My Dirty Detour: An Alpha Male Mafia Comedy Romance
Page 23
“I guess so. It’s only fair. After all, you let me in your secret door last night!” This time he got hit in the stomach instead of just poked.
We pulled around to the back loading dock where Rocky kept his Mustang parked. Since we were going in the back door, we had to pass through the factory to get to his apartment. There was a familiar hum of equipment but no other people around.
“It’s empty in here,” I remarked.
“All the employees get the day off on Sunday. It’s usually just me here. Well sometimes Sergio too, depending on what he did the night before. Occasionally he needs a day to sleep it off.”
We made our way past the front desk and went into Rocky’s office. I had only been in there a few times. The office was sparsely furnished with only a desk and a chair in the middle of the room. The desk was black metal with a glass top and looked pretty modern. A large cushy black chair on wheels sat behind the desk. The wall across the room was taken up by a long black leather sofa. There were no pictures on the brick walls and nothing to show that the owner personalized his space in any way. However, a giant book shelf encompassed the entire back wall of the office. It stood from floor to ceiling and not one inch of it was empty. There were books in every shape and size. I was curious to see what type of reading material he had, so I took a closer look. I found several volumes on the history of alcohol, classics from English literature, medical journals, dictionaries, encyclopedias, mysteries, horror novels, gardening books, and biographies. He had enough variety to fill a small library.
“Did you read all these?” I asked skeptically.
Rocky laughed and locked the office door behind us. “No, Violet. Are you ready to see my secret door?”
That sounded kind of scary. “Am I?”
Rocky told me to close my eyes and turn around. I really didn’t want to, but I did anyway. I heard him shuffle over behind me toward the book shelf and then a slow scraping noise followed. I turned back around to see the bookshelf going into the wall, revealing a secret passage.
“Holy shit! That’s awesome! You built that?” I exclaimed.
“No, it came with the place. I remodeled a bit, but I kept that. How could I not? Do you like it?”
“I love it! What book did you pull to activate the secret door? Who knows about the secret door? How do you open it from the other side? I WANT ONE!”
“Easy there, tiger. One thing at a time. I’m not telling you what book opens the door. That’s top secret. Only Sergio and Dmitry know. No one else knows. I mean Vasily and Irina know about the door and they’ve been to my apartment, but they don’t know what book to pull.”
I peeked around the door to see what was on the other side. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect some rock walls lit only by flaming torches. Perhaps some hieroglyphic art and a troll to lead us down a dark passageway. Nope, none of the above. The wall opened up about five feet leading into an apartment. The apartment had some upscale touches and the kitchen was beyond my wildest dreams, but I was disappointed at the lack of trolls.
“You look upset, Violet, what’s wrong?” Rocky asked, concerned.
“The passageway was cool but I sort of expected it to lead to a dungeon or something. Not that your place isn’t exceptional, I just had high expectations after the entrance,” I admitted.
He shook his head and mumbled something about women never being happy. “Does this mean you don’t want the grand tour?”
“No, I want a tour. Lead the way.”
“Fine. Living room,” he pointed right, “Kitchen,” he pointed straight ahead, “and bedroom with a bathroom,” he pointed left.
That tour sucked. I’ll explore on my own. I had to admit, despite the lack of trolls or goblins or anything supernatural, it was a pretty sweet apartment. The living room and kitchen were all open concept. To my right, a giant flat screen TV took up a large portion of the whole back wall of the living room section. A soft buttery leather L shaped couch made up the viewing area. Behind the couch was a retro-looking pool table occupying a large space. It was enclosed by two walls. I believe Rocky’s office was on the other side of one of the walls. It was all making sense now.
Rocky was in the kitchen unloading groceries, and that’s the place I wanted to start my tour. Kitchens were my specialty. There was a large solid wood kitchen table surrounded by six chairs. It appeared very heavy, made of boards from different types of trees. It was extremely beautiful with the natural wood pattern. To the left of the table was a magnificently modern kitchen. Stainless steel appliances were overshadowed by incredible cherry kitchen cabinets. There was an island with a granite countertop. It was something you’d see in a kitchen design catalog. We didn’t even carry anything this ornate at work. It must have cost a fortune!
