by Tiana Laveen
A Melting Pot and a Pot Calling the Kettle Black…
“No, that’s not it, Armond,” Gio spoke into the cellphone. “You’re doing fine on the reps and sets of your squats. What I want you to focus on is variation, okay? So, based on your goals that you shared with me and my assessment of what you’re doing well versus what you need to improve on, I think that we should incorporate more deadlifts. Today’s workout was fine. I just realized as we were progressing that it’s time to switch it up. I wasn’t saying you did anything wrong.”
“Oh, okay. I understand now,” the guy said on the other end of the line.
“Okay, good, so you’re doing great. You’re down fifteen pounds, you’re following the plan I laid out for you—we just need to refocus.”
“Got it.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in a couple of days, all right? Call me if you have any more questions.”
“I will! Thank you.” Giovanni ended the call and popped an orange slice into his mouth. He was sitting at Nonna’s kitchen table, the thing covered with coupons, old mail flyers, and too many salt and pepper shakers. Her soap opera was on, the low roar of the television keeping her company. The place smelled so delicious, he wanted to eat everything in sight, even the counters. He looked over at the stove and took note of the huge pot on it, wondering what was simmering inside. Whatever it was, his stomach growled at the wonderful smell.
“You sound so professional on the phone.” Nonna laughed as she washed the colander, her back to him. She shot him a glance from over her shoulder, and he smiled.
“It’s business… gotta walk the walk.”
He was curious about what Nonna wanted. She hadn’t let on just yet and he’d been there a good while. She’d called him while he was working, asking him to stop by when he had a moment. It felt strange being in her house right then. It was so quiet. Nonna’s house was never quiet. There were always people in and out, music playing, the television so loud it would hurt your head—always something that kept one’s eyes opened and alert. Now he fought a bout of sleepiness it was so peaceful in there… a little too peaceful.
“Do you think the snow will be bad this year?” She glanced at him from over her shoulder once again, then picked up a spoon and washed it, too.
“I don’t really know, Nonna. Ya never know with these things. Last year we got slammed so bad, I missed some days of work. Maybe we’ll get a break this time around.”
Nonna turned towards him, plucked an empty bowl from the table, and returned to the sink.
“I’m going to get a Farmer’s Almanac. They sell ’em down at that little store on the corner, next to the supermarket that sells those awful gnocchi.” She stuck out her tongue as if she was going to be sick, drawing a laugh from him.
“That’s a sin, right? That pre-packaged gnocchi. But yeah… not really lookin’ forward to the winter, Nonna. The season always feel worse over here. Last time, Manhattan looked like it had gotten eaten by a big ass snow monster though. It’s gettin’ cold now, too. I already pulled out my jacket as ya can see… Temperatures are definitely dropping.”
He tugged at the sleeve of his black leather jacket. “Winter brings more sickness. We gotta make sure you make it to your doctors’ appointments, Nonna.”
“I go.” She shrugged, her voice sounding so pathetic.
“Well, that’s not what Ma said. Even in the snow when it comes, aiight? So call me if ya can’t get a hold of anybody else because I don’t want you to miss any more of them. I’m in Manhattan now, but that won’t stop me. If I know a couple hours in advance, I can swing it.”
She rinsed a glass then placed it on the drying rack, while he stared blankly at the small, old television. A woman was crying upon discovering that her twin sister didn’t have amnesia, after all. He rolled his eyes at the silliness of it all but didn’t say anything slick. Nonna took her soap operas very seriously. She walked over to the stove and removed the lid from the pot he’d been eyeballing since he arrived. The lovely aroma hit him again and he recognized it this time—her Italian beef stew.
“Oh God, ya killin’ me, Nonna. Today I’m not supposed to have anything like that. See, I do food cycling. It’s like, some days I can eat whatever I want, then other days, I only eat clean…raw veggies and fruits, no dairy, no pasta, no bread, no nothin’.”
