Formaggio hated silence. It made him antsy, to say the least. Ghiaccio focused on the road and Melone sat in the passenger seat staring out the window. He was oddly quiet. Probably still messed up after Gelato. He glanced over at Illuso who also seemed wrapped up in thought. Damn, I can't take this.
"Yo, Blue, can you put on the radio or something?" Formaggio leaned forward clinging to Melone's seat as he pointed at the dial. Ghiaccio pressed a button and hip hop music started playing. At least Ghi has good taste.
Formaggio sat back in his seat again and tried to think about the party. At least there would be alcohol there. It had been pretty crazy in years past. It was also the one time he got to see all kinds of friends he didn't usually get to see. And girls. There were more and more girls joining Passione every year.
"So who's excited for all the girls?!" Formaggio finally broke the silence.
"Is that all you ever think about?" Ghiaccio muttered. Melone turned around to look behind him.
"Like Cookie?" Melone smirked. Formaggio blanched and stumbled to recover.
"Cookie is a great friend, and you better keep your lusty hands off her!" Formaggio flicked Melone's nose.
"I like pretty people. What can I say?" Melone shrugged and then licked his lips seductively. As he began turning around he added, "I bet she has little feet, what a perfect match…" Formaggio blushed and smacked him upside the head.
"Don't talk about her feet, dammit!" Formaggio yelled. "Or my stand. You make it sound so dirty!"
"Hey, leave him alone!" Ghiaccio turned and swatted at Formaggio.
"He's being a creepy fuck!" Formaggio countered.
"Then stop talking about your girlfriend!" Ghiaccio snapped.
"She's not my girlfriend!" Formaggio snarled back.
"But you wish she was." Illuso smirked.
"Come on, Lu," Formaggio sighed. He usually at least had Illuso on his side in most scenarios. "Drop it."
"You were the one that mentioned girls," Ghiaccio rebuked.
"Y'know, Blue, sometimes I get the express feeling that you don't like girls," Formaggio quipped.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He felt Ghiaccio's fury from the front of the car. Melone looked over at Ghiaccio.
"Do you like girls?" Melone asked.
"Who the fuck doesn't?!" Ghiaccio raged as he glared at Melone.
"Sorbet, Gelato, Prosciutto…" Illuso started listing.
"Don't you dare compare me to those chucklefucks!" Ghiaccio snapped as he glared at Illuso in the rearview mirror.
"There's nothing wrong with it, Ghia," Melone hummed. "I like guys too."
"Hold up! Seriously, Melone?" Formaggio leaned forward grabbing the back of Melone's seat. "What gives? I thought you liked women? We've gone cruising for chicks together!"
"I like both. The whole world is like a buffet for me." Melone stuck out his tongue.
"I fucking knew it," Illuso interjected.
"Seriously?" Ghiaccio looked at Melone.
"It wasn't something I was hiding. All you guys had to do was ask if you really wanted to know." Melone shrugged.
"Have you ever sucked a dick?" Illuso asked.
"Of course, and I'm very good at it." Melone turned around to make eye contact with Illuso. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he lowered his lids.
"Do you top or bottom?" Formaggio was a bit wigged out but curious. Melone was like a car wreck you couldn't look away from. He could not understand gay people. Formaggio loved women so much and he just didn't understand how a man couldn't be swayed by boobs. Watching Sorbet and Gelato together always confused him.
"Depends on who I'm with and how I'm feeling," Melone sighed pleasantly.
"Alright, that's enough!" Ghiaccio yelled.
"You're such a prude, Ghi," Formaggio teased and then turned to Melone again. "I just don't get it. You'd take a dick over a pair of tits?"
"You don't have to choose if you get them both in bed," Melone answered sensually.
"You've had a threeway?!" Formaggio asked in awe.
"You have not," Illuso folded his arms.
"I've done a lot of things you wouldn't believe," Melone batted his eyelashes. "But I'd much prefer a toe over either option," Melone giggled.
