Gorilla Beach (6 page)

“Are you two excited about your date with Fredo?” asked Donna while they watched the Battle of the Bride.

Bella said, “
Excited
isn't the word.”

“So what is?” asked Donna, her blue eyes challenging and crackling.

“Disgusted?”
Gia said.

“Repulsed?”
said Bella.

Donna's face froze, then she burst out laughing. “You girls are
adorable
! So freakin' cute.”

“Okay, I'm ready to make my entrance,” announced Maria.

Antonia on one arm, Carmela on the other, the bride left her chamber to greet her guests. The rest of the furry ladies followed. Gia and Bella were left behind. So that was how it was gonna be.

Bella asked, “Cocktail?”

Gia nodded. “Double.”

Fredo Lupo walked through
the ballroom at Neptune's, head swiveling on his pencil neck, searching the crowd for his dates. He'd circled the cocktail lounge three times before heading into the main banquet room. Gia and Bella were the bridesmaids, for Christ's sake. They had to be here somewhere.

Were they avoiding him, even hiding from him? He swallowed a lump of anxiety that made his Adam's apple bob. He'd do one more lap, then he'd find his mother. She'd smoke out the girls.

Then he saw them. The DJ had only just started spinning, and the dance floor was empty except for Gia and Bella. They were holding drinks and dancing around a pile of their shoes and purses. The tall one—Bella—had magnificent knockers. The little one—Gia—had the cutest face he'd ever seen. The face of a dirty angel. A wider circle of goombahs watched them, saliva practically foaming around their lips.

Gia swayed to the music, arms pumping, hips shaking. The red feathers on her dress floated up and down. If she kept flapping like that, she might fly away. On the edge of the dance floor, his cousin Cara stood next to some juiced-up meathead, pointing and laughing at Gia, who either didn't notice or didn't care—totally oblivious. Fredo flushed with embarrassment, remembering Gia's round, dark eyes when she saw him on the crapper at the club last
night. Anxiety spiking, Fredo reached into his pocket for his pill vial. One Ativan, down the hatch. He dry-swallowed it and willed himself to relax.

Girls made Fredo nervous. He had femalephobia. Not that he didn't love women. He worshipped them. But whenever they came too close, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Gia seemed like a harmless nutcase. But Bella with the boobs that just. Didn't. Quit? Terrifying. Hardbodies sent him into a panic attack. Models made him faint.

He needed to sit. Checking his place card, Fredo found his table. He sat. Eventually, the girls would get thirsty or hungry and join him. He didn't dance. It was just too physical for him. While he waited, he looked around Neptune's. He'd been to a hundred christenings, confirmations, weddings, and other family functions here. His father, Luigi, had a piece of the place. Other rooms in the huge catering hall looked as if you'd stepped into the Italian Renaissance. Gold leaf everything, marble columns, ornate paintings of cherubs and vineyards, overstuffed velour couches, and gold-painted chairs. This particular banquet room took the Neptune's Hideaway theme to extremes. The theme was Under the Sea, with swimmy, coral-hued tablecloths and silver metallic paint. LED lights under the dance floor changed from blue to green every few seconds, which gave the impression of moving water. A light was under each individual table, too, making the coral tablecloths glow. A dozen mirror balls hung from plaster medallions on the ceiling, each with a blue beam shining on it. He focused on the blue light. It was soothing.

His cousin Cara walked by his table. He smiled at her. Upholding a lifelong tradition, she said, “Eat me, dork.”

Simply cutting. Elegantly humiliating. Cara was the biggest bitch he knew or ever would know. Although he should be used to her teasing by now, her mean remark made his pulse race. Self-conscious, he felt other people's eyes on him, the lonely dork sitting
alone. He prayed his mom wouldn't try to dance with him, hug him like a baby, as she did at every family event.

Calm down,
he told himself. Tonight, he would not be undermined by anyone. He had two sexy girls as his dates. He'd get them drinks or cut their meat—if they let him. He just wanted a chance, the opportunity, to serve. It'd be his honor.

“There he is,” said Gia, her brow beading. She plopped down in the seat to his right. “You look good, Fredo. Better than last night.”

Bella pulled up the chair on the other side of him. “Did the waiters come by yet? Maria said choice of prime rib, chicken, or salmon. I'm going for prime rib.”