“Food cycling? Huh! Nonsense! A big, strong guy like you can eat some. It’s not so bad, right? Only potatoes… no pasta. You’ll be fine.” Ignoring him, the old woman went on her way, filling the bowl to the rim with the addictive concoction. Nonna didn’t make her Italian stew like everyone else. The beef came from premium, lean cuts with just a bit of fat for flavor, and these would have been marinated for hours beforehand. The vegetables came from her own garden out back and the potatoes were from the farmer’s market.
Minutes later, he was staring at the bottom of the empty bowl, wishing he could sop up the remaining juices with the fresh bread she’d baked. It was quite a task, but he managed to resist.
She sat next to him, a mischievous smirk on face.
“What?” He grinned at her as he took the iced tea she placed before him and gulped it down.
“Your mother tells me you’re getting married.”
Giovanni cocked his head to the side and frowned.
“Your daughter is exaggerating, Nonna. I haven’t even asked Vanessa to marry me yet. I plan to, but not sure exactly when.”
“You will. Soon.” She placed her hand over his and tapped it.
“Is that a threat? Like, or else? You’re mafia too, huh?” They both burst out laughing.
“Love is a beautiful thing, nipotino mio.” Even after all these years, she still called him her little grandson.
“It is… yeah. It really, really is.”
“My husband, Alceu, was… a beautiful soul.” Her beautiful blue eyes, framed with wrinkles, watered up so fast, it seemed neither knew what hit them.
“Ah, Nonna, don’t cry!” He shot up from his seat, grabbed some tissue, and placed it down before her. She took one and dabbed at her eyes.
“I miss him so much, Giovanni. He died thirty-nine years ago but it feels like it was just a week ago, maybe less. That’s why I never remarried. I couldn’t. He was the best husband and father, you know?”
“Ma said the same thing.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Says she misses her pop all the time. When his birthday rolls around, she cries.”
Nonna nodded in understanding.
“I should’ve forced myself to date again because now, I am alone. But I could not, Gio. I should’ve though, when I was still beautiful.”
“Nonna! You’re friggin’ gorgeous!” He smiled wide at her, and she smiled back.
“If a woman loses her husband in her 30s or 40s, she can get another man. Sometimes, if she takes good care of herself, in her 50s, too. But now it’s too late… I have my family though, so that’s nice.”
Another tear streaked her face. How odd that she’d bring up such a thing. Nonna had in fact remained a grieving widow for far too long. And she was beautiful. He’d seen the photos of her, too, an absolute stunner. Thick, long black hair, a shapely body, beautiful smile and bright blue eyes. He always wondered why she’d never remarried, but he’d never asked.
“Did you know there’s like clubs ’nd stuff for senior citizens to go and find a date now, Nonna? You don’t have to be lonely anymore. There’s even one here in Long Island I think.”
“Do they have Italian men?”
At this, he burst out laughing.
“Probably! I know a lot uh Jews are over there, but I’m sure there are plenty of Italian guys, too. They have dinners and dances. You still like to dance. Look, if you wanna go one night, I’ll even take ya over there, okay? Just think about it.”
“Okay.” Her smile reminded him of a little girl’s, it touched him so. “I will think about it. You know why I called you over here?”
“To tell me that I don’t eat enough a
nd then to turn around and stuff my face with your delicious, fattening, artery clogging dishes. Ya tryna kill your grandson, right? You know I can’t say no to your cooking.”
She burst out laughing and playfully slapped his face.
“No, Gio! I called you here because your mother said you’re getting married.”
She then drew serious and kept staring at her hand for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t dare say a word. Then, the woman began to twist and move a ring down her dainty finger until it was completely off. The large diamond on a gold band was practically blinding.
“Giovanni.” Her eyes watered again, and he didn’t know if he could take it. “My husband gave me this ring not too long before he died. When we first got married, we had nothing.”
“I know… Ma told me.”
