Chapter 7
~ Wet Rossis ~
Monday dawned warm and sunny. A great day to take a break from the pizza palace, thought Federico and Elena. Packed into their jeep, the couple headed south down the coast to meet up with Ontrelle and Christy for recreation.
"Say, Doll Face," Federico addressed his wife cheerfully, "What's the news about Aunt B and Aunt Livia? Surely at least one of them is going to pop within the next day or two."
"No signs of it yet. I was just over there last evening, and damned if they aren't just as fat and lazy as ever, not a hint of contractions for either one. Soon they're going to be so big they won't fit into those Lexuses. When the time comes, the uncles are going to have to tip them on their sides and roll them to the hospital. But wait a minute! Back up there, boy!" she admonished, slapping his arm. "Did you just call me Doll Face?"
"Merely trying it on for size," Feddy grinned sheepishly. "What do you think?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
"Well, okay if you must, but I don't feel much like a doll face. Actually, what I love the best is just having you say my name in that sexy voice of yours."
Hearing his voice thus complimented, her husband blushed with pleasure. "E-le-na," he intoned. "Elena, Elena, Elena." Suddenly he burst out singing the song 'Maria' from West Side Story, only substituting his wife's name, "Elena . . . say it loud and there's music playing, say it soft and it's almost like praying, Elena, I'll never stop saying Elena."
The object of his affections grinned widely. "Now that's perfect," she pronounced. She pondered a moment and then added, "You know what I could never figure out, though? You, Federico, have a beautiful, beautiful singing voice. Gio, on the other hand—well, I've heard him sing and his voice is . . . interesting. How can two twins with presumably identical vocal cords sound so different?"
"We may have been born with identical vocal cords, but when we were tiny our Mom used to play French and Italian operas all the time. Gio hated opera. Mom would pop in one of her CDs and he'd cover his ears and run hide under his crib. I, on the other hand, had a taste for it for some reason. She especially liked Carmen and I became very taken with 'The Toreador Song' and 'L'Amour Est Un Oiseau Rebelle'—sang them over and over again, even though the last one's a woman's aria. So my vocal cords got quite the workout from early on."
"Aw, I wish I could have heard you warbling away in your high little boy's voice. You must have been adorable."
"Naturally, that goes without saying. Of course, eventually Gio developed a taste for singing, too, but he came to it in his teens and by then his voice had grown, well, unique. He particularly liked to beatbox in his weird falsetto." Federico was growing pensive now. "Y'know, our voices may not match, but I'd give anything to have my brother right here joining me in a duet."
Silently Elena chided herself for raising what she knew to be a painful subject for the man she loved. She let her hand rest softly on his knee as he drove, and after a pause, he placed his hand on hers and squeezed it gently. But a minute later both spouses were distracted from the sweet melancholy of their private moment. The jeep darted unexpectedly to one side, and their ride suddenly became bumpier.
"Damn! Feels like a blow-out!" Federico stopped the car, ran around to the back and brought out a jack and tire iron, which he handed to his wife. He then broke out the spare tire and rolled it towards the front driver's side wheel, where a large jagged rock which had torn a crater into the depths of the rubber. As Feddy worked, he reprised his earlier musical rendition. "The most beautiful sound I've ever heard . . . E-le-na." Watching his labors, Elena was amazed anew at her great luck. She had landed a man who was not only handsome and brimming with high spirits, but also deft at mechanical tasks, plus he could sing. His astonishing stamina in bed was just icing on the cake. Very yummy icing.
Then, as her Feddy was tightening the final bolt, a very rude red Honda Civic shot past them, splashing up mud from a nearby puddle. The tire-changer's hair, blue work shirt and levis were instantly soaked. Annoyed, he stood, shook his wet head, then unbuttoned and flapped his shirt attempting to mitigate the drenching he had absorbed.
"Here, better take that dirty thing off," Elena said stripping the wet garment from her man's back. She then stepped back and eyed the result approvingly. "Now that's an attractive picture," she declared. "My beautiful husband wet and naked to the waist." She thought about that for a moment and then frowned. "Only one problem with what I'm seeing," she added.
"I know," responded Feddy, "You're thinking, 'wet and half-naked—now how am I going to tell him apart from Ontrelle?'"
