The Spia Family Presses On (13 page)

“They’re coming. Hurry,” Lisa warned in a loud whisper. “I can’t hold onto this thing much longer. You’ve made it all slippery.”

“I can’t find it,” I whispered back, now swishing both hands and arms inside the deep container. “I think it’s gone.”

I heard footsteps on the gravel. “That looks exceptionally kinky,” Nick said now standing behind me.

His voice startled me and being completely uptight at that moment, I jumped, turned and somehow managed to swing out my hands so fast that excess oil slapped him right in the face and chest. What didn’t land on him somehow landed on my pants and shirt. And as if that wasn’t messy enough, Lisa must have lost her precarious hold on the futso because it tipped just enough in my direction so the oil splashed out onto his polished shoes, my suede Uggs, and down the front of Nick’s pants. Then, almost in some sort of slow motion kind of weird time warp thing, the futso flipped completely on its side, and my mother’s handgun slid out bounced off of Lisa’s shiny red foot rail and landed at Nick’s feet along with the remainder of the EVOO.

For a moment, no one said a word. I think I stopped breathing, and I’m sure my heart must have stopped pumping or why else would I have just stood there like a deer in the headlights?

I couldn’t react or wouldn’t react depending on how I wanted to look at this.

A brilliant thought raced through my mind as we stood there, motionless. Perhaps Nick hadn’t seen or heard the little nickel-plated aggravation. Maybe it was just too dark for him to truly see anything.

And perhaps penguins could fly.

Nick squatted. The car’s overhead dome light was more than ample to make the handgun stand out on the gravel. Hell, I could even read Lucille written on the handle.

“Interesting,” he finally said. “A .32 from the looks of it. Nineteen-thirties, maybe. Nice touch on the handle. Seems like it’s in great condition. Don’t know if keeping it in that much oil is a wise choice for its future, but hey, you’re the expert when it comes to olive oil.”

I didn’t move, but somehow managed a feeble smile.

“You know who owns this weapon?” he asked looking up at me.

I had several options to this question. I could tell him the truth. Tell him I didn’t know, or tell him what had to be the dumbest, most ridiculous . . . “It’s mine,” both Lisa and I said at the same time.

Her eyes went wide. “We, um, share it.”

“You share a handgun that you keep in a thirty liter tub of expensive olive oil?” he asked. I knew we were sounding lame, but what choice did we have?

“I’m doing research for my next book,” Lisa argued.

“What kind of research?”

“The kind that has to do with guns and olive oil.”

“Huh,” Nick said.

That’s when Leo walked over.

“Wow,” he quipped, gazing around at the mess, then down at Nick. “What’s your mom’s gun doing lying on the ground?”

There are things you should reveal to your lover, and other things that are best kept hidden. This was one of those times when I so wished I had kept my revelation of my grandmother’s passed-down handgun, and how someday my mother would pass it on to me, to myself.

Nick picked up the weapon with a pen through the trigger housing, tipped it to drain the excess oil and walked over to take a better look at it next to the light above the barn door.

“Huh,” he said, again.

His “huhs” were getting annoying.

“What?” Leo asked.

“It’s loaded except for one empty chamber. Now why would you keep a loaded revolver in a futsi?”

“A futso, futsi is plural. Like panino verses panini,” I corrected, not knowing what else to say.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” The gun continued to drip oil. “And the fired round
—
did either of you shoot this recently?”

“No,” I said, just as Lisa said, “Yes.”

This was not going well.

He took a step back and stared at both of us. “Now, if I went on my instincts here, I’d say you ladies are hiding something. Could that be true?”

“You won’t get anything out of them, Nick,” Leo teased. “They’ve been keeping secrets from the rest of the world since they were kids. You’d have to waterboard them in order to make either one talk, and we’ve got the wrong president if you want to try that one.”

“Oh, I don’t think we have to go that far. Tell you what, I’ll just take this little number with me, run a few checks on it and return it tomorrow, if you ladies don’t mind.”

He pulled out a plastic bag from his pants pocket, dropped the gun in it and walked off to Leo’s car. No doubt about it, the man was one hundred percent cop.

I took a step forward to try to stop him, but Lisa grabbed my arm, kind of. It was too slippery for her to physically take hold of it, but I could tell she wanted me to let him go.

Leo beeped open the door from a distance and went after Nick.

“Let me handle this,” Lisa said leaving me there, dripping olive oil.

I was out of options so I let her go. Be
sides, I really needed a shower.

1 bunch of spinach and/or romaine lettuce

1 whole ripe pear, cored and peeled

3 fresh figs, green or purple (optional)

1/2
cup pomegranate seeds or dried cranberries

1/8 tsp. salt, depending on taste

3 cranks of cracked peppercorns

3/4
cup Gorgonzola cheese (crumbled or cubed)

1/2
cup Koroneiki EVOO

1/8 cup white or any fruit vinegar

3/4
cup candied pecans *recipe follows for level two

Clean and wash your greens then pat them dry in paper towels. This is soothing and should take you at least eight to ten minutes. Tear them in bite-sized pieces and drop them in a glass bowl. Slice the pear lengthwise into eight slices. Cut the figs into halves. Break open the pomegranate and pop out the seeds, enjoying a bite or two as you gather up your half cup. Make a mess with the sweet red seeds. The clean up will focus you. Assemble the fruit in the bowl on top of the spinach. Chill for at least a half-hour.

To turn this into a level two meal, buy pecans in the shell and take your time to carefully crack open each one and remove the shells without damaging the nutmeats.

