A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  Feeling warm and fuzzy inside, Martino watched Witteveen twist around on the bad ankles he droned on about when he wasn’t mentioning his bowel troubles. As quickly as he could, the man shuffled in between chairs and stunned Starbucks patrons. His eyes bugged out a little more when he saw Eilish and a vein popped from his forehead when he noticed the position of her slender hand. ‘You dirty dog! What’s the big idea getting your damn granddaughter to do your dirty work, Rotolone?’

  ‘Whaddya mean?’

  ‘What do you think I mean? Damn it, you set this up to keep me busy, you old pig!’

  ‘Oink Oink.’ Martino grinned, but his glee was short-lived.

  Teeth clenched, Lesley reached the side of the table, dabbing at the stains on her dress. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ She tried to pierce him with a sharp look and shut him up, but he wouldn’t look at her. She threw up her hands and turned to Mike. ‘Mike, you’ve got the wrong id—’

  ‘Shut up, cow.’ Witteveen’s head jerked around and glared at her. His red nose went even redder.

  The colour was so livid Martino thought the old coot had burst a blood vessel. He kissed the back of Eilish’s hand making sure the Dutchman noticed.

  ‘Get your meat hooks off my girl!’ Witteveen barked.

  ‘She’s not your girl,’ Martino gazed into the pair of beautiful blue eyes across the table, ‘are you, Bella?’

  Giggling, Eilish bowed her gorgeous red head and looked up at the two men through lowered lashes, her fingers stroked the bouquet of pink tea roses on the table.

  ‘Mrs Flanagan,’ Witteveen stared at Eilish, touched her shoulder, and dropped his voice an octave, ‘Come, let me take you away from here, away from this...greasy boar and this noisy place.’

  The manager, a chubby Asian-American girl in a green apron, had had enough. She squeezed into the edge of the fray, her face pinched. ‘You’re disturbing the other customers. Now quiet down or leave!’

  Lesley grasped his elbow, digging in her stubby nails. ‘I’m so sorry. There’s been a small misunderstanding, but they’re done now. Aren’t you GP?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s done but I’m not.’ Witteveen flashed his teeth and grabbed a handful of Martino’s shirt, trying to pull him out of his chair. His fist rose. The blow caught Lesley’s upper chest. She stumbled backwards into the round table, knocking over a half-drunk iced tea that splashed all over a teenage girl standing in line with her mouth agape.

  ‘That’s it!’ The manager yelled, ‘All of you get out or I call the cops!’

  Outraged, Martino let go of Eilish, put his palms flat on the table, and pushed to his feet. ‘Don’t you touch my granddaughter!’ He gave Mr. Irritable Bowel a shove, hoping the stronzo would fall on his ass and wind up with piles.

  ‘Will you two act your age?’ Lesley shouted as Witteveen tried to take a retaliatory swing. She stepped in between them, shoulders back, arms stretched out.

  ‘Crispin!’ the manager yelled over the noise, ‘call the police!’

  ‘All right GP, you heard the lady. She’s calling the cops. Now this is over. It’s over!’

  ‘That’s not for you to decide, Sweater Girl.’ He sat down and his gaze slid to the lovely Irish redhead. ‘Is it over, ciccina mia?’

  Eilish glanced from one man to the other and giggled again. Then she made her choice. She gave Martino the coquettish smile that made it feel like he had Dr Pepper bubbling through his bloodstream. ‘Oh, Marty,’ she murmured.

  No one had ever called him Marty before her; it had always been Tino, Martino, or GP. Marty made his toes curl up in his Docs, made him feel possessive and forty years younger.

  Witteveen wheezed.

  Lesley glared and shook her head.

  Marty knew he could be an S.O.B., but he’d never, ever cut another man’s lunch. He stood and sneered up at a desiccated old fart who’d forgotten what it meant to be a friend. ‘You knew how I felt. You knew and you didn’t care. Well, buddy, you’ve got a lot of nerve to muscle in. Cazzo, you stabbed me in the back and I should sock you right in the button, but you ain’t worth it.’

