Author's Note: I have been working on this story for the longest time, and so I'm very happy to finally have it up! I hope you all enjoy it! And a head's up to all you silent favoriters: reviews are love and it would make my day if you could just drop one off. Even if it's only a sentence or two!
Disclaimer: Much to my regret, I do not own West Side Story! Baby!Jets Riff, Jr., Diesel, and Ava belong to the amazing LCV Productions, as does Graziella's brother, Fred.
Dedication: This is for some very special ladies that I know: viennacantabile, LazyChestnut, Megfly, and SheWhoDreamsByDarkness-x. Without them, this story would most certainly not exist! I love you guys!
Four-thirty. That's what the cracked, banged up clock on the wall read---four-thirty. Over the years that old, reliable thing had become a sort of salvation for a certain young waitress at the Moon Dust Diner in West Side, New York. Her tired eyes, which made her look so much older than her twenty-three years, were glued to the cheap time-teller. Just another half hour. One more half hour an' yer gone. So enamored was she by her own thoughts that she didn't even notice her sleazy boss attempting to bring her back to reality.
"Graziella!" he shouted, his pudgy face crimson and beaded with sweat. His meaty fingers were balled into angry fists at his fat sides.
Glancing over as if just looking at him without vomiting was a difficult task, Graziella Barker did her best not to roll her eyes. "A'right, Sal. Chill. Yer gonna blow a gasket."
Sal narrowed his beady eyes at the redhead. "Watch it, girlie. If ya know what's good for ya, ya'll keep yer mouth shut an' show a little respect." He grinned in that rat-like way of his, showing off way more yellow teeth than Graziella thought necessary. "That is if ya wanna be considered for that raise I know ya been after. Now say yer sorry for bein' so mean ta poor ol' Sal."
Graziella stared at him in disgust. "Sorry, Sal," she muttered unwillingly. He smirked at her and sauntered off towards the broom closet he called an office. "Sorry yer the biggest asshole I ever met!" she snapped as soon as the door closed behind him.
"Now, now, honey, don' let 'im get ta ya," a familiar voice came from behind her.
The redhead sighed. "I know I shouldn', Viv, but he's just so…so…ugh!" She proceeded to prove her point by slamming her forehead into the greasy counter.
Viv, a fifty-seven year old widow and Graziella's closest co-worker, shot the younger girl a sympathetic look and patted her back gently. "There, there, sweetie. Nobody knows better than me than what a pain in the ass Sal can be. But, truth is, there ain't nothin' any-a us can do 'bout it." She sighed, tucking strands of her graying chestnut hair into a bun. "An' I hate to say it, baby, but he's got himself a point." She paused, as if admitting that her boss was right actually caused her physical pain. "Ya want that raise, don't ya? Hell, ya need that raise, Graziella. An' the only way yer gonna get it is ya act like a good little girl. Quite frankly, honey, ya gotta kiss some ass." Graziella glanced up and Viv looked her straight in the eye. "Ya hear what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeah," Graziella admitted sullenly. "Don' mean I gotta like it."
Viv laughed heartily. "Oh, sugar." Her eyes flew to the door as a couple of new customers entered the diner: a man and what appeared to be his daughter. "Now look," she whispered to her young friend. "You handle these two. The more ya work, the more Sal'll notice." She winked and slipped away into the kitchen.
Graziella jumped to her feet as the pair plopped into two seats at the counter. She grabbed a wet rag and attempted to wipe down their area, but even as she did so, she knew it was useless. Over time that counter had built up so much grime, it would take one serious miracle to dispel all of it. "Hey, there," she greeted her customers brightly. "What can I do for you two today?"
The little girl, a pretty thing with big blue eyes and ebony curls, giggled shyly. "Oh, Daddy!" she chirped. "Could I get a big ice cream sundae just for me?" she wondered, working those angel-like eyes of hers.
The man, her father, laughed jovially. "Hmm…" He put his hand on his chin and was thoughtful for a moment. Graziella couldn't help but smile. "I think maybe just this once!" he decided. Then he got serious and, glancing around, lowered his voice. "But don't tell Mommy," he whispered.
The child's eyes grew even wider in excitement—whether it was from the ice cream or the secret, the redhead wasn't sure. "Of course, Daddy!" She turned toward Graziella, smiling sweetly. "An ice cream sundae please!" she requested. "The biggest one you can find!" she added.
