Callie’s Last Dance

2.

“YOU CAME!” SAL says with great enthusiasm, as we enter the main tent.

“Sal?” I say. “Marie? This is Callie Carpenter. Callie? Sal and Marie Bonadello. Our gracious hosts.”

“Thank you so much for inviting us!” Callie says.

Marie shows Callie the deepest frown her face can hold. The very response you’d expect from a seasoned wife standing face-to-face with her husband’s greatest weakness.

She says, “Be forewarned, Miss Carpenter. My husband’s got less class than a nut-licking dog at a church picnic.”

Marie fixes her husband with a harsh gaze and leaves to greet the next guests.

Sal says, “I must apologize for my wife. She and I no longer sleep together.”

Callie and I exchange WTF looks.

“Intercourse,” he adds, by way of explanation. “We don’t-whatcha call-”

“We get it,” I say.

Callie and I press envelopes filled with cash into Sal’s hand, as is the custom when attending these sorts of events. Sal separates the envelopes and hefts mine briefly.

“You’ve always been generous,” he says. Then looks at Callie and says, “He’s very-whatcha call-philanthropic.”

Trying to impress her with his vocabulary.

Then he does something I’ve never seen him do.

He places Callie’s envelope back in her hand and says, “I don’t expect this from you. A goddess like you should be paid to attend parties!”

Callie flashes a dazzling smile. “That’s so nice of you to say, Mr. Bonadello. But I insist on making a contribution to your Mothers of Sicily charity.”

“They do great work,” I say, sarcastically.

As he accepts her envelope a second time he says, “Please, fair maid. Call me Sal.”

“Okay.”

“Say it. Say my name,” he says.

“Sal.”

He closes his eyes and swoons.

“Didja hear that?” he says. “An angel just spoke my name.”

He tucks the envelopes into his jacket pocket, then takes Callie’s hand in his.

“I’ve invited you to my-whatcha call-soirees every time,” he says. “But you never showed up.”

She shrugs.

I notice Marie coming up behind Sal and cough to warn him. But he’s too wrapped up in Callie to notice. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. Then takes a step back and looks her up and down like she’s covered in frosting and he can’t decide where to start licking.

He says, “Did you happen to bring a bikini, sweetheart?”

Marie says, “Why don’t you just sniff her ass, Sal? Isn’t that what dogs do?”