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Beta reader: Mike91848 who knows where comma's, apostrophes, semi-colons and colons belong, because I don't so any mistakes are mine. Thanks Mike
Cinderella revisited
CHAPTER THREE
Anthony DiNozzo, Jr
Tony DiNozzo kicked the front door of his duplex shut behind him as he entered. His hands were full as he juggled his dry cleaning, grocery bags, 12 pack of beer and his 3-days stack of mail. His backpack slung over his shoulder only added to the chaos.
His mail and keys went on the hall table as he proceeded to the kitchen where he dumped the grocery bags on the counter and placed the beer in the refrigerator. His next stop was his bedroom where he hung his cleaned suits in the closet and stowed his backpack on the floor next to his dresser. His guns were placed safely away.
Tony owned the three bedroom duplex which was almost three thousand square feet of open and airy space, and the duplex next door. His home was immaculate thanks to the husband and wife who he rented the adjacent duplex to.
The ex-army grunt had been down on his luck and he and his wife along with their two children had been living in their car. He cut their rent by two thirds and the man took care of maintenance and the grounds work, the pool and spa. His wife was so grateful that she and their 13 year old daughter, who had a serious crush on him, thoroughly cleaned his place once a week, even though it wasn't part of their deal, and the couple's house was always open for a Sunday meal.
Plus, he kept his place clean out of habit; the harsh housekeeping lessons he had learned as a child had stuck with him whether he wanted them to or not.
Tony's furniture was sparse, minimalistic and carefully selected. The beautiful Italian imported dining room set, dark wood tables, leather furniture, and an interesting assemblage of objects and graphic arts dispersed throughout the rooms made for an eclectic and dramatic effect. Handsome throw rugs covering the shiny hardwood floors were precious treasures from his grandmother's travels. The beautiful rooms were indicative of a man with money and good taste.
The focal points of his home were the surround sound movie-theater home video system with comfortable seating and his grandmothers Steinway in an honored place in front of the bay window. Gibbs simple but elegantly hand carved hall table made from the whitest wood of the spruce tree fit perfectly with the rest of the decor.
Tony had had the outside grounds and backyard designed with the least amount of maintenance in mind. There was no fence separating the duplexes back yards and the pool encompassed the length of both yards. An outdoor kitchen, cabana and spa completed the landscape.
Tony's team had never been to his place, well except for Gibbs, and he wasn't talking but to say that his furniture was a lot better than Ikea's. The pun went right over Kate's and McGee's head. Then there were regular visits from Palmer and Breena, and Ducky, of course, but they weren't really on his team.
He and McGee had become closer friends over the past few years, and Tim had been curious and maybe even a little hurt that he had never been invited to Tony's place, though he had never said anything.
But over the course, Tim had learned one thing if nothing else that Ziva had failed to pick up on. The Boss did not suffer fools and Tony was no fool. When Tim had learned that lesson, he lost the smug, superior attitude and stopped playing follower to Ziva's snarky lead. This had allowed Tony and Tim a closer, friendlier relationship that had been all but missing before, each recognizing what the other man brought to the table.
After this revelation and their moment of sappiness, they laughed and made jokes and let the moment slide. Tony invited Tim over for pizza and beer to watch a game and it had been a regular occurrence ever since.
Abby, whom he associated too much with her best friend Kate, had laughed when Kate had said she would never wade through his pigsty of an apartment if her life depended on it even though she had never been in his place. He had loved the two girls dearly, still liked Abby a lot, but Kate's assumption and subsequent putdown, and Abby's laughing agreement, stirred too many unpleasant memories from his ridiculed and soul destroying childhood. He'd meet up with Abby any day for a meal or to a bar or dancing but his trust issues had turned him off to visits from either of them when Kate was alive, and Abby now, and nothing had changed since then.
And Ziva, well, he hadn't been invited to her place for dinner when she chose to have the whole gang over for a meal. So the one and only time he had been in her home, he had killed her out-of-control Mossad boyfriend Michael Rivkin. Again, too many bitter memories associated with that visit prevented them from exchanging home addresses now.
Even so, Tony had no complaints about the way things were going these days. His last job performance review was excellent, signed off by both Gibbs and surprisingly Vance. Although the scribbled note in the margin that definitely was Vance's handwriting, suggested something about juvenile pranks stopping and gaining some maturity. On his way out the door, Tony snickered at Gibbs droll aside to Vance, a 'yeah, the day that happens, Leon, I'll start using battery operated hand tools'.
