To everyone who's ever read anything from the stories on here I like to call Mack's Saga, it's nice to see you again.
To anyone that's never read either of the first two installments, Because of the Telepath, or Confidence Trick… good luck keeping up.
I decided to start the drabbles early, because I just couldn't resist.
Marlene was fairly certain he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.
Marlene had laid eyes on a good amount of attractive men in her fifteen years.
She was Italian after all; everyone in the world knew Italians were famous for pizza, the mafia, leaning towers, and most of all…lovers.
She could remember being very, very young, and holding her mother's hand as they perused markets. She could remember gazing up at the big, boisterous men and accepting gifts like small flowers or pieces of fruit as her mother shopped, with them patting her head and calling her bel bambino; beautiful child.
Then, when she was a few years older, she remembered seeing the men again, and smiling shyly, hiding behind her mother's skirts or pant legs, and peering out to gaze at these things called males. They were exactly like her, except somehow, they were different. Perhaps in more ways than one.
Marlene had never had childhood phase where she thought boys were icky.
In fact, she was fascinated by them.
This, perhaps, was not the best way to be. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she began to inquire as to what made boys tick; what made them laugh, what made them scoff, what made them so much tougher than she, what made them think, (that one was hard; Marlene eventually came to accept boys rarely thought at all), what made them blush and look away.
"La curiosità uccise il gatto," her mother warned her. Curiosity killed the cat.
But Marlene wasn't a cat, and she didn't think her curiosity was strong enough to get her killed. So until she turned thirteen, she went on inquiring.
Then, that summer, the boys began to notice she was more than just a nosy tag-along with a thirst for knowledge as to their general boyish natures. No, now, they noticed, now she was bello, magnifico, radiante.
When Marlene would twirl her thick dark hair around her little finger, and tilt her head a certain way, their jaws would go slack, and they would wonder when she had started doing that.
When she would raise up her skirts to go wading in the creek with them like she always did, they would find themselves staring at her exposed legs, and wishing disconcertedly that she would raise them higher.
Her laugh, her eyes, her soft skin, that teasing note in her voice, the way she would sing when she was hanging out clothes to dry… it had every boy proclaiming on at least six, if not seven surrounding streets:
"Lo sono innamorato!" I am in love!
Marlene would just giggle. What use to her was love?
A year and a half passed, and her father struck it rich suddenly, and before she knew it, she was being shipped off to a boarding school in America. The home del terreno libero, la terra dei brav!
Marlene was terribly excited to be here, where everything was so different.
Standing here across the room from this gorgeous man, she was beginning to wonder if her home country was correct in thinking of all Americans the same.
He was certainly nothing like she was expecting.
He was bello. Beautiful.
Marlene had never had this much to drink before, but it gave her the courage she needed to take the steps required. She approached this bello man, this American who would teach her all she ever needed to know about the men here.
Possibly all she needed to know about the men everywhere.
"Saluto," is the first word out of her mouth. Greeting.
Her cheeks grow red and hot, and she can't decide if she's embarrassed, or shy, or has had simply too much wine.
But then, she is from Italy; and what sort of Italian can ever have too much wine?
The man's eyes are red around the rims, but just barely. Even somewhat intoxicated, he carries himself with an air of authority, and Marlene thinks to herself that this must be someone a lot of people respect.
"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded amazing." He admits, winking at her.
"I am sorry, sir," Marlene says slowly, thinking of how all her American friends tease her when she doesn't get the tense right. "I am very new here, to America."
The man blinks slowly, languidly, drinking her in, and the way he looks at her makes her nervous. She wonders if she ever made the boys back home feel this way.
"I can see that," he replies.
He could? How? Was it branded somewhere on her? Was she wearing an emblem of her home somewhere upon her person?
She asks him this.
He laughs, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and tells her that it's just a figure of speech.
Marlene is not quite sure what a figure of speech is, (How can speech have a figure? It has no body.) but she likes the way this man says it.
"What is your name?" He asks her.
"Marlene." She tells him.
"I like it," he compliments.
She blushes prettily, batting her eyelashes in that way she knew drove Mario Veroni crazy back home.
But this person standing in front of her is no elementary school boy that has a crush on her.
The thought of how much older than she that he is makes something in her become nervous.
But her mind and her drink push all nervousness away, and they talk.
His name is Darren, and she likes this. It is American. It is new. No boys in Italy are named Darren.
And when he touches her, pushes his lips against hers and she tastes all the promises there, she forgets everything.
She forgets how all the boys back home wanted this. She forgets how some of the boys on the school campus look at her and her dark hair and pretty face. She forgets how she is Italian and this man is American. She would probably even forget that he is bello if the evidence were not right in front of her.
She would forget that she was bello too, if he were not making her feel that way.
And her curiosity is sated.
So, there's the vague story of how Mack and Fang's mother met their father. You know, the first time, which resulted in, uh, Fang.
These won't be updated very often, only in between the chapters for the main story. And these are NOT the ones in which Mack and Fang meet their grandparents. That'll be it's own little story entirely.
But what do you think of the first drabble? Love it, hate it?
Review and let me know!