by AC Netzel
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir?” He raises a brow. “So formal. I was ‘Frank’ a minute ago. A little nervous about something?”
I let out an anxious chuckle. “You can say that.”
“You want to tell me something, but you’re conflicted.”
“Yes.” I nod in agreement.
“My daughter is a very independent young woman. She may think your question to me is old fashioned or maybe sexist. She’s not property. Etcetera, etcetera.” He waves the hand holding the cigar dismissively.
“Yes.” I’m relieved he gets it.
“So you’re not asking my permission for anything.”
“No. Julia’s answer is the only one that matters.”
“But we both know deep down she’s traditional and would appreciate we had this conversation… and that you showed her father some respect.”
“I’m trying to cover all the bases,” I say, wringing my hands together.
“My opinion is important to you, too.”
“Yes. I know having you on board would be important to her.”
He leans back in his chair, taking another puff of his cigar with a wicked smile.
“I have a few questions,” he says, a hint of humor in his voice.
“I thought you might.” I straighten up and square my shoulders, readying myself for the interrogation to begin. I’ve been going over this conversation in my head for a week. I wrote notes to answers on what my intentions were to his daughter and every other father of the bride question I could think of.
I take a quick glance to my side and see Rose staring out the kitchen window. She catches me looking at her, gives me a thumbs up, and disappears out of view.
“Let’s say in the future you were to have children with my daughter. Hypothetically, of course. What baseball team would they root for?” he asks.
Interesting question. I thought he was about to ask what religion we’d raise our kids. Certainly not what I expected. I roll with it. He knows I’m a Yankees fan. But I know he’s a diehard Mets fan. Frank just threw me a softball question. I’ll take it.
“Mets. Orange and Blue all the way.” If I answered with any other team, he’d crush the lit end of that cigar on my forehead.
He nods, taking another quick puff. I watch the ash hanging off his cigar and wonder what’s coming up next. He’s fucking with me and I have no choice but to take it. Now I know where Julia gets it.
“Football team?”
Shit. We’ve never talked football. Think, Martin, think. He’s a loyal New York sports fan. It has to be the Jets or Giants. At the arcade last Memorial Day, Julia mentioned he had thousands of those crappy foam Jets footballs I saw in a crane game.
“Jets,” I answer confidently.
He nods then leans forward narrowing his eyes.
“Sauce…” he pauses then smirks. “Or gravy?”
The old bastard is enjoying the hell out of this. This has been a long argued debate among Italians. Think. Think.
Memorial Day weekend, Rose offered to make Sunday dinner. Sauce! She called it sauce.
I lean back, rubbing my index finger under my lip. “Sauce,” I say with a satisfied smirk.
He nods, taking a few quick puffs.
My cell pings. I slide the phone out of my pocket and see a message from Julia.
“I’m sorry, I have to answer this. It’s Julia. I don’t want her to get suspicious.”
“By all means,” he says, nodding. No doubt he’s glad he has a little extra time to devise more ways to torture me.
*Hey handsome. What are you up to?*
*In meeting with tough negotiator.*
Tough negotiator is a nice way of saying your father is a ball buster.
*Use the Martin charm. Trust me… it works on men and women.*
I laugh to myself. I’ve come to realize there’s nothing that’s going to charm Frank Conti.
*Don’t think it’ll work on this guy. Emilio’s for dinner?*
*Perfect. See you later.*
I stare at the text for a quick moment. If everything goes according to plan, in a few hours she’ll be my fiancée. It’s mind-blowing. But everything about it feels right.
I slip my cell back into my pocket. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem,” he says casually. “Elvis or Sinatra?”
So much for softballs… now he’s playing hardball. How the fuck should I know if he likes Sinatra or Elvis? The obvious choice is Sinatra, but this could be a trick question. I have to hand it to him; Frank Conti is a sadistic S.O.B. My balls have been in a vice-grip ever since twenty questions began.
I look up to the sky briefly and think back to every conversation I’ve had with every member of the Conti family. There has to be a point of reference. Think. Fucking think.
Then it comes to me. Julia once referred to three pictures, grouped together in her parents’ bedroom. She called it the Holy Trinity:
The Pope, JFK, and Sinatra.
A satisfied smile curls from my lips. I sit up straight, shoulders squared, confident in my answer. “Sinatra.”
“You pay attention. I like that. Do I intimidate you?”
“Right now… yes,” I say with a half-laugh.
He nods, satisfied with my answer. His demeanor suddenly changes and his expression softens. He places the cigar down in a small tin ashtray sitting on the concrete patio next to his chair.
“Why do you want to marry my daughter?” he asks softly.
The tone of his voice moves me. He’s stopped ball busting. This is a man who needs to hear an honest answer. And that’s exactly what I’m going to give him.
“She brings out the best in me. I don’t know how I got so lucky… but through some miracle, she chose me. I want to make her happy for the rest of my life.” I look down, a lump forming in my throat, then back up to him. “Frank… I love her.”
It’s the most honest answer I could give because it’s the absolute truth.
His eyes tear up, revealing his vulnerability. I no longer see a man with a gruff exterior fucking around with me… I see a father who loves his daughter.