And, he had a girl. A big girl, a woman. Two inches shorter and two years younger than him, curvy in all the right places. Not a plus size girl but no skinny Twiggy either. Her job as the first female overseas airline pilot of a major airline kept her away from her home in DC for extended periods. But when she was in town and he was not busy with work, they spent all of their time together. He was even thinking that he might have a future with her, maybe a couple of kids together. No way was he going to screw that up by introducing her to Ziva or Abby who still thought of him as a flighty player.
Feeling centered and at ease that things were finely going his way, Tony stripped to his boxers and debated taking a shower first or getting something to eat. Food won out over bodily grime after the long hot day spent in the field. After all, he was the only one there to offend with his body odor.
He heated left over Chinese in the microwave, his mouth watering at the smell of broccoli beef. He got two cans of beer and placed his heated meal on a tray along with a fork and chopsticks. On his way to the TV, he picked up his mail from the hall table to read while he watched the news and ate his meal.
Settled on the sofa, Tony opened his beer and took a long swallow. Halfway through his meal, the news anchorwoman had started to repeat herself and he had perused through a third of his mail.
The next envelope in line had him gagging and choking on a piece of broccoli, his heart racing and his hands shaking.
God dammit to hell! He should have known better, damn it! Looking forward to the future with optimism? Ha! What was wrong with him? He had jinxed himself with his good mood and complacency.
The letter was from the offices of Billups, Ratcliffe and Sanders, Attorneys at law. Tony ruthlessly clamped down on his acquired fight or flight response. He willed his heart to slow its fast beat and breathed deeply to the count of twenty. When his anxiety attack was over and his hands had stopped shaking, he picked the envelope up off the floor and smoothed it out. He refused to revert to his childhood cowering in fear. He ripped open the envelope to the letter inside.
Dear Mr DiNozzo
A matter of upmost importance has come up. An appointment has been made for you to meet with the attorneys on Friday, the 10th of July at 6:00 pm. Please call the above phone number to confirm your attendance.
Tomorrow was Friday, not much time. His dealings in the past with the DiNozzo family's law firm was counterproductive to his best interest. Plus, he was a Federal Agent. Being ordered to attend a meeting set up without his input was a little presumptuous but typical DiNozzo arrogance. He'd attend this particular meeting though, it was about time he upset their cartwheel again.
x
Tony woke early enough to go for a five-mile run and stop for coffee and a Danish.He put his breakfast on the kitchen table before heading to the bathroom to get ready. He chose a squeaky clean and particularly expensive charcoal gray suit. One of his more pricey white shirts and a pair of highly buffed shoes that costs enough for a 7-days cruise to the Bahamas completed his outfit.
He dressed this way sometimes to compensate for his perceived inadequacies, feelings left over from episodes in his youth, he knew that. Any contact or communication with the DiNozzo family through their lawyers just stirred up these feelings. Damn his insecurities, he didn't have to beg for clothes now.
Other times though, he just liked looking good.
Armed with guns and badge, he grabbed his breakfast, wallet and keys and the envelope, locked up and left. The senior field agent arrived at work three minutes early and made it to his desk right before the figurative bell deemed him late. He said a quick, generic hello to his teammates. Gibbs was missing in action.
DiNozzo noted with annoyance agent Simmons, the man who aspired to be on Gibbs' team, casually sitting with hip perched on Ziva's desk. Matthew Simmons had joined Johansen's team about two years ago. He was a little younger and a little shorter than Tony with brown hair and blue eyes. His wardrobe was equal or even passed Tony's in cost but his color coordination looked like he took advice from a color-blind chimpanzee. Sky blue socks with a green shirt, today, come on!
It was common knowledge that Simmons had been on the wrestling team in college and he had maintained a wrestlers build. Wrestling was something Simmons and McGee had in common but Tim had never warmed up to the man. Although Simmons was reported to be a mediocre agent, rumor had it that he felt his talents were being wasted on the team he was assigned and thought he could better serve the public or more likely himself, on the number one team, Gibbs' team.
