[2014] Dog Day Wedding

by Rich Amooi

  Species?

  “Before you go, come here.”

  Giovanni had no idea what she meant. He was already there. Maybe she wanted to hug him to say thanks. His focus went to her thin, gravity-defying hair. He knew the color had to be fake, but how the heck did she make it stand up straight like that? It looked stiff and rough and didn’t budge an inch when the breeze hit it. It was like the world’s largest scouring pad.

  He had the sudden urge to wash dishes.

  Beatrice grabbed Giovanni by the side of the head with her free hand and before he could react, she pulled him down for a kiss. Not a kiss on the cheek either. Precious joined in on the action and licked his face like he’d just rubbed in some steak juice. He was surprised how much effort he needed to pry the woman from his lips.

  Giovanni pulled away and wiped his mouth instinctively. He forced a smile. “That really wasn’t necessary.”

  “I think it was. I can’t thank you enough. In fact, give me your phone number.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Beatrice pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Giovanni. “Your number, what is it? Just type it in there.”

  He raised his gaze to meet hers. “My number? For what?” He crinkled his nose and stared at her phone.

  “Are you constipated?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then punch in the numbers!”

  She certainly was a forceful woman, kind of like Giovanni’s mom. No. That wasn’t fair. His mom was in a category all by herself. This woman wasn’t like his mother at all. Beatrice was just very . . . outgoing. There was a big difference.

  Giovanni hesitated but then typed in his number.

  “Now press send,” said Beatrice.

  He looked up at her again.

  “Do it.”

  He pressed send and a few seconds later the phone in his jacket pocket rang. He pulled the phone out and stared at it.

  Beatrice plucked the phone from his hand and disconnected the call. “Perfect! Now I have your number! I’ll be in touch. Thanks again. You’re a doll.”

  She reached up and pulled him down by the neck again and kissed him on the lips.

  Again.

  Then she smiled and walked away.

  Giovanni turned and spotted a female police officer in front of his car.

  Writing him a ticket.

  He ran up the street toward the cop and waved his hand in the air at her. “Hey, hey, I’m right here. No need for that—I was just leaving.”

  The most beautiful brown eyes Giovanni had ever seen turned around to greet him and then checked him out from head to toe.

  “Nice tux,” the cop said.

  “Oh . . .” He looked down at his tux. “Thank you.” He forgot he was actually wearing one and that it was his wedding day. Precious proved to be a wonderful distraction. Or maybe it was the cop’s big eyes framed by long dark eyelashes.

  Giovanni waited for her to say something else, but she turned her attention back to writing the ticket. She was an attractive woman with a pretty face and light brown hair up in a bun. Her olive complexion was smooth and she didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup at all.

  She almost didn’t seem like a real cop to him. He had the idea that female cops were more intimidating, like in the movies. She was petite and appeared delicate—didn’t seem that tough at all. No doubt she used that to her advantage. She could probably kick Giovanni’s ass with her pinkie.

  Giovanni pointed to her ticket pad. “You don’t really need to do that, do you?”

  She stopped writing and looked up. “You abandoned your car on the street. Safety hazard.”

  “I was just trying to help a woman. I saved a dog! That’s not against the law, is it?”

  “Not at all. But leaving your car here is. People die.”

  Giovanni let out a nervous chuckle. “From stationary cars?”

  “Someone can swerve to avoid your car and run over an innocent child walking home from school.”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Okay . . . walking home from Saturday school.”

  Was she serious? Was there such a thing?

  “Look,” said Giovanni. “I didn’t want to play the sympathy card, but it looks like I have no other choice. I’m having a horrible day. Horrible. I was supposed to get married today and my fiancée never showed up. I was on my way home from the church and heard a woman cry for help. So that’s what I was doing, just trying to help her. Her dog got loose.” Giovanni sighed. “I thought women were supposed to be fond of heroes.”

  The cop laughed and ended it with a snort. “You think you’re a hero?”

  “Yeah! Why not? I rescued her dog. Look, I know it’s not worthy of a medal of honor or anything like that. But I’m just asking you to give me a break today. That’s all. Please.”

  The cop studied Giovanni for a few moments. “You rescued the dog?”

  “Yes! Then the woman thanked me by kissing me on the lips.”

  She pointed to Giovanni’s face. “I can see that.”

  Giovanni wiped his mouth and saw the lipstick on his fingers. “It’s not what you think. She must have been two hundred years old. Call me picky, but I prefer my women to be around a hundred and seventy years younger.”

  The officer snorted again.

  She stared at Giovanni for a moment, her smile fading. “You really got left at the altar?”

  He nodded.

  “Sorry to hear that.” She stared at the ticket pad momentarily and closed it. “Okay. Verbal warning. Watch where you leave your car, okay? You’re free to go.”

  “Thank you! Can I hug you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, not a problem. But just know that something good’s going to happen to you for your kindness. I’m sure of it.”

  “I can’t wait.” She gave him a wide smile that pulled his attention back to her natural pink lips and her perfectly aligned teeth. She could sell millions of dollars of toothpaste by flashing those pearly whites.

