Magic and Mayhem: Secrets, Lies, and Meatballs (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Spaghetti Romances Book 2)

by Jordan K. Rose

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Robyn Peterman. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Magic and Mayhem remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Robyn Peterman, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Secrets, Lies, and Meatballs

  A Magic and Mayhem World Story

  Spaghetti Romances Book 2

  Jordan K. Rose

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Amazing Magic & Mayhem Authors

  Chapter One

  “I’m here!” Lena Tortellani banged through the door of her parents’ home, tossing her bags onto the nearby chair and pausing to inhale the wonderful aroma of slow-cooked spaghetti sauce wafting from the kitchen. “Oh, the gravy smells so good.” One of the best things about coming over for Sunday dinner was the smell.

  “Hello, Nero.” She tossed the cat a live goldfish from her brother’s fish tank. “Enjoy.”

  “Don’t mind, if I do.” The black feline rolled onto his back to catch the incoming snack.

  The glorious scent of Sunday dinner beckoned Lena toward the kitchen where she knew fresh made pasta, an antipasto to rival any high-end Italian restaurant, and bottles of Dad’s homemade wine waited. She ripped a piece of freshly baked bread from the loaf she’d bought at Rappinelli’s. The bakery made the best bread in town.

  Voices chattered, yelled was a better description, from the kitchen, cluing Lena in to the fact her family may have already started dinner. With bread in dunking position she headed toward the sounds of her family and the smell of the perfect meal.

  “Mmm. I smell basil and pepperoni. Dad made the wood-fired pizza, didn’t he?” she asked Nero, her mother’s familiar.

  “Yeah, but, uh, you probably don’t want to go there.” The cat used a very sharp claw to pick at a fishbone stuck between his front teeth. “I’ve been dying to eat that little bastard since he arrived three days ago.” His tongue rubbed the space between his teeth. “Been giving me the eye since Ralph dumped him in the tank.”

  Ralph was Lena’s older-by-thirteen-seconds twin brother. They’d been in a constant rush to beat each other since conception, and she’d always been annoyed he came out first, a fact he enjoyed pointing out at regular intervals.

  “You know, there is nothing like bread fresh out of the oven.” Lena ate the end of the still warm loaf. “I’m going to make a meatball sandwich with this piece. I’ve been craving one all day. That spaghetti sauce smells scrumptious.” She held up the other half.

  “Yeah, nothing like it.” Nero snorted, and his attention darted toward the kitchen. “If you like magic meatballs.”

  Lena froze, leg up in the air, trapped in mid step. “Did you say magic?”

  The cat grinned like the devil. “Nonna is in rare form, and she’s working on the meatballs.”

  “The meatballs?”

  The voices beyond the door separating the living room from the giant eat-in kitchen grew louder. It wasn’t unusual for a little Sunday afternoon argument to brew. The Tortellanis, at least this side of the family, weren’t known for their agreements. They liked to argue for the sheer sake of arguing. So, one more argument sounded about right.

  “That’s not what I said!” Nonna yelled.

  “Yes, it is!” Ralph hollered.

  “Don’t yell at your nonna,” Lena’s mother said in her usual soft-spoken voice.

  Whomp! The familiar sound of a wooden spoon hitting the back of someone’s head preceded Ralph’s yelp. “Nonna!”

  “One! One meatball, that’s all! No one needs more than one meatball!” she hollered.

  “Ma, calm down,” Lena’s dad, Giacomo said.

  “What? Just like your father!” Nonna yelled. Whomp!

  “Ow! Ma!” Giacomo yelled.

  “What’s happening?” Lena stopped short. Something about the intensity of Nonna’s voice told Lena there was a problem.

  Maybe it was more than the intensity. It might have been the topic. Certain meatballs were sacred as far as Nonna was concerned. If Nero was telling the truth, (which he was known not to do on occasion so there was still some hope) these magic meatballs would turn Lena’s happy life into a disastrous mess.

