Chapter 5
Feelings
"Why Fralo? That doesn't have much of a ring to it for me," Francis said, scrubbing at his bloody clothes in the tub-like bucket they used for laundry and bathing.
"Well, I'm already going by that for 'Mona," Jake said. "I couldn't give her our actual name given its occasional mention in the papers. We must both go by Fralo because someday our girls are probably gonna meet each other, and we can't have 'em wondering why our last names are different, can we?"
"We'll just say we're half brothers with different dads," Francis shrugged.
"Let's not complicate this, eh?" Jake sighed, lighting up a cigarette. "I didn't tell 'Mona we're half brothers, so-"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jake. Geez. Francis goddamn Fralo it is."
"What's suddenly got your panties in a bunch? Just minutes ago you were exhilarated like ya won the lotto from killing that 'Hindrance' fella."
"Yeah, well, fantastic as it is that he's a stiff, it's just occurred to me that Lucille is gonna be quite depressed that her boyfriend's gone poof. She's gotta love the fucker. I just hope she ain't the suicidal type, like he was her purpose to stay alive on this green earth or some bullshit like that. She mighta depended on him."
"You've stooped pretty damn low this time, France," Jake commented, clicking his tongue. "If I were ya, I'd worry about another thing."
"What's that?"
"What if she's pregnant? Could be. You can't deny they made love, and probably often at that."
"Quit that pessimistic crap! She ain't pregnant...yet!" Francis burned a rich burgundy at the mere statement.
"Alright. We'll just have to see about that, eh? Though I can guarantee she's gonna go on this downward spiral of grief 'n' hopelessness, so I'd recommend befriending her before trying any cheap wooing. Keep your distance, too, then when ya do speak to her she'll more likely be welcoming." He watched his brother frown at this. "Or ya can go ahead with the smooth-talking immediately. See what good that does for ya."
"Ah, fuck off, Jake," Francis muttered, leaning against the wall, mulling over his motives. "Suppose you're right. Ladies dig friendliness in a man. Threats and the backhand just won't work in my favor with this one, will it?"
"Wouldn't say so. You did tell me she's sassier than what's easy to deal with in any other woman."
"And I really like that about her. I'm looking forward to when her snappy mouth gets her a session over my lap with the belt," he said with a dreamy grin. "I'll whip that tight tush purple."
"Can hardly wait to do the same with 'Mona," Jake said, his smile mirroring Francis'. "She's such a sweetheart, though. I can't really picture her getting mouthy with me."
"If she doesn't, you can just spank her anyway, whenever ya feel like it. She has to know who's boss. If you don't give her that impression now she'll run you in the future."
"Hey, I was kiddin'. I don't hit women, you lowly putz. I'm gonna treat her like the queen she is," Jake countered seriously.
Francis tisked. He and Jake were day and night in their views and values.
"You remember how Papa treated Ma. I'm not putting this girl through such shit. She's worthy, she gets me harder and up quicker than any I've been with has and I haven't even made love with her yet, let alone felt her much or seen her tits."
"You've always been a bit of a softie," Francis mocked, his chest then hit with Jake's lit cigarette. The ashy stick fell down Francis' shirt, stinging his skin. He gritted his teeth. "Damn you, asshole!"
The phone rang from the downstairs den as Francis readied himself to attack Jake for his playfulness. Jake breathed in sharply, exclaiming, "It's my 'Mona!" He trampled out of the small and drab bathroom, rushing down the stairway.
He sat on the stool by the phone so fast that he almost tipped over with it, and he answered with excessive rapidity. "H-hello?"
"Hi, Jake," cooed a lovely familiar voice. "How are you?"
"I'm doing good, honeybunch. How've you been?"
"Swell! I just spent over a third of my paycheck at the mall. Got a nice pile of new outfits."
"Awe, that's real nice, toots. Say, how 'bout I pick you up tomorrow after work lets out and we go see a movie? Sound like fun, or would ya rather-"
"Yes! I've been meaning to see Cat's Eye. It's based on a Stephen King book. He's one of my favorite authors."
"Yeah, you got it."
"Oh, um, Jake, I hope I didn't...bother you when I kissed you. It was just our first date, and kinda soon, I know. I just got a little excited-"
"What the hell are ya talking about, doll? You did me no wrong," Jake assured her, confused as to why she feared she'd irked him with such a sweet gesture. He loved that kiss, and if anything, it wasn't lengthy or passionate enough.
"Okay, well, I didn't think I did...but I wanted to make sure."
"Don't be so timid, Ramona. You're a very delightful girl. Now, you wear your cutest outfit for me tomorrow night when I pick you up, eh? Oh, get the showtimes if you can, then call me back. We'll go for a night showing."
"I sure will. Oh, dang it, I forgot I've got to revise my brother's English essay. I promised him I would. There it is on my desk. Seven pages of inked chicken scratch on themes of that book The Great Gatsby his class was assigned to read. I had to read it, too, when I was a sophomore. Most of it bored me, so writing up the essay for it was a hassle, but I did receive a B+...Huh, well, better start grading that. English isn't his strongest suit. Goodnight, Jake."