“Who was your decorator and how the hell did you afford all this?” I asked in astonishment. If anyone knew about cabinets, it was me. I knew these could not have been cheap. Hell, the drawer pulls alone would have bankrupted me.
“I really lucked out with that one. A kitchen cabinet supply store in Coral City was going out of business. I got all this for a steal. Pennies on the dollar.”
I just stood there in awe. This was a dream kitchen. I took out my phone to snap a picture to show Dottie tomorrow. She would love to see this.
“What are you doing? Please don’t take any pictures,” he requested. “I’m a private person and I don’t want to share this with anyone. It’s mine.” Ok, that’s strange. I put my phone back in my pocket before I could get a single shot.
“Can I see the bedroom?” I asked. If it looked this awesome out here, I wanted to see what the rest of the place had to offer.
“Maybe later if you behave yourself.”
Fuck that. I rolled my eyes and marched off toward the bedroom to pay a little visit and make sure there was no medieval torture chamber. Rocky was not far behind and turned on the light so I wouldn’t trip over myself. It held none of the grandeur of the kitchen, but it was not too shabby either. A large wooden four post bed took up most of the room. It was king-sized with an emerald green bedspread and lots of pillows. The bed was immaculate with not a wrinkle on it.
“Do you have a cleaning lady or something? I can’t believe a single dude makes a bed this good.” I was surprised, to say the least.
“If you must know, I had high hopes for last night and I wasn’t sure if we’d be going to my place or yours. I took a little more care than usual when I got ready. I would have been embarrassed to bring you back to a shit hole with a messy bed. I wanted my girl impressed for our first time,” he said proudly. That was SO sweet and romantic.
“I would have fucked you on the floor,” I blurted out. That was so NOT sweet NOR romantic. Oops.
“You don’t have a filter, do you?” Rocky asked with a cocky grin.
“No, not at all. I really like your room though.”
The only other piece of furniture in the room was a small dresser to the left of the bed. A large closet took up the whole wall to the right of the bed. Again, there was not a single picture anywhere in the room. It was not very personal at all. I proceeded to the bathroom and was fascinated by the cleanliness of it.
The bathroom was attached to the bedroom by a pocket door. Upon entering, a toilet stood to my immediate right. Next to it was a small vanity with a single sink. To the left, a giant walk-in tiled shower took up the other half of the bathroom. It had a massive shower head mounted from the ceiling. Rocky walked up behind me and pressed a few buttons. The shower head began to turn colors and water sprayed out like it was raining down from above. It was so fancy. I “ooh’d” and “aah’d” appropriately. I really wanted to take a shower! Actually, what I wanted most was to find a polite way to ask how he could afford all this. There was no classy way to do that without sounding extremely nosy, so I just had to shut my mouth.
“Your whole apartment is really wonderful,” I commented. I followed Rocky back to the bedroom and he walked over to his closet.
Rocky fumbled around in his closet and asked, ”Are you ready to earn your keep? I need help with the pasta we’re going to make. First I have to get out of these clothes. I don’t have time to shower.” He stripped off his shirt and then his pants. He was facing the closet, so I was treated to the view of his bare naked ass.
“This room has the best view in the whole place,” I said. Actually, I noticed another odd thing about the whole apartment. There was not one single window in the entire place. Strange.
Rocky proceeded to put on jeans and a long sleeved black T shirt. I told him that I could handle prep cook duties and we rolled up our sleeves to begin. The first item of business was the creation of the meatballs. He combined a bunch of ingredients in a mixing bowl and I had to stir and form the balls. We put them on a cookie sheet and placed them in the oven. The next task was the sauce. He got a few jars of sauce out his cabinet, put them in a giant pot, and started adding fresh spices. I had never heard of the pasta sauce brand before. Evidently it’s something from New York and you can’t find it here. The kitchen began to fill with mouth-watering aromas. Eventually the meatballs were finished and went into the sauce pot. Three pounds of pasta noodles started to boil in a different pot larger than anything I had at my house.