And I know coming here was the right decision.
He pats my knee. “I know you do. Are you sure she’ll say yes?”
“No. But I’m hopeful.”
“What if she says no?” he asks.
“I’d keep asking until she changes her mind.”
“You're a determined young man.”
“On things important to me… Yes, I’m very determined.”
“What if I said I didn’t approve?”
“I’d try to persuade you to reconsider.”
“And if I still said no?” He raises a brow.
“I’d respect your answer and ask her anyway,” I tell him honestly.
This can go either way. Frank is a straight shooter; hopefully he’ll appreciate my honesty. Or I just fucking blew it.
He nods. “Good. You don’t take shit from anyone when it comes to my daughter’s happiness. Even me. You make her happy. And my wife would have my balls if I gave you a hard time. Welcome to the family, son.”
He grins and stands from his chair. I join him and we hug. Frank pats me on the back; trying unsuccessfully to hide the tears he’s wiping away. I see it and keep it to myself.
“Woohoo!” We hear coming from inside the house. We both laugh at Rose’s less-than-subtle howling from the kitchen window.
~o0o~
Frank and I walk back into the house. Rose makes a beeline for me, practically knocking Frank over.
“For Christ sake, Rose, don’t attack him.”
“Come here,” She holds her arms open wide. “I need a hug from my newest son-in-law.” She’s practically shouting.
“I haven’t asked her yet. She may not say yes.”
“Of course she’s going to say yes.”
I chuckle and walk over to her as she wraps her arms around me.
“You sweet, sweet young man,” she sa
ys as she rocks me back and forth like a human vice grip. “Thank you for driving out here. I know it’s old fashioned, but she’ll always be his little girl. I know Frank appreciated it,” she whispers in my ear. “Julia’s a lucky girl.”
“Thank you, Rose, but I’m the lucky one.”
“Oh, you’ll look so handsome in your tuxedo. You should have your wedding on the beach. It’s so romantic. Wait here. I’ll get the phone and call Father Donovan.”
“I think we’ll work on getting engaged first,” I tell her, pleased with her excitement.
She releases me from her vice grip embrace and squeezes my cheeks hard between her index finger and thumb. That’s going to bruise.
“Frank was nice to you, wasn’t he?” she asks.
Yeah, about as nice as a lion is to his prey.
I nod. “He was very nice,” I lie.
“Good. Now let’s eat.”
“It’s getting late. I’d like to get back to the city before Julia finishes at work.”
“Nonsense. You have plenty of time. Eat something light,” she says as she drags me by my hand toward the kitchen table. I look down and laugh to myself. Rose’s version of “something light” could feed a small country. There’s sandwiches, a small antipasto platter, two salads, and bread, imported from Staten Island, no doubt. “Sit,” she orders, pulling out a chair.
I glance over at Frank, hoping he’ll throw me a bone and help me out of this. He smiles slyly and holds his hands up in surrender. Once Rose decides you’re hungry… you’re hungry.
If this doesn’t prove how much I’m in love with their daughter, I don’t know what will.
I sit and grab a half of a sausage and pepper sandwich and scarf it down as quickly as I can. It’s Friday. That means traffic. I have to get back to my apartment before Julia gets there. I’ve played tonight over in my head a thousand times. I want it perfect. She deserves perfect.
As I’m finishing my sandwich, talking baseball with Frank, the doorbell rings.
“Who could that be?” Rose asks, feigning surprise. She’s a terrible liar. “I’ll get it.”
She disappears for a minute and walks back in the kitchen with some woman I’ve never met.
“Look, Frank, Stella, our neighbor from next door, dropped by unexpectedly,” Rose says with an exaggerated wink toward Frank.
“He’s not stupid, Rose. He knows you called her,” Frank says, shaking his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, pretending she’s offended, then redirects her attention to me. “Stella, this is Julia’s boyfriend,” she pauses and winks. “Ben Martin. He’s a writer from New York.”
“A writer? And so handsome. Julia’s a lucky young lady.”
I swallow my mouthful of sandwich, smile politely, and nod. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice comes from the living room.
“In here,” Rose calls out.
In walks a tall, blonde middle-aged woman holding an empty plastic container.
“Rose, I wanted to return this to you.” She turns her head to me. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” She winks at Rose. “I’m Susan, Rose’s friend. And you are…?”
God, help me. She knows exactly who I am. It’s blatantly obvious that this is a set-up. I’ve become the neighborhood curiosity… the man who marries the last single Conti.
I’m sitting in the middle of a freak show and somehow I’ve become the freak.
This has to be payback for all my sins.
I stand and offer my hand. “Ben. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Ben is Julia’s boyfriend,” Rose says with another exaggerated wink.
“Oh, isn’t that nice,” Susan replies with a lilt in her voice.
I have to get the hell out of here.
“I’m so sorry ladies; I must get going. I have to get back to the city.”
“Ben has very important things to attend to tonight,” Rose explains, nodding her head. “Very important.” She winks again. I’m starting to wonder if she has something in her eye or a nervous tic.
“Oh… very important,” the women say in unison, nodding their heads.
“I’ll walk you out,” Frank offers, saving me.