"Wait! If I know your cousin and his proclivities, there's an easy solution." Elena beamed in anticipation. "I'll just get Ontrelle to remove his pants!"
* * * * * * * * *
"Oh, come on, Lanzo, give me that washcloth, won't you?"
His skin pink from the rivulets of steamy water running over his naked body, Lanzo assumed a sulky face, reluctantly handing over the limp blue square of terrycloth. "I thought I was doing a superb job of cleansing you. What are you whinging about?"
Lathering the cloth with fresh herb-scented soap, Juna raised it to her neck, meanwhile placating her man. "Honey, you've outdone yourself as far as you went. I don't think my boobs have ever been cleaner. But if I'm going to get to work on time, I really have to abjure this indolent pace, which means it's time to forego further work on my mammary region and give a little attention to my neck, shoulders and back."
"I can do that!" exclaimed her lover, grabbing the washcloth back playfully. "Rotate on your axis!" He pressed a hand on one of her shoulders, urging her to spin around. The lady turned to face the tiled wall..
Upon moving in together, the couple had adopted a routine of sharing their morning showers—the better to conserve water, or so they maintained. But Lanzo had ways of coaxing Juna to linger twice as long under the warm spray as she had ever done previously, thereby compromising any claim they might make to ecological virtue. For example, right now he was gently scrubbing her back with the washcloth in his right hand while using his left thumb to gingerly massage tender points and knotty muscles. The result was a heavenly release of tension. Juna purred with pleasure.
Sadly, despite the steamy bliss they derived from their morning ablutions, their damp dalliance eventually had to end. Lanzo reached out of the stall for a single huge, plush towel and wrapped it around both their waists. Thus swaddled together, they stepped out onto the bathmat. Lanzo reached toward the sink to retrieve his glasses. After wiping the steam off the lenses and donning them, he picked up Juna's glasses, as well, and slid them over her ears and nose.
Now, seeing her beloved face more clearly, he couldn't resist taking it between his two hands and pressing his lips ardently against hers, allowing his tongue to seek out the mintiness previously imparted by her pre-shower tooth brushing. Juna melted into him appreciatively, extending their intimacy a few moments longer.
Finally, she drew back and reached up to tussle Lanzo's damp hair. Tilting her head to one side, she contemplated his bespectacled countenance. "Lanzo, have you ever considered wearing contact lenses?"
"No, why would I?" He sounded a wee tad offended. "I always thought my glasses gave me a jaunty Indiana Jones sort of look, the way he appeared in the classroom, you know."
"I hate to break it to you, but you look more like Paul McCartney."
"Hey, wasn't he always called 'the good-looking Beatle'?"
"I think that was George."
"Well, if George was called 'the good-looking one,' then I'm pretty sure Paul was known as 'the extremely good-looking one.'"
Suddenly catching sight of her lover in the glass above the sink, Juna realized that even in what she considered to be unfortunate glasses frames, a wet, naked Lanzo bristling with overnight stubble was the sexiest thing she had ever seen or ever wanted to see again through the fog on her mirror. "Extremely good-looking doesn't begin to describe it," she murmured.
* * * * * * * * *
Christy was wallowing in Christy-heaven as she sat gazing towards the ocean. She knew she was looking spectacular in her expensive new bikini and her brand new fashion sunglasses. A plethora of fashion catalogs, delivered by the postman that morning, were stacked tall on the beach towel for her perusing pleasure, and the stunning new purse lying nearby was brimming with credit cards, close at hand should a sudden shopping emergency arise. Best of all, she had a rapturous view of her man, naked as the Lord made him, standing aloft a magnificently blue surfboard skimming across towering waves that he seemed to rule like the god Neptune.
Abruptly the sound of a slamming car door interrupted the sunbather's reverie. Turning her head, she spied Federico and Elena strolling towards her on the sand. Uncharacteristically, Feddy was stripped to the waist.
"Hi, Elena!" shouted Christy. "And Feddy, mmmmmmmmm, looking good, showing those muscles. If it weren't for your shorter hair, I'd be at risk for confusing you with my guy!"