  For a second, Witteveen’s lips stretched across his precious teeth, his breath rattled like the paper bag under his arm. He backed up towards the entrance. ‘Know what you are, Big Wheel?’ he bellowed, ‘You’re a user. A user!’

  Marty’s mouth rose in satisfaction as he lifted both middle fingers. ‘Quit wasting my time with your fake friendship and take a big bite of fuck off.’

  Chapter 14

  ‘Don’t stand there and glare at me like Number Five. Pia’s not calling the police,’ GP smiled at the manager,’ Are you Pia?’

  ‘No, Mr Rotolone.’ Pia shook her head and went on frothing milk from the other side of the counter.

  ‘See, Lesley? Pia knows all’s fair in love and war,’ he turned to look at John Tilbrook’s aunt, his face softening. ‘And this is love. Don’t you get that? Witteveen was trying to steal my Eilish.’

  It didn’t matter how he explained it, or that he said he’d buy her a new dress, or how he’d just bought everyone in Starbucks a coffee. Her grandfather had used her as a pawn, exactly the way Mike Witteveen had said. She glowered. ‘Next time, get someone else to do your dirty work.’

  ‘My dirty work? How was I supposed to know you’d come here?’

  ‘Please. Even if you didn’t plan this, I should crack your old skull anyway.’

  ‘Ah, figa mia, we both know you’ve got something else that needs cracking.’ He winked and gave her a little push towards the door. ‘Now run along and give us some peace.’

  Lesley gave up. She just yielded to the fact there was nothing to argue about and left the coffee shop shaking her head.

  Grumbling under her breath, she walked up Central Avenue towards the parking lot Trujillo’s shared with several other shops. Across the street, in front of the Chamber of Commerce and Dawn’s Donuts, she saw Kyle Brennan with his puppy.

  She frowned. Dominic’s Cherokee hadn’t been in the lot when she arrived to park her Bronco in front of Home Run Pizza. But the boy was nearby which meant his father might be too.

  She checked out the other cars, looking for Dominic’s Jeep or Trujillo’s grubby old delivery truck. Neither vehicle was present. She took a moment to scan the store’s interior though the plate glass windows, peeking around the posters advertising specials.

  Satisfied the coast was clear, the automatic doors opened and she stepped inside, making a beeline to the counter with the popcorn machine. Daphne, the salesgirl who had helped her before, looked up from the fat inventory book open beside the cash register. She had electric green ink all over her tawny fingers. ‘Hi,’ she smiled. ‘Can I help you?’

  Lesley smiled back and glanced around like she was casing the joint for security cameras. ‘Is Mr. Brennan here?’

  ‘No, he’s out on a landscaping job today.’ Daphne put the lid back on the highlighter she’d been using. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

  ‘I had an order for some garden pebbles. He told me they would be in by this afternoon.’

  Daphne grabbed a clipboard and rustled though the papers attached to it. ‘Yes, six, forty-pound bags of white pebbles, sixteen to twenty-five millimetres, are here. They’re slotted for delivery later today.’

  ‘Well, cancel that. I’ll take them now and settle up my account.’

  A few minutes later, a dolly cart stacked with two hundred and forty pounds of stones beside her, Lesley opened the rear door of the Bronco. The bags were about the size of a small child. Individually, they weighed a little less than half of what she did. Since the top of the stack and the bed of the Ford were nearly level, she was able to slide the first two bags of rocks inside. The third one took a little bit of careful muscling, considering her leather-soled sandals offered poor traction on the dusty pavement under her feet.

  When she turned back for the fourth, Dominic stood behind her with the bag in his hands. ‘I told you I’d bring these by,’ he frowned, dumping t
he sack into her old SUV.

  ‘I can manage,’ she said, a knife-edge to her tone.

  Involuntarily, Dominic looked her up and down and desire spiked him between the eyes. Unlike her usual formless overalls, her sleeveless, pale green dress was fitted down to her waist and showed off an hourglass shape. There were brown stains across her breasts, breasts he wanted to fill his palm. He swore and grabbed another armload of pebbles. He tossed them into the Bronco and swore again when she yanked the next one off the dolly. ‘Give me that.’ He reached out and planted his hand on the bag

  ‘I’ve got it.’

