they had a definite size advantage, which is saying something.”

  Sergio shook his head and said, “No, you don’t understand. Even in the state he’s in, he would have had no problem taking at least four of them down. Don’t under estimate him, Violet. He’s dangerous.”

  There was no time to ponder that statement. We finally reached the car and had to try to force Rocky inside.

  “You’re going to have to sit in back with him while I drive. If he’s in the front then he’s going to distract me. I can’t keep my eye on him, check for vengeful bikers, and watch the road all at the same time.”

  Rocky took this opportunity to wake up a little bit and realize where we were. “Why aren’t we fighting those douchebags? I can handle myself just fine. What the fuck?”

  Sergio opened the back and shoved Rocky into the car. He gestured to me and directed, “Deal with him, Violet.” What? Why was this MY problem now?

  I went around to the passenger side of the backseat and got in. Rocky was half stretched across the seat and he looked up at me with sad puppy dog eyes. “Hey, baby. Come here often?” I put my head in my hands and sighed. This would be a LONG ride home.

  I leaned over to buckle him up and he grabbed my waist and turned me so that I was sitting on his lap. I ended up with my feet hanging over into the empty seat where my ass should have been safely belted in.

  Rocky slurred, “You don’t have to run away, beautiful. I don’t bite.”

  The first thing that popped into my head immediately came out of my mouth, “But what if I want you to bite?” In some odd way, deep down, I think I meant it. He was sitting inches from my face, his beer breath flowing into my nose. My arm was wrapped around his neck, gripping his tightly muscled shoulders. He was so clo
se. I wanted to kiss him and damn the consequences. The Monday version of me would be forced to see Sober Rocky back at work and she was going to kill this reckless Saturday Violet. “Saturday Violet” did not give a rat fuck about anything else, only the addictively unstable, violently handsome man right in front of her. I liked “Saturday Violet” way better. She won the coin toss.

  I leaned closer. This might be my only chance to kiss him. He looked down at my lips. That was it. My mind was made up right then and there. I put my other hand on his cheek and leaned in with my eyes closed. Time to make my move. It’s all or nothing. Please, let him kiss me back.

  As it turned out, I had no need to worry. His face met mine and his tongue slid inside my parting lips. He started gently, working his way up to a frantic exploration. Our tongues moved back and forth, probing into each other’s mouths, leaving no space untasted. Teeth feverishly nipped at tongues, at lips. I slowly ran my tongue around his teeth, pausing over the sharp spots. At one point he sucked on my tongue and then let go, only to start sliding his tongue in and out like his mouth was fucking mine. A low growl vibrated in his chest as he pulled me closer and started to undo the belt on my jeans. That snapped me back to reality in an instant.

  I pulled away to catch my breath and take stock of the situation. I was in the backseat with a man who was completely hammered and possibly kissing me only because he was horny and I was the closest thing available. Also, Sergio was less than two feet away undoubtedly taking in the whole show from his rear view mirror. I needed to think here, and to do it fast. If I didn’t come up with something soon, I’d end up fucking Rocky in the back seat of this car with Sergio as an audience.

  Rocky stuck his nose in my hair and murmured, “Violet, baby, you smell so good. Your hair smells like strawberries.” That would be leave-in conditioner. Fighting split ends and attracting men, both at the same time.

  One of Rocky’s hands crept up my shirt while the other caressed my thigh. He was like an octopus!