"Well, at least I've still got my jeans on, unlike Nature Boy, there!" Federico pointed at his cousin who had now emerged from the waves and was approaching them, glistening with beads of water, his surfboard tucked under an arm. "Look, no pants, Elena," Fed added, "And you didn't even have to ask." Then, waving to his cousin, he called out, "Hey, Ontrelle, what's with this surfing in the middle of winter?"
"Oh, it's a bit chilly, I admit, but you know me and the ocean. I can't stay away! Over time, I've gotten used to cold water."
"Cold! It must be freezing—the result of which, incidentally, is that you're saluting us from below the waist. You might want to cover up for the ladies."
"Oh, don't mind me!" piped up Elena. "Go ahead and be comfortable if you want, Ontrelle."
"Yeah, no problemo for me, either. I'm used to it," added Christy.
"What, are you afraid your lady's gonna start making comparisons, cuzz?" teased Ontrelle.
"Yeah, Feddy," challenged Christy, "What size shoes do you wear, anyway?"
Elena leapt to defend her man. "He wears 10 ½ M and actually those fit quite tight. He's always complaining they're squeezing his tootsies."
Now Ontrelle jumped in to keep the peace. "Whoa, never mind, I myself have no idea of my shoe size. I just go around barefoot or in flip-flops. Anyway, I have some swim trunks I can put on. They're in our beach duffel in my car. I've got some clean jeans, too, if you'd like to borrow them, Fed. Yours look filthy."
As the men strode off, the sexy young lawyer whispered to her fellow Getty, "Rossis—don't you just love 'em when they're wet?"
Elena plopped down beside Christy, and surveyed her friend's tanned and smiling face. "Looks like you've found a pretty perfect life for yourself, Christy. You and Ontrelle seem happy. When you first met him, I wondered how long it would last between you. I mean, he's hot, naked and muscle-y and all that, but I would have said you're a lot more sophisticated. However, somehow the two of you seem right together."
"Well, you know, he does like to get naked, but only when it's appropriate, like on this private beach. And, why not? He has a bod to be proud of! But don't let that fool you. He's self-educated—well-read and always interested in new ideas. I think people underestimate him because of his build and his, erm, wardrobe. But once he gets his restaurant started on Rossi Row, you and all our friends can see him at work, and I think you'll be impressed."
"So, are the two of you in love or is this more like a pleasant fling?"
Christy absently dug one foot into the sand, letting grains of it run between her toes. "That's a good question. For awhile, I thought it was just me being lonely and Ontrelle being a fun guy and great at—well, you know! But the truth is, I've realized for awhile now that I'm falling in love with him. Not a word, though, I haven't even told him yet. But truly, Elena, don't think he's a dolt—or an exhibitionist. The nudity isn't really about sex or even about his fine, fine muscles—it's about feeling free. His Mom was telling me that ever since he was a little boy, she couldn't keep him in his rompers. I gather there were a couple incidents in kindergarten."
"He took you to meet his mother? I guess this is serious. Everybody knows he adores Gina—kind of a mama's boy, in fact. He must be falling pretty hard if he wanted you two to meet."
Christy blushed. "I don't know. I hope so. You other Getties seem so happy with your Rossi men. I wouldn't mind joining the pack. Things are good with you and Feddy, aren't they?"
"Pretty much," agreed Elena. But Christy saw her friend look out to sea and grimace a little.
"Except what, Elena?"
"Tell me, does Ontrelle ever talk about Gio?
"Actually he does. I think he misses him quite a bit. Oh, they weren't nearly as close as Gio and Feddy, of course. But before escaping the Ugly Betty Land universe, Gina and Ontrelle lived in New York for awhile. Since he's not a city boy at heart, Ontrelle wanted a job that would allow him to work outdoors and Gio found him a gig driving one of those carriages with horses that tourists ride in Central Park. In return, he'd help out at Gio's Deli when things got busy. During that time, they got to be quite fond of each other. Can I take it that Feddy's been talking to you about his twin?"