"With lots of cherries on top," her father put in with a laugh.
Graziella grinned. "Yas got it," she told them. "Hey, Curly!" she called into the kitchen. "Gimme the biggest sundae ya can find an' make sure it's got lots-a cherries!"
"Ya got it, Graz," Curly the Cook answered her.
Graziella smiled at the father and daughter, who were already wrapped up in a very serious conversation about the difference between ponies and unicorns. The sight of them brought on memories of her own childhood; memories of her father. She suddenly began to feel a pain in her stomach and a sharp stinging in her head that she thought she had gotten over long ago. Please, she begged herself. Don't. But it was too late. The wound, all too fresh, was already being reopened.
"You ungrateful little brat! We give you everything your entire life, and this is how you repay us?!"
"Daddy, please," seventeen-year old Graziella begged, tears staining her pale face. "It was an accident!"
"Oh, an accident, eh? You bet it was! And now you're gonna pay for it!"
"Edward!" Mrs. Barker pleaded, her eyes watering as well. "She's only a child. She—"
"Shut up, Rose!" Mr. Barker growled. "She's not a little girl anymore. She thinks she's so grown? Grown enough to have a baby? Well let's see. Let's see how well she does all by herself!"
"Daddy!" Graziella gasped, unable to accept what he was saying.
"Don't you 'Daddy!' me!" her father snapped ferociously. "Where's that boyfriend of yours, huh? Don't see him coming around to support you. Oh right, that's because he went and got himself killed!"
"Dad!" Fred, Graziella's younger brother, cut in.
"You stay out of this, Fred!" Mr. Barker yelled. "And you!" he continued, turning back towards his daughter, pointing a finger at her menacingly. "You get out of my house and don't ever show your sorry face here again!"
"NO!" Fred yelled, running to embrace his sister.
"It's alright, Fred," Graziella said slowly, lifting her chin. "I don't stay anywhere I'm not wanted."
"B-but ya can't just--" he pressed, while their mother sobbed in the corner.
"I'll be okay. I promise," she whispered, squeezing her brother tight. Without a glance at either of her parents she walked out the front door, never to return.
The now twenty-three year old Graziella had to grab onto the counter to steady her dizzy self. Her head was swimming from the painful event she had just recalled. The day she had told her parents she was pregnant was the last time she had ever really seen them. Sure, she had passed her mother a few times in the street, and her father had walked by the diner a few times, but they were nothing but strangers now. Edward and Rose Barker, the doctors. Fred was the only one she kept in contact with and that was just fine by her. Still, she'd never realized how searing that memory really was.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" the man was asking worriedly.
His daughter gave her a curious look. "You got a funny look on your face," she informed her.
"Lily!" the man scolded. He then turned back to Graziella. "Are you feeling okay?" he repeated.
"Oh, oh, I'm fine," the young woman replied, cheeks flushing. "Just a little tired is all," she explained. "Oh, an' look!" she said too quickly, glancing to where a sundae sat expectantly. "Yer ice cream's ready!" she told Lily, attempting excitement.
The little girl clapped her hands happily, all concern for Graziella's "funny faces" disappearing in the instant that silver dish was placed in front of her.
"Now what do you say, Lily?" her father asked expectantly.
"'Ank oo," the child responded, a spoonful of vanilla ice cream already crammed into her little mouth.
"Sure thing," Graziella told her distractedly. "'Scuse me," she added, slowly walking towards the back of the restaurant. She dropped to a chair instantly, taking a shaky breath. "Pull yerself together," she ordered, running a hand through her lustrous red hair. She watched as it slipped through her fingers. It was one of the only things about her that hadn't changed in the past six years. It was one of the few things that helped her to remember who she had once been. Her mind flashed to a summer night so many years ago when a young, carefree redhead had danced her way through the local gym, not caring what the future would bring so long as she had him to hold onto….
"Oh, stop it!" she told herself angrily, rising and kicking her chair. "You are not seventeen years old anymore, Graziella." She spun around quickly when she heard giggling behind her.
"Talkin' ta yerself again, Graziella?" asked a sprightly young waitress.
Graziella sighed. "Leave me alone, Dolores," she snapped irritably.
Dolores put up her hands, surrender-fashion. "A'right, geez. I was only lookin' for some more straws ta refill the canister," she said moodily. She snatched the closest box she could find, made a face at Graziella, and sauntered out of the supply room as if she owned the place. Good for her. It wasn't that great anyway.