Gibbs, who wasn't looking to replace any of his hand-picked agents, ignored the man's attempt to advance his own interests and just got annoyed with him hanging around. He said something once to Simmons in passing on his way to another cup of coffee that had the man hasten back to his own area.
Tony thought he should know the guy he seemed that familiar, but he couldn't place him. Whatever their history, they shared a thinly disguised feeling of mutual antipathy.
This morning, Simmons held a few folders while he conversed with Ziva. Tony greeted Simmons with his usual condescension as he sat down at his desk.
"Whatcha got in those empty folders, Matt?"
Simmons was peripherally aware of Tim's smirk and Ziva's smile hidden behind her hand. It was obvious to Tony that Simmons was trying to keep his body language relaxed, tension free as he turned to face what he considered the deadbeat DiNozzo. It hadn't taken Simmons long to learn that DiNozzo would always win in a verbal sparring match, the man had a quick wit if nothing else.
"Ah, that's for me to know, DiNozzo," he glanced at Ziva and McGee as though sharing a secret and with a "See you guys later," nod and wink, hurried to the elevator.
"I hope it was something I said?" yelled Tony to the retreating agent's stiff back. Curious, he looked at his teammates for an answer. "What's up with Simon says?"
"Number one, stop calling him that or Abby will, and I quote, 'chop your body up into tiny pieces while you are still alive and securely tied down to her cold steel lab table'.
"And number two," continued Ziva primly as she counted off on her fingers, "He has invited McGee and me to join him in a celebratory birthday dinner to be given by some of his friends tonight, along with Abby, of course."
Ziva's hair was in a long pony tail this morning, a style Tony particularly liked on her. Her blouse, which showed a tiny bit of cleavage, was dark blue and enhanced her lovely tan. Her brown eyes sparkled playfully as she delivered that information.
Sometimes Tony wondered if sarcasm was considered courting to her hence her barbed words disguised as playfulness. But there was always that hint of an invitation in her eyes, subtle of course, she never laid her cards on the table without a guarantee of a win, but it was there.
The only problem was he had realized after Rivkin that their ship had passed, any flirting on his part was superficial and ingrained but meaningless. It was time to move on, and he had. He'd be happy for her if she would do the same.
McGee peered around his computer at Tony to put his two cents in. "This party is going to continue at his Aunt Annie's estate in the hills with live music and heated pool. Oh yeah, and his uncle just got in a shipment of live Maine lobster."
Tony growled halfheartedly at Tim, "so who asked you anyway, McTattletale."
"Just saying, Tony." McGee didn't appear overly impressed about the party or the prospect of lobster. One reason being he wasn't desperately in love with Abby anymore true, but he still wasn't interested in spending the evening watching her prancing around with her new boyfriend in her barely there bikini.
Actually, McGee, who was a pretty affable guy, didn't especially care for Simmons either. He had told Tony he didn't trust him, or rather, trusted his newly discovered gut better, and didn't want to see Abby hurt. As far as DiNozzo not being invited to the party, well, Tony was a big boy and could take care of himself and he could certainly put Simmons in his place. McGee and Tony were partners, he'd back him whichever way this played out.
"I'm allergic to shell fish, and why is he asking me, anyway?" McGee looked annoyed at the interruption. He appeared to dismiss Simmons, the party and the lobster as irreverent as he turned back to the more important business of trying to find the equation that would let him speed up his computers response time.
Listening to his teammates talk at somewhat his expense, and the letter in his pocket brought back one of the most painful memories of his childhood, of being deliberately left out and unable to do anything about it.
He could still smell the mustiness of the beautiful red drapes his mother had left behind in her escape. Feel the cobwebs that hid from the servants during their seldom visits with a dust mop. He could sense the presence of unrest fullness in the comfortable unused bed and hear, just an echo, of quiet sobs. His eyes could still see through the grimy window.
Of a boy peeking in awe from an upstairs abandoned bedroom window to the expansive lawn below that was decorated as far as the eye could see with balloons and party trimmings, and colorfully dressed boys and girls in their pastel party clothes.
Who played with the bunnies and pushed the puppies and kittens wrapped in blankets in miniature strollers. The snake man had his 7 foot snake wrapped around his body as he showed off the turtles and let the adventuress ones hold small squirmy things that made them laugh or shriek while reaching for their nannies.