"Oh, Christy, he misses him so much, and I think it's getting worse. We tivo Ugly Betty every week. We have to fast-forward through the non-Gio parts, because Feddy really hates Betty, so we just watch the Gio videos. Each time we see him, Feddy becomes more convinced that his brother is not where he wants to be, that somebody is holding him there against his will. He thinks some sort of blackmail is involved, though. He doesn't realize, of course, that Rachael essentially sold her ex back to PRIVATE and that the money we're banking all our dreams on is actually blood money she got for collaborating with the enemy."
"Yeah, I worry about Ontrelle finding out, too. He's not as obsessed as what you're describing, but he doesn't like Gio being so far away and I know the Rossis talk amongst themselves. I think they're getting increasingly agitated and want to bring him back somehow."
"That's what I've been afraid of!" By now Elena had jumped up and was pacing anxiously in circles around her friend's beach towel. "Damn, I don't know what to do. I mean when Gio first cheated on Rachael with Nena, I was appalled. So when Rachael first made her deal with PRIVATE, I thought he had it coming to him. And I have to admit, when Rach was so generous with her payoff, the cash looked pretty good to me. And I realize it would be awful for the rest of the Getties if our guys find out what we did. But, Christy, I love Feddy more than anything in the world, and it kills me to be living a lie with him."
"Yeah, I have to admit that over time I've come to realize we never actually got to hear Gio's side of the story. Maybe there was an understandable reason for what he did. And even if he did screw up royally, it seems a shame for him to be estranged from his kids. Do you remember how they used to adore him? It made me very uncomfortable how Edward moved in on that family so quickly and smoothly. I'll bet those kids wouldn't even know who Gio was if he came back now."
"What kind of a lawyer is Edward anyway? Have you ever had dealings with him on the job?"
"Oh, he's brilliant. And his manner in the courtroom is mesmerizing. But he's also prepared to be completely ruthless on behalf of a client. I'd hate to have to take him on. When he's in top form presenting a case or making closing arguments, he becomes so charged up, you could swear he almost sparkles. But I know he's truly devoted to Rachael and her kids, so no need to worry there. It's just that they've left no room for Gio in Vanna and Ricco's lives."
Elena sat back down and slipped an arm around her friend's shoulder, giving her an affectionate half-hug. "Thanks for listening, Christy. It's so good to have somebody to talk to. I've been feeling so guilty and so scared."
Christy wrinkled her brow. "So, it sounds like you've been deliberating over whether you should take some sort of action. What are you considering?"
"Nothing for now. I've been trying to think how I can help my husband without having to betray you and our friends. Not to mention I'd like to find a way to make things right without Feddy learning the truth and hating me. Let's just hope Ugly Betty gets renewed, because every week the guys can watch and check out Gio on his global trek buys us time."
"Well, Ontrelle and I don't watch that show any more. He doesn't have the best memories of Betty, either, you know. But for our own sakes, let's hope it goes on and on."
"Yeah, for now we have Calvino and Melissa's wedding coming up, not to mention multiple births. Livia and B's four babies can't hide in the womb absorbing pasteles and pizza forever. After all that's over with, maybe we'll have time to tackle this problem."
* * * * * * * * *
"Here's to more family dinners. The sons of Angelo Rossi, united forever!" Lanzo and Antonino clicked glasses. "By the way, great wine choice, Lauren!"
The brothers and their girlfriends were sitting on the balcony of Lanzo and Juna's apartment, sated from the spicy daube Lanzo had just whipped up on the stove and from the home-churned spumoni contributed by Nino. Lauren and Juna high-fived. "Of course, it's great! It's the Getty Girls' official wine, Chateau Montelena. Glad to hear that it suits the Rossis, too."
Nino nodded approvingly. "Too bad Feddy couldn't be here to share it, too. I gather he and Elena had another engagement, but I like it when all us brothers get together now and then."
"Not all," Lanzo reminded him with a sigh. "We'll never be a complete family unless and until Gio returns."
Juna and Lauren glanced at one another anxiously. Juna cleared her throat. "I've brewed some coffee and it's in that carafe over there. Why don't you men remain on the balcony and enjoy your coffee and cigars. Lauren and I will clear the table and then retire to the drawing room for a nice ladies' chat."
The men threw her a puzzled look. "Cigars?" inquired Lanzo. "I think we'll skip those, but by all means, coffee would be nice."