"Nighty night, peach."
"You should never give a girl your number," Francis said, entering the den. "They have this clingy tendency of blowing phones up. I can guarantee ya that thing'll be ringing at least fifteen more times over the night." He smirked. "She's a blabber, ain't she?"
Jake shrugged indifferently. "She sorta is, but I don't give a damn. Her pretty voice soothes me."
"It'll piss you off eventually. They're broken records. If they run outta crap to say, they just rephrase something they've already told ya." Francis grabbed his army knife which he used for carving hunks of wood into figurines. He was rather talented at the art, both Mama and Jake had complimented. His finished projects consisted of several breeds of birds, dogs, a fox, a rose bud, a hand, a foot, a miniature nude woman, a horse, sea creatures, and labeled bottles. He'd gotten into crafting when he was fourteen as a means to vent, meditate and mitigate his hormonal teenage aggression. This project would be two turtle doves which he'd paint white. Word had it two turtle doves represented friendship or loyalty or something of the like, so he would give Lucille one and relay some half-baked symbolism to her in an attempt to touch her snobbish heart. "Not that their yammerin' is fit to be bitched about among us men, not for what they can offer in return."
"Here I thought I was gonna have to bring that up," Jake chuckled. Ramona could talk her lungs to deflation if it meant he'd eventually be allowed to do with her anything to his liking.
When Kevin's spot on the couch was still cleared after eight minutes, a trickle of concern settled into Lucille momentarily, but she brushed it off, figuring he came back inside quietly enough to escape her notice and went to the bathroom. After fifteen minutes, she rose to her feet and crossed into the section of their compact home where the bathroom and bedroom were, and was hit with surprise to see that the bathroom door was wide-open, the interior dark.
"Kev?" she called out, peeking into their equally darkened bedroom. Had he gone to bed without kissing her goodnight? It was uncharacteristic of him, but she paid it no mind and resumed with her movie.
She couldn't throw caution to the wind anymore an hour and a half later when she climbed into the cool and empty bed. Now baffled, she flicked the light on and scurried through the trailer, futilely seeking him out. She jogged outside and hollered for him. Their car was parked, so he hadn't left with that.
'Did he go for a walk?' she pondered, furrowing her brows and anxiously running a hand through her hair. 'But he'd be back by now…'
"Kevin! This isn't funny!" she shouted out in her yard, panic creeping in handfuls for every dozen seconds that passed. It soon became evident that he'd vanished and was not somewhere here kidding with her, laughing his ass off on the other side of the fence or underneath their bed or lain in the backseat of their car. No...something unusual was up.
She was awake, eyes dry and neck sore, having snoozed none, when the sun made its ascent high in the sky. The police could not be given the benefit of doubt, much to her dread, that they wouldn't step right up to investigate a grown man's mysterious ten-hour-old disappearance. Although unsure what the minimum number of hours someone had to be missing for to file a missing person's report, she wouldn't be holding out for another full day. He wasn't one to run off with his buds unannounced and in the dead of night. They'd been getting along swell as ever.
With the risen sun illuminating the outdoors generously, she re-surveyed the front lawn, coming across no detectable indication of what might've happened. All she could gather was that Kevin had made it to the garbage can because there was the loaded bag. Nothing looked out of place, but just as ordinary as any day prior.
"Shit," she muttered, tears blurring her vision as she knelt to sit on the second step of their short cement stairway. Stumped, her eyes quivered, leaking throughout the day.
"That was one evil pussy," Jake said, his arm linked around a giggling and blushing Ramona as they exited the cinema and dawdled through the parking lot, towards the Jeep.
"Was it the evilest one you've ever seen?" she asked, swinging their nearly empty bucket of popcorn in her free hand.
"It ties close with some really dirty, hairy and smelly pusses I've dealt with."
"Oh, Jake! Golly, you're nasty," she said, flushing dark red.
"Whatcha mean, doll? We're strictly referring to cats, aren't we?" He smiled, pulling her closer to him, their sides touching as they walked.
"I sure hope so." She smiled smugly, laying her head against his shoulder. "What's your favorite movie?"
Jake couldn't answer promptly. He, Francis nor Ma were ever big movie or TV watchers, unlike Sloth, who was allowed to do a mite more than glue his slanted eyes to the screen. Well, he and Francis enjoyed the Godfather films, and Francis, the sinister kook he was, got a kick out of The Exorcist so much he saw it four times in theaters.
"Uh, The Godfather Two."
"Oh, it's about the mafia, right? I haven't seen the franchise, just heard of them." She slowed their pace furthermore, snuggling into him. "What kind of music do you like? I'm a fan of Madonna, Donna Summer, Queen, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, U2...my list goes on."
The Fratellis weren't avid music listeners, either.
"Opera. I can really entertain myself with my singing," he noted with shameless conceit.
"Yeah, you do have a wonderful voice," she complimented. "Hey, can we stop at a liquor store and pick up a bottle of wine or something? Then please drive us out to the countryside-like area off Brimley Road. We can spread our jackets out in the meadow and...and drink and stare at this gorgeous full moon we have tonight. And I really wanna hear you sing your opera with a buzz. Um, is that too outrageous a suggestion?"
