(no subject)

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

For Laura Shapiro, cmshaw, and Hth. Grazie per tutti. And thanks to Terri for beta!



Open Bar
by Speranza

He was lucky, and had found himself a place to hide out--a little corner on the short side of one of the L-shaped bars, where the waiters took their smoking breaks. There were eight open bars around the hall because Lucia Belluci had had six at her wedding, so the great-aunts had had themselves a pow-wow and decided that no way was Gina Vecchio gonna be outclassed. So eight open bars, plus she hadda have lobster at the cocktail hour (along with the calamari, the scungilli, the mussels and the baked clams; the platters of soppressata, prosciutto, cappicola & olive loaf; slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella drizzled with virgin olive oil and sprinkled with oregano), plus the choice of penne a la vodka or ravioli, plus one of three entrees (chicken marsala, veal piccatta, or prime rib) and my god, the Viennese hour was gonna kill neighboring families, or so the Vecchio aunts were hoping, because there were over thirty cakes plus pastry plus spumoni plustricolore cookies not to mention the wedding cake, which was six tiers high and topped by a tiny white bride and groom tilting sideways.

The bride on the cake didn't look a lot like his cousin Gina, but the cake itself kinda did, because Gina was big around the bottom (big boned, the great-aunts said) and, put it this way, white was not her color. Ray grinned to himself as he patted down his burgundy tuxedo, found a pack of Kools, and lit one up with a white book of matches that said "Gina & Tony, June 30, 1979." Ma would have a cow if she caught him smoking at a family thing, but he figured he was pretty safe for now. Even from here, he could hear "Night Fever" blaring and the shuffle-shuffle-thump of three hundred Vecchios, Pasquales, Maglieros and Callaras doing the Bus Stop.

He did a pretty mean Bus Stop himself, but right now it was more important to get a drink, have a smoke, and get away from Donna Argullo. Donna wasn't bad looking--she was skinny and had long, almost-blond hair, even if her skin was bad enough that she really had to slather on the makeup--so he didn't want to blow her off entirely. But if she kept hanging around his neck all night, he wasn't ever gonna get near Angela Russo, and he had to at least try with her. He'd forgotten that Angela Russo and Cheech Callara were first cousins on her mother's side, and so here she was--gorgeous, with black hair all swept up high and a va-va-voom figure in a red and white dress. Angie had the most beautiful eyes, too, and here was the perfect chance to get in good with her, without any of those dip-shits from school trying to horn in or make him look bad.

"Whattya have?" The bartender, a skinny kid in a stained white jacket, snapped his gum and waited for his order. "White Russian," Ray said, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into a cheap metal ashtray. Back in the main room, the family had abandoned disco for the old time songs: "C'e na luna mezza'o mare, Mammamiam'ho maritari, Figlia mia a cu t'ho dare? Mama mia penscitu..."

Ray stared down at the bar's marble top; he could feel his Uncle Giaco's gnarled hand grabbing his shirt and shaking him hard, and heard the cigar-roughened voice in his head: "Non 'e bianco, Raimundo, non pensi quello." You ain't white, kid--don't think you are. And there was a saying, too: "A rubar poco si va in galera, a rubar tanto si fa cariera." Steal a little, go to jail; steal a lot, make a career of it,. He didn't have the heart to tell Uncle Giaco that he was gonna try being a cop. Uncle Giaco was not gonna approve, anyhow--and he might even laugh in his face.

Irish and Polish became cops in this city. White guys.

The bartender was pretty white, though--pale and pustulent with scruffy blond hair, Polack probably. Ray watched as he set out a cocktail napkin and carefully centered the small glass on top of it. "Grazie, per tutti," Ray said with narrowed eyes, wondering if the guy was feeling high-minded at having to work a wop wedding.

But the Polack surprised him. "Prego," he said to Ray and Ray laughed. The bartender grinned cockily, showing him a mouthful of white teeth, and then went down to the other end of the bar to get his cousin Nicky a Long Island Iced Tea.