  ‘Just shut up and let me do the job you paid for.’

  The spark that had been missing with John flared into a hot glow that was about to melt everything in sight. Lesley let go of the plastic and watched him dump the rocks into the Ford. She wanted to wipe the sweat from his brow and lick the taste off her fingers. Her hands shook. She dug her nails into her empty palms, to keep them still, to keep them from touching him, and waited for him to finish.

  Dominic didn’t say anything when he turned around. She didn’t say anything either.

  Dominic shuffled his feet.

  Lesley tried to find someplace to put her hands.

  Cars moved up and down Central Avenue, some pulled in or out of the parking lot. A gust of hot, dry wind lifted old leaves and dirt, forming a dust devil that spun over the sidewalk and danced across the street.

  He exhaled. ‘All right, let’s talk.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Aren’t we friends?’

  ‘Is that what you thought?’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  She shrugged, trying to make it casual. ‘I guess I did. But let’s lay the cards on the table here. What do you want from me, Dominic? Are you trying to soothe a guilty conscience? If that’s it, then you’re pardoned.’

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Don’t ask me what I want and then fill in the blank with your own assumption. We both know where that leads. Let’s just be honest.’

  Her hands moved at her sides as if she were searching for pockets that weren’t on her dress. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Me, too. I’m sorry Terry is such an asshole.’

  ‘Don’t apologise for him. You’re not responsible.’

  ‘Of course I am. He’s my damn brother and I’m his frickin’ keeper.’ Dominic put his hand against the rear window and pushed it down, his sweaty palm making a damp imprint on the glass. ‘Let’s go someplace and talk. It’s hot out here.’

  The only heat Lesley noticed didn’t come from the blazing sun over head. It shimmered and radiated from Dominic. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘The kind of stuff friends talk about. Come on,’ he shut the tailgate, ‘let’s get some coffee.’

  Lesley glanced at her watch, pretending to check the time as if she had someplace to be. ‘I just had coffee.’

  ‘So,’ his eyes flicked over her, up her legs to her hips and waist, moving along to her breasts, lingering on the stains just where her nipples were, ‘is that what you’re wearing?’

  A few weeks ago, through the back windows of the house, this man had seen her wearing nothing but a pair of flip flops, but at the moment, with his blue flame gaze travelling over her coffee-stained dress, Lesley had never felt more naked in her life.

  The gleaming smile Pia gave Dominic faded as soon as she saw who was standing beside him at the counter. A scowl made her eyes disappear into her round face. Lesley pretended not to notice she was being glared at. She ordered an iced tea while Dominic got one of the fancy ice blended coffee drinks.

  He pulled out his wallet. ‘It’s on me,’ he said, handing the correct change to the frowning manager.

  Lesley crossed her arms. ‘You’re damn right it’s on you.’

  Dominic chuckled. When she turned around, he followed her to an empty table, which took them past GP and his new girlfriend. They were exactly where they had been twenty minutes ago, sitting right in front of the window.

  Still irritated, Lesley gave him a frosty nod instead pausing to say hello and introduce Dominic to Mrs Flanagan, although, it was clear the elderly redhead didn’t feel snubbed by a lack of acknowledgement. She was so busy staring into her new beau’s eyes, three-nosed orange aliens with atomic laser pistols could have taken over Starbucks and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  Dominic slid into a chair. By the time Lesley sat down, he’d rested his ankle on his knee, set his cell phone on the checkerboard table top, and tossed an arm over the back of his seat. He was looking a little too comfortable, too ridiculously handsome, and too much like that overzealous sculptor’s carving come to life: big, hard and all man. The smear of dirt on his neck, the sunburned slightly crooked nose, the scrape across the back of his fine knuckles, and the sweat marks under his arms made him seem ludicrously masculine.

  Tawdry images filled her mind. With a cough, Lesley set her attention on her ragged fingernails. What was she doing sitting with him? Why had she agreed to do this? This weird association, this fake friendship and these unreal feelings, were completely pointless. She was here to work and spend time with family. In a few weeks she’d be back in Chicago. She didn’t have time to have a summer romance. Summer romances were for people Kyle’s age, not forty-somethings who owned their own renovating businesses.