“Are you cooking for an army or what?” I wondered how hungry he was.
“I’m not sure who’s coming over for dinner tonight. Anyway, once you try this you will demand to take some leftovers home. It’s that good!”
I shrugged my shoulders and kept stirring where it was needed. Rocky put me on bread-cutting duty just as the secret door slid open.
“What’s the password?” I yelled as Dmitry entered the room. I think this scared him, because he froze on the spot. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a white sweater, and white sneakers. He was carrying a brown paper bag.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I can leave.” He turned around to make a hasty retreat and I called out to stop him.
“We’re making dinner for everyone. You’re not interrupting anything. Isn’t this your normal Sunday routine? I guess I’m the one who’s interrupting.” I wasn’t usually part of this tradition and I hoped he didn’t mind my presence.
Rocky set things straight. “Dmitry, sit your ass down. You’re the first arrival. I’m sure the others will be here shortly.”
“Have you talked to them today?” Dmitry inquired.
“Yes, I had an interesting text exchange with Sergio and Irina. They were congratulating me on the end of a very long dry spell,” Rocky said, shaking his head.
“So they know that you two are together and that’s why they’re not here. They had the consideration to leave you alone to enjoy dinner in private, but they were too fucking lazy to clue me in on that. I’m never in the loop on anything. I swear I’m going to punch Vasily right in the face the very next time I see him,” Dmitry growled and took a step toward the door.
“Hey, please don’t leave. We have three pounds of spaghetti and we can’t eat it all. I would feel bad if you left and went away hungry. We’re not going to have wild monkey sex on the kitchen table until we pass out from unconsciousness. Please stay and eat with us. You’re welcome here,” I pleaded. “In fact, I would be offended if you left. I helped cook all this and I would like to be complimented on my hard work.”
“Well, first of all you’re spending too much time with Irina if you’re using the phrase ‘wild monkey sex.’ Second of all, you can’t call it ‘spaghetti’ because it’s ‘pasta.’ I’m surprised Rocky didn’t have a fit about that,” Dmitry said, correcting me. “What dish are you making tonight?”
“Take a seat and we’ll tell you. By the way, what’s in the bag, Dmitry?” I was dying to find out. I had no patience.
“It’s a Russian dessert. A honey cake.”
“I don’t like honey.” I actually hated it. My mom tried making me eat it every time I got sick. Evidently it was the miracle cure for anything.
“Have you ever had honey cake?” he asked doubtfully.
“No.”
He pointed his finger at me and scolded, “Then you don’t know that you don’t like it. You can have a bite before you go making judgements, ok? If you don’t like it after a bite, then I’ll let you keep my AK-47. How’s that?”
“Hell, yeah. You’re on!” That sounded like the deal of the century! “We’re actually making some secret recipe pasta. Rocky said something about Barsot as the ingredient, but I don’t know what that is.”
Before Rocky got a chance to say anything, Dmitry piped up, “No he meant it’s the Barsotti family recipe. You must have misunderstood him.”
Rocky immediately coughed and shook his head violently trying to signal Dmitry to shut up. I didn’t know why.
“Barsotti? Like the Barsotti crime family? The main mob family that controls New York? I am addicted to the “Mafia Princesses” show on TV. Maria, one of the girls on the show, is a Barsotti. She’s crazy. You can’t mean THAT family, though. How would you get their recipe?”
Dmitry stared helplessly at Rocky, who offered an explanation. “Dmitry knows someone who knows someone who knows the recipe. We thought we’d try it and it went over pretty well. We keep making it. What else do you know about the Barsotti family? Are they ever featured on your show?”
I wasn’t paying attention because I was trying to figure out the identity of the ‘someone’ who got the recipe. Suddenly a light bulb went on over my head.
“I got it! I bet Sergio was fucking someone who knows the family and got the recipe! Am I right? Why didn’t you just say that?” I was good at solving mysteries.
