The Other Madonna (4 page)

F
lashing red and blue. There was a police car parked behind Paolo's red MX5 and I started jogging. Maybe someone had broken into the pizzeria? The policeman sat behind the wheel of his car, writing on a pad. Paolo was sitting in the driver's position in his car, too, but I could only see the spikes on the top of his head. He'd slunk halfway under the dash and I laughed out loud. I pushed my way inside the restaurant and smiled at him over my shoulder. He shouted at the windscreen and hit the wheel.

Luce looked up from behind the counter. ‘Hey Maddie. How are you?'

I nodded and pointed over my shoulder. ‘What's going on out there?'

‘Where?'

She stepped from behind the counter and peeked through the glass beside the
closed
sign. She slapped a floured hand to her mouth but it wasn't shock she was hiding, it was a smile.

‘Mama!' she shouted. ‘
Pronto
!'

Bruna shuffled in from the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘Hello, Madonna,' she said, and kissed my cheek.

Luce pointed out the window. Paolo was storming towards the door. We stepped back and he almost bashed the door off its hinges.

‘Don't say a bloody word,' he said.

‘But Paolo, what happened? Why is the policeman here? Huh?'

‘Shut up, Mum. Piss off.'

Bruna groaned and held her forehead.

Lucia grabbed her hand. ‘Mum? You okay?'

‘Hey!' Pepe called from the kitchen. ‘Boy, you come here. Now!'

Paolo flicked at the kitchen door with the back of his hand and stormed off to the toilets.

‘Boy! Come here now!' It didn't sound like Pepe.

Paolo stopped. Bruna was grabbing for a seat.

‘What?' Paolo shouted, his hand on his hip, head cocked.

Pepe kicked the kitchen door open and threw a tea towel onto the floor. ‘In here, Paolo. Now!'

‘What?' Paolo said, but didn't move.

Pepe's face changed shape, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He screamed in Italian and his son slunk into the kitchen like he was five years old.

Luce fanned her mum's face with a folded burgundy napkin. Bruna whimpered like a beaten puppy and I had to stifle a laugh. How dramatic. He'd only told her to piss off. Luce had a look of horror on her face and kept asking Bruna if she was okay.

‘Madonna, can you get Mum a glass of water?'

‘Sure,' I said, and slapped my hand over my mouth as soon as my back was turned. A little squeak of laughter escaped and I bit my knuckle – hard. Water? How about some sambuca? A double? I put ice in a glass and squirted water from the soda tap. Lucia took the glass and held it to her mother's lips. ‘Just little sips, Mum. Little sips.'

Bruna panted and the glass rattled against her dentures.

Pepe shouted at Paolo. Paolo shouted that it was an accident. The phone rang. I dived behind the counter to answer it and the first customer for the evening pushed through the door. Lucia led the staggering Bruna into the kitchen.

I seated people and took orders. I made drinks and topped a Hawaiian pizza while the DiFrescos shouted and bawled in the kitchen. I'd been scrambling around for ten minutes when I noticed that the first bloke I'd seated was smiling at me. A clean-shaven smile that lit up his whole face. I smiled back and sat opposite him at his table, took out my pad and pen.

‘Now, what can I get you?'

His head rocked back and he laughed through his nose. Hit me with another killer smile. He shook his head.

‘What?' I asked.

‘You're amazing.'

‘Pardon?'

‘World war three going on out the back there and you just keep doing your job. Do you want a hand?'

The front door creaked and a great mob of bleached and dyed heads sauntered in.

I looked at the man. A young man, maybe twenty or so, wearing a black rugby top that didn't look all that different from my own official Pepe's Pizzeria work shirt, only where my shirt said ‘Pepe's', his had a white fern leaf.

A new round of shouting erupted in the kitchen and something smashed. The ladies who had just come in and everyone else in the restaurant looked towards the kitchen door. A second of silence passed then one of the bleached ladies yelled ‘Taxi!' and the others laughed. To them it was just a restaurant noise. To me, it sounded like an artillery blast and I wondered if anyone had been maimed or killed by it.

I looked at the man again and realised that he wasn't a man – he was a hunk. Strong, square jawline, neat brown hair and shining eyes. He pulled up his sleeves to reveal sporty forearms peppered with freckles and fine blonde hair.