  Nero grinned, and the little black cat Lena had once loved took on the appearance of a panther on the prowl. “Oh, the meatballs are ready.” He tossed back his head and laughed, and Lena was happy to see him lose his balance and fall off the back of the couch. “I’m fine.” He jumped back into place.

  Lena’s stomach turned. Her traitorous feet headed toward the kitchen in the direction her starving belly begged to go, but her brilliant, yet, stringy arms reached for anything she could to keep herself in place. “You couldn’t have warned me on the front lawn?”

  “Now, what fun would that have been?” Nero’s tail swished.

  There was a clang in the kitchen that sounded like the lid of a saucepan being hurled into the sink.

  “One. You say you ate only one? Yet, there are two meatballs missing. Look in my eyes. Let me see you.” Nonna’s voice was shriller than usual, and her Italian accent was so thick she practically spoke half the words in her native language. “Did you eat more than one meatball?”

  “Ow!” Ralph howled.

  Whack! “Answer me!” Nonna shouted.

  Lena jumped. She hadn’t heard her grandmother this agitated ever. Not in her short thirty-three years had she ever heard anger in Nonna’s tone of voice.

  “No. I did not eat more than one. I ate one giant meatball yesterday and that’s it. Now let go of my ear!” Ralph shouted.

  “Hey! Don’t talk to your grandmother like that,” Dad said.

  Whack!

  “Ow! What the fazoole?” Ralph snapped.

  “Oh! Watch your mouth!” Dad yelled.

  Lena’s feet inched toward the kitchen. She threw herself backward toward the front door and tried with very little success to scoot her way to safety. “Just…a…few…more…feet…” Try as she might, she could not get her body to exit the house.

  Her fingers dug into the shag carpet, curling into the fibers, holding on for dear life. But her feet managed to gain purchase, and as if they had a mind of their own her heels dug into the rug. Her knees bent to pull her farther from safety, then rapidly extended to give her heels another shot at moving her body still closer to the kitchen and that dreaded meatball.

  “Are you telling me your little sister ate that meatball?” Nonna demanded. “Are you?”

  “Well, wouldn’t that be something,” Mom said.

  “Yes, it would.” Nonna’s tone changed, her voice calming, though still holding a lilt of disturbing excitement. “I hadn’t expected this. I thought for certain we’d have a problem with that one. Him, my grandson, I did not worry. He’s…well, you’re not that bright, but we love you anyway,” Nonna said.

  “Hey! I’m not dumb. I was hungry,” Ralph said.

  “Your sister, she’s a wise one, much more difficult to convince of what’s good for her,” Nonna said. �
��And that’s why I don’t believe she ate the meatball. Well, that and…you know…she’d be very busy trying to avoid finding a nice boy to eat her mate-ball.”

  Ralph snorted. “Eat her mate-ball.”

  Whack!

  “Ow!”

  “Instead, she’s busy with this new business,” Nonna said.

  “Yes, she’s a little entrepreneur. I’m so proud of her,” Mom said.

  “We need a new dog, Alicia. A big one, if we’re going to support our kid,” Dad said.

  “Yes, of course,” Mom said, then she whispered, “But, Nero won’t be happy.”

  “That damn cat is never happy.” Dad’s voice rose. “I know you can hear us, you sneaky feline!”

  Nero hissed.

  “Giacomo, your father would be so proud of her. She’d love him,” Nonna said.

  “I know, Ma.” Dad’s voice droned. “I know.”

  Lena would have loved to thank them all for their support, but at the moment avoiding the meatball situation was far more important. She pulled herself a full four inches closer to the door, grunting the whole way. “Must renew gym membership.”

  The sound of a metal spoon sliding around the inside of a metal pot followed, and Lena knew her grandmother was stirring the gravy.

  “Did you eat that meatball? Did you? Tell me!” Nonna demanded.

