Romeo, Romeo Read online

  Annabelle got a wineglass, filled it, and leaned against the counter. “Not yet, but there's still time. Mama was just going to tell Rosalie that Joey Manetti is coming to dinner.”

  Before Rosalie could lay into Mama, Papa came in. “What's going on here? Rose told me supper's ready. There's no food on the table. What am I to eat? Plastic?”

  Annabelle laughed. “There's enough of it out there. The tablecloth, the seat covers…”

  Rosalie looked at Mama and then at Papa. She couldn't decide which one she wanted to strangle first. “Hi, Pop. What's new?” He was waiting for his kiss. He wasn't going to get one.

  The doorbell rang. Mama had the dish towel wrung tight between her hands. “That's Joey. Annabelle, get the door and keep your mouth shut. Rosalie, you be nice to Joey. He's a guest.”

  Annabelle grumbled about always missing all the good stuff and stalked off. Rosalie took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice down. “Mama, how dare you invite Joey over. You know I'm seeing someone else.”

  Papa looked at Mama. “Maria?”

  “A cafone. You're seeing an animal.”

  “I'm seeing a nice man who treats me well and respects what I do, unlike Joey. He even takes me out to nice places. As a matter of fact, Thursday night he took me to Pane e Vino in Nolita. You and Papa should go when Pop isn't too busy… working.”

  Papa's eyes bulged. Blood drained from his face. He grabbed the chair beside him. Rosalie wondered if he was going to fall over. That might have gotten her out of dinner, especially if he'd hit his head on the corner of the table and required stitches.

  Mama was too busy wringing her hands to notice Papa's shock. Who would have thought olive skin could change color so quickly? Papa turned the color of that grayish stuff Rosalie used to fill nail holes in the wall. It was probably a good thing Mama was stewing in her own juices. If she'd seen him, she'd have called 911. He looked about ready to pass out, but Rosalie couldn't summon any pity. The way she looked at it, he was lucky Nick had kept her from going after him with the champagne bottle.

  Aunt Rose didn't miss a thing, though she kept her mouth shut, which, when Rosalie thought about it, was even scarier than if she'd screamed and smacked someone upside the head. She surveyed the situation and, as usual, took charge. They didn't call her 'The Colonel” for nothing.

  “Maria, you go make nice with Joey. I don't know what you were thinking inviting him, but now we have to make the best of it.”

  Mama shot one last scathing look at Rosalie and rushed out of the room.

  Papa took a deep breath and straightened. His face, which had been gray a second ago, turned red. Rosalie hadn't seen him look like that since the day after she'd gotten her learner's permit, took the car out by herself, and hit a police cruiser.

  Rose pushed past Rosalie to get to the stove. “I'm going to take the roast out of the oven so it doesn't end up tasting like cardboard. Paulie, take this pasta to the dining room and sit down.” She handed him the bowl. “We don't need you getting in our way. Rosalie, you stay and help make gravy.”

  Rosalie shut her mouth and did as she was told while Aunt Rose pulled the roast out of the oven and placed it on a plate before deglazing the roasting pan with wine.

  She took a deep breath and continued. “It isn't easy being your mother. She don't know what she don't know, and she don't know you. You go your own way; you always did. She tries to make you go her way. She thinks what she's doing is right. She does her best. She worries about you.”

  Rosalie gathered the ingredients for gravy. “I know.”

  Aunt Rose continued to scrape the drippings with a wooden spoon. She pulled the spoon out of the pan and pointed it at Rosalie, swinging it back-and-forth, splattering everything in the area. “When you go out there and eat, be polite and forgive your mama for what she's done.”

  “Okay.” Man, the way that woman wielded a spoon, who needed guns?

  “And leave your papa alone. You already said what you needed to say.”

  She handed Rosalie the spoon to continue with the gravy and picked up a knife.

  Rosalie took a deep breath and a step back—the woman was a menace with a spoon, with a knife she was downright terrifying. “Aunt Rose, I know.”

  Rose crossed herself and looked up to heaven. “Yeah, so do I.”

  “You know?”

  Aunt Rose nodded as she scraped the knife against the sharpening steel. “When men get to be a certain age, they do something stupid. Some buy an expensive sports car; some buy a toupee. Your father, he has all his hair, and he can't afford a second car.”