The redhead rolled her eyes. Dolores was another thing she hated about working here. Well her and Louise and Pamela. The three of them, all sixteen, made things so much worse—probably because they reminded Graziella so much of herself at their age. They pranced around without a care in this world. Their biggest worries were which shoes better matched their dresses and whether or not their dates would be able to notice their slightest imperfections. Shut up! Graziella wanted to scream sometimes. Don't yas see that yas got so much more in front of ya? Take it! Take it while ya still can! But of course, she couldn't. Especially not since Sal loved them so much. It nauseated her to watch him pinch their cheeks or pat their bottoms, all the while promising them bigger paychecks come next month. But they couldn't. Dolores and Louise and Pamela just couldn't take that raise from her—not when she needed it so much. Not when she had bills to pay. Not when she had mouths to feed. Not when she had a son to take care of. No, they just couldn't take that raise. Because, you see, this was all she had. Those girls had their college beaus. Those pretty engagement rings that have been passed down since the time of the dinosaurs were within their grasps. They'd have picture-perfect weddings to their Tommy's and John's and Paul's. Then they'd move to the suburbs, pop out a couple kids, and live happily ever after. But this…this was Graziella Barker's life.
"Graziella?" Viv asked, peeking her head through the door.
"Yeah?" she said, swiping at her eyes. When had she started to cry?
"One-a yer usuals is here," the older woman informed her. She smiled wanly at her and then moved back out front.
Graziella cleared her throat, straightened out her apron, and slipped through the door. In the front of the store, right by his spot by the window, was someone the young woman knew all too well. "Hey, Steve. Lemme guess. Coffee, two sugars, an' apple pie?" she inquired. He ordered the same the thing every day.
The older man grinned. "A-course. Ya know me too well, Graz. Now when ya gonna marry me?" he pleaded with a laugh.
Graziella grinned. Steve was a single, middle-aged plumber who'd discovered the Moon Dust Diner's apple pie back when the redhead was still in diapers. When she'd first started working there, he'd sworn she was the woman of his dreams and had proposed right then and there. She, only seventeen at the time, had been horrified, not realizing how far the man's sense of humor went. Now it was more of a running gag between the two of them. "I'm still considerin' it," she told him with a wink. "I'll be right back with that order-a yers though," she added laughingly.
As she strolled away, Graziella couldn't help but recall another certain someone that really hadn't been able to take "No" for an answer.
"Tiger, go away! I'm beggin' ya—just leave me alone!" Graziella was only three months along, but her normally miniscule waist had already started to swell. She rubbed her stomach absentmindedly, more concerned with shaking the very large problem that had managed his way into her life.
"Please, Graziella," he begged. "I wanna take care-a ya!"
"No!"
"Please!" Tiger insisted. "That baby could be mine for all ya know!"
He just had to play that card. It ain't, she wanted to shout. This is Riff's baby inside-a me an' sleepin' with you was the biggest mistake I have ever made! Instead, she said. "Ya wanna help me, Tiger? Then just leave me alone! I'm just fine by myself."
Tiger wasn't giving up that easily though. "Babies are hard, Graziella. Especially when yer all by yerself. My dad said he could get me a job at the construction place where he works. I can take care-a ya! I can give ya a place to live an' help ya with the baby!"
Graziella's eyes welled up. Her baby would need a man in his life, even if it wasn't his father…..but she just couldn't. "Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Tiger."
He hung his head. "Whatever ya want, Graziella. But just know," he told her seriously, "I'll always be around. If ya ever need anythin', I'll be there for ya."
She hadn't ever taken him up on that offer. She'd continued on. Week by week, her stomach had grown bigger. And week by week, people's looks had grown harsher. Still, she hadn't called him. He'd even gone and taken that job with his old man. Just in case she ever changed her mind, he'd said. Graziella sighed as she returned to Steve with his coffee and pie. "Thanks, hon," he said gratefully.
"Not a problem, Steve," she murmured, resuming her spot behind the counter. She glanced up at the clock and a feeling of euphoria swept over her. Five o'clock. She was a free woman. "Bye, Viv," she exclaimed ripping her apron off and slinging it on its hook. "Bye, Sal," she called, practically dancing towards the front door.