"Aw hell no!" Formaggio yelled.
"You are something else, Melone," Illuso chuckled. "A girl in front of you and guy behind you…"
"Sometimes the other way if the girl wants to peg me," Melone purred.
"Jesus Christ, can we talk about anything else?!" Ghiaccio interjected. Formaggio laughed at how flustered he looked. "This is why I hang out with Fugo. He actually has intellectual conversations that don't involve sex."
"Ghia...am I making you uncomfortable again?" Melone crooned.
"Incredibly." Ghiaccio pushed up his glasses and looked back to the road.
"So how is Fugo doing these days?" Melone leaned in sensually.
"I swear to Christ, I will push you out the passenger door without slowing down, Melone. Don't even try me." Ghiaccio snapped. Melone sat back and giggled to himself.
"Okay, I know I'm opening Pandora's box here, but like real talk, what is your thing with feet?" Formaggio asked. "What is the appeal?"
"You are not going there," Illuso put a hand on Formaggio's shoulder. "You're really going there. Okay, he's going there." He sat back with his hands held back.
"It's just another part of the body, like breasts, or legs. I know I'll never be able to explain it in a way you guys will understand. But sandals and flipflops should be a crime," Melone said shaking his head.
"Can't believe I'm entertaining this but do you prefer men or women's feet more?" Illuso asked with a shake of his head.
"Usually women. They have nicer footwear. Heels are so….uhhhh," Melone moaned and rolled his eyes up in his head. "But I know some men with nice feet." Melone glanced at Ghiaccio and raised his brows.
"Whoa. Ghi, you packing some sweet toes or what?" Formaggio laughed.
"What the fuck, Melone?! I said I want you and my feet as far as possible from each other," Ghiaccio spat. He stopped at a light and turned around in the seat to look at Melone and then Formaggio and Illuso. "I will go White Album on your asses. I will freeze you, all of you, into the next goddamned ice age if you don't cease this stupid fucking conversation!"
Melone smiled and Ghiaccio turned back around to continue driving. Thankfully, they weren't in the car for very much longer when they finally arrived at the hotel which Passione had rented out for the mixer. The place was massive and was used for all sorts of conventions. They all met up inside and Formaggio quickly found the alcohol. He noticed that Illuso wasn't drinking.
"Hey, Illuso, are you gonna drink?"
"I...maybe later," Illuso said.
"We can always hit the gym later if you're worried," Formaggio said in a lower voice.
"N-no, I'm not worried. I'm fine. I just don't want to drink right now. Everything's cool. Hey, look who it is," Illuso pointed and diverted Formaggio's attention as Mista approached him.
"Hey man, what's good?" Mista held out his hand to him.
"What up, Guido?" Formaggio clasped it and pulled him in. "You get anything yet?"
"Naw, I just came over to see what they had. I said I'd get Giorno a wine though."
"These guys know how to mix drinks, let me tell you," Illuso said.
"I'm good with just a beer." Formaggio took a long swig.
"All this good alcohol and you choose this piss to drink. I don't understand you, Formaggio," Illuso said.
"I know that isn't Illuso and Formaggio making trouble at the bar," a voice said. Formaggio turned to see a short brunette girl with a purple bandana around her neck and a black cap on her head with the rim pulled to the side. She had sleeve tattoos up both arms and her nose and brow were pierced. She smiled broadly at the two.
"Cookie!" Formaggio said and put his arms around her. When he pulled away, Illuso hugged her also. "It's been a hot minute!"
"Yeah, I don't get down to your district much, unfortunately, or you know I'd be on your doorstep. Sup, Mista," she fist-bumped the gunmen.
"Yeah, it's been a fucking wild six months. You would not believe." Formaggio took another swig.
"Yeah, for real. The new boss is like, what, sixteen, right?" Cookie threw her arms out to the side and puffed her chest out in disbelief.
"Yeah, Giorno. He's cool," Mista said. "I'm his bodyguard now."