  “I don’t know who ate that damn meatball, but it wasn’t me.” Ralph laughed. “Your face is bright red. You look like a tomato. Watch out Dad. She’s gonna blow!”

  Dad laughed. “You do, Mom. You’re getting upset over a meatball.”

  “Oh, laugh all you want. You foolish men. Alicia understands. She knows the worries a mother and a father should have,” Nonna said.

  The sound of a metal spoon banging the side of the pot punctuated her point.

  “It is true, Giacomo. We should have some interest in where that meatball went,” Mom said, though not even a hint of worry colored her words.

  “Alicia, it’s a meatball. Besides, it’s not like she’s eaten her meatball,” Dad said. The sound of a cork popping out of a bottle of wine followed. “Of course, since the meatballs are ready, it’s probably not a bad idea for her to eat one. I can’t say I’d be completely overjoyed with this, but at the same time it’s impossible for me to be completely unhappy with the idea.”

  “If I were you, Giacomo, as their father, I’d be worried about where that meatball went.” More stirring occurred, the metal spoon ferociously scraping across the sides of the pot. After a brief pause Nonna continued in what started out as a soft even voice. “And you, Ralph, one would expect you’d be worried. The missing meatball is a mate-ball.” At this point Nonna’s tone grew more annoyed with each word and the volume of her voice ratcheted up and up and up. “I’d think you’d wonder if it was your mate-ball or your sister’s, and if it’s your sister’s I’d think you’d be concerned of which warlock stole your sister’s mate-ball! This is a very big problem!” Her voice echoed from the kitchen.

  The spoon clanged on the pot like an alarm screaming out a battle cry.

  “Oooh, a mate-ball,” Ralph said. “Mate-ball. Mate-ball. Mate-ball,” he sang.

  Whack!

  Whack!

  Whack!

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Ralph said. “What the fazoole, already?”

  Whack!

  “That’s it. I’m leaving,” Ralph announced.

  “No teleporting in the house!” Dad yelled. “And if you see your sister, tell her to come eat her meatball!”

  Lena didn’t care one way or another about whether Dad was worried or if Ralph cared who’d eaten her mate-ball. It didn’t matter whether either of them or Nonna thought a warlock had stolen the damn mate-ball. The important thing was Lena did not eat the one meatball made specifically for her, otherwise she’d be tied by some weird magical love charm to whomever ate the mate-ball for the rest of her life.

  “That’s it. I’m never eating another meatball for as long as I live.” She rolled onto her belly and tried in vain to escape the ludicrous pull of the magic meatball.

  “I will never eat another meatball. Never. Ever. Again.”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ralph demanded.

  “Must…not…eat…a…meatball,” Lena grounded out through clenched teeth as she clawed her way in slow motion toward the door while her feet dragged her in the direction of the kitchen. “What is it with that meatball? Nonna’s matchmaking magic is wicked strong. It’s like she’s an evil sorceress instead of a kind old grandma.”

  “I heard that, young lady!” Nonna called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not eating that meatball. Never! Never! Never!” Lena managed to pull herself within three feet of the door. “I will not be magically forced to love someone because a hunk of meat proclaims we are fated!”

  “Go Lena. Go. Go. Go Lena.” Ralph lay beside her, banging his hand on the floor and chanting out a terrible cheer. “You can do it. Leave the house. You can do it. Leave the house.”

  “I hate you.” She grunted and scooted a few more inches.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is with eating the meatball. Mine was delicious,” Ralph said.

  “Yeah, well you heard what Nonna said. You’re not that bright.” Lena dropped her face to the floor, breathing heavily from exertion.

  “Has it ever occurred to you I might have wanted to eat that meatball?”

  “What?” Lena peered under her arm at her brother, who now lay with his head flat beside her. His curly brown hair, the same color as hers, was its typical mess and his espresso brown eyes were filled with their usual happiness. “You wanted to fall in love? You. Ralph Mario Vincenzo Leonardo Tortellani wanted to fall in love?”

