“That’s exactly what I mean, baby. If they’re not from me, they get tossed into the trash or turned into ash.”
The conversation in the living room had picked up. All of the women were laughing.
“I have to tell them!” Rosaria said.
“Go ahead,” Carmen said. “You won’t let up until you do!”
“Picture this. A beautiful Italian alto dolled up for lunch with her sister, strolling in Manhattan at its busiest time. All of a sudden she looks up through her designer glasses at the high-rise building she is about to enter. And what does this beautiful alto see?”
Rosaria paused her story for dramatic effect and then sucked in a deep breath. “Two round rrrrumps,” she said, making her voice sound like Tito, “cleaning the glass windows!”
“Quelle?” Cerise asked, looking from woman to woman for clarification. “Two rrrround rrrrumps cleaning the glass windows…? What does this mean? This is an American thing, no? Or is it Italiano?”
Some of the girls were doubled up on the floor laughing. Carmen was the shade of a tomato under her tan skin.
“It means,” Carmen said, pushing forward, “that Dario had me pressed against his office window, using my behind as a squeegee! I had to drop some sketches off to him for a project, but instead of letting me go right after, he decided to have lunch early.”
Dario was an architect, and as his business flourished, he had brought Carmen on to head up a design firm for the interior.
“Ah!Sortez!” Cerise’s laughter joined in with the rest, since she finally understood. “That is so sexy!” Sexy from her sounded likesexie. “Do all Italians do this… squeegeeing?”
At this, most of the women doubled up, gasping for air. But I could sense Cerise’s true curiosity—we heard through the grapevine that she had been seeing Livio on and off since their first meeting. All they did was fight. Somehow, though, Cerise seemed to enjoy this. Word on the street was that she was driving Livio insane.
Halfway through the story, Scarlett had returned to her spot on the sofa, resuming her knitting. She laughed along with the others, but not as loud. Every so often her eyes flicked to mine.
This time our eyes caught and connected. I used my pointer finger to call her over. She might’ve been acting coy with the women, but I could see triumph on her face. She knew I didn’t want to hear this.
Guido stuck his fingers in his ears, tuning them out. The women laughed even harder. Nino popped up out of nowhere and Mari, Mac’s girl, asked him if he squeegeed.
“Squeegee?” he asked, having a hard time pronouncing the word. His entire face went blank, and this sent the women into overdrive. When he pulled that face, he looked just like Oscar the Grouch.
“Yes, Brando?” Scarlett smiled and batted her lashes at me when she made it to me.
I took her arm and led her toward the steps, where we could have some privacy. The laughter grew when we disappeared from view.
“Tell me what you tell them.” I nodded toward the living room.
“Tell them about what?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I’ve only talked about it once.” She shrugged.
“When?”
“How long ago?” she asked. “Or do you mean which time?”
“Which time.”
“The time in the back of the Chevy.”
“Which time in the back of the Chevy?”
“Let’s see…”
“Scarlett.”
“I didn’t tell them much. Just that you made me go—” She cleared her throat. “Mmm,” she moaned really loudly, closing her eyes. “And.” She stuck her hands in her hair, throwing her head from side to side “Ahhhh. Yes! Yes!Yes!”