“Nice meeting you, Ben,” the curiosity twins say.
“Thank you, same to the both of you.”
Rose walks over to me and gives me another enthusiastic hug, nearly squeezing all the air from my lungs.
“Oh, there’s a little grease from the sandwich on your shirt. Let me dab it with a little dish detergent. It’ll get the stain right out,” she says, grabbing the fabric.
“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it when I get back to my place.” If I didn’t rush to eat, I’d never have the grease.
“Wait, wait! Take a mint. You want nice clean breath when you kiss your girl.”
Before I can get two words out, she shoves a bowl of mints under my nose. I laugh to myself when I notice there’s something imprinted on the wrapper. It’s the name of the funeral home that held my grandmother’s wake. She stole these!
What am I marrying into?
Knowing that Rose will not be satisfied until she sees me eat the mint, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth.
“I expect to hear good news,” she says.
“I hope so.” I kiss her cheek and walk to the front door with Frank.
“You handled the ladies well. You must love Julia very much to put yourself through that.”
“I do,” I answer honestly.
“Remember those two words, and you’ll do fine, son.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I want you to know, no man will ever be good enough for my daughter. But you’re pretty damn close.”
I look down, surprised at how overwhelmed I am at receiving his blessing then look back up at him.
“Thank you, Frank.”
~o0o~
Luck must be on my side. I grab a spot right in front of Emilio’s to pick up the dinner order I called in before I left New Jersey.
“Hi, Mr. Martin,” the hostess says, smiling as always. I don’t know what Julia is talking about; she’s just a friendly girl. I’m sure she’s this sociable with all her customers.
“Hello, Kimberly. I hope all is well with you and your family.”
“They’re good. Thanks.”
“Do you have my order ready? I’m in a hurry.”
She grabs a brown paper bag, stapled at the top and hands it to me.
“I remembered you liked the octopus, so I added it to your order. On the house. A little gift from me.” She winks slyly.
What the fuck is with all the winking women today?
“Thank you. That was very nice of you,” I say, holding out my credit card.
She’s staring at me with a blank expression, standing there like a mannequin. Christ, maybe Julia’s right about her.
“Kimberly, my credit card?” I wave it politely in front of her. I don’t have time for this shit.
She snaps out of her distant mind-space and processes my payment.
“Your girlfriend isn’t here. Are you still with her?” She bites down on her bottom lip, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder.
“Yes, she’s waiting in the car,” I lie. I have to get the fuck out of here.
“Oh,” she says, disappointed. “Well, have a good night.”
“Thank you.”
~o0o~
I hope she’s not here yet. Maybe giving her a key today wasn’t the smartest idea. Then again, I didn’t think I’d be held captive in New Jersey for so long. I open my apartment door and call out.
“Hello. Julia? Are you here yet?”
No answer. Good. I don’t have time to change. I have to get my ass in the study before she opens that door.
I drop the bag of Emilio’s dinner on the kitchen counter then walk through the living room and stop. Is it so fucking difficult to put the coasters back with the other coasters when you’re done using it? I put the stray coaster with the others and continu
e on. I can always tell what room Julia has been in by the trail she leaves behind.
I shouldn’t complain. A misplaced coaster is nothing compared to the two trash bags full of gossip magazines and other crap that fell on top of me when I opened a closet door in her apartment on “Couples Night”.
We’ll figure out all the cohabitation shit once we’re married. Once we’re married… Damn, that sounds good.
I walk into the study and turn on my laptop. Julia has been peeking and making small corrections to my work for months. I can see when the last edits are made. I noticed a few edits were done when I know I wasn’t in this room. That leaves one culprit. Not that I mind. She means well. It’s who she is. Occasionally, I’d have a little fun at her expense and purposely misspell words. I knew it’d drive her crazy.
I stare at the words I typed out this morning after she left for work and shake my head. Stringing these few words together was more meaningful to me and infinitely harder than writing an entire book.
I wasn’t planning on having sex this morning. I wanted to save it, make it special for tonight. But she’s pure temptation… and I knew she was naked. Everything about her is so fucking sexy; the sensual curves of her body, her smoother than silk skin, the little moans she makes when she turns over, her lips, soft and perfect, and the way she looks at me when she first wakes up: sleepy, innocent, and a siren… she’s all those things. It’s impossible to fight my attraction to her.
Once I caught a glimpse of her nipple peeking out above the sheets when she rolled over, my dick was instantly brought to attention. It couldn’t be helped. I had to have her or I’d be a walking hard-on all day thinking of her.
Speaking of walking hard-ons… If she says yes, I’m going to get a fucking billboard in Times Square announcing our engagement so that blue-eyed prick who was undressing her in front of me gets the message loud and clear. Jerk yourself off to someone else, motherfucker. She belongs to me.
I’m glad I made the trip to see Frank and Rose today. Rose is a breath of fresh air. I get a real kick out of her enthusiasm. It’s infectious. I’m pretty certain she’s borderline insane, but I like her a lot. I’m going to gain a hundred pounds with all her “food affection”. And Frank… Jesus, what a ball buster he is, but he’s a good man… and an even better father. Better than the one I was born to.