A clown entertained a group of children while others waited their turns on the pony rides. The miniature train whistled every time it came round the copse of trees to drop off and pick up another load of children. The train tracks meandered around the trees down to the lake where the children and their nannies could get off to feed the ducks.
The race track had been set up as a special surprise for the birthday boy to accommodate a dozen brightly decorated bumper cars for the older children to ride and race in the afternoon after lunch. Inside the fenced off pool, every floating device imaginable was readied for the afternoon swim. And later, once the nannies took the little darlings home, the festivities would continue for the adults with cocktails, hor d'oeuvres, a live band and dance floor, candlelit poolside lounges and intimate moonlit walkways.
A catering service was preparing every child's favorite foods, including hotdogs and hamburgers on the grill. There were French fries, mac and cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and as a bonus, there was nothing green or healthy in sight for the over protective nannies to force down unwilling throats.
For the courageous adults, who ventured from the cool interior to the outside summer air, the buffet table was piled high with food fit for a connoisseur.
There was a table with a huge car cake with birthday candles ready to be lit. The cake had blue icing and huge black wheels, an exact replica of one of the bumper cars. The dessert table could not be surpassed, a sugary dreamland with waffles with ice cream, milk shakes, sodas, cones and cookies and candies.
A hundred kids were down there to celebrate the birthday boy. The stepmother had organized a birthday party that no other parent would be able to top no matter how much money was spent. She was charming to the other children and loving to her own blood.
The lone child cast away in a dusty room on his side of the house who sat peeking out of his absent mother's upstairs bedroom window was cruelly and deliberately forgotten.
He watched it all in morbid enjoyment with his face pressed against the grimy window until two of his good friends found him and took him away. The boy didn't object, but wrapped his arms around Janes neck and cried silently into his shoulder as Janes carried him to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Janes was stoic as usual as he rocked the boy back and forth.
But Cookie's repeated, 'damn that evil, devil bitch of a woman to hell, damn her!' was loud and clear.
Suddenly not hungry anymore, and finding the childish, kindergarten verbiage of his teammates, especially Ziva, irritating, Tony dumped the cold coffee and bag of Danish in the trash and turned back to his desk. He opened the cold case file assigned to him yesterday without further comment and got to work.
Ziva was aware of his sudden inattentiveness and didn't like it. She still wanted a rise out of him and couldn't leave well enough alone as she got up and approached Tim.
"Will you not be attending the party, Tim? Abby and I purchased new bikinis the other day. I am sure Abby would not mind modeling hers for you."
Coquettish, Ziva was not, and even to Tim's busy mind that sounded forced.
Whatever performance this was and no doubt risking Ziva's annoyance, McGee wasn't playing along. "You already heard me tell him I wasn't coming, Ziva.
"Tell who what, McGee?"
Strangely, no one had heard Abby's approach.
She stood scowling with hands on hips. Her attire was as ever unique. Short grey skirt, bat adorned, short-sleeved blue tee shirt, long legs encased in long white socks and a pair of black chunky boots. Several pieces of metal and sapphire bead jewelry completed her wardrobe for the day.
"And what do you mean you're not coming to Matt's party? I thought you could be the designated driver tonight, Tim, so Ziva and I could drink Zombies all night."
"Agents and lab techs having nothing to do, I can make them into walking Zombies on the unemployment line if they don't get busy."
Gibbs and his coffee were back.
Ziva didn't exactly scurry back to her desk but it was close, and hasty clomping was heard as Abby retreated to her lab with her parting words to Tim, who had put his head back behind his computer, not boding well for the computer genius.
"Come down to the lab, Tim, we need to talk!" Tony never looked up.
The rest of the morning was quiet especially so with DiNozzo's unusually low keyed demeanor. McGee texted him, 'hey, we still on for tomorrow night, the beers already cooling?'
To which Tony replied, 'what do you think, McKnucklehead?' so that McGee knew their plans to double date, where he would finally meet Tony's mystery lady, were a go.
"DINOZZO!" Tony jumped back in alarm when he looked up to see his boss' face inches from his own, icy blue eyes and frown on his brow let him know that this was not the first time his name had been called.
He clutched at his chest theatrically. "For cripes sake boss, please, that was pretty scary and close to a heart attack you just gave me there."
Gibbs wasn't fooled. His agent's heart was fine.