“But, he went and opened a business, steaming and ironing clothes… and offering shoe repair, too. He made good money and we were no longer poor. We had many children, your aunts and uncles, and I stayed home and took care of them. It was a good life. I would have had more children but I was having… lady problems.”
She swallowed. “Anyway, life was good. When he got sick, we had saved up enough that no matter what, it didn’t matter. We had enough to live on. This house was paid for. There were cars, clothes, money in the bank. I had my jewels. He said all the time that he was going to replace my ring, the first one he gave me, because it had no diamonds. It was small and flimsy, cheap gold. He knew I loved diamonds, but I never made a fuss. I was just happy to be with him, and he with me.”
She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “Then, one day, when things got very bad for his heart, he had your aunt Sibilla take him to the jewelry store. He lied to me and said he was going to the doctor.” More tears raced down her cheek. “When he returned, he proposed to me. He got down on one knee and asked me to be his bride. Sibilla had to help him stand back up.” She laughed lightly.
“The next week, we got remarried… with this ring, in this house…right there in the backyard. I still have the first one.” She thrust her right hand in his face, showing a paper thin, old gold band. “I love the first one just as much as this one. It’s not the money, the cost of it, Gio… it’s the love behind it.”
“Yeah… the love behind it.”
“So, I am going to keep this old, cheap gold ring, and I want you to give your bride this diamond one. The old one represents our old love, this latest one is for a new love…”
He couldn’t believe his ears as she reached for his hand, stretched out his fingers, and placed the ring in the palm of his hand, curling his fingers closed over it like a clam shell.
“Nonna, I can’t take this… I can’t take this ring from you.”
“It’s not your choice. It’s mine. Your mother said you could not find a ring that you liked for your bride. That’s because you hadn’t seen this one yet. Everything happens for a reason, Giovanni. You are in love. You want to marry that Black girl you introduced me to.” She shrugged. “That is fine. If you love her, I love her, too. If she loves you and treats you well, I love her more. I don’t know how much longer I have.”
“Nonna, don’t talk like that. You know I hate it when you talk like that!”
“Gio, I am not afraid of death… I’ll get to see your grandfather again.” She smiled sadly. “I want to see you get married before I die. Roberto, your brother, is married with a baby on the way. It is your turn. If I see that, I can die happy. So please.” Her voice trembled. “You take this ring… you propose to your love, and you tell her that you want to make her your bride. Get down on one knee and do it. Treat her like your grandfather treated me… with honor and respect. You have my ring, and my blessing…”
“I don’t come this way that often, so how was I supposed to know that, Gio?” Vanessa shot the bastard a glance as they made their way through Long Island.
“But the Shrine of Our Lady of the Island is like… it’s monumental! How could ya never have been there?!”
He seemed downright offended. Giovanni was crazy. What the hell did she expect?
“I’m not Catholic, I don’t come to Long Island that often, and I’m not Italian, Gio! Why in the hell, right off the rip, would I know about those statues and the garden?”
“Cazzo! No ci posso credere!”
“What did you just say?!”
“I said, ‘You’re the best, baby!’ Owww!” She hit him upside the head with her designer purse. “Why the hell would ya hit me?!” He rubbed gingerly along his scalp, soothing it.
“Because you told me you weren’t fluent in Italian and yet I have heard you on the phone speaking it countless times without even coming up for air. And now you lie to me and tell me you complimented me when you’re really cussing out loud. Talking about penises and shit. You wanna curse me out? Just rude! All because I had never been here before. I just wanted to see if you were going to tell the truth! You are cold busted!”
Gio had the audacity to look at her as if he were stunned, then turned back towards the road as he laughed his ass off.
“How tha fuck do you know what, ‘cazzo’ means?!”
“I’ve been around enough of you Guidos to pick up a thing or two. I know very little Italian, but that word I know, and a couple of others, too!” She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing and puffing. She couldn’t help herself. The man had worked her last nerve.