Gia said, “Me, too.”

Fredo watched in amazement as these lovely creatures gnawed through dinner rolls and picked their teeth with their nails. He might've been staring.

“Say something, Fredo,” Gia demanded. “You're freaking me out.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Bella said, “You're freaking
him
out, Gia.”

“I have to ask you, Fredo,” said Gia. “What's so scary about the sight of your own crap? I love looking at mine. I can't wait to see how big it is. Honestly? I'm proud of them! I'm poop positive. You should be, too.”

“Stop! We're eating,” said Bella, laughing. “I totally agree with you. But, damn, not during dinner.”

Fredo stammered, “I … I … I think you both look smokin' tonight.” One of his prepared lines.

“You look fresh, too,” said Gia, licking butter off her knuckle and burping.

Were they making fun of him? They didn't seem to be. Fredo made the conscious decision to take them at face value. Unlike every other woman here—except his mom—they didn't seem to be creeped out by him.

“Your hair is very patriotic,” he said of their red, white, and blue streaks.

“And yours is superslick,” said Bella.

“How's the suit?” he asked.

“Too much black,” said Gia. “With the skinny tie and white shirt? It's like you escaped from
Reservoir Dogs
.”

“He does have a young Steve Buscemi vibe,” said Bella. “Do you get that a lot?”

Fredo nodded, even though he'd never heard that before. “I can see it.” This was a bona fide conversation! Progress!

The music was interrupted when the DJ announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, your first course is now served.” House music was replaced by Sinatra, aka tunes to eat by. Plates of mozzarella, tomato, and basil appeared before them.

“May I cut the cheese for you?” Fredo offered Gia.

The girls burst out laughing. Gia said, “I'm pretty sure I can cut the cheese all by myself.”

A small spark of happiness lit in Fredo's chest. He'd made the girls laugh, even if by accident. He decided to laugh along. It wasn't easy, but he was making the right sounds. Bella patted his back. A friendly gesture?

“Are you choking?” she asked, with a sharp whack between the shoulder blades.

“I'm fine, thanks.”

Gia said, “If you do choke, Bella knows the Heinielick maneuver.”

“The Heinielick?” said Bella, laughing. “It's called
Heimlich
.”

Oh, God. The visual—a tongue and a tush—flitted across Fredo's brain. He reached for his water glass and nearly choked for real this time.

“I gotta ask something else,” said Gia. “What's with the cowboy stuff, the country music and western decor at your club? Where did you get that pony?”

Fredo nodded. He could talk business. “You mean the mechanical
stallion? I hired a guy to modify a kiddie ride, like you see outside of Wal-Mart. It was originally a dinosaur.”

“I humped a dinosaur,” said Gia. “Kewl.”

“It's a very popular attraction at the Cowboy Club. There's no other country-western-themed place in Seaside,” Fredo continued. “It's always been my philosophy to find a hole and fill it.”

The girls laughed again. “You and every other guy on the planet,” said Bella.

“I mean …”

“I get it,” said Gia. “But did you ever think there was no country-western club in Seaside for a reason? People hate that shit.”

Fredo felt stung. He was proud of his club and was desperate for it to succeed. “Country happens to be extremely popular.”

“Maybe in Wyoming,” said Bella.

“It's not Jersey,” said Gia. “How many people do you know personally, your friends, who like it?”

Fredo liked it. Anyone besides him? Well, he didn't have many friends to sort through. Frowning, his mood took a turn for the worse. Gia was daffy, but in this case, she was 100 percent right. He suddenly felt crushed. Had his parents—and investors—known that his choice of theme wouldn't play in Seaside? Dad probably did. Why not tell Fredo his real opinion?

But Fredo knew why. His parents didn't want to hurt his feelings. Given the relentless bullying he'd endured at school, his parents were overly protective. When he was a child, he needed the buffer. But now, he wanted advice, not protection. It occurred to Fredo that he needed more brutal honesty in his life. He was hungry for a triumph, but his instincts were a bit off. He was sure he could be a success if someone told him the unvarnished truth, no matter how harsh, about his ideas. Someone like Gia.

The DJ spoke into the microphone again. “Your attention please! Now, for the first time as husband and wife—”

“The second time!” someone yelled. The room filled with titters.