"No shit. Moving up in the world, Guido." She punched him in the arm. "Aw hell, but what up with this drug thing though?"
"Right? Fucking wild! I know!" Formaggio almost spilled his beer in excitement. "Giorno's got us taking out the ones that won't back off."
"Some are retaliating," Illuso crossed his arms.
"Shit, dawg. Who the fuck would even try to face you guys? Fuck that noise. I ain't about to truck with no stand users." Cookie had been in the thick of the drug market in her district, that was actually how they'd met. Back when Formaggio used to deal, he'd meet Cookie regularly to get his supply to sell. She since backed out at the first orders from on high.
"So what are you guys doing now if you're not selling?" Illuso asked.
"Oh, there's still a black market. Weapons, anything else that needs moved. We took a hit, but we're not out. We do some money laundering too."
"That's cool, glad the Boss's orders didn't leave you guys with your dicks in your hands." Formaggio smiled.
"I always bounce back. Can't keep me down." Cookie winked. Formaggio's heart swelled. This chick was the real deal.
"There's always room in Esecuzioni if shit hits the fan," Formaggio offered.
"Thanks but I ain't going under the arrow. Heard too many horror stories. Like I said, I don't truck with stands." And that's why I never tried. "Well, glad to see you guys, Imma keep making the rounds. See ya bitches later!" Cookie turned and headed off in another direction. Illuso just laughed and patted Formaggio's shoulder.
"What?" Formaggio turned on Illuso.
"You are such a pussy." Illuso shook his head as he walked away.
"Fuck off," Formaggio crossed his arms. He and Mista drank several rounds and talked for a while. He couldn't believe that they'd ever been enemies; they were so much alike. He kinda wished he could go on missions with Mista. It would be more bearable than going with Ghiaccio. They had just finished another round when Mista nudged him.
"Hey, Mag, have you seen the new chick with Magic Marco?" Mista nodded across the room. His eyes fell to the famous high baller of the gambling district. There was a girl standing with him. Her dark purple roots faded into pastel pink hair. She wore a tight black crop-top that accentuated her sizeable tits and a skin-tight, pink metallic skirt that was way too short for Formaggio to comprehend.
"Who the fuck is that?" Formaggio smacked Mista in the chest as Marco left her to talk to someone else.
"She's not in Passione. Don't know her name, but you should go get to know her, man. I've heard she's not really committed." Mista raised his brows. "Can't hurt to just introduce yourself, y'know?" Formaggio kept eyeing her up when she suddenly turned and caught him staring.
"Aw shit," Formaggio said as she smiled and started walking towards them. "Fuck, man what do I do?"
"Fucking talk to her, dumbass! You have five seconds to pull it together!" Mista said. She stopped in front of them and eyed them both for a moment.
"Hi, I couldn't help notice you two cuties drooling over here."
"Uh...I...hi," Formaggio managed. He noticed that Mista also looked perplexed about what to say to that as well.
"Uh...hey, I'm Guido Mista. This is my buddy Formaggio."
"Well, hi there Guido. Nice gun," she purred. Her eyes traveled down to his pants where he had his gun stuffed into the front. "I bet you know how to handle it really well." Fuck, why didn't I bring my gun? I can't let Mista have her; he's younger than me. I at least gotta get her first, seniority and all that.
"I'm pretty good. My bullet never misses its mark," Mista said in a sultry tone.
"Mm, impressive," she smiled.
"He's just a bodyguard. I'm an assassin," Formaggio boasted.
"Oh really? How many people have you killed?" Her eyes lingered on Formaggio's exposed chest.
"I've lost count by now, but probably easily hundreds," he bragged. Mista glared at him and whipped out his gun spinning it around on his finger.
"No one's as good a shot as me though." Mista locked eyes with her as he stuffed the gun back into his crotch. Fuck that bastard. I thought he was gonna be my wingman! He heard a throat clear behind them and they turned to see Giorno standing there.
