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“Damn!”
“Daddy.”
“What?”
“Can you stop?”
“No. I can’t. Not now… If I can’t fix this we can’t win. Talk to me later.”
Disappointed, Ant shrugged and went back to work.
4
“What about that one?”
“Not this again” said Romeo.
“What? She’s cute.”
“Ma…”
“And look at those boobs.”
“Ma!!”
“Oh, hush,” said his mom, waving him off. “Yoo hoo, excuse me, miss?”
She called to the cute girl with the nice boobs to get her attention. Mrs Monty was always doing stuff like that to him. Her and her traffic cone colored or
ange hair. Why she dyed her hair that color Romeo could never figure out.
“Will you stop?”
“What?”
“Don’t mind her. She’s crazy.” He twirled his index finger around his temple, illustrating just how crazy his mother was.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop. But you’re never going to find a girl. Not here in this town. Not with that attitude.”
“I do okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I do okay.”
“You should get out of here. Move to the city and paint.”
“I can’t make money from painting. ”
“You could paint houses,” said Monty, chiming in.
“Funny dad.”
He was funny. Which was a great quality for a twice decorated, ex-marine.
And that was basically Romeo Montefalco’s entire family. It was just the three of them, small and tight. They walked together with his mom woohooing girls and his father cracking jokes, as the sun hung a little bit lower in the late summer sky, and the street fair drew to a close.
All along the route people were breaking down and cleaning up. Packing away their tube socks and t-shirts, folding up their french fries and funnel cakes. Rolling up their tents and sweeping up their spots.