"What's going on with you, DiNozzo? Why so preoccupied? You haven't turned that page in twenty minutes?" Tony only just noticed the rest of the team was not at their desks.
Tony recalled an episode years ago when he had been in the boss' basement with beer in hand when bourbon was mentioned as an alternative drink. The real reason Gibbs had plied him with alcohol? He was trying to loosen Tony's tongue to find out what the hell was wrong with his Agent now.
DiNozzo had talked, four hours straight about the merits and demerits of four of the Star Wars movies. The next day was Saturday, a rare day off. A hung-over Tony had asked Gibbs why he had let him drink that rotgut uninhibited. Gibbs confessed that he was trying to get him to open up about what was wrong.
"Really? That's it? Well, why didn't you just ask me?" was DiNozzos outraged, still somewhat inebriated response.
Tony reluctantly made known some of his history to the man it was hard to lie to. Lies of omission? Yeah, he was an expert at that as long as some of the truth was revealed. But he generally didn't lie about his past to those who took a real and especially truthful interest in it.
His past was shameful, but not because of anything he had done. His past was through no fault of his own but it was what made him the man that he was. Years of counseling as a child and his own eyewitness on the job experiences had sunk deep; evil people existed, that's just the way it was.
So he told Gibbs why he was distracted and that he would get his head together. He said that it involved an ugly episode in his life when he was 17 and grieving for his recently deceased grandmother. His grandmother's estate, the stepmother and his greed-ridden, entitled, half- brothers were also involved.
Flashback
Twenty five years ago
"I am so sorry, Tony."
Coach Trent walked alongside the quiet boy as he delivered bad news. The coach of the school's football team as well as the Physical Ed instructor, Trent had known Tony since his first day at the academy some five years ago.
The Coach had right away picked up on the symptoms of longstanding abuse and the consensus had been unilateral amongst several of Tony's teachers and the school nurse. Something had happened to Tony that had damaged the boy's sense of self-worth and self-esteem.
More information had become available one day not too long after meeting Tony. The coach had been a volunteer at a community gym where he coached basketball to underprivileged kids during his time off from the prestigious military academy.
After the game was over, he was approached by a couple who asked for a few minutes of his time. The woman identified herself as Caroline, Tony's grandmother and the man as Tony's friend Janes. They said they knew who he was, had done their research. That he was a man who cared about troubled children, that he had children of his own.
Caroline admitted that they were banned from seeing Tony by his guardian, Fred DiNozzo and stepmother Angela DiNozzo. But would he, the coach, keep a watchful eye on Tony? Let them know if the boy needed anything, needed them? He would be amply compensated for his efforts.
Coach Trent listened, took it under consideration for a week when he did his own investigation, and eventually agreed to do what he could. There would be no exchange of funds, he told them, he cared about Tony too. He suggested a donation to the boy's camp for inner city kids would be appropriate. He had thus taken on another boy to mentor.
When Tony had turned 16 and had decided to pursue a career in sports he was informed that funds would no longer be available from the DiNozzo estate for his higher education. His only recourse was to declare himself an emancipated minor in order to receive any scholarships available. The coach's wife, Betty, was a legal aid and had helped him file the papers.
Now that he was emancipated, Tony's grandmother could help him all she wanted to and was setting aside funds for his apartment in case he couldn't get into a dorm and for other expenses. The only problem was, Caroline had to stay under the wire and hidden from Angela DiNozzo because the woman would have her locked up in an old folk's nursing home in a second if she could catch up with her. But Tony would be okay. Another stumbling block was jumped over and Tony would land on his feet with the help of others once again.
Coach Trent continued to tell a still silent Tony what information he had learned that morning.
"Your grandmother has been sick, pneumonia they said."
Coach Trent stopped and sat at a wooden bench beside the trail. "Tony I'm telling you what I was told and it's not good, okay, but I think you should know."
Tony remained standing and nodded for him to continue.
"Alright, well your grandmother was found unconscious in her motel room. No idea how long she had been sick but she was admitted to the hospital with the diagnoses of stroke. She developed pneumonia and because of her age and debilitated state; run down state, the coach elaborated at Tony's questioning look.
"Because of her body's debilitated state, there was nothing they could do for her. She went downhill pretty quickly and died peaceably in her sleep almost two weeks ago.
The coach looked at him in sympathy. This would be hard to accept.