Sal, who had been whispering sweet nothings intoa giggling Pamela's ear, looked up in annoyance and nodded in Graziella's general direction.
As soon as she was outside, Graziella took a moment to enjoy the fresh air. Okay, so maybe New York air, particularly in the West Side, wasn't exactly fresh. But it was a hell of a lot better than whatever she was breathing in at that diner. Smiling, she slipped her hands into her jacket pockets and walked briskly down the street towards a familiar apartment building.
"Graz!" Velma cried as soon as she opened the door. "God, is it really five already?" she asked with a grin, ushering her friend into the apartment. Velma Andersen Kelly was Graziella's very best friend in the whole world. They shared everything....including childcare duties.
"Mama!" a small voice cried, as he raced into the room and latched onto his mother's legs.
Graziella laughed. "Hey! There's my boy!" she exclaimed, dropping a kiss to his forehead.
"Aw, Aunt Graziella, can't Riff stay for just a little longer?" begged three-year-old Diesel, Velma and Ice's oldest son.
Riff, that was his name. Well, Riff, Jr. to be exact. And his name was not the only thing the five-year-old had inherited from his father. The identical lopsided grin, those brown curls, the way he managed to wrap himself around her finger with one look. It all came from his father. And then there were his emerald green eyes, which mirrored her own so perfectly. One look at him and you could never doubt who his father was.
"'Iff! 'Iff!" exclaimed one and half-year-old Ava, squirming in her father's arms.
Both women laughed. "For a little while longer," Graziella caved.
"All right!" both boys yelled, racing back to Diesel's room to do God only knew what.
"Sit down, Graz," Velma told her, indicating a seat at the kitchen table. "I'll get ya some coffee." She came up behind Ice, still struggling with an excited Ava, who now wanted to play with her brother and his friend. Slipping a slender arm around his waist, she smiled and whispered, "I'll take her."
Ice gave his wife a grateful look and gently handed her their daughter. "I'll go make sure them two don't kill each other," he offered. As if to solidify his point, a loud crash came from the next room over. He sighed, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Be right back," he said, leaving the kitchen.
Velma giggled. "Good luck with that, honey." She carefully placed Ava into her highchair, kissed her daughter's head, and began to prepare two mugs of coffee.
"He was good today?" Graziella immediately wanted to know.
Velma smiled. "Graz, ya ask the same question every day! He was great; he always is."
"I'm just startin' ta feel guilty, is all," Graziella admitted. "He's at yer place every day. Clarice says she don' mind takin' him, but with the new baby, I wouldn' wanna do that to her. Minnie, too, but she's so far along that I couldn' possibly expect her ta watch Riff." She sighed, dropping her face into her hands. "But it's not fair that ya gotta take him either."
Velma turned to look at her best friend, coffee forgotten. "Graziella." She paused until the redhead looked up at her. "We love havin' Riff here. An' it ain't any trouble takin' him at all. You need ta stop bein' so hard on yerself," she ordered. "Yer doin' the best ya can, an' it looks pretty damn good ta me."
Graziella sighed again. "I just don' know what we're gonna do, Vel," she said quietly. "The landlord's been after me again for the rent an' I barely have half my other bills paid. If I don' get this raise…"
"Yer gonna get it, Graz," Velma said quickly, her voice sounding positive. "There ain't no one else who deserves it more." At that moment Ava, missing the attention, began to cry. Velma immediately turned to her and lifted her out the of seat. "Sh, sh, sweetheart," she murmured comfortingly. Her daughter just continued to wail.
Graziella rose from her seat and walked over to try to help Velma. "Oh, Ava," she said softly, taking the baby's small hand. "Be good for mama."
Ice quickly backtracked into the kitchen, followed closely by Diesel and Riff, Jr. "Is she okay?" Ice asked in obvious concern.
Velma nodded. "Just a little cranky. You take her an' I'll get a bottle," she told him, sliding the child into his arms.
Graziella slid down, wrapping both her arms around her son. "Whadya say we start headin' home, buddy?" she asked.
"But, Mama," Riff was about to whine, but he saw the look on his mother's face change, he agreed. "Okay."
Graziella smiled. "Good," she laughed, kissing his cheek. Rising, she announced, "We're gonna get goin' now. Thanks for everythin', Velma. Ice." When her friend made a move for the door, she blocked her. "We'll let ourselves out. Looks like ya've got yer hands full here." Smiling, she gave her friend a peck on the cheek. "See yas tomorrow. Bye, Ava!" she waved to the little girl, who had settled some.