Ray picked up his glass and took a sip of the cold, milky liquid. Delicious. He took another drag of his cigarette and watched the Polack pouring different liquors into a long, thin glass. The guy looked about Ray's own age, but Ray didn't know him, which was weird because he thought he knew everybody for miles. Ray Vecchio got around, talked to people, knew what was what. But this kid he didn't know, which meant that he was either way out of Ray's league or below him. From the kid's bad haircut and the scars on the back of his pale knuckles, Ray was betting he was from even lower down on the totem pole than he was.

Maybe he wasn't as white as he seemed.

Still, people like him couldn't afford to go looking for trouble, not this kind of trouble--not when something as gorgeous as Angie Russo was within his reach. Not to mention that bringing Angie Russo home to Ma would do a lot toward smoothing over the cop thing with the family.

Like it was fate or something, Ray suddenly realized that the DJ was playing "Angelina":

I eat antipasta twice
just because she is so nice
Angelina...

Angelina
the waitress at the pizzeria

I keep zoop-ing minestrone
just to be with her alone
Angelina...

Ray felt a joyful burst of optimism, threw out his arms, and sang to the bartender, "Ti volgio bene--I adore you! E volgio bene--I live for you!" The Polack bartender first looked bemused, then burst out laughing, his pale, pocked-marked face flushing pink. "But if she'll be my Cara mia / then I'll join in matrimony / with a girl who loves spumoni / and Angelina will be mine!!"

Ray bowed to the clapping bartender, picked up his White Russian, and went to rejoin his family, who were dancing to the Theme from Shaft.

THE END (1114 words)

Edited to add an inspirational link: Vecchio, 1979

Comments

sfdlksjfdklsjdf

[jacquez.livejournal.com]

for whatever reason, after reading this I had to put my head down on the table and laugh.

Maybe it's cuz I'm a Polack married to an Italian, but this struck me funny.

Re: sfdlksjfdklsjdf

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Heh, that makes YOU the perfect target audience for this! As if I was ever in doubt!

[theodosia.livejournal.com]

Hmmm... you appear to have attended a few weddings (or ones just like them) I was at, way back when. :-)

As to the picture... good lord, good thing Marciano grew into that nose!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Hmmm... you appear to have attended a few weddings (or ones just like them) I was at, way back when. :-)

And dear god, I have the dresses to prove it. (shame!)

Fic Tease!

[persian-slipper.livejournal.com]

I was expecting Teen!Rays slash, and you pull out at the last minute.

But you do it so well... :)

Re: Fic Tease!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Now why would you expect that? blink, blink I only see one Ray myself... ; )

[lamardeuse.livejournal.com]

Man. You create such a detailed, finely crafted atmosphere in this (as you always do). Having been to an Italian wedding, I was grinning at all the food details. Love the urban ethnic dynamic you work into it as well.

Irish and Polish became cops in this city. White guys.

Wow. Just super stuff. And the picture was PRICELESS. Ohmigawd.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Man. You create such a detailed, finely crafted atmosphere in this (as you always do). Having been to an Italian wedding, I was grinning at all the food details. Love the urban ethnic dynamic you work into it as well.

Thank you! And if anything, both the wedding and the urban ethnic attitude are understated. (The last wedding I was at--a typical wedding of about 400 people--the Viennese hour was annouced by a procession of twelve waiters juggling flaming torches. No, I'm not kidding. The one before that--more than 400 people-- there was a course of whole lobsters. As appetizers.)

[shayheyred.livejournal.com]

Oh, God. Change the songs and you have a Jewish wedding, too. You captured the excesses of the wedding with perfection - the Viennese table in particular made me snort - and the ambiance, the music - well, just wonderful. Not to mention the photo link, which could have been my brother in 1979 (and who, not incidentally, has lost all his hair, too, though the nose remains).

Fascinated by the "not white enough" thread. And then you slid that damn bartender in when I wasn't looking. Brava, bravissima, amica mia.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Change the songs and you have a Jewish wedding, too.

Yeah, this is true--and what's with these people who give you shrimp and an ice sculpture and call it a wedding? Hell, at a good wedding, nobody eats the main course. NOBODY. Because you're stuffed already, and if you have any room at all, you're saving for the Viennese, yeah?

[akite.livejournal.com]

OMG! That picture! I put my head down on my desk and laughed too. Wonderful stuff, Ces.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

I love that picture. I think that picture is the most charming thing I've ever seen. He could be my cousin.