“Sergio does play into it. That was a very good guess. Here. Try a bite and tell me what you think.” Rocky shoved a spoon into my mouth and I have to admit that it was heavenly. It tasted even better than it smelled. A savory blend of herbs and spices mixed to create magic in my mouth.
“MMMM, more!” I demanded. Rocky laughed and we started filling up our plates. I had a heaping bowl of pasta and a slice of fresh Italian bread. Italian food was my favorite, so this meal was perfect for me.
I was the first one in line for the food, therefore the first one to make it to the kitchen table. “Who usually sits where? I don’t want to sit in anyone else’s spot.” Maybe the rest of them would arrive later, I wasn’t sure.
“Dmitry and I usually sit with our backs to the wall, leaving an empty spot between us,” Rocky explained.
“I can’t sit in the spot between you, then we’ll all be facing empty space!” I complained.
Sergio picked that moment to open the secret door and poke his head in. He was dressed pretty formal for a Sunday evening: dark blue button down shirt, tan dress pants, and shiny black Italian loafers. I would love to see him in ratty sweatpants just once.
“Oh good, Sergio can sit across from us so it won’t be weird.” Problem solved!
Dmitry smirked and said, “No, Violet, it will still be empty space.” He laughed at his own joke. When no one else joined in, he felt the need to explain further. “Because his head is like an empty space! Come on, I’m dying here!”
Sergio rolled his eyes and went straight to the food. “Eat shit, Dmitry. Ah, I see you brought dessert...so we WILL be eating shit!”
Before anyone could get another word out, Rocky cleared his throat and gave Sergio a pointed look. “Dmitry was kind enough to explain to Violet that this dish is a Barsotti Family recipe. Violet had heard of the family because she watches some lame ass TV show about mafia princesses. I explained that Dmitry knows someone who knows someone who got the recipe. That led Violet to the conclusion that you’re the ‘someone’ and you got the recipe by banging someone in the Barsotti Family.”
“Ugh, gross! I am definitely NOT banging anyone in the Barsotti Family. What have you heard about them, Violet?” Sergio paused from fi
lling his plate to look at me for an answer.
“Not much. I read about them in the paper sometimes. The dad was charged with several crimes but his lawyer always makes sure nothing sticks. Supposedly it’s a big family and the dad is the capo di tutti cappi. Don of all Dons. I learned that from a mafia book. I’ve watched a lot of mob movies. I think it’s cool. I like Italians. Especially their food.”
“The mob is NOT cool,” Dmitry angrily insisted. “Nothing good ever came from violence and murder. All these movies glorify it and it’s not like that in real life AT ALL. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just ignorant.”
“Settle down,” Rocky commanded. “She was just answering his question, Dmitry.”
“Actually Violet, there is no capo di tutti cappi anymore. That was during the golden age of mobsters when one boss was elected to be the head of the five families. There aren’t so many familia anymore and they keep to themselves and deal with their own problems. There was too much in-fighting when they tried to merge. The main problem now is with the Italians, Latinos, Asians, and Russians all trying to compete for power over the city,” Sergio clarified.
I started at him in awe of his knowledge. “How do you know all that?”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to read.” He winked at me and shoved a piece of bread in his mouth.
“Ok. Enough of the mob conversation. Let’s talk about something else. Where are Irina and Vasily?” Rocky asked, looking at the two empty seats at the table. Sergio had taken the seat across from Rocky, leaving two vacant seats across from me and Dmitry.
“I’m not sure. I assume they’re off doing other things. Married couple things. Doesn’t matter, more food for me!” Sergio remarked as he waved his hand at the table. “Why is there no wine on the table? I see tons of food and no drinks.”
I got up to go to the fridge to look for a bottle of water and asked if anyone wanted anything. Rocky got up to join me and Sergio hollered for me to bring him some vino. “She’s not your waitress, douchebag. Get your own wine,” Rocky chastised as he grabbed a beer for himself and another for Dmitry.