I really had to go to the toilet. I handed him my pad and pen. ‘Sit that bunch of honeys down at table seventeen and see what they want to drink.'

He nodded and stood up.

‘What's your name?' I asked, and wished I had more time to think of a polite way of asking.

‘Jiff,' he said. He pointed the pen at me.

‘Madonna.'

He nodded slowly. ‘That fits.'

‘Pardon?' I said, but he'd started talking to the lady at the front of the herd.

I marched to the toilet.

For fifteen excruciating minutes, Jiff and I ran the whole
restaurant while the kitchen echoed with shouting and crying. Then the delivery boys, Elliot and Trefor arrived. They were both loaded with padded pizza boxes and ready to go in about a minute.

‘Where's Paul?' Elliot asked. Lucia calls him Elliot the idiot and thinks it's the biggest scream. I call him Elliot the ignorant. He just wasn't blessed with imagination or forethought or charisma but he was a well-qualified delivery boy who did his job with a practised importance. To Elliot, delivering pizzas for the DiFrescos was a career.

‘Paul is having a meeting with his mum and dad.'

From the kitchen, shouting. Breaking glass.

‘Oh,' Elliot said, picked up his pizza bags and delivery dockets and left.

Paolo burst from the kitchen less than a minute after the deliveries had left, his father hot on his heels. The restaurant turned to stare.

‘Paolo, keys,' Pepe growled.

‘Get stuffed.'

Pepe grabbed him by the arm. I could see the grip tightening, Pepe's knuckles bleaching, Paolo's face scrunching in pain. Paolo threw the keys he'd held in his other hand into the kitchen door. Pepe released his grip. Paolo stormed onto the street and tried to slam the door. It clunked then settled shut. Nobody breathed. They stared at the old man near the kitchen.

Pepe forced the saddest smile imaginable. ‘Sorry,' he said to his patrons. ‘Sorry for the disturbance. My boy, he's a bit angry. Sorry.'

One of the ladies grunted and knocked her drink over.
Another called ‘Taxi!' and they giggled. Then the whole place seemed to sigh and conversations picked up where they'd left off. Luce appeared, mopping her eyes with a burgundy napkin. I handed her the pasta order for table seventeen and she slunk back into the kitchen.

Pepe had splashed his face with water. A drip hung like a crystal from his chin. His eyes were pinched. He sighed and put his hand on my arm. ‘Thank you, Madonna. You keep the place going while we sort it all out. Thank you.'

Jiff arrived with my pad and pen. ‘You want these back?'

‘What, you can remember all the orders now?'

Jiff smiled.

‘Nah,' I said. ‘Keep them. You're doing a great job. Jiff this is Pepe. Pepe, Jiff.'

They shook hands but Pepe looked at the bar.

‘That's a funny name, Jiff? Where you from?'

Jiff smiled again. ‘It's not really Jiff, it's Jiff. Jay ee eff eff. Grew up in New Zealand. Everyone calls me Jiff.'

My face started glowing. I knew his name was Jeff. Honest.

‘Jiff helped me . . . helped everyone . . . he was just sitting down for a meal when . . .'

‘Thank you, Jiff. Very much appreciated,' Pepe said. He shook Jiff's hand again and this time he looked into the young man's face. ‘You sit down and we make you something special. On the house. You want a drink? You like sambuca?'

Jiff's head nodded with a silent laugh. ‘Yeah, I like sambuca.'

‘Go and sit down. I'll bring it to you.'

Jiff dropped into the seat he'd left to help me. The smile was still lighting up his face. The guy could be a model, I thought.

Someone pinched me on the arse.

I jumped and spun, ready to gouge the bastard's eye out with my pen.

It was Colin. Colin the poofter.

I slapped his arm. He grimaced and fell into the counter. We hugged. He kissed my cheek. His cologne smelled good enough to eat.

‘I could tell by the way you were dribbling that you've met Jiff,' he said.

I looked up and Jiff gave Colin an index finger wave and one of those killer smiles. My shoulders dropped. Colin slapped me on the arse and walked to Jiff's table. Jiff's seat scraped on the tiles as he got up and hugged Colin and slapped his back.

‘I'd hate to say it, Maddie . . .' Luce whispered in my ear. ‘Those guys are a couple.'

I shook my head. ‘Nah. Just good mates. Just really good friends.'

Luce patted my hand and told me to get to work.