  Giovanni got back in his car and smiled. There were at least two positive things that happened today. One, he saved Precious. And two, there was that kind and pretty cop who let him off the hook. He was certain she was going to give him the ticket, but she surprised the hell out of him.

  Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more surprises today.

  Chapter Two

  Giovanni walked into his home and closed the door behind him. It was a modest place, three bedrooms, two baths. He even had a shop in the backyard where he built his guitars. He had only owned the house for two years and he felt very comfortable there. Patricia liked the place as well. She had practically moved in—spending so much time there lately. Giovanni even had cleared some space in his dresser and closet so she could keep some of her things there. But that was over.

  Time to move on.

  He took a deep breath and began to remove his bow tie, dropping it on the hardwood floor in the entryway. He slid off his tuxedo jacket, shirt, shoes, pants, and socks and dropped them all on the floor as well.

  He stood there in his underwear, deep in thought, staring at the photo on the wall of him and Patricia dining at a restaurant on her birthday. He wasn’t smiling in the photo.

  Maybe that was a sign.

  Or maybe that was right after he got the bill. She certainly liked to spend his money. But it didn’t matter anymore. Right now he was trying to figure out if he was more pissed off, disappointed, or hurt.

  Pissed off. Definitely.

  He ground his teeth and went out to the side yard, grabbing the garbage can to wheel it inside the house. The faster he could move on and get some closure, the better.

  “Giovanni!” said his seventy-five-year-old Italian neighbor, Federico DeMarco. “Buona sera!”

  Giovanni stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. Federico stood there with a big smile on his face, as usual. He always looked so elegant and old-fashioned in his plaid pants and pressed shirts. He was losing some of
the solid-white hair in the front, but liked to keep it longer in the back—like many of the older Italian guys.

  Federico was a good guy, but Giovanni preferred to talk with the man when he was fully clothed.

  Giovanni moved behind the garbage can and forced a smile. “Hi, Federico.”

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” said Federico. He pointed to Giovanni’s underwear. “You think you are the first person to forget to put on pants before leaving the house? Ha! When Olive was alive, let me tell you—”

  “Excuse me, Federico!” Giovanni entered the house and shut the door behind him. Federico was possibly the nicest guy he knew, but he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to him right now. Or to anyone, for that matter. He would explain to Federico what had happened to him another time and apologize for being rude.

  Giovanni rolled the garbage can into the family room and pulled down the one solo picture frame he had of the two of them, dumping it in the garbage can. That should have been a clue; they only had one happy photo together. He didn’t react to the sound of broken glass.

  He headed to the bathroom next, opening up the medicine cabinet. He corralled the female beauty products and threw them in the trash. He pulled the pink toothbrush from the holder, perfume and lotion bottles from the counter, a package of tampons from under the sink, and shampoos and conditioners from the shower. They all went in the trash.

  One more stop.

  Giovanni rolled the garbage can toward the dresser in the bedroom, bumping into the wall and the bed along the way. He opened up the top of the dresser and pulled out women’s panties, bras, and clothes, dumping them in the trash. He slid open the closet door and yanked a few clothes from hangers, high-heeled shoes from the hanging shoe holder, and expensive designer purses from the shelf.

  They all went in the trash.

  Giovanni rolled the receptacle back toward the side door of the house and slowly opened it, checking to see if Federico was still there. Satisfied the coast was clear, he rolled the garbage can outside and stuck it back in its place.

  Federico popped back into view from the other side of the fence. “Still can’t find those pants?”

  Giovanni jumped. “Uh . . .”

  “That reminds me of a story . . .”

  “Not now, Federico. Sorry.”

  “Of course, of course. I will tell it to you some other time.”

  Giovanni shut the door behind him and grabbed a beer from the fridge. After the first sip he sat on the couch. The doorbell rang. He stared at the door but didn’t move. He took another sip of his beer as the doorbell continued to ring in rapid succession. Then it suddenly stopped. Giovanni listened, wondering if the ringing was going to return. No. He was convinced they were gone.

  “Thank God.”

  The ringing started again. He had a sudden thought.

  Was it Patricia?

  His heart rate sped up with the thought. She had a key, but maybe she had left it at her place. What would he say to her? He jumped up and opened the door.

  Stevie and Danny stood there in their tuxes. They still looked sharp, but he was in no mood to talk.

  Danny was the tallest of the three friends, skinnier, with dark straight hair, cut in layers to his shoulders. His hazel eyes and pale skin always made people wonder where his family was originally from. Stevie was the shortest. He had dirty blond hair and dark blue eyes, still with the expression of a naughty ten-year-old who was always getting in trouble.

  They pushed by Giovanni and walked straight to the kitchen. Giovanni followed.

  I just want to be alone.

  Stevie grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Danny. He twisted the top off, set it on the counter, and took a sip. “I told you he’d be freaking out like a little girl. Look at him. Half naked and half drunk.”

  Giovanni took another sip of his beer and went back to the couch. “I’m not drunk yet. And I’m not in the mood, fellas. I need some time to reflect.”

  Stevie stood in front of Giovanni. “Reflect all you want, but we need to comfort you, Giovanni. I read about it in a used book I found at the Salvation Army. It’s called How to Give People What They Need. There’s also a special chapter on tantric sex.”