  “But Aunt Rose…”

  She pointed the knife at Rosalie and shook it. “You stay out of it, Rosalie. No good can come from getting in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you.”

  “But Mama—”

  Aunt Rose made a slashing gesture with the knife, effectively cutting off the rest of the argument. Rosalie stepped back. Aunt Rose looked as if she'd been one of The Three Musketeers in a past life.

  “Your mama made her own bed years ago. She's content to sleep in it. Who are we to judge? Wait until you're married, you'll see.”

  “Oh, yeah, like that's going to happen. I'm never getting married.”

  “That's what you think. I see the man you'll marry. You'll be married within the year.”

  “I see you're crazy. Why would I do something stupid like that?”

  “Amore, Putto, Cupido. You can't run from your fate, and you can't stop it. Love dumbs you up, takes your eyesight, and changes you. You could get a little dumber. You're too smart for your own good. You always were. You take after me.”

  Good Lord, Rosalie hoped not. She watched Aunt Rose slice the meat in perfect thin slices and stayed well away from her. “Yeah, well, you're wrong, old lady.”

  “You think calling me what I am is going to change your stars, you're the crazy one.” She picked up the roast and carried it into the dining room. Rosalie was left stirring the gravy and contemplating slipping out the backdoor.

  “Okay, Rosalie.” Annabelle strode in. “Things are getting tense out there. Mama's wringing her hands, and Pop looks as if he wants to kill someone. Joey's nervous. Even Johnny's starting to shake. You better get out there.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “I don't know. You're the smart one in the family. You'll think of something.”

  “Bring out more wine. That might help. And for God's sake, take that knife away from Aunt Rose. We don't need weapons at the table.”

  “Good point.”

  Rosalie filled the gravy boat, grabbed the ladle on her way to the dining room, and took a deep breath. Someday she'd laugh about this. Not now, but someday.

  “Gravy's done.” Rosalie set it on the table.

  Joey jumped out of his chair. “Hi, Rosalie. It's nice to see you.”

  He pulled out the chair for her; of course, it was the chair next to Johnny the Octopus. She looked up into Joey's eager face and mentally winced. What was she supposed to do? Lie and say it was nice to see him, too? Nope, she couldn't stomach it.

  “Thanks.” She smiled and sat. “Hi, Johnny.”

  Johnny never stopped stuffing his face full of pasta. He nodded with spaghetti still hanging out of his mouth. God, how did Annabelle put up with such a pig?

  Aunt Rose gave Johnny the evil eye. “Johnny De Palma. What? Were you raised by wolves? Don't your people say grace?”

  “Sure. Before we eat. But I'm already on the second course.”

  “We wait until everyone is seated to say grace and eat nothing until the food is blessed.”

  Johnny looked around and saw he was the only one eating. He shrugged and put down his fork and spoon.

  Grace was said, and Joey stuffed his face after a fast “Amen,” not even bothering to make the sign of the cross. Mama passed Rosalie the pasta, puttanesca. How appropriate that she'd made a dish that, if translated into English, would be whore's pasta. Rosalie assumed
it was a not-so-subtle hint. She put about one-tenth of what she wanted on her plate. It was all she could do to ignore the urge to eat right out of the damn serving bowl. The pressure was killing her.

  Rosalie watched Joey, who sat across from her, between Papa at the head of the table and Annabelle. She didn't know how she'd spent two years looking at Joey's face. Not that anything was wrong with it, but it was suddenly annoying, and that was before he opened his big mouth.

  Aunt Rose told her she was getting dumber—ha! Joey was living proof that Aunt Rose was wrong. The smartest thing Rosalie had ever done was refuse to marry Joey. Of course, since meeting Nick, the title “the idiot” had replaced Joey's name in her thoughts. She could see Nick in thirty years asking, “You remember the idiot you used to date before you met me?”

  Rosalie dropped her fork and spoon at the same time. The clatter made everyone jump. Oh, God! What was she thinking?

  “Sorry.” She reached across the table—she knew it was bad manners, but hey, these were desperate times— grabbed the wine bottle, and filled her glass.

