by Posey Parks
Dillon calmly stood to his feet; dusted his pants off. He stood toe to toe with Elvin. It didn’t matter if Elvin was a bit taller than him and in the third grade. Dillon grabbed Elvin by his shirt and ran him back against the wall. “I told you I pushed you by accident,” Dillon said looking the boy square in the eye.
Dillon held his forearm against the boy’s neck so he couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t ever come near me again or else,” Dillon said. He turned to walk out of the bathroom, but was met by his teacher. His teacher saw what Dillon did, however not what Elvin did.
My ex-wife and I met with Dillon’s teacher and the principal. When the teacher explained what she saw I couldn’t help but smile knowing my boy held his own. That is the Magarelli way. No one fucks with you and gets away with it. That’s when it hit me hard knowing my children will never know my side of their family. The principal broke my train of thought. “Mr. Westbrook. Do you find this funny?”
“No!” I responded.
“But I’m not sorry my son defended himself against a bully. Please see that this doesn’t happen again.”
“Mr. Westbrook, if Dillon reacts violently again in a situation like this; he will be suspended.”
When the principal warned me, I wanted to show her the power I held. I wanted to send a warning to her house nothing too big just a few mice in a box waiting for her on the porch. When she turned to look around to see if the culprit was still there. She would see me standing across the street, smiling behind my sunglasses. That would make her rethink threatening me.
My uncle Bruno would say, “Matters like that you can handle yourself. You don’t need to send muscle.”
My ex-wife responded for me. “We understand Principal Daly.”
FLASHBACK
I hate not being able to be me. Nevertheless, let me get back to what happened with my dad and me.
After leaving the bar my dad, brother, and I drove home. I ran into the house, passing my coat to the maid. Whenever a car would arrive at my house a member of our staff would be there to take their coats. I headed up to my bedroom.
“Dillon!” my father called out.
I froze on the stairs. I gulped hard before turning around to face him. Dominic stopped on the stairs next to me.
“What’s your problem?” he quizzed angerly.
“Nothing.”
“If you say so.” My brother continued upstairs.
My eyes left Dominic and fell on my dad standing in the atrium.
“Dillon, come down,” he demanded.
The stern angry gaze was similar to the one he held while killing the man at the bar.
I was deathly afraid of my father at this point. However, I made it down the stairs quickly standing before him. He placed his hand on my shoulder as we walked towards his study. He closed the door behind us once inside.
“Dillon, have a seat on the couch.”
I quietly sat down. My father sat down next to me.
“Dillon, tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Dad, what did the man do to make you so angry?” I swallowed.
“Son, he stole from me.”
“Why do they call you boss? The men don’t dress the same as they do at your office.”
“Son, in due time I will explain everything to you.”
My dad firmly placed his hand on my shoulder. I gazed up at him, eyes wide.
“Son, I don’t care how you perceived what happened today. I want you to know I love you and I would not ever harm you. I would kill anyone who tried to bring harm to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, dad,” I smiled.
My father pulled me into his embrace holding me longer than normal. He kissed the top of my head.
My dad looked me in the eyes again. “Alright Dillon, remember this is between you and me. Capish?”
I laughed. “Capish Dad!” I replied with an Italian accent.
“Now go have some fun,” he said with a smile.
“See you later dad.”
I had nightmares for a week after that day. However, me and my father’s relationship became stronger.
Despite my dad being a ruthless murderer, he was my loving dad.
I knew after that day my father wasn’t just a lawyer. He was something much more. After school, I began watching mob movies privately in my bedroom. I put two and two together. I remembered Sid called my father boss then changed it to Mr. Magarelli. My father was a mob boss and after closer observation I found out my uncle Mickey was number two in charge. I’ll tell you later how I found out about that.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JEFF
I strolled through the store throwing a few key items into the cart to appease my adorable children and something special for me.
Having a temper and keeping my anger under control I think is in my blood. Its inbred in me. My real name is Dillon Sergio Magarelli. I am Italian American. My father is Italian and my mother is Caucasian. We are Americanized Italians. It was important to my father that my brother and I learn Italian. It was important to my mother that we act and live like true Americans. She never wanted the mafia life for us. Sometimes I wonder why would my mother get mixed up with a man like my father if she didn’t want that life for us. I can see how my mother got wrapped up with my father. He can be quite charming. However, when it comes to business he’s ruthless. My Uncle Bruno once said crossing my father is the last thing anyone should do.
I stood in the long check-out lane, patiently waiting for the cashier. Moving up in the line allowed me to finally place my items on the conveyer belt. After placing my last item on the belt, I placed the small dividing bar behind my groceries, so the next person could place their items behind mine. I began thinking about what me and the kids are going to do this weekend. My thoughts were interrupted.
“I see you have great taste in beer that’s my favorite,”
she stated.
I turned my head glancing back at the woman smiling at me.
“Thanks. After a long day of work this is what I need,” I replied.