"Two weeks, she's been dead two weeks and they're only just telling me now? I had a right to know she was sick, I could have gone to see her."
Tony paced away a short distance as though he would run but then turned and walked back slowly with slumped shoulders and sat down next to the coach.
"She must have been so lonely there by herself." Tony whispered to himself as a lone tear escaped his control and ran down his cheek. But the coach heard every word.
"Tony, we don't know that she was alone. There is every possibility that your father and your Uncle Fred… "
"No, she was alone. And anyway, she wouldn't have wanted to have them there, she didn't like her family very much," said Tony, emotionlessness replacing the anger.
"Perhaps Janes or Cookie? The coach kept trying to raise his spirits.
"Maybe. I'm worried Janes didn't get in touch with me. He usually finds a way."
Tony shrugged as he stared at the ground. "So what happens now, Coach? Will I be able to go to the funeral or is it too late for even that?"
"I'm sorry Tony but your grandmother has already been laid to rest in the DiNozzo family crypt. I was informed that the memorial will be held tomorrow and that you are expected to be there.
"If you would like to go, and it's totally up to you, remember that, then Betty and I would be happy to accompany you there. We'll drive down and attend her memorial and then perhaps we could get some flowers and visit her gravesite before coming back.
"There is no reason that you need to interact with any of the people there since you have been legally declared an emancipated minor and are not obligated or under their control any longer. And, I almost forgot to tell you that the school verified your papers so the ban on who you can or cannot see is lifted including any mail they may be holding for you as well."
"Alright, I'll check at the office. But what about practice, coach? The big games coming up and I want to be ready. Also, Coach Carter from Ohio State will be at the game. You know that he wants me to leave right after the game to go back with him so I can get acquainted with the other team members and so we can start practicing together.
"I could skip graduation ceremony and have them mail my diploma. I was only going to the ceremony to please my gramma and she's dead now so what's the point?" Another tear managed to slip down his cheek which he furiously swiped away.
"And anyway, it doesn't matter if I'm there at her memorial or not. I don't want to hear what lies her phony family has to say about her. She had friends all over the world. I'll just bet none of them were notified either. I'll do it myself. I'll write each and every one of them and we can have our own memorial for her."
Coach Trent waited patiently until Tony ran down. Then the Coach said without censure, "It's your decision to make to go or not, Tony."
"Yeah, I know. I guess it won't hurt to miss a day of practice. I want to see where she's buried anyway. I don't have to stay if I don't want to right Coach?"
"You say the word and we're outta there, Tony."
The ride to the funeral home where the services were being held was unremarkable. Tony and Betty, who was like a favored aunt to him, discussed with much laughter the Julia Child tapes she had that contained recipes for French cuisine and how much skill was needed to convert the French recipes to Italian. The coach just shook his head at their light hearted babble as he drove, his mind occupied with the forthcoming events. He didn't have a good feeling about any of this.
They arrived a few minutes early and were directed to the outside covered patio area where the service was to be held. The day was cloudy and there had been an early light rain. Some attendants were still walking around with large white cloths swiping at some of the chairs that dared to retain a little moisture. Other workers in dark uniforms stood around discretely holding closed umbrellas in hand to offer to the bereaved if needed.
Tony and the Trent's chose seats midway down the aisle. For Tony, this would be the first time he had seen any of the DiNozzo's since his banishment years ago. His feelings were mixed. Not from any desire to reconcile with them, hell no! But for his own peace of mind, as his councilor once told him.
The councilor had been assigned to him when the school doctor diagnosed him as a deeply depressed and uncommunicative child. He wouldn't talk about the trauma that caused his PTSS, but the councilor's advice was to let it out. Only then would he start to recover.
Hence, his dilemma. For his peace of mind, he should let go of the hate, let it out. The alternative, keep the hate close and suffer for it, that simple. But it wasn't that easy a fix.
Tony looked around at the people assembled. It was as he thought it would be. He knew not one of the close to three hundred people here and neither would his grandmother have known them. The three front rows that were set aside for family were vacant as yet. They rows had white floral arrangements at each end chair to separate family from friends.
The podium sat on a wooden stage and another attendant waited at a short flight of stairs to the right of the stage to escort anyone up who wanted to participate in the eulogy. There was a microphone sitting on the podium along with what looked like a bible. Chairs were placed behind the podium in a neat row. Soft musical instrumental sounds emanated from hidden speakers.