As Juna and Lauren slipped into the kitchen bearing dirty dishes. Lauren raised her eyebrows in a question, "Coffee and cigars? Retire to the drawing room? That's a bit quaint, isn't it? Not your usual way of talking, Juna. What's got into your head?"
"I guess it's your fetching accent and your English complexion and that way you have about you, Lauren. Sometimes you seem like a heroine dreamed up by Jane Austen, and when I'm around you something suddenly gets me conversing like her characters."
"Well, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Rossi in possession of sweet dimples and a good mustle-y torso must be in want of a wife. Jane would be the first to acknowledge that. Are you and Lanzo moving in that direction by any chance?"
"I don't know. He hasn't said anything. It's been making me a little leery of signing over the money I got from Rachael for his school. What if we later broke up? What would be my stake in the school? I might not want to work there any more. On the other hand, I'd hate to be the vindictive type and pull the financial rug out from under him just because we didn't work out. What about you and Antonino? The two of you seem awfully lovey-dovey."
"I guess I'm in the same place you are. We haven't been talking about a wedding, and that's fine with me. I haven't decided for sure that I want to stay in this country, and I still have so many things I want to do with my life. On the other hand, where would I find a gorgeous, wonderful, romantic guy like my Nino again? A marriage with him could be brilliant."
"What are your thoughts about the money?"
"Originally I was hesitant to invest in the ice cream parlor, just like you with the school. But, you know, when I took the money I didn't really understand how Rachael got it. Now that I know, it really seems to me that it should belong to the Rossis anyway. I mean, unbeknownst to them, they sacrificed one of their own for it. Somehow withholding it just wouldn't seem right."
Lounging on the balcony, Angelo and Francesca Rossi's oldest and youngest sons saw their womenfolk heads together, brows furrowed, deep in conversation. "It appears that our women are conjoined in a serious colloquy," remarked Lanzo.
"As usual, I understood about three words in that sentence," complained Nino. "Maybe Juna's throwing her own high-falluting vocabulary at Lauren and has her similarly baffled."
"I doubt it. You're underestimating the depth of Lauren's internal lexicon. It's true she's a knockout, but you need to pay more attention to her mind, bro. You've got a special girl there."
"I know, I know. She's too good for me. I've been wanting to ask her for a bigger commitment, but I'm afraid she'll say no."
"Then just wait. When the time is right, you'll figure it ou . . . Hey, what's going on down there?"
Upon hearing squealing tires followed by a loud thud, both Rossis leapt from their chairs and rushed to the railing. Below, a car was winding a wobbly path down the street and lying in its wake was a toppled U.S. mailbox. A moment later, a grating sound rose from the curb and Nino let out a shout, "Hey, he sideswiped my car! Damn! I want that guy's license number." Unfortunately, he quickly discovered he couldn't budge the balcony's sliding door. They were trapped.
"What? Are we stuck out here?" asked Lanzo, annoyed. "Get their attention. Hey, Juna! Lauren! Open up!" But deep in conversation, the two Getties were oblivious of the men's entreaties. Unfortunately, at that instant a raindrop landed on Lanzo's cheek, causing him to gaze skyward. Almost immediately the sky opened its faucets and heavy sheets of rain descended on the balcony and its prisoners.
Both men pounded on the door and yelled insistently. Roused from her consultation with Juna, Lauren giggled and waved to her lover. "Look, Juna, my favorite treat. Wet Rossis! Do you think we should let them in? With all that rain, their shirts are transparent and sticking to their skin. What could be sexier?"
"Aw, let me feast my eyes a moment more. Then tonight, I'll make it up to Lanzo privately, if you catch my drift. In the meantime, what you were saying about the money—I agree that it would be wrong to withhold it from Gio's family, but I also think they'd be furious if they used it for their own business purposes and then later learned where it came from. I'm thinking that the money might better be used to find a way to bring their brother home."
"Good point, Juna. I'm not sure how to explain not putting it into Rossi Row, though. Let's think and then talk again soon."
By now it was apparent to the brothers that they were at the women's mercy and would be made to wait for their release. "Oh well," shrugged Nino. "We've missed our chance to get that guy's license number, but under the streetlight I could at least see the car was a red Honda Civic."