"Giorno!" Mista jumped.
"Ooh, who is this beautiful boy?" The pink-haired girl walked up to Giorno and placed a hand on his chest. He didn't look at all pleased to have her so close.
"I'm the Don of Passione," Giorno said tonelessly.
"Molto bene, very impressive," she crooned. Formaggio was amazed by how unfazed Giorno was. Gay people are baffling. "What if you showed me around Don Giovanna?"
"He's gay," Formaggio blurted. Ain't no way this sixteen-year-old is getting more action than me. Fuck that.
"Aw, too bad. You're so beautiful too..." She flicked his braid.
"I've come to collect my bodyguard," Giorno spat.
"You're Don Giovanna's bodyguard? Wow, you really are important, Guido. You must be exceptionally good with that gun…" She licked her lips.
"Mista is needed right now and will be for some time. His job is to remain at my side as my protection." Giorno said slowly and pointedly. He looked beyond pissed and Mista was starting to sweat. "Unless he's forgotten the purpose of this mixer?"
"No! Of course not, Giorno! I was just coming to find you!"
"Of course you were," Giorno said flatly. He spun on his heel and marched off as Mista quickly followed like a dog with its tail between its legs.
"Well, that was fun," she said as she watched them leave and puckered her lips. "Someone was jealous."
"Giorno? He and Mista are friends," Formaggio said.
"And I bet the Don despairs that fact every day. That boy is lusting for his gun," she laughed. Well then.
"So, what are you doing with Magic Marco? He's pretty uptight." Formaggio put his thumbs in his pants, hoping to expose more of his abs for her.
"Mm, he's fun in his own way. Gamblers are always interesting, but assassins—that's a whole different game."
"Yeah, well it's pretty dangerous work. Risotto sends us on some tough missions, but I'm a stand user, so it's not a big deal," Formaggio sniffed.
"Risotto...isn't he the big scary one?" She gasped dramatically.
"He's the one over there in the funny hat," Formaggio gestured to Risotto who was talking to Abbacchio and Bucciarati.
"Mm, that's a lot of man…" she hummed.
"You're telling me. You see the blond guy next to him?" Formaggio pointed at Prosciutto.
"The pretty guy with the buns?" she asked.
"Yeah, they're banging," he said smugly.
"Wow, you sure know a lot about what's going on behind closed doors." She touched his arm and tilted her head to flip her hair.
"Well, I live with them. They are part of my squad. But my buddy Illuso, who I do not know for the life of me where he has gotten to." Formaggio looked around but couldn't find him in the crowd. "He's got all the gossip and I know he'd like to meet you."
"Your squad sounds interesting, I'd like to meet them." She smirked.
"Well maybe we can all get to know each other later," Formaggio leaned in a bit closer as he spoke.
"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to getting to know you better," she lowered her lids at him. Hell fucking yeah. Play your cards right, Maggio, and you'll get to tap that!
He got her a drink and continued talking with her. She seemed incredibly interested in Formaggio and he was drunk enough to do just about anything. She kept touching his arm and leaning her chest against the table so it would bump into his hand. He was grappling with a raging boner by this point and really wanted to bang this chick. Her blue-green eyes were framed by thick lashes and purple eyeshadow. She was gorgeous and Formaggio was finding it harder and harder to focus on the conversation.
"You wanna maybe get outta here?" Formaggio finally said in the middle of their conversation.
"I thought you'd never ask," she said. She leaned in close and whispered to him. "I wanna see these skills you have. Show me what an assassin can do. Give me la petite mort," She breathed. Fuck, French is hot.
"What's that?"
"The French call it "the little death." Make me lose consciousness under you. Take my breath away and kill me softly." She moaned in his ear. Fuck yes.
"Let's go." Formaggio stood to lead her out of the main hall. "Hey, I feel like a dick for asking this now, but you never told me your name."
She giggled and flipped her purple-pink hair.
"Mela Bellucci."