“It appears you are a bit of a gourmet chef from the looks of the fish and scallops,” she smiled.
“I can cook a little.” I smiled at the beautiful woman as the cashier started scanning my grocery items.
“It’s nice to see a man who knows how to cook.”
“Yeah, I do it for the kids.” We both laughed.
I gave the cashier a $50 bill then waited for my change. The kid who was previously bagging the groceries stepped away.
“$9 dollars and 23 cents is your change.
Have a nice evening sir,” said the cashier.
“Thank you,” I replied as I started to pick up my bags.
“You know what I will bag her groceries to help keep your line moving,” I smiled as I sat my bags to the side.
“Thanks,” said the cashier and the woman consecutively.
The woman sighed. “I plan to drink a beer while watching Law and Order.”
I smiled as I stole another glimpse of her.
“I love all the Law and Order shows!”
I bagged the last of her items as she swiped her card.
“Oh yeah? I do to. My favorite is Special Victims Unit,”
she replied.
We grabbed our bags, walking out the store together.
“Did you see last week’s episode when her and her son were in the park and the little boy pulled the gun from his back pack?”
“I did! That was crazy!”
She stopped at her truck, opened the trunk, placing the bags inside.
“I used to be equally addicted to Criminal Intent.”
“Me to. The partnership between the two main detectives on the show was weird, but in a good way.”
“Right!” she stated.
“I’m sorry. I’m rude I didn’t get your name,” I said extending my hand for hers.
“Sierra,” she stated shaking my hand.
“My name is Jeff.”
>
It was something about her. I didn’t want to stop talking to her.
I awkwardly pulled my hand away.
“What’s the name of the restaurant you work at?” she asked with a wide grin.
I chuckled. “Sorry to bust your bubble, but I work in construction.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t have guessed. Your hands are not rough but not soft either.”
“Oh, that’s only because of the Lava soap I use when washing my hands. It gives you more of an even normal feeling.”
“Really!” she asked surprisingly.
I let out a huge laugh from my belly. The look on her face was the cutest.
She really believed me.
“No, I’m just messing with you.”
“Oh! You got me. That was from the commercial.”
I wanted to keep talking to this beautiful brown woman all night. Her dark hair fell right past her shoulders. Her thick eye lashes and gray eyes kept my attention along with her big beautiful smile. She’s got to be about 5’9 in height. Her honey brown skin is beautiful.
“As much as I would love to stand here and talk to you. The store is closing and I don’t want to keep you out here after the parking lot lights turn off. I feel bad your ice cream probably melted by now.”
“Oh, shoot that’s right,” she frowned briefly.
“Can I call you sometime?”
She blushed. “Yes,” she replied.
I retrieved my cell phone from my back pocket. “What’s your phone number?”
“My name is Sierra spelled S-i-e-r-r-a.
My phone number is 503 555 4517,” she stated.
“I look forward to talking to you soon,” she smiled, turned, climbing into her truck.
I walked away with the biggest smile warming my face.
Opening the cab of the truck, I placed my bags inside, then jumped behind the steering wheel and drove away. I still held that silly grin on my face as I drove out of the parking lot. I enjoyed talking to her.
I scooped up my cell from the passenger seat then dialed her number.
The phone rang twice. I thought about hanging up. What are we going to talk about now? I thought.
“Hello,” she answered.
I could hear the smile in her voice which made me smile.
“Hello Sierra, its Jeff.”
“Hey Jeff. What are your plans for this evening?”
“I’m on my way home. I am cooking cod and scallops for dinner.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“What are your plans for this evening?”
“I’m going to sit in bed in front of the TV, eating my watery ice cream.”
We both laughed.
“I’m just getting home. Let me open the ice cream to see how bad its melted.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” asked Sierra.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to run some errands then pick up my kids from school. We are going to have movie night. My daughter Lily will probably want to watch Elsa’s movie for the 50th time.
However, when she asks to watch her favorite movie and I look down at her cute little face; how can I say no. I want you to know I could serenade you with the Frozen song,” I laughed as I placed the groceries in the fridge.
“Oh well I’m ready serenade away.”
“I’m not a good singer, but here it is, “Do you want to build a snow man? Come on let’s go and play.”
“Alright, Jeff someone watches a lot of Frozen,” she chuckled.
I laughed aloud. “What you don’t like my singing?”
I placed the fish in the oven.
Walking into the living room, I kicked off my shoes, then turned on the TV before taking a seat on the couch.
“Turn on Law and Order SVU it’s a new episode!” she stated excitedly.
“I’m turning to it now. What is the damage on your ice cream?”
She sighed. “Watered down. I placed it in the freezer for a bit.”
“Tell me about yourself Sierra.”
“Well I’m from Atlanta. Moved out here for college. Attended the University of Oregon. Married my college sweetheart. Short version we are divorced. We have two beautiful children Shana and Jason. 5 and 3.”