1 pound shelled pecans halves

1 egg white

1 tbs. vanilla

1/2
cup white sugar

1/2
cup brown sugar

3/4
tsp salt

1/2
to 1 tsp grnd cinnamon

Rub a delicate extra virgin olive oil on a baking sheet. Heat oven to 250 degrees. Slowly whip egg white with vanilla until it froths. Enjoy the vanilla bouquet. Set aside and mix the sugar, salt and cinnamon in a deep bowl, or large plastic bag. Set aside. First coat some of the pecans in the egg white mixture, remove and toss them in the sugar mixture. Spread pecans evenly on the baking sheet and roast for one hour, stirring every ten to 15 minutes.

Remove from oven and place on large platter.

Remove salad from fridge. Add oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and cheese and toss. Sprinkle five or six or ten warm pecans on top and serve with crusty warm bread, and a flavored sparkling water. This is enough for two. Eat slowly, and enjoy the flavors on your tongue, the snap of each pomegranate seed, and the crunch of sweet pecans. Take your time. Breathe. Stay focused on the food.

I was halfway up my stairs when I heard, “Any chance we can continue where we left off?” Leo’s voice came from behind and stopped me cold.

I turned to see him standing on my bottom step looking as gorgeous as ever. The motion lights over the garage door cast a sultry glow on his face and hair, making him appear even more male than he normally did. There was always something hypnotic about his face in low lights.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend? A Sharley or Marley or something like that. I can’t always keep up,” I said.

“I did
—
Marlina
—
up until about a month ago. She went back to her fiancé. Besides, we were more friends than lovers.”

“Smart girl,” I said.

“Ouch,” he grunted, rubbing his jaw. “But I guess I deserve that.”

I shrugged. “I need a shower.” Oil oozed from my Uggs with each step. I wondered if they were salvageable.

He walked up a couple steps. “I can help with that.”

No doubt he could, more than I wanted to admit. We’d had some of our best sex under running water. “Not tonight. It’s too soon, besides it’s been a really bad day.”

I turned and walked up a few more steps. He followed right behind me. “You know I can make you relax.”

I stepped up on my tiny porch knowing that if he came much closer we would be sharing soap suds. “I can’t do this right now,” I told him, heading for my door, hoping he would get the message and back off.

I was already coming up with excuses to invite him inside my apartment, like I needed to ask him what Dickey was doing on his porch, and why had he lied about it. And more importantly, what had they been arguing about?

“Then why did you kiss me in the barn?” he asked all soft and sultry-like. I could almost taste his kiss.

I turned to face him, oil dripping down my left cheek. “I had a brain freeze. A lapse in sanity. A moment of complete confusion. I don’t know. It just happened. You’re reading too much into it.”

He stepped up on the landing. “I’m reading what you want me to read, that there’s hope for us. I can’t stop thinking about you, Mia.”

“Me, and half the other women who live in this valley.”

He gazed down for a moment then looked into my eyes. That’s when I felt the crack in my resolve, a big fat crack that ran right up the center of my soul.

“You’re right. I was a shit, but I haven’t been serious about another woman since we broke up. The day you walked out, I finally realized what you meant to me, what you mean to me now. I was a fool, Mia. If there’s any chance, any hope . . .”

I kissed him hard on the lips, completely denying all my apprehensions and months of counseling. I wanted him like I’d never wanted him before. As if I’d been swimming under water holding my breath way too long and surfaced, taking in big gulps of life-sustaining oxygen. As if I would die if I was denied another second.

I opened my door and we tumbled in still clinging onto each other, stopping long enough for me to set the lock. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, which gave everything an ethereal glow.

He helped me out of my sweater and bra, and I helped him out of his shirt. He pulled me in tight against his chest. The sensation of his body on my skin only added to the fire that was already burning through me.

Our shoes came off next as we made our way to the bathroom. When I slipped out of my jeans and panties he was busy getting the water temperature just right. I hit the light switch for the shower and a red glow filled the room. I kept a red light bulb in the sconce in the ceiling over the shower because I liked the way it made skin look, all smooth and satiny.

Steam began to fill the room adding to the intensity of the moment. I unfastened the button on his pants and pulled down the zipper. He’d already gone hard, and I held my breath as I waited for him to step out of his pants and underwear.

Now, fully naked we stepped under the hot water and for a moment we stood apart, taking in each other’s bodies. Leo had always liked to get a good, long, delicious look at me before we made love. It heightened his arousal, and drove me wild with anticipation.

We took it slow then, carefully washing each other. I soaped his chest and arms, but he stopped me from going any further.

He spun me around and began my wash by lathering my hair first, and rinsing it, then he slowly moved down my body while standing close behind me using his hands to gently spread the soap, lingering on my breasts and between my legs. The sensations were impossible. I’d forgotten just how amazing his touch could be. Little shivers racked my body and it took all the willpower I had to allow him to continue. God, how I missed this man inside me. How I missed his lovemaking.

I turned to continue my wash of him, but again he stopped me. “Next time,” he said and moved in closer. He pressed me against the wall, and lifted me into position while holding onto my butt. I wrapped a leg around him and he entered me as the warm water ran down both our bodies. I shivered, nearing climax before he even began his rhythm. When he shuddered with his own pleasure I joined him, only this time I came so hard that I collapsed onto him, completely and delightfully exhausted.

Ten minutes later we luxuriated on opposite sides of my extra deep whirlpool tub. I had added olive oil and essence of lavender to the water, lit a few candles, while the jazz group Four Play softly entertained us in the background.