[beledibabe.livejournal.com]

Fabulous story, of course. Never expected anything else.

But the photo? My God. The sins of our past return to haunt us. Heh. A salutary reminder of just how *much* the fashions in the 70's *sucked*. Like a blowfish gulping air.

Grazie.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

You know, except I've sort of decided that I like all that excessive theatrical fashion. I mean, okay, it's outrageous, but since when is outrageous a bad thing? Those were the days when they really knew how to make wallpaper, know what I'm saying? And would a little color kill you?

[kassrachel.livejournal.com]

Fantastic. All those lovely details to sink one's teeth into: the eight L-shaped open bars, the over-the-top extravagance of the menu, the songs. And, of course, the bartender, just for kicks. Brava!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

I honestly can't explain the bartender. I was as surprised as anybody when he showed up. He wasn't in my head--Angie was, and Donna, and Ray, but the bartender just appeared and you know, I really don't know more than that. *g*

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

No matter how deep we try to bury the 1970s, they still come back to haunt us...

But you know, more and more I want the 70s back. The 70s seem a lot saner to me than right now in a number of ways. And at least the fashion was playful!

Loved the one-upsmanship with the wedding: The eight open bars because Lucia Belluci had six at her wedding, and the food...good Lord, the food!
The food is frankly understated, but nobody would sit through the actual description of the actual food. I'd blow out the word limit on food alone if I tried for accuracy. You would. not. believe. I promise you.

And then you went and snuck RayK in as well,
Except I'm not myself even sure that it is RayK. I mean,it might be. It kind of looks like him. Except there must be a million skinny blond kids in Chicago. Ray Vecchio doesn't know so I don't know--it could be Ray, or it could be some blood brother of his, who can say?

And prego! *g*

[axiom_of_stripe]

i adore you.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Ti' amo.

[helvirago]

I second cmshaw.

You're so good at this! You clearly have the whole setting worked out so well in your head that the seams never show. Right down to Cheech Callera. Nice.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

You clearly have the whole setting worked out so well in your head

Ces bursts out laughing. Oh, yeah. Because this is a work of pure imagination. Not like I've been to a wedding like this. Not like I HAD a wedding like this--lol.

Actually, the reason I don't write Vecchio more is because I am way way way too close to him, to the whole family. Ray V. could be my cousin. He looks like every guy I went to school with. He kind of looks a bit like my dad, come to think of it. I adore him in a secret brotherly way which I am only now disclosing! Shh, don't tell!

Bravissima!

[murielperun.livejournal.com]

I wish you would write Vecchio more! This was so perfect. I've been to so many weddings like that, and you caught just what it feels like when you step outside the madness for a second. It made me want to put on some Louis Prima and look through the old family albums.

Loved the details, the Italian lyrics, the bit about not being white--you nailed so much about the Italian-American experience in a few words. I'm in awe.

[imkalena.livejournal.com]

Now I'm really, really sorry there weren't any Italians, and thus no Italian weddings, where I grew up. The menu alone!!! The Norwegians and the Belgians just didn't have the same flair. There's something about lutefisk and Belgian pie that just don't say "wedding" in the same way.:-)

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Wow, yeah. Lutefisk and Belgian pie don't say wedding to me at all. (/straight face)

Ray!

[kormantic.livejournal.com]

My beloved Vecchio, Ces style! And Ange! And Ray K! And the maroon tux; and the photo-- Priceless, baby.

Re: Ray!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

pounds forehead AND YOU! For Laura and cmshaw and Hth and YOU! Gahh! smooch! (PS. come around if you can, it's a party) *g*

Re: Ray!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

The WALLPAPER--that's what gets me, man! Dig that crazy wallpaper! That's when people knew how to make wallpaper, all sparkly swirls, like an acid trip. Weird reflective metallics, silver and pink, gold and blue. They wallpapered the doors and ceilings, man--dig the photo! They wallpapered each other! It was a heady age!

