The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,97

pounding its way into my brain.

Then the words nothing really matters ended the song and I was suddenly okay. Better now. Blue helped. Green was also a calming color. I could handle my emotions with green.

Red and gold, not so much.

Abruptly. some repetitive beat blasted its way through the building, no words, no real melody, just a pulsating sound.

But I felt much better, wondering now if Bohemian Rhapsody had merely been something I imagined. I considered asking Lisa if she’d heard it, but then thought she might think I’d gone off the deep end for sure.

Instead, I focused on the edge of the bar, closest to the bartenders. It was lined with those baby martini glasses prepped and ready to be filled with any variety of concoction. A few of them were rimmed with tiny chopped black olives, while Mary’s Pizza Shack served up a bite of pizza on a stick, along with an Asiago cheese stuffed olive. Saddles Steakhouse served up an olive that was coconut battered, stuffed with Jack cheese then deep fried. I knew all this because of the info cards set out in front of the rows of glasses.

Lisa chose a simple cucumber-wrapped olive in her glass.

“Can I see the olive?” I asked.

“Knock yourself out.” She handed me the glass with the speared olive.

At once I knew it was a Picholine olive from France because of the pinched, elongated ends and the brownish-green color flesh.

“This is one of our olives,” I told her. “It’s a mild tasting olive with a slightly nutty taste. When we press it for oil, it has a nice anis finish. A good choice.”

One of the bartenders stopped in front of us. His eyes sparkled and his grin said, I like what I see. “How are you girls tonight?”

I liked that he called us “girls.”

“Better now that you’re here,” Lisa teased.

His grin grew wider. He gazed down at Lisa’s mini glass. “Wise choice. A version of this martini, an Apertini, won the competition a couple years back. It was created by the mixoloigist from the girl & the fig restaurant.

“Perfect,” Lisa said. “But I want the grandé size, please.” And she slid the tiny glass back to join its companions.

He looked my way, showing off his pearly whites.

“Club soda with three olives, please,” I told him.

He didn’t flinch. I liked that in a bartender, non-responsive to my non-alcoholic request.

In less than five minutes he returned with our drinks, and was on to the next believer.

“So, tell me why haven’t you been answering your phone today? I’ve been trying to get you for hours,” I said, while readjusting my position on the barstool.

She set her glittery gold bag down on the bar and leaned forward. Her eye-makeup all smoky and her lips a shiny pink, hair partially up, with long curls caressing her bare shoulders. A bronze colored scarf served as a wrap. She looked positively gorgeous next to my positively like-hell.

“Apparently, iPhones don’t work too well after an olive oil bath. It worked yesterday morning, but it hasn’t worked all day today, only I was too tired to realize it. I guess the oil finally seeped in where no oil has gone before. I should’ve gotten another phone this afternoon, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I really needed that sleep, but I’m charged up now, and ready for anything.” She gave me the once over. “Well, almost anything. So exactly what horrible thing happened today and how can I avoid getting involved?”

“You can’t. What I’m going to tell you is going to rock your world.”

“That’s impossible. My world hasn’t stopped moving ever since I first saw those brown shoes sticking out from under that millstone.”

“Well hold on tight, because my dad is alive.” Just saying it out loud caused my eyes to water.

“Get out! Are you sure?”

I nodded, unable to actually say anything that would make sense.

“Oh sweetie! This is fantastic news.” She leaned across our stools and gave me a hug. “And it couldn’t come at a better time. Everything else stinks, but your dad is alive. Where is he? Is he coming here?”

She pulled away and I grimaced.

She said, “Wait. Why am I getting the idea this is not the good news we were hoping for?”

“Because, my dear old missing dad just happens to be some big mob boss, possibly the boss of all bosses in Italy. And, here comes the best part, according to Giuseppe, who has moved into my mom’s house by the way, my dad’s