  “I don’t need comfort and I most definitely do not need tantric sex.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “These women are walking all over you, Giovanni!” said Danny.

  “But no more!” said Stevie. “Consider us like a search party. We’re here to help you find your balls.”

  Giovanni couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Stevie took another sip of his beer and belched. “You need to be more masculine and we’re going to help you. That’s what friends are for.”

  Danny smiled. “That was a big hit from Dionne Warwick. 1984.”

  Stevie jabbed Danny with his finger. “Knock it off.”

  “What?”

  “You know what.”

  Giovanni pointed toward the door. “Get out.”

  Danny ignored Giovanni and sat down on the couch next to him. He eyed his underwear. “If it makes you feel more comfortable we can lose our pants.”

  Giovanni ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “No. Don’t do that. Just leave.”

  “Not gonna happen,” said Stevie. “You are not going through this alone. What just happened to you was some serious shit. You could be mentally screwed up for life. Or even longer.”

  The front door swung open again and Giovanni's mother, Eleonora, stepped inside. She was still wearing her formal outfit from the wedding and way too much makeup.

  She stood there with her hands on her hips. “Why did you leave the church like that?”

  Giovanni took a sip of his beer and pretended to read the label on the beer bottle. “I wasn’t aware I was supposed to socialize after getting dumped.”

  Eleonora pointed at Giovanni. “You are such a pansy.”

  Giovanni jerked his head back. “Seriously? You’re calling your son a pansy? Whose mother calls her son a pansy?”

  Danny raised his hand. “Not all the time, though.”

  Stevie sighed. “My mom says I don’t have any braincells, but I’ve proven her wrong at least a couple of times.” He gave a proud nod and took a sip of his beer.

  “Please,” said Eleonora. “I’m trying to speak to my son here.”

  Giovanni took another sip of his beer. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “You could at least be a man about this. God knows it had to be your fault she left you anyway. What did you do to her?”

  “What did I do? Nothing!”

  Eleonora paced back and forth. “Maybe if you did something you wouldn’t be in this mess! You know the process.”

  “Process? What process?”

  “You go to school, you get an education, you get your rocks off with a few sluts along the way—”

  “Seriously? Who came up with this?”

  Eleonora ignored his question. “But then you realize at some point that you’re supposed to settle down, get married, and have lots of babies. That’s how it works! Lots of babies!”

  “Oh yeah? Says who?”

  “I do! And I want freaking grandchildren!”

  “That really surprises me since it’s only the thousandth time you told me that! You don’t think I want some kids? I thought I was on the right path. I should be married right now!”

  “You need to drag your skinny little ass back to her and apologize for whatever you did!”

  “I didn’t do shit! I’ve never ever cheated on anybody or disrespected her in any way. Why do you assume it’s my fault, Mom?”

  Stevie looked toward the kitchen and then back to Giovanni. “You got any popcorn?”

  “Out. Everybody. Now.”

  The front door opened and in walked Giovanni's dad, Alfonso, a man in his early sixties who looked ten years older. With slumped shoulders and a frown, Giovanni’s father slowly dragged his feet towards the living room.r />
  Giovanni pointed to him. “You, too. Out.”

  Alfonso squinted his eyes at Eleonora. Then he looked over to Stevie and Danny. Then back to Eleonora. “What did you say to him?”

  Eleonora pointed to herself. “Me? Why would you assume I said something?”

  “Because I know you.”

  Stevie turned to Alfonso. “She called Giovanni a pansy.”

  Eleonora took a step toward Stevie—her nostrils flaring.

  Stevie jumped back. “What?”

  “Out!” said Giovanni.

  Alfonso squeezed his son’s shoulder and everyone left without saying another word.

  Giovanni grabbed a bottle of tequila from the top of the fridge and got out four shot glasses from the cupboard. He lined up the shot glasses side by side on the kitchen counter and began to pour tequila into each glass. He saw someone do that in a movie once and he thought it was very dramatic.

  He placed the bottle on the counter and slammed each shot, one by one.

  What had happened was bullshit.

  Giovanni knew he was a decent guy—kind, respectful, generous. He didn’t deserve what had happened, but he needed to find out why it had happened twice, to prevent the trifecta. In the meantime there was something he needed to do. He went to the garage to get a can of lighter fluid and a box of matches. He needed closure and he needed it now.

  Chapter Three

  Natalie DeMarco slipped on an apron over her police uniform and grilled ham for the sandwiches she was about to prepare. She loved cooking in her grandfather’s kitchen. Federico had a five-burner stainless steel gas stove and all of the best tools, gadgets, and cookware from Bed Bath & Beyond. It was a chef’s paradise.

  Federico watched her from the kitchen table. “I’m going to confess something to you right now.”

  Natalie flipped the ham over in the pan. “I don’t believe you.”

  Federico chuckled. “Let me tell you first! Then you can choose whether you want to believe me or not!”

  Nonno—as Natalie liked to call him—was fun to hang out with. He was known for telling a story or two and sometimes it was not easy figuring out which ones were true. He was the best storyteller she knew.