[daughtershade.livejournal.com]

Man that was great! Having grown up in a small town in the rural South, it's hard to imagine a wedding that extravigant, or at least I couldn't have until I went to college. What an eye opener that was when I started taking Italian and I got invited to a gathering at my teacher's. She was from Sardinia and a "small gathering" to her was about 250 people, and that wasn't even a wedding! I think I know how RayK must feel. Prego indeed!

La vostra scrittura è un regalo.
Your writing is a gift. Grazie.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

La vostra scrittura è un regalo.
Prego, prego! And yeah, 250 people, that's a couple of friends. Last couple of weddings I went to, we're talking 400 people. Last one, we each of us got sent home with a dozen bagels and a copy of the New York Times. Not even kidding. Nobody will believe me if I lay out the real menus.

[bethbethbeth.livejournal.com]

Ray Vecchio got around, talked to people, knew what was what.

Oh yeah, he did.

Love this, Cesca. Loved the menu, the music, and the reality that being a cop made these guys "white(r)."

Oh...and that picture. God. That picture! *g*

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

I love the picture. I love the picture beyond reason. *G*

[shrift.livejournal.com]

Oh yeah, you do have a way of creating atmosphere. The rambling storyteller -- you can *hear* Vecchio saying this, you can see the big hair, and feel the disco beats.

And then there's, you know *depth* and class commentary right along with the poor sartorial choices. ;-) Love!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

you know *depth* and class commentary right along with the poor sartorial choices. ;-)

Depth and Class Commentary R US! beam! I love class commentary. I want more stories with class commentary. My new one's got major class commentary. So yay!

[the-star-fish.livejournal.com]

Oooooh. Loved it. The one-upping aunts, the bartender, the music ... everything. The details you put in so beautifully ... sigh.

And the picture was a nice touch, too. *g*

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!!! I didn't even go too much into the fashions, thanks to the picture--but that picture was worth a thousand words all by itself.

Maybe the story was really 2114 words. *g*

[laurashapiro.livejournal.com]

Ya know, I just now friended ds_flashfiction (*finally*) and this was the very first post I saw.

Man, I love you. (: The "white" thing -- jee-zus, yes. Like someone else here said, we Jews have a lot in common with Italian-Americans...more than I thought, if this story's as true as it feels.

And your Vecchio is so *good*! Absolutely nailed his voice. Just...nailed it. Wow.

Thank you!

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

we Jews have a lot in common with Italian-Americans...more than I thought, if this story's as true as it feels.

Jews and Italians, man--Lenny Bruce nailed it, he had this whole routine: (heart Lenny!!!)

'Dig: I'm Jewish. Count Basie's Jewish. Ray Charles is Jewish. Eddie Cantor's goyish. B'nai Brith is goyish; Hadassah, Jewish.

'If you live in New York or any other big city, you are Jewish. It doesn't matter even if you're Catholic; if you live in New York, you're Jewish. If you live in Butte, Montana, you're going to be goyish even if you're Jewish.

'Kool-Aid is goyish. Evaporated milk is goyish even if the Jews invented it. Chocolate is Jewish and fudge is goyish. Fruit salad is Jewish. Lime jello is goyish. Lime soda is very goyish.

'All Drake's Cakes are goyish. Pumpernickel is Jewish and, as you know, white bread is very goyish. Instant potatoes, goyish. Black cherry soda's very Jewish, macaroons are very Jewish.

'Negroes are all Jews. Italians are all Jews. Irishmen who have rejected their religion are Jews. Mouths are very Jewish. And bosoms. Baton-twirling is very goyish.

'Underwear is definitely goyish. Balls are goyish. Titties are Jewish.

[ozsaur.livejournal.com]

Good lord, the details! Wonderful! The photo is a nice touch-- I can't help comparing it to Marciano's latest MCI commercial. The only thing the same is the nose.

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

I love the photo, love it. And I think Marciano's looking pretty good, actually--and quite like himself!

oh dear lord

[pyrric.livejournal.com]

I can't stop laughing, because I have a cousin Gina who's "big around the bottom" who married a guy named Tony. You may as well have been writing about her wedding, although I can assure you that no one nearly as cute as RayK was tending bar there.

Re: oh dear lord

[cesperanza.livejournal.com]

waggles eyes are you sure? He might have been working in the kitchen, or bussing tables. You never know!