The Morelli Bros. (Chapter 1, Part II)

Posted on September 16, 2014 by R. Richardsson

They went from door to door, visiting customers who had previously done business with their family, and they were met with looks of sympathy and a slow shake of the head.

“I’m sorry, Mario, but given what your father has put us through, we just have to go with these other guys.”

“I wish I could, but I just don’t know if I can trust you boys.”

“No, and if I ever see one of you Morellis on our property again, I’ll call the cops!”

It brought a great sadness upon the boy’s hearts knowing that the burden of their father had passed down to them. More and more of their customers were turning to their competitors because of his actions, and were now passing their judgement of him down to the hardworking duo.

As the day dragged on, they found it increasingly difficult to find their smiles before knocking on each new door.

“What are we going to do, brother,” asked the younger of the two.

“We have to show them that we aren’t like that bastard of a man. We have to prove that we can be trusted, that it’s better to do business with a face you know, than with an app, or a phone service,” Mario answered passionately.

“And how do you-a say we do that,” Luigi answered with a sharp edge to his voice.

He didn’t have an immediate answer for his brother, nor would he find one in the near future. He only knew that the best way to prove his worth was to get in and do the work. If they couldn’t get over the threshold, how was he going to be able to ever do that?

He shook his head sadly and lowered his faced into his hands where he would hide his shame for the next several minutes. When he next spoke, it his voice was thick with emotion.

“Offer them our next service for free,” he dared softly utter.

“A-wha…?”

Luigi flew up from his seat as he attempted stand over his brother in anger, only to slam his head on the ceiling of the van. The breath whooshed from his lungs, stolen by the surprise of the situation as he tumbled askew to his seat.

For the first time in hours, Mario first smiled, and then laughed at what had happened to his younger, clumsier sibling. It was a brief reprieve, for as soon as the other had recovered, the two argued in earnest about his latest proposition.

“We cannot give away our business,” the younger shot back. “We have-a precious few supplies as it is!”

“We’ve a-gotta do something,” Mario retorted. “If we don’t a-show them our intentions, we’re done for good!”

“Maybe it’s-a for the best,” Luigi fired in return.

The afternoon waned as their Italian blood fueled each side of the argument and by the time they found themselves wore out enough to settle on a compromise, the shadows had begun to stretch back toward the direction from which the sun had begun its journey.

They were no closer to what they had set out to do at the beginning of the day, and neither noticed that the needle on the fuel gauge had begun to dip below the ‘E’.

Trespasser (Part V)

Posted on August 6, 2014 by R. Richardsson

He came like a thief in the night, stealing away the property that had once belonged to a very different man than himself. There were no moving trucks, nor were there any friends with his things loaded onto the back of their vehicles. He simply arrived in his nineteen eighty-seven Cadillac Coupe Deville, unloaded an overstuffed suitcase, and went inside.

All along Bryer street, curious eyes watched for any sign of their new neighbor. The women were the first to witness his arrival and within seconds, plans were being made to make him feel welcome. Marsha Rowen called Keesha Robinson, who in turned called Dottie Hammond, and soon the three were chattering away. Before any of their husbands ever knew of their neighbor’s arrival, a small barbecue had been thought out down to the very last detail.

While their children were still at school, they rushed to the local supermarket and procured the ingredients that they would need for their feast. They’d chosen nothing too complicated; some hamburger and hotdogs, eggs to be deviled, some cabbage to make a slaw from and an apple pie from the bakery. Normally this would be baked fresh, but they were quickly running out of time!

Marsha agreed to pick up the children from school while the others returned to begin preparations for the party and calling their husbands to inform them of the evening’s festivities. Though the latter were tired from their day’s labors, they readily agreed to their wives’ plans. Anything that gave them an excuse to fire up their grills and drink a cold one was okay with them!

The women had thought of everything. Davie rolled out his custom made smoker, and the meat was soon cooking beneath a blanket of hickory smoke. John Rowen and Bob Hammond kept the children busy until one of them could be relieved to go invite their new neighbor over. It was going to be a perfect barbecue.

Or, at least it would have been.

From behind closed blinds, a narrowed pair of eyes watched the people of the neighborhood as they went about their business. He saw the curious glances that were cast his direction and watched the men who stood around the smoker, drinking beer, talking and occasionally gesturing at his new house.

The women had thought of everything, that is, except for the fact that maybe, just maybe, their new neighbor had no interest in the adults in his new community at all.

The Morelli Bros. (Chapter 1, Part I)

Posted on July 29, 2014 by R. Richardsson

Lightning split the sky apart with the precision of a skilled surgeon, illuminating the surrounding area for only a fraction of a second before vanishing as fast it had come. Seconds later the silence was shattered by the force of the molecules returning to the place they were so suddenly removed from. Windows rattled as the thunder rolled on, though not many noticed it at this late hour.

Even this deep in the Bronx, most of it’s residents were fast asleep, while those remaining souls who weren’t sought out what protective cover they could find. In most cases, the eyes that looked out from the shadows were cold and apathetic. They belonged to those poor souls who had lost everything, that’d had nothing for years and had given up all hope.

They were the hungry ones. They wanted what they didn’t have, but had nothing to offer in return. They were the forgotten. They had lost their homes, their families and friends, and have been out of the system for more years than they were ever in it. They were the hated. They were looked down upon because of their social status. People were afraid to look in their direction twice, and only at a glance if they must.

They weren’t many, but they were more than most cared to admit to knowing about. The city refused to acknowledge they were there, instead focusing on more important things such as building parks for the children, or recognizing public officials for all the hard work they’ve done for the city. And, for the most part, everyone bought into the propaganda.

The media directly influenced the public opinion by providing it only with stories that would create positive feelings. Images of the city’s darker side were purposely edited to further the illusion being created and life continued as it had for as long as any could remember.

Awake and ever watchful, however, were two sets of eyes peering out from the safety of their red and green B-300 Dodge van. Though the sun would not be coming up for another two hours, there was much to be done if they were going to tackle the day head on.

“It’s-a gonna be a wet one day, eh Mario,” the younger of the two asked.

“Yeah,” the elder answered somberly.

His mood was dark this morning. He had been looking through their savings, a meager pittance of thirty dollars, and was facing a rather difficult decision; they could either put the money into their gas tank and go without food today, or they could have a good breakfast and risk not being able to make their rounds.

“Did you remember to call the uniform supplier,” he asked his younger brother.

The other nodded as a smile lifted his rather bushy mustache.

“They should be ready by lunch,” he gushed.

“That’s-a good Luigi,” he replied. “Maybe our luck will turn around?”

It was only speculation, but there was much riding on the decision to invest in these uniforms. They had given up over two weeks of the hard earned cash in order to not only buy matching garments, but to have a sign made for their van as well. If this didn’t work out for them, they faced another decision that neither one of them wanted to make. They would have to give up their trade.