Monday, March 26, 2007

Flash: Pasta Primadonna

Here's the second piece of flash fiction I wrote. I like the concept, but I had a little trouble with the execution. Let me know what you guys think.

Pasta Primadonna

Johnny was sweating bullets in his stupid old suit. He had a feeling this was going to be a big night. It had been five weeks since he first met Angelina. Four weeks since their first day. Three days since she first said “I love you.” They were having dinner together in Mancini’s, a small bistro in the heart of Little Italy. Which happened to be owned by Angelina’s uncle. They were just finishing the best meal he had ever eaten.

“Try the cannoli,” she said. “Uncle Sal makes the best in the city. I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to freshen up.”

She stood up and grabbed her purse. She leaned over the table and kissed Johnny on the cheek. Her lips lingered by his ear for an extra second, and she whispered, “If you play your cards right, you might get lucky tonight.”

He watched her as she walked away, the dim light in the restaurant glancing off the red silk of her dress. His heart nearly beat out of his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was because he might get some tonight or because of the way that red dress hugged her ass just so.

“She’s a looker all right.”

Johnny turned to see who made that comment. It was an overweight guy at the bar with thinning curly hair and a bulldog face. “You’re Johnny Tessio, right?”

Johnny nodded.

“Angelina’s uncle Sal wanted to have a word with you. He was too busy in the kitchen, otherwise he’d come out himself. Follow me.” The heavyset man pushed himself away from the bar and waddled to the side door near the kitchen. Johnny got up and followed him. Upon stepping through the door, he noticed he was in the alley beside the restaurant instead of in the kitchen. He spun around to confront his companion, but instead got smacked in the nose by something cold and hard.

The fat man was holding a 9mm automatic in his hand. The silver barrel glinted in the streetlight. “Sorry, kid. It’s strictly business. If it’s any consolation, I think she really did like you.”

Angelina returned to the table to find a cannoli waiting for her, but not Johnny. She took a bite of her dessert and reached into her purse for her cell phone. There was a muffled bang outside as she dialed the number. “Hi, daddy. It’s me.”

The door opened. The heavyset man entered and adjusted his jacket. “Yes, it’s done,” she said. “Lucky’s back.”

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