The gloomy day and the gloomier music made Tony want to get up and leave. His grandmother deserved better. Hers was a happy nature, free spirited and wild. This was wrong, it did her no justice.
Tony was preparing to leave, nudging his Coach who nodded in understanding and leaned over to whisper something to his wife, when a man in a black suit and tie ascended the stairs to the podium. He introduced himself as Reverend Smith and asked those in attendance to stand for the family's entrance.
What the...! Coach and Betty Trent looked at each other in confusion but started to rise anyway. What kind of tradition was this where the family was first announced and then paraded in like royalty? This was a funeral, wasn't it to celebrate the dead? Not an inauguration or crowning of a prince?
When they glanced at poker-faced Tony who remained seated, the Trent's gladly retook their seats and waited beside him. Just then, a group of people came around the stage and started to fill in the empty seats. Anthony DiNozzo, Sr., now in his early forties escorted his beautiful wife to the front row pew followed by Uncle Fred with his wife and their two, 20 something daughters.
A stocky, fair haired teenage boy came next and sat in the second row. Another young man, with more than a passing resemblance to Tony, accompanied two elderly female cousins to their seats in the front row and then took a seat behind them. More family members came out and filled up the rest of the seats. When Rev. Smith told the rest of the audience to please be seated, the ceremony began.
An hour later and everyone had had their say. Uncle Fred spoke eloquently of his esteemed mother. Strangely, Anthony, Sr, had nothing to contribute and neither did his wife or sons. The Reverend announced refreshments would be served at the family estate and the crowd started to disperse.
Those who would not be attending the reception formed a line to offer their condolences to the still seated family. The Trent's had started to make their way through the crowd past the row of seats on their way to the parking lot after seeing Tony rise and start to follow them.
Tony felt removed and uninvolved in all of it. His attention had wandered more than once from the services to the last clandestine meeting he had had with his grandmother and Janes.
He'd seen them in the bleachers during one of his last football game; his grandmother waving and cheering and Janes trying half-heartedly to contain her while holding her hotdog, drink and bag of peanuts. After his team's very exhilarating win and fanfare from the rooters, Tony had slipped away to spend time with them. Coach and the rest of the team had ridden back to school in the bus after Coach had warned him to be back before morning. Good memories.
Tony was jostled from his memories by a violent jab to his back and a shove. He couldn't get his hands out in front of him quickly enough to prevent a fall and he crashed into several empty folding chairs knocking them over as he went down. Sure footed and quick on his feet, Tony extricated himself from the clutter of chairs, jumped up and turned to face his aggressor.
Only to be confronted by the stocky blond kid who had been sitting in the second row and two other boys. They were all clothed in dress uniforms indicating a prestigious boy's school by the insignia on the left sleeve of their maroon jackets. The kid who had struck him from behind stood aggressively forward his posse flanking him on either side. His hair had darkened from white to dirty blond and he had slimmed down considerably, but the scowl and nasty smirk on Anton DiNozzo's face had not changed. Neither had his desire to hurt or offend with his words.
"What're you doing here, servant boy? Slumming? Kicked out of that dumb-ass school for juvenile delinquents mother had to put you in?" Anton sneered.
"Well, well. If it isn't fat Anton." Tony answered bouncing on his feet and watching Anton's face suffuse with color and his two amigos widen their eyes in surprise. No body at school had the nerve to talk to Anton DiNozzo like that. Who was this guy?
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Anton yelled with no regard for the people with big ears and bigger mouths standing around listening.
Tony was amazed that these guys would pull this crap at his grandmother's memorial. The family was still seated up front waiting for the line of people to diminish and hadn't heard the commotion behind them yet. Those closest to the ruckus turned and stared at the unruly boys in disapproval. Obviously, this punk and his friends were used to getting away with anything, evidence of an 'entitlement' and money privileged upbringing.
"Mother was right about you! You're trash and you come from trash! Your mother crawled out from the gutter and tried to ruin my father. If it wasn't for mother getting rid of you, we could all be in the gutter with you. So shut your filthy mouth and go back to the ghetto where you belong!"
