Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
It wasn’t half bad once I found the twins’ SAs, who were only too happy to help me spend my money. Halfway through the day, when I’d bought her everything I wanted in too many stores to count according to Lance’s bitching, my watch signaled a call from Ma. Gianna still has my phone, and now she’d confiscated my iPod as well.
“What’s up, Ma? Did something happen to Gianna?” Her soft chuckle reminded me too late that I shouldn’t reveal too much.
“No, son, we’re actually doing pretty good here.
“Did she lose her hair?”
“No, it’s fine, that’s not why I’m calling. We have a change of plans. Since Gia’s hair is going to take a bit of time, we won’t have much time to enjoy the museum today, so we’ve decided to go to the opera instead. We’ll do the museum tomorrow.”
“Ah, which one?”
“There’s a private showing of Don Carlo.”
Oh goody, four hours of Verdi. For some odd reason, my first thought after that was about Gianna and if she’d enjoy the opera. She seems like the type.
“Okay, Ma, I’ll let Lance know. Are we doing dinner before or after?”
“The play starts at six-thirty, so your father suggested a late supper at Carmines.”
“They close at eleven Ma.”
“Your father talked to his friend; it’s fine.” Yeah, what am I thinking? Pop would shut down the whole of Manhattan so Ma could cross the street. That’s that feeling—the one I’ve had since picking her up off her bedroom floor the night before.
I hung up with Ma and relayed the news to Lance, who really should give up his bro card. His eyes lit up like a Xmas tree reminding me of why his name is so suitable. “Sometimes, I worry about you. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you play with the twins so much when we were younger.”
“You calling me a girl again?”
“Hey, wait, we have to make one more stop.” I’d lost count of how many stores and how many bags were now stuffed in the back of the SUV, but I knew I hadn’t bought her anything suitable for the opera.
As much as I hate shopping, thanks to the women in my family, I know where to go to get what I need. I barely registered the weird stares we'd been getting all morning, two teenage boys in the women’s department, and they only got worst when we were led into the private rooms somewhere to see the shit that never sees the rack and usually cost three times what the shit in the store goes for.
I found a classic black dress, a remake of Givenchy’s iconic Breakfast at Tiffany’s design, and some evening shoes to go with it. I left the clutch up to the SA. “Are you done? Cause I’m hungry, geez, look at the time.” He made a point of looking at his watch, and he was right. It was almost three; we’d been shopping for a solid six hours.
“Yeah, we’re done.” I miss her face.
The thought kept me quiet the whole ride back while Lance talked about any and everything, mainly food. We walked in, and I went upstairs to leave her stuff in her room before heading back down to the kitchen. Now that I was in close proximity, I felt nervous about her hair. Ma had said things were fine, but I wouldn’t be sure until I saw it for myself.
After hours spent shutting it out of my mind, I found myself stressing. The way the women around me act when it comes to hair and grooming, I know what a big deal this is for her. I lost my train of thought when I walked into the kitchen and saw the mountain of food on the counter. “Pop, what the heck? What did you do?”
“Oh good, you’re here; you two can play lackey for those women downstairs. Carlo, that fuck bailed on me after two hours.”
Lance was already at the table eating what looked like a mix of everything. Chinese, pizza and some kind of salad. There was a tray of empty glasses and bottles, wine for Ma and Sheila, water and juice for the girls. “Who’s supposed to eat all this?” I started opening bags, not really hungry but knowing I should eat since supper wasn’t going to be for another seven hours at least.
“Your mother wanted Chinese, Sheila for some reason, wanted Nigerian food. I don’t know where the fuck… and your sisters wanted pizza and wings and salad.”
“Did they eat?” Why the hell am I blushing? Maybe because two of the closest men in my life were giving me knowing looks.
“Yes, Gia was in with the girls on the pizza deal.” Pop smirked, and Lance shoved something in his face. I ignored both of them and grabbed a slice and a salad.