  He nodded.

  “Liar.”

  Lena found Ralph’s admission completely preposterous. Ralph had had more girlfriends in their short thirty-three years than most men had in three lifetimes. There was no way he wanted to fall in love.

  “I’m serious. I’m ready. It’s time.”

  “Right. You’re just saying that because you were stupid enough to eat that damn meatball.”

  “Between you and me, that was the best tasting meatball I’ve ever eaten.” He glanced back over his shoulder, then leaned closer and whispered, “Actually, I’ve never eaten anything that tasted as good. You’re going to love it.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Lena pulled herself along the floor, wishing she’d actually used the gym membership she purchased last year.

  “I’m telling you the meat was so flavorful you couldn’t believe it was a simple meatball. The hint of pepperoni from the gravy was to die for. I wish—”

  “If you liked it so much, you can have mine.” Lena considered reaching for the couch to pull her closer to the door but feared the stretch would give her feet more control.

  “Well that’s just it. I don’t have the slightest desire to eat another meatball. Instead, I want to share them.”

  “I don’t want one,” she snarled.

  “Good, because I’m not talking about giving you one. I mean I want to share my mate-ball with someone, a woman, my woman, whoever she is.” His tone became a dreamy, wistful sound, and Lena did a double take to make sure it was really Ralph speaking. “I want to care for her and love her, really cherish her, whoever she is.”

  “You’ve been hexed by our grandmother. Aren’t you worried? No, of course not. You don’t realize that crazy witch—”

  “I can still hear you, young lady!” Nonna yelled.

  “She’s brainwashed you with meat. It’s disturbing to see you act like a lovesick doofus.”

  That was an understatement. Lena was so accustomed to Ralph being in lust with a new girl every other day she could hardly believe he even knew anything about love. Seeing him with that dopey grin made her want to punch him in the face.

  “Here’s the thing, she’s poisoned your pea-brain with a meatball she made when we were born. You pro
bably have food poisoning on top of this hex.” Lena inched toward the door.

  If she could make it over the threshold she’d be able to teleport away and never come back until her grandmother provided proof of destroying those stupid meatballs.

  “No, that’s the thing. I feel great, better than before, better than I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m telling you, Lena, eat the meatball. You won’t believe the energy it gives you.” He shifted toward the door, moving slightly ahead of Lena. “It’s as though the meatball became more nutrient with time rather than decomposing as one would expect organic matter to do.”

  “Oh, no.” Lena huffed and focused on getting to the door, which seemed to be the most difficult task she’d undertaken in her entire life. Ralph launched into one of his dissertations on the importance of eating healthy. Automatically she said “Uh-huh,” and “yes,” and then “is that so” every few seconds.

  With metabolisms that humans would kill for no sane witch or warlock ever wasted time worrying about nutrition and the benefits of eating healthy. But Ralph was a warlock with a hyperactive interest in nutrition, his physique, and everyone’s overall health. As much as she loved her brother, Lena knew he was truly an oddball.

  “Goddess help the woman who eats that mate-ball,” she mumbled.

  Her fingers brushed the door jam. “Oh, thank goodness.” She gripped the strip of wood as tightly as her fingertips could.

  “…and so that leads me to believe that the constant simmering for thirty-three straight years is what kept those meatballs intact, full of powerful nutrients, and made them perfectly delicious,” Ralph said.

  “You mean to tell me it has not occurred to you that magic is the actual reason for all that? Plain and simple matchmaking magic?” Sometimes Lena wanted to throttle her brother. Now was one of those moments, but there was no way she’d waste energy on him when she needed every bit of strength to exit the house before that meatball got her.

  “Oh, I’m sure magic had a little something to do with it, but—”

  “Ralph! No meatball or any other organic or inorganic matter or whatever else you can think of way to describe meat can possibly remain edible after it’s been continuously cooking for thirty-three years without a lot of magic!”