“The
second
time as husband and wife,” corrected the DJ, “Stanley and Maria Crumbi!”

The newlyweds swept onto the dance floor and took their bows. Stanley and Maria waited for the music to start for the traditional first dance. A song came on, and everyone started laughing.

“What?” asked Fredo.

Gia said, “It's ‘Bad Romance' by Lady Gaga.”

That
was
pretty funny. Gia and Bella liked the song. They grinded in their seats. After a verse and a chorus, the dance floor filled up. Fredo's cousin Cara and her boyfriend crossed right in front of their table. A few times, Cara glanced over at him. Or was she checking out Gia?

“Tell me about that skinny bitch,” said Gia.

“My cousin?”

“She a good kid, or a rancid bitch?”

Anyone who knew their history wouldn't fault Fredo for hating Cara. When they were kids, she filled Fredo's soda with liquid soap. Cara once locked him in the basement and didn't tell anyone where he was for a whole day. When Fredo was in junior high, she printed up and distributed
FREDO IS GAY
T-shirts to his enemies. If anyone deserved to be hated, it was Cara. But telling an outsider such as Gia would violate a family trust.

The expression on his face said it all. Gia frowned. “Let's dance,” she said. “Bella, you coming?”

Bella shook her head. “You go. I'll get drinks for us.”

Gia grabbed Fredo's wrist, kicked off her shoes, and pulled him onto the dance floor, right next to Cara and her townie. Gia began her kooky moves, shaking her peaches and writhing her hips. Fredo was so stunned to be out there, he could barely sway to the beat.

“You have to move, Fredo,” encouraged Gia. “I feel like I'm dancing with a potted plant.”

Behind him, someone said, “Dork.”

Fredo spun around, but couldn't catch who made the comment.

A new tune came on. Gia really liked it and cheered and bounced up and down on her bare feet. She raised her fist and started punching the air to the beat.

Fredo could do that, if nothing else. He mimicked her odd motion. It felt … good. Really good. Energy flowed up from the reverberating floor, charging through the length of his body, up, up, and out of his pounding fist.

“That's it!” yelled Gia. “Pump it hawd!”

Fredo got into it. All the anger, sadness, and self-consciousness that had weighed him down his whole life got lighter with each pump. Before long, his other arm got in on the act, too. He closed his eyes and let the house music pulse through his heart. His legs starting moving, too.

“Ouch!”

Fredo opened his eyes. Cara's furious face was inches from him. She screamed, “You stepped on my foot, dork.”

Gia pushed between them and said, “Frankie, your date's having a temper tantrum. Maybe you should give her a time-out.”

The beefy dude frowned and said over Cara's head to Gia, “You want to do this now? Fine. Let's get it over with.”

“Out of respect for Maria and Stanley,” said Gia, “outside.”

She cut a swath through the crowd of people and marched in her tiny bare feet out of the banquet hall, through the front doors of Neptune's, and into the damp parking lot. Fredo rushed to keep up. Half the reception guests followed them, including Frank and Cara.

Fredo realized suddenly that Gia hadn't asked him to dance just for fun. She had unfinished personal business with Cara's boyfriend. God, Seaside Heights was a small world. The lines between families in this town were like a sticky spiderweb. Right now, Fredo felt a bit like a fly.

Gia and Frankie squared off. A small crowd formed around them. Fredo stayed close behind Gia. She was radiating waves of
scorching-hot anger at this guy. He was amazed such a small person could generate so much heat.

“You're the one who left Seaside, Gia,” shouted Frankie. “And you never came back down! You said you'd come, but you were always too tired or busy or just plain lazy. Yeah, I said it. You're lazy and spoiled. I was willing to meet you halfway, but you expected me do
everything
! I treated you like a queen, but you refused to cook for me, even after I drove two hours to Brooklyn for one night when I had to work the next day.”

“I get it. You think I'm lazy and spoiled, so that makes it okay to
cheat on me
with a teenager? This is how you treat a woman like a queen? So what if I don't cook? Not every woman is a wifey. And you know exactly why I couldn't leave Brooklyn. My family needed me at home, as I explained to you every time you whined about it. You can't blame me for the
fact
that you're a lying, cheating, child-molesting douche bag.”