I could hear in her voice she didn’t want to go to deep into her life. I understand we just met.
I sat straight up in my recliner. “Wait a minute I graduated from U of O too!”
“Small world!”
She was silent for a moment.
“I’ll tell you now because you will probably learn about it soon anyway. My ex-husband is Jeremy Crawford who plays Quarterback for the…”
“Seattle Seahawks!”
“Yeah. Is that going to be a problem? I know we are only getting to know each other, not dating.”
Her voice held a sense of somberness. I was drawn to her even more in that very moment, because genuinely she was interested in me.
I smirked. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“Good! What about you? Wait let me guess. You are from Jersey!”
A huge lump formed in my throat. I stood to my feet. How could she guess where I am from just like that? We just met.
“Jeff?”
“Yes, I am here. Sorry that’s a good guess. I didn’t realize you could recognize my accent.”
“Yeah, I took a dialect course in college. It was an elective. I can always figure out where someone is from.”
Does she know who I really am? I pray she doesn’t because I really like her.
“I’d like to take you out next Wednesday if that is alright?”
Spending time with her in person, might help me figure out if she has a clue of who I am.
“Yes. I will ask my best friend to babysit.”
“Great, I can pick you up at 7 p.m.”
“Sounds good.”
I could hear her smiling. Luckily, she couldn’t hear my fast heartbeat.
“What are you cooking the kids for breakfast Saturday?”
“Pancakes, waffles, sausage, and eggs.”
“Wait, you’re going to cook all that?”
“Yes!”
“You are a great dad. That is so cool!”
“Thank you. Tomorrow night we’ll camp out underneath the stars on the back porch looking up at the stars.”
“That is a great idea. We might do the same this weekend.”
We talked until 2 a.m., finally ending our phone conversation.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SIERRA
I can’t believe I struck up a conversation with a total stranger. My best friend Emoni told me I need to get back out there. Take life by the horns. Don’t wait for a man to approach me. I decided to take her advice. Rarely, do I have time to go out to a night club. Besides those guys only have one thing on the brain; sex.
THE ENCOUNTER
Reaching inside the glass case, I grabbed a gallon of chocolate milk. After placing the milk into the cart, I glanced ahead, continuing on my way. The handsome man standing at the seafood counter caught my eye. Ladies stare at him in passing.
His muscular body is a beautiful sight, so is his slender lips. How I would love to intertwine our lips. His smile brightens his entire face. Those pearly white teeth are perfect. His square jawline is slightly hidden beneath the defined full beard. I love a man with a beard.
I could see it now my nose nuzzled against his chiseled cheek while holding his huge biceps. Every one of us ladies staring at him will have a wet dream starring Mr. Sexy Muscles. The way his chest presses against the green flannel shirt. What I would give to watch him peel off that shirt and admire how it slides down his rippling muscles.
I’m already infatuated with his brown hair, eyebrows, mustache and beard. I would love to run my fingers through his curly hair.
His slim yet rounded nose is also sexy. I love the way his eyes set back perfectly under his thick brows. What else can I say his eyes complete his impeccable brooding appearance.
I couldn’t d
etermine the best time to approach him. Should I have rolled my cart alongside his and struck up a conversation?
He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that meant nothing he could still be married or have a girlfriend. The bag of chicken nuggets resting in his cart told me maybe he had kids, which was a good thing. He might be a little accepting of mine.
“Excuse me Miss. Would you like to try a cup of mocha coffee. Take a coupon too. The iced coffee is in the refrigerated case behind you.”
I waved my hand and smiled. “No thank you ma’am.”
My eyes shot back over to the seafood case, he disappeared. I decided to forget it. Maybe I would see him another day. As fate would have it, I stood in the same checkout line as him. I took a deep breath, swallowing past the lump in my throat. The words fell out of my mouth.
“I see you have great taste in beer. That’s my favorite.”
When he glanced over his shoulder at me the butterflies flipped in my belly nonstop. His smile was even better up close. This man is taller than me, his eyes stare at me as if he sees me; the real me. I guess he was interested because he bagged my groceries and walked out of the store with me. Keeping my smile even not too much just enough. I was ecstatic when he asked for my phone number.
After our sublime conversation, I sat in my truck hyperventilating. I couldn’t believe we talked until the store closed. I wondered if he noticed how nervous I was. Happiness swept through my body like a gush of wind. The icing on the cake was Jeff calling me once in his truck. We talked until the wee hours of the morning. A smile curled my lips.
“Mrs. Crawford, Mrs. Crawford.”
I shook my head, falling out of my day dream.
“Are you alright? You’ve vacuumed the same spot for the last ten minutes.”
I smiled. “Yeah, Quinn. I’m perfect.”
FLASHBACK
The last time I felt like this was my Sophomore year in college.
My best friend Emoni Morgan invited me to a campus party taking place at a well-known Frat house. She waited until the last minute to invite me. 6:15 p.m. the clock read when she stormed into my room.