"'Iff!" Ava yelled in response.
"Bye-bye, Ava!" Riff, Jr. said with a wave. Then he turned to his friend. "See ya tomorrow, Diesel."
"Right!" Diesel exclaimed. "Bye, Aunt Graziella!"
"Bye, Diesel," Graziella replied with a smile. She pulled her son towards the front door and helped him slip his coat on.
"I can do it!" the boy insisted. After several failed attempts to pull up his zipper, however, he turned back to his mom. "Um?"
She laughed knowingly and carefully zipped his jacket. Stubborn as hell, her son was. He got that from the both of them. Taking his hand, she gently led him out of the apartment building.
As they approached their own home, Riff, Jr. regaled Graziella with stories from kindergarten. "An' Mrs. Gambini says we're gonna make mac'oni (he always had trouble with macaroni) necklaces on Friday, an' I'm gonna make one fer you, Mama, but ya gotsta act surprised," he said seriously.
"Oh, of course!" Graziella replied, just as serious. She was about to take him up the three flights of stairs to their apartment when Bill Sanders, their landlord, appeared.
"Evenin' Ms. Barker." Ms. Barker. He always called her that, even though he knew she'd never been married. At first, she'd found it nice. Over the years, however, it'd just grown condescending.
"Evenin', Mr. Sanders," she replied evenly. "Somethin' we can do for ya?"
The man eyed her warily for a moment, glancing conscientiously at her son. Leaning forward, he whispered, "I can't wait on that rent forever. I got some interested buyers," he informed her.
Graziella blanched. "I'm workin' on it, Bill," she told him. "Really. I'll have it by the end-a the week, I promise."
He stared at her. How many times had he heard that before? "All right," he finally said. "End-a the week or that's it." The redhead nodded and watched him walk away.
"Are you okay, Mama?" Riff, Jr. asked, gripping his mother's hand tightly.
Dazed, Graziella looked down at him. "Oh, a-course, baby," she told him. "C'mon, let's go home."
Mother and son spent the rest of the evening at their simple kitchen table, Riff, Jr. coloring and telling his mom all about the games he and Diesel had played. Graziella did her best to listen to all he had to say, but her mind kept replaying what had happened in the hallway. End-a the week or that's it. By eight o'clock, she finally managed to get Riff, who insisted he wasn't tired, into bed.
"Good night, Mama," he said, trying not to yawn in front of her.
Graziella smiled, pretending she didn't notice. "Night, baby." She kissed him gently and then shut off the light, leaving the door open an inch, just the way he liked it.
As soon as she walked back out into the living room, Graziella felt like sobbing. She looked around her small apartment, the one she'd been living in since she'd gotten pregnant. All the furniture was used and second-rate. The kitchen counter was buried underneath a stack of bills. Electricity, heat, food clothes. It seemed she was always paying more and more, yet they always had less and less. Near the lamp was a picture of a sixteen-year-old Graziella with a seventeen-year-old Riff, the father of her child. Dropping to her knees, she clutched the picture tightly. "I'm tryin'," she whispered. "I'm really tryin'."
Just then, the phone rang in the kitchen. Graziella jumped up to answer it, hoping it hadn't woken Riff, Jr. "Hello?" she answered softly.
"I can't believe that little snake!" was the reply she got.
"What…Viv, is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me," said the older woman, sounding absolutely furious. "I thought I'd tell ya the news 'fore ya got ta work tomorrow," she said sullenly.
"What news?" Graziella asked nervously. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good.
"About that slimeball boss-a ours! Not fifteen minutes after ya left…" She sighed, as if she hadn't realized how hard this was gonna be. "Not fifteen minutes after ya left," she repeated, her voice softer. "The little bastard gave the raise ta Dolores," she finished quietly.
Graziella felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She couldn't speak.
"I'm so sorry, honey," Viv said apologetically. "Maybe I shouldna called."
"N-no. Thanks, Viv," Graziella said thickly, afraid she might burst into tears. "See ya tomorrow," she added. She didn't wait for a reply; she just hung up. She dropped to a chair in the kitchen, her face blank. It was almost as if she didn't feel anything. Almost. And then she saw that endless pile of bills and the words, End-a the week or that's it, filled her head, and she started to sob. She dropped her head down to the table, praying that Riff couldn't hear her. For five minutes, she wept so hard that she was sure there wouldn't be a drop of water left in her system.