  Damn, why couldn't her family get with the program and serve wine like the rest of the world? In wineglasses with stems. Italian wineglasses were what everyone else refer to as juice glasses. They don't hold enough to deal with a dinner like this. Maybe that was why Italians had the world's lowest rate of alcoholism—stingy wine glasses.

  Rosalie downed her wine and would have refilled the thimble-sized glass, if Aunt Rose hadn't been staring. Rosalie heard Aunt Rose's voice in her head. “Drink all the wine you want, little girl. It's not going to change your stars. It's only going to show you how dumb you can be. Salute.”

  Hearing Aunt Rose's voice as clear as if she'd spoken was enough to cause nightmares. She gave Rosalie a knowing smile.

  Johnny nodded toward Joey. “Hey, Joey, what are you doing here?”

  Johnny must have swallowed the huge amount of pasta he'd stuffed into his mouth. Either that, or he was talking with his mouth full, which would have surprised no one.

  “I thought Rosalie dumped you. Are you trying to get her back?”

  Joey wiped his mouth before answering. “She didn't dump me. We've decided to take a break.”

  Rosalie didn't correct him. She hoped he was only saying that to save face and wasn't delusional. But in either case, it was no longer her problem.

  Johnny laughed. “It sounds like a permanent break to me. The guy she's dating let her drive his brand-new Mustang. You see what I'm saying?”

  Johnny turned his eyes to Rosalie and used the tip of his knife to pick his teeth. Ewww. He put his knife down and sat back in his chair. “How long have you and what's-his-name been seeing each other? Since the day after Joey proposed, right, Rosalie?”

  The pig put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. Rosalie stifled the urge to stab him with her fork. Instead, she broke her roll in half and dug an elbow into his ribs. Oops. She heard a pleasing grunt and smiled a feigned apology as she whispered under her breath, “Move your hand, or I'll mail it back to you.” She should have left the damn carving knife on the table.

  Annabelle was too busy watching Joey to notice her fiance's behavior… well, other than his lack of tact, which only pleased her.

  “Who I date, and when, is none of your business,” Rosalie said.

  Annabelle smiled sweetly, which was the equivalent of a warning flare. “That's right. Rosalie can sleep with whoever she wants.”

  Johnny raised his glass with one hand and stroked Rosalie's thigh with the other. “Here, here.”

  Joey choked. Mama started thumping her chest and praying to the Virgin again. Papa drank his wine, slammed the glass down on the table so hard the dishes rattled, and then refilled it. Annabelle smacked Joey on the back as Aunt Rose smacked Annabelle upside the head and cursed her in Italian.

  Rosalie took advantage of the chaos to bend one of Johnny's fingers back until she felt a crack. She didn't know if it was his knuckle cracking or his finger breaking. She didn't care. His face turned red, and he started cursing, too. She calmly rose from the table, went to the front door, gathered her purse and coat, and left the asylum.

  Nick vacuumed the living room, trying to calm down. Cleaning usually relaxed him—today, it wasn't working. There had been half a dozen calls for Rosalie from hysterical family members in the last hour, and Rosalie still wasn't home. Something had happened at dinner.

  Something bad. With every phone call, his worry increased until he was sick with it. The last call came from someone named Aunt Rose. Nick shook his head, wondering what the hell the message meant.

  He turned off the vacuum and listened to the message again.

  “You, the one who Maria calls the cafone, you take good care of my Rosalie. She needs you, but she don't know she needs you. Oh, and you're a good man—stupid, but good. What can I say? All men turn stupid some time—this is your time. At least you won't be buying a toupee in thirty years, you already got a sports car, and you're no cheater. I can die knowing my Rosalie will be happy.”

  Nick wondered if insanity ran in Rosalie's family. That would explain the phone calls. He continued pacing. Dave lay on the couch following Nick's progress, letting out a whine every now and then, as if commiserating.

  Nick needed to find Rosalie. Doing nothing but vacuuming was driving him crazy. He went to the closet, got his jacket, and was putting it on when the front door opened. A weary, haggard, and demoralized-looking Rosalie stepped inside. Christ, she was gone an hour and a half, and she looked as if she'd been tortured for a week.