  All right, so she was middle-aged, but forty was the new thirty, and she wasn’t quite in her autumn years yet. Some things had changed colour, but there were still plenty of leaves on the tree of her life, which meant she still had time for a fling before all her foliage dropped off.

  She coughed again and realised she could be polite, make small talk and treat him civilly for the rest of time she was in town. Or she could come up with some kind of excuse and make an exit. She could leave before her hormones took over and made her do something really stupid because if he touched her again the spark between them would ignite into a firestorm she couldn’t outrun. She sighed.

  Dominic saw it coming. She was going to blow him off.

  ‘You know, I’ve got a lot to do today. Thanks for the tea. When it’s ready I’ll just grab some sugar and—’

  Before she could push back her chair and stand, Dominic tossed over four small brown packets. They landed next to her hand. ‘That’s your grandfather over there, isn’t it?’ he said, pointing to the table near the window.

  She nodded and glanced over her shoulder. Then she shifted in her seat again and rubbed her fingernails. She wouldn’t look at him. Glory days, she was still pissed – or worse; she thought he was boring. ‘Clementine’s getting her shots today,’ Dominic said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, knowing she liked his son’s puppy and hoping it was enough to get her to stay put a little while longer.

  Lesley maintained focus on her cuticles. ‘That’s good. She’ll be able to meet other dogs now, right?

  ‘Yeah, and maybe Kyle will quit bugging me and impress someone at puppy preschool. No more, “Dad, look, she’s sitting! Dad, she can stay! Hey, Dad, she can lick her own…”’

  ‘Lick her own what?’ Lesley raised her eyes to meet his. The redness that had been limited to Dominic’s sunburned nose suddenly seemed to affect his ears. She smiled.

  ‘Chops. She can lick her own chops.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Still glad you got him a dog instead of a car?’

  ‘Damn straight. That dog’s the best t—’

  ‘Iced tea and a mocha Frappuccino!’ Pia called out.

  Dominic got up to retrieve the two cold drinks. A second later, he set the tea on the table and sat back down sucking his icy mocha through a green straw.

  Lesley tried to pick up where they’d left off. ‘You were saying, the dog’s the best…’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Dominic chewed on the end of his straw for a moment. ‘When I look back and gauge the gifts I’ve given to my son, this one seems to be the most significant. I mean a computer is a learning tool, an
X-Men Number One comic is a valuable collectible, but a dog is a living creature.’ He paused and cocked his head to the side. ‘This is going to sound a little strange, but when I see Kyle taking care of Clementine, putting so much effort into her well-being, I feel satisfied.’

  ‘Because you did a good job raising him, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So why not congratulate yourself?’

  A funny expression came over his face. ‘I don’t know what went wrong with Terry. I tried hard with him. I tried to teach him the same things I taught Kyle, but cha—’

  ‘Let’s not talk about your brother.’ Lesley glanced at her tea. Dominic was making quick work of his beverage, slurping away like mad while she hadn’t touched her drink. Condensation ran down the outside of the cup, a pool of water formed around the base. The sweating plastic reminded her it was hard to look at him without feeling like she was dribbling in nearly the same way. She dumped in two sugars and hoped it look like a natural action.

  Dominic had a long suck of drink. ‘Is the kitchen still coming tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Seven-thirty.’

  ‘I’ll be there at seven.’

  ‘You don’t have to come.’

  ‘I told you I would.’

  ‘Yeah, but I thought we’d set—’

  ‘I said I would, Lesley. And I meant it. I’ll be there at seven.’

  ‘You always keep your word, don’t you?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said and changed the subject. ‘Hey, I know we weren’t in high school at the same time, but were you in the same class with Marcus or Christian? I can’t remember.’

  ‘They’re both older than me, Terry’s younger than me, and I went to Saint Michael’s in Santa Fe.’

  ‘Well, that explains why you weren’t in any of the yearbooks Fabian and I looked through.’

  ‘You looked for me in yearbooks?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Lesley felt the smile stretch across her face. He such was a surprising man. ‘You were hoping to draw horns and an eye patch on me, weren’t you?’