Jake shook his head, laughing at her cute, meek attitude. "Nothin's too outrageous coming from your safe-playing head, 'Mona." He kissed her forehead, and they parted to slide into their separate sides of the car.
"I like how you call me that. My dad does sometimes."
"Well, it's a very pretty name for an extremely pretty girl."
"That's sweet of you to say. For the record, you're very handsome. I've thought so from the second you freaked me out by screeching to a halt, just to offer me a lift."
Jake smirked lewdly. "So you completely trusted me right off the bat? Didn't worry in the slightest that I might be a predator?"
"I'll admit bearing the caution would've been wiser, but, well, I guess I didn't get a creepy vibe from you, so I went for it." She buckled in and relaxed into him again. "Happy I did."
"Hell, me too," Jake said, answering sincerely from his microscopic heart.
He drove them to an open liquor store at the speed of light . Ramona had told him before on the night they met that her and alcohol didn't mix well, so once inside, he let her select something lighter. She snatched a liter of grapefruit daiquiri off a shelf. Jake had never had a 'girly' beverage of the sort, and he was quite positive it would not spike his senses to anywhere near woozy even if he were to chug gallons of the stuff. The rum sought out by Jake, they approached the checkout. Before withdrawing the fake ID he'd been using for the last couple of years, he quickly told Ramona to go grab a bag of chips. She was best off not seeing the card as it would arise questions he couldn't answer.
Even in the serenity of the moonlit meadow he was unable to suppress his mental scoffing at the price of their three measly purchases. But to his satisfaction, the nighttime temperature was mildly higher than average for the second week of Astoria's May, so lounging on top of their jackets on the warm grass was nothing tedious.
Ramona's quiet and dainty slurps from her bottle were frankly adorable, and Jake chuckled at her grimaces. Apparently even alcohol akin to soda was too bitter for her tastes.
"Well, I think it's safe to say I won't ever have to seek the counseling of an A.A. group," she said, tightening the cap back on her bottle to set aside for the evening.
"Ya can't be ashamed of that," Jake congratulated, countering her virtue with a hearty swig of his rum. "Ahh, can't exactly say the same for myself, peach."
"Sing me some opera!" she abruptly exclaimed, sitting upright. "Heck, I haven't been treated to any of that since you did it for me over the phone a couple weeks ago."
Not an instance in his life had anybody asked him to exercise his vocal cords with libretto. He could only be enthused to flaunt his flair for her.
Jake charmed Ramona fast with his accented singing voice. She looked at him with something close to glorification. Staring back at her with half-lidded eyes, his expression relaxed as he sang in Italian.
"Why are you a repairman?" she interrupted him mid-note. "Seriously, why aren't you doing this as a career?"
"I am not that skilled," he excused, knowing full well he truly was. "And I'm not being modest, doll. I truly doubt I'm worthy of performing professionally in an opera house."
"So you're aptly a repairman instead," Ramona teased.
"Hey, I can do that easily. The pay is alright, too."
"Jake, I may not have known you too long, but I am drawn to you...your voice, your character...your looks." He could see that blushing was a real habit of hers. She laced her smaller, paler left hand's fingers through his right, moving in to pay him a thorough kiss on the lips.
Jake was somewhat taken aback when she didn't pull away quickly like she did on their last kiss, or rather, peck. Her mouth merged with his in an ungraceful way that hinted she was iffy and shy about what she was doing. He'd kissed and frenched many a woman in his day, so he had the art down exceptionally, whereas, to his joy, she didn't seem to.
'Innocente,' his mind hummed, her head held in his hands and their kiss deepening, all his might exerted to keep from driving her into the ground and taking utter advantage of her body.
Her response to his actions subtly highlighted her lack of experience; she embraced him and mashed her lips to his as an adolescent would. She was the polar opposite of a whore, Jake concluded with a gross amount of mirth.
As their smooching progressed, sexual frustration began to make its presence in Jake, and on a horny impulse, he clutched her against him, then lied atop her, his mouth now smashing into hers with passion that had her faintly whimpering. Fumbling, her shaky fingers combed his thick crop of black hair. She felt as if she were sinking into the earth as his tongue wrestled with hers. A mild sense of panic roused when his hand brushed her skirt up, his knee prying her thighs apart. His head dipped into her neck, the sensitive skin kissed with fervor and the tropical scent of her hair inhaled and exhaled into. This whole new experience unnerved her despite her growing attraction to him. By accident, she shrieked out when a solidness bucked into her.
"Whoa there, tiger," she panted, pushing him upwards a short ways, giving a nervous chuckle. "N-not yet, okay? And not here."
She read the discontentment in his expression, unable to help but wince slightly at his narrowed eyes and frown. His weight and hold on her didn't let up, at least not instantly.
"Of course, 'Mona," he sighed, rolling off of her and standing up.
"I-I'm sorry. It's just...um, I'm not quite ready to-"
"I understand, sweetheart. Don't stress it," Jake said, taking her hand and helping her up to her feet. He cared for her enough to respect what she was comfortable with, and wasn't about to lose her because his genitals were getting the best of him.