  “What took you so long to come home? You scared me. I thought… hell, I don't know what I thought.” Nick drew her close and held her. “What happened?”

  He slipped the coat off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Ignoring it, they went to the couch and sat.

  Nick pulled her onto his lap. He still wore his jacket but couldn't figure out how to take it off without letting go of her. She'd tucked her head under his chin, her face resting against his neck, and she had yet to say anything. A quiet Rosalie was disconcerting. “Lee, are you okay?”

  She nodded against his neck. He felt her chest expand as she took a deep breath, as if she was trying to calm herself.

  “Where were you?”

  “Green-Wood Cemetery. I took a walk.”

  “In this cold? Are you nuts? You're frozen.”

  “I had to get out of there, and I was so mad, I didn't want to drive. I turned into the cemetery, parked your car, and took a walk. Then all I wanted was to come home.”

  “What happened?”

  “God, what didn't? Ma invited Joey to dinner—” “The idiot?”

  She nodded, her cold nose moving up and down against his neck.

  “Before he showed up, my mother… God, Nick— she knows. How could she know and stay?”

  “Sweetheart, you don't know—”

  “I know. Aunt Rose said. I don't know how Mama can still live with him.”

  “You talked to your aunt about your father's affair? You told her?”

  “Papa was there when I told them I was seeing someone else and that we'd gone to Pane e Vino in Nolita on Thursday night. Papa looked as if he were about to have a coronary. He knows I know. Then it kept getting worse.

  It was awful. When we sat down to supper, Johnny rubbed Joey's nose in it because I drove your car. He kept putting his greasy hand on my thigh, and then Annabelle said I could sleep with whoever I wanted—”

  “Wait a minute. Who put his hand on you?

  “Johnny.”

  “Who the hell is Johnny?”

  “Annabelle's fiance.”

  “I'll break his fuckin' neck.”

  “Not necessary. I broke his finger. Well, it could have been his knuckle. It was hard to tell.”

  He patted her ass. “That's my girl.”

  “All hell broke loose. Johnny cursed. Joey choked. Mama prayed. Aunt Rose smacked Annabelle. Papa rattled the dishes. And I left.”


  “You're home now. I've got you. It's going to be all right”

  “You feel so good.” She snuggled closer. “Where were you going? You have your jacket on. And why is your prized vacuum out?”

  'There are a ton of crazy messages from your family. I knew something was wrong. What can I say? I vacuum when I worry. Not that it helped. I had to do something so I was going to find you.”

  “I don't need a knight in shining armor, Nick. I take care of myself.”

  He tried not to laugh. Sure, she took care of herself, but she'd been clinging to him since the second she walked through the door. She'd come home, because she had to see him. She'd die before she'd admit it, but she needed him, even if it was only to hold her. Maybe old Aunt Rose wasn't crazy after all.

  “Did you eat?”

  She shook her head. “Not a bite.”

  “Good, me, either. I'll throw together a quick meal.”

  “Great.”

  “What do you feel like?” “Anything but puttanesca”

  Nick raised an eyebrow at that but thought it best not to ask any more questions.

  She gave him a squeeze and a slow, thorough kiss before sliding off his lap. “I'm going to take a hot shower. I'm still cold to the bone, and I want to wash off the icky feeling of Johnny's sweaty hand. God, he's such a pig. I might have to burn this skirt.”

  “You sure you don't want me to pay him a visit? I'll teach him to keep his hands to himself.”

  She patted his cheek. “That's a sweet offer. Cro-Magnon, but sweet.”

  Nick wrapped his arm around her waist as she slid back on his lap. He held her hips as he moved beneath her and whispered in her ear. “I know how much you like it when I play 'caveman.'“

  He nipped her earlobe, and she groaned. “Oh, yeah. Let me get a shower; you get your club. I'll meet you in the cave in a half hour.”

  “Take your time. I have to hunt for food first.”

  “It's a date.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the three months she and Nick had been together, they'd fallen into a comfortable routine. Nick took Dave to work with him most days, and he cooked dinner most nights. Rosalie almost always helped Nick with the dishes. Sometimes, if Nick worked late, they'd go to DiNicola's for a bite. And today Rosalie was, as usual, running late for her Monday morning staff meeting. Shoot.