“Ya on your period or something? Geesh!” He kept on laughing, but she didn’t find a damn thing funny about the whole thing. Several minutes later, he pulled up to one of the most beautiful houses she’d ever seen and parked in front of it.
“I thought you said we were going back home after leaving the Shrine of Our Lady of the Island?”
She was rightly confused, and even more so as he just sat there, rubbing the dark hair along his chin and looking at the house like he was in love with it.
“Get out the car. Come with me.”
Before she knew it, they were on the front porch of this place. He slicked his hand in his pocket and removed a key. Once he opened the door, she walked inside. Not one piece of furniture occupied the space—it was a blank canvas of beauty, smelled brand new.
“Gio, this is gorgeous! Whose house is this? Did you buy it for your parents? Ohhh! I know they’re going to love it.” She squealed. He’d always talked about upgrading them, regardless of the fact that he said his mother had stated many times she didn’t want to move.
“Nah, baby… It’s not for my parents.” She turned and looked at him. The smile on his face was gone. “It’s for us…”
“Are you… are you serious?! You want to move in together? In here?! Oh my God!” His smile returned as he took her hands in his.
“Yeah, I’m serious. I bought it.” She screamed so loud, she hurt her own damn ears. Off she went, racing about from room to room. “This kitchen! Oh my God, Gio! Have you seen this kitchen?!”
Her outbursts were met with his husky chuckles. She raced up the stairs and counted the bedrooms… It was simply too much. When she came back down the steps, all the while trying to regain her composure, she paused. The man was kneeling at the bottom of the steps, as if he were praying. She inched closer to him until she was standing right before him. He remained with his head bowed for quite some time, the dark locks of hair falling forward. Finally, he looked up at her, his green eyes glossy, his complexion deepening as he blinked several times.
“You probably thought, especially based on some of our conversations, that one day I’d ask you to move in with me. Well, that’s what you said before you took a tour of the house.” She nodded. “I want to live with you, that’s for certain, but Chinky, I want somethin’ else, too. I want you to lose the King and put Luciano after your name instead.”
“Oh my God…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little blue box. When he opened it, there was a gorgeous ring, one like she’d never seen before.
“Chinky, this ring belonged to my grandmother…my N
onna. When she found out that I wanted to marry you and was havin’ a hard time finding the ring I wanted, she took this off her finger and gave it to me. Nonna has not ever taken this ring off except, according to my mother, to bathe. She has worn it every day since it was given to her, thirty-nine years ago. She got this ring from the love of her life, my grandfather, right before his passing. And now… if you’ll have me, the love of my life will wear it, too. It’s yours.”
He motioned for her hand, and she reached out to him, trying to keep her balance as her emotions ran deep. “Vanessa Violet King, will you marry me?”
His gaze locked on hers, and he was shaking. It seemed every part of his body was breaking down right before her eyes.
She nodded and wiped her tears away.
“Yes! I’ll marry you, Giovanni.”
Emitting a sigh of relief, he slid the ring down her finger, then got to his feet. They stood there hugging, eyes closed, in the silence of that big, beautiful house. She didn’t know what to do or say; she just wanted to be close to him, feel his embrace and cherish that moment. It had completely taken her off guard. He’d offered no clues to his plans, and that made this experience all the more beautiful.
She was going to be a Luciano…
The Italian stallion, versatile Guido gym rat named Giovanni had done the unthinkable. He’d gone and put a ring on it…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Two Shots to the Heart
Dante NYC Bar was the place to be.
Vanessa lounged about with a few of her friends at the historic bar which featured tapas style foods and delectable cocktails. Wearing a pair of black leather pants that hugged her hips, ass, and thighs just right, strappy leather black heels, and a tight, white, bodycon shirt beneath a black blazer, she was out to celebrate and revel in all of the adoring attention due to her recent engagement. She hadn’t had a night like this in a while, and it was a special treat to get together with her friends after a long work week.
She swung her sleek long black ponytail over one shoulder, then picked up her strawberry lemonade vodka and took a swallow of the delicious concoction.