Then she rose and walked back over to where she had dropped the picture. Picking it up, she begged, "Tell me what ta do. I don' know what to do. I don' know how ta care of our baby anymore," she cried. But the picture didn't change—it didn't say anything. Clawing at her eyes, she stood up, straightened her skirt subconsciously, and tip-toed over to Riff's room. Opening the door slightly, she stared at the little angel sleeping in his bed. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out and turned to leave when she heard:
"Mama?" God, his voice was too much like his father's.
"Yes?" Graziella asked tightly, hoping he wouldn't realize she'd been crying.
"Is everythin' okay, Mama?" he asked, sitting up in bed worriedly.
"Oh, yes. Everythin's fine," the redhead lied. She walked into his room, dropping onto his bed beside him. "An' you know I love you, right? So, so much. An' that I'd do anythin' for ya, right?"
"A-course, Mama," Riff said, confusion playing across his face. "An' I love you, too. More than anythin'."
Graziella choked back a sob. "Thank you, baby," she said, kissing his forehead. "Now get back to bed." She helped him slide under the covers and then pulled the door back to the way it had been. "Mama's gonna take care of everythin'," she whispered, making a decision.
She walked slowly into the kitchen, terrified of what she was about to do. Her hands shaking so hard, she thought she may actually drop it, she picked up the phone, gingerly punching in the numbers she hadn't even realized she'd memorized. It rang three times. Don' pick up, she begged. Don' pick up. I can go ta bed an' pretend this was all a bad dream an' laugh about it with Velma tomorrow an'….
"Hullo?" a tired voice said after the fifth ring.
Graziella stuffed a fist into her mouth to stop herself from weeping. After taking a moment to calm herself, she whispered. "Tiger? It's me."
"Graziella?!" She could almost feel him sitting straight up in bed. "Is everythin' okay?"
The redhead winced at his obvious concern for her well-being. What had she ever done to him to deserve such adoration? She had never wanted it. She still didn't want it. "No. No, it ain't," she told him matter-of-factly. "Look," she went on, cutting right to the chase. "You know how ya told me that offer would always be good?" She felt as if someone was sticking a very sharp blade into her heart. But that someone was her.
She heard a sharp intake of breath over the line. "Gaz, does that mean? Does that mean ya'll…."
She couldn't bear to hear him say. "Yeah, yeah," she cut him off, twisting the phone cord around her finger. Lowering her voice, she said, "I'll…I'll marry ya."
"Oh, gee! Wow! Ya…ya won't be sorry, Graziella!" Tiger insisted excitedly.
"Sure," Graziella said, not believing him. "Listen, why dontcha stop by the diner tomorrow at noon an' we'll talk about it then. That's when I go on lunch, okay?"
"Sounds great!" Tiger agreed enthusiastically. "See ya tomorrow, then! An'…I love you, Graziella."
The room was spinning. "Yeah, I know," she said. "I gotta go. I'll see ya tomorrow, Tiger," she told him, hanging up the phone.
What had she done? What had she done? Stumbling backwards, she found herself staring at that damn picture again. "Whadya want me ta do?" she demanded from it. "I can't do it by myself anymore, Riff," she sobbed, holding the picture tightly. Then, "I love you. I always will," she whispered.
Carrying it into her bedroom, she carefully placed the frame in her bureau drawer. She slowly lay onto her bed, curling up tightly. It wouldn't be much longer that she would get to sleep alone. Soon enough, there would be a big, hulking stranger…no, her husband…lying beside her. Soon enough. But then she thought of Riff, Jr. sleeping right next door and everything started to make sense. Bill Sanders could sell this crappy apartment to those "interested buyers." Sal and the Moon Dust Diner could kiss her ass, and Dolores could be happy with that raise. Most importantly, her son would be taken care of. He would have a mother who wouldn't have to work; who would be around for him always. Soon enough. And Riff. She would always love Riff. Tiger could never replace that—even he, not exactly the brightest light on the Christmas tree, had to know that. But he was willing to overlook it; willing to take care of her, and for that, she supposed she was grateful.
Graziella slowly fell asleep, praying that she had made the right choice.
End.
Hope you liked it!