God, this kid had anger issues and his self-control wasn't all that great either as he continued airing his fury and vitriol at the top of his lungs. People up front were starting to turn their heads and the noise had garnered the attention of the two security guards who started to mosey over so as not to attract further attention to the commotion.
"You gonna make me shut my mouth, momma's boy? Hey, where is that bitch of a mommy of yours, anyway, stinky? She coming over here to change your shitty diapers?"
Tony grinned from ear to ear, egging the brat on. Anton had started it but he wasn't going to finish it this time. Tony could talk the talk, that's what he did. Filthy words and innuendoes to your opponents during a game tended to liven things up which made the crowds go wild with exhilaration.
Disrespecting his mother pushed Anton over the edge and beside himself with fury, he flew at Tony with a growl. Tony sidestepped the on rushing boy who missed his target and plowed instead into the chairs, overturning them and causing more clamor, before ending up on his hands and knees on the ground. They definitely had everyone's attention at all the noise that made.
"Come on stinky fat boy. That all you got?" Tony pranced around imitating a boxer.
"That slut of a mommy of yours still have to wash your ass in the bathtub cause you got all shitty again? And hey, does she wear a bathing suit when she climb's in there with you or what?"
Tony wasn't even that angry; the thought that his grandmother would have enjoyed the show after the stilted performance of the mourners he had just been subjected to tickled his fancy. She would have cheered him on, maybe even whacking at the errant boys with her purse for attacking her grandson.
Anton got to his feet and screamed at his friends, "Sims! Andrew! Get him!" And all three boys charged Tony who was used to being targeted by the players on opposing teams. He managed to slam his hand into the first boys face and shove him back where he tripped over another chair and went down crying with his hand over his face, my nose! my nose! and indeed there was blood seeping through his fingers.
Tony kneed the kid Anton called Sims in the groin who bent over moaning in agony, and just as Anton was about to take a swing at his head with his balled up fist, Tony grabbed him by his upraised arm and twisted it round behind his back.
Tony wasn't looking to cause any real hurt to this gang of bullies; three against one, come on! But he was no pushover either and he had just proved it. So he twisted Anton's arm a little higher just to make a point and then released his hold and shoved him away in disdain.
It hadn't taken Tony more than a couple of minutes to subdue the rowdy boys who started the commotion. The neat rows of chairs were now all over the place and the remaining guest were scurrying away to safer ground. Discretion forgotten, the security guards had arrived on the run with batons out and ready for anything. Coach Trent had jogged back to the scene after seeing a crowd gathered but no Tony, and Mrs Trent had kept up with him despite her high heels.
And speaking of heels, Tony recognized the sound of Angela DiNozzo's stilettos as she hastily arrived at Anton's side with the traitor Antoney beside her; Uncle Fred and the rest of the family following in her wake. Anthony DiNozzo,Sr, was conspicuously absent.
Surprisingly, there wasn't a whole lot of noise going on over there. Tony, used to the volatile nature of the DiNozzo clan, was expecting fireworks. Angela DiNozzo after listening to Anton, barely glanced his way as she beckoned to one of the security guards and had a whispered conversation with him. Everyone else began questioning Anton at once while Antoney stood to one side and watched his older brother thoughtfully.
"Are ya alright, Tony, what the hell is going on?"
Coach Trent frowned at the assembled group, suspicious and wary of these people. What were they trying to do to his charge now?
Mrs Trent had had enough. Some people with money were obnoxious. She nudged her husband aside warningly and handed Tony some tissue to wipe his grimy face.
"Are you ready to go Tony?" She gently turned him away as she continued to talk.
"You can tell us all about it later, in the meantime there's still plenty of light to see your grandmothers crypt and then have an early dinner before starting back."
"Yeah, I'm ready."
He turned to look at the group assembled catching the traitors eye for a second before moving on. He frowned as though suddenly realizing something important.
"These people are certifiably Nuts, coach."
"Amen to that, boy, let's get out of here before it rubs off on us." They all laughed as they turned to leave the theatrical arena.
"Wait a minute, young man!" said Uncle Fred threateningly, grabbing at Tony's arm,
"You have a lot of explaining to do!"
"Kiss my ass, Ricky!" Was Tony's irreverent response, as he followed the Trent's to their car.
"Good one." Guffawed the coach as his wife genteelly snickered at the pun, as they quickly
drove away.
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Next up: Flashback continues