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I puff my chest out and stand to my full height, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “You do realize that I’m much bigger than you, right?”
She swings her arm and whacks me in the back of the head.
“Son of a cocksucker!” I rub the spot where her palm met my skull. “What the hell was that for?”
“That was for being a douche,” she replies. “Put your muscles away, Brody. We both know you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Hey! Plenty of flies have met their demise at my hand,” I argue.
Charlee turns away from me and heads toward the open kitchen on the other side of the apartment. She lifts some foil off the dish sitting atop the stove and begins plating our dinner. Mmm, lasagna.
“Sit your ass down.”
I practically run to take a stool at the counter. Don’t judge me; she may be a tiny woman, but she’s fucking scary when she uses that tone.
I take a huge bite as soon as the dish is set in front of me. “Damn, this is good. Don’t tell Mom, but it’s even better than hers.”
She takes a bite of her own and smiles when she’s done chewing. “It is, isn’t it? I modified Grandma’s recipe a little bit. I roasted the garlic, then added some gruyére and fresh herbs. The sauce is something new I’m working on for the restaurant.”
Charlotte is the head chef at this great little Italian place a few blocks away. She started as a hostess in college and worked her way up through the years. It’s been run by the same family for decades, but when Mama Pistorio got too old to stand on her feet all day, Charlee slid into her spot. Mama P says her sons are a bunch of useless chooches that she can’t trust with her beloved kitchen.
“So why aren’t you staying with the parentals?”
“What? I can’t have some quality time with my favorite sibling?”
“I’m your only sibling, dumbass.”
“Even more of a reason.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Who’s the girl?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage through a mouth full of noodles and gooey cheese.
“Brody Jonathan Harris, don’t pull that crap on me.”
“Really? You’re pulling out the middle name?”
“Do I need to call Mom?”
I set my fork down and prepare to face the jury. My sister is like a fucking kitten compared to our mother. Don’t let my blonde hair and blue eyes fool you; I’m half Sicilian, which I got from my mom. Trust me when I say this: You do not want to mess with a Sicilian mama.
“Ugh, fine. There may be a girl I wouldn’t mind seeing while I’m here.”
She puts her elbows on the counter and bats her eyelashes. “I knew it! So...what’s her name? What does she look like? What does she do? Where did you meet her?”
“What is this, a fucking interrogation room?”
“Spill,” she commands.
I sigh. “Fine. Her name is Rainey and she’s hot as fuck. I met her when I came home for Spring break.”
Charlee gasps. “Oh, Brody. Do not tell me she was involved in Erection-gate.”
Yep, I made the mistake of telling her about that, too. What can I say? We’re both fans of the overshare.
“Fine, I won’t tell you.”
“Jesus, Kid. I can’t believe you’re going there again. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”