Elliot and Trefor arrived back in quick succession. We had pizzas bagged and ready for them.

‘Where's Paul?' Elliot asked.

‘Paolo has gone home,' Pepe said flatly. ‘You don't worry about him. Go.'

‘But who's going to do his area? Me and Tref can't do
it all by ourselves. Well, we could but it'd be hard . . .'

‘You don't worry bout him. Go.'

Elliot shrugged and left with an armload of pizzas. Trefor followed behind, looking stunned like he always did, with his staring eyes that bulged like he was straining on the toilet.

‘He's going to lose his licence,' Luce whispered.

I opened my mouth.

‘Ninety-six in a sixty zone. He didn't mean it.'

I remembered Paolo shouting that it had been an accident. I fake-coughed into my hand and said, ‘Bullshit.'

Lucia smiled. The phone rang and she took an order. She showed her dad and they mumbled conversation. Lucia was pleading. Pepe shooed her away.

I was dawdling at the sauce end of the counter, my ears squinting at their conversation. Gawd, I thought, you're hopeless. I realised that I felt good for the first time in hours. Maybe even days. The cracks in the DiFresco family actually made me feel good. I wasn't alone. The stuff with Evie and Dad and then with Red and the old hag had lost their front-seat position in my mind. With my hands busy and the drama unfolding around me, I felt good. It was family at its best and worst. Made me feel like Evie and I would find a way to stay close. Made me love my grungy old bald-headed dad. Everyone has their hassles. Sometimes being around someone else's drama makes you forget about your own or look at it through a new set of specs.

Luce stood beside me, slapping ham on a pizza with a scary sort of enthusiasm. I could hear her short breaths
but I couldn't tell if she was angry or frightened or what.

Pepe appeared between us. He jangled some keys beside Luce's ear.

‘Straight there. Straight back,' he said.

Lucia squealed and jiggle-hugged her papa. He rolled his eyes at me over her shoulder, tight-lipped but smiling.

‘She's a better driver than Paolo anyways.'

‘Thank you, Papa. Thank you.'

He waved her off with the back of his hand. She collected her pizzas and bumped into the door as she was leaving. Dropped the keys.

Pepe flashed a glance at her from his spot at the oven, his brow pulled over his eyes like a verandah. ‘Straight there. Straight back.'

‘Yeah, yeah.'

Lucia made it back before Trefor and Elliot. Her eyes shone. She kept adjusting her top. I caught her checking herself out in the mirror behind the bar.

‘Does my hair look okay?' she asked.

‘Hair? Since when do you fuss about your hair?'

‘Come on, Maddie. I'm a wog. Hair is everything.'

I laughed but there was something else in her eyes.

‘My god,' I whispered. ‘You've met a boy.'

Her face filled with blood and she shook her hair off her face like a model. She shrugged.

‘My god! You did! It was your first delivery! You're unbelievable.'

The phone rang. Luce dived for it and began taking an order. I looked over at Colin and Jiff. They were laughing.
Big open-mouthed playground laughs that made a couple of the bleached and dyed girls look around. I put a half-Aussie-half-Marinara into the oven. I felt like an observer in life. Not really part of it. Like the whole world was a play and I was the only one in the audience.

‘What address?' Luce asked, and her pen hovered over the page. She didn't write. She faced the wall and mumbled into the mouthpiece.

‘But you ordered before . . .' she said.

She smiled and tried to hide behind her hair. ‘Big appetite my foot.'

She laughed and looked at the clock. ‘About ten minutes.'

Pepe pushed past and Luce hunched closer to the mouthpiece. ‘Bye. Okay. Bye. No worries. Bye,' she said, and shook her head as she hung up.

‘You absolute magnet,' I said, and held her arm. ‘That was him, wasn't it?'

‘Who?'

I crossed my arms and shook my head. ‘When's the friggin wedding?'

She held her chest. ‘God, Maddie. What do I do now?'

‘Take a couple of big breaths, mate. You only met him twenty minutes ago. Slow down. Make a pizza. Cook a pizza. Deliver a pizza.
Then
take your tip in sexual favours.'

She slapped my arm.

‘Go for it, Luce,' I whispered. ‘Isn't that what you've been wanting to happen forever?'

‘Yeah, no worries . . . but . . . I'm freaking out here.'

‘Nobody said it was going to be a freak-free experience. Go for it.'