by Victoria Steik
“Did you bring it?” Mario said in a low voice to his older brother Louie, as they stood at the chain link fence marking the property line between their backyards.
“Yeah, I left it over there under the porch,” Louie said. Squinting his dark Italian eyes, he looked right, left, and all around. “We gotta be careful, Mario. We don’t want any snooping eyes finding out our plan.”
“Are you crazy?” Mario replied. “It’s frigging midnight, dark as pitch. Who’s gonna see unless that pain in the ass Chihuahua of yours starts yipping its head off.”
“Don’t worry about that. Chi-chi’s asleep in the bed next to Carla. He couldn’t hear a fire truck over her snoring,” said Louie.
Louie tiptoed the four or five steps to the porch, reached underneath it and pulled out the long orange extension cord. He plugged the male end into the outlet on the wall facing Mario’s house and then he grabbed the female end of the cord, stepped back to the fence and began shoving it through the metal mesh to his younger sibling.
Mario pulled the cord through the fence and alongside an old Dodge station wagon that sat on blocks against his side of the fence. He threaded the cord through the open wing-window on the passenger side of the Dodge and then walked around to the driver’s door. He opened it, climbed in and plugged some wires hanging from the ceiling of the car where the overhead light used to be into the cord. He slipped out of the Junker and quietly, but firmly, closed the door.
“Got it?” Louie whispered to Mario as he came close enough to hear.
“Absolutely,” Mario replied. “All they need to do is open that car door and the fireworks, so to speak, will begin.”
“Good,” Louie said. “I don’t want that pencil-prick little Anthony doing the horizontal hula in the back seat of a car with my sweet little Angela. She’s too good for that.”
“Oh yeah? Seems like I remember some young Lothario making moves in the back seat of that same car, when it had wheels, with a certain lovely young lady named Carla and that was the beginning of your sweet little Angela. Am I right, Romeo?” Mario teased.
“Shut up, you,” Louie swatted at his brother. “But that’s why I don’t want those two alone in that car tomorrow night at our Anniversary Party. They might think we’ll be too drunk to notice, but the head of this family pays attention when he needs to.”
“Okay, so all you have to do is flip the switch before the party so that outlet has power,” Mario said, “and you’re all set.”
The two brothers parted for the night with a fist bump at the chain link fence.
The next evening, the last faint colors of dusk had faded from the sky and the only lights illuminating the faces in Louie’s backyard came from the paper lanterns that Carla insisted Louie and Mario hang earlier that afternoon. Maybe it was the lantern light; maybe the Chianti or maybe the sun bronzed faces of family and friends gathered around the table that spread an atmosphere of love and peace to all.
Despite the heavy meal and numerous toasts to the happy couple’s marital success, Louie and Mario, remained vigilant, keeping a close eye on the young sweethearts. The teenagers sat on a bench at the very edge of the pool of light, Anthony holding Angela close, her head resting on his shoulder. Anthony stealing quick, but passion laden kisses whenever he thought no one was looking.
The ladies began gathering up the dishes and platters of food and carrying them to the kitchen. The men moved closer together to share more Chianti, Cuban cigars and conversation. Anthony and Angela casually strolled off into the shadows. Missing nothing, Louie and Mario smirked at each other and settled back for the show to begin.
Seated only feet from the chain link fence and the booby trapped vehicle, the men had to fight back the kind of laughter school boys share when they toss a plastic spider on the teacher’s desk while her back is turned.
The men could hear the shuffling footsteps in the long grass as the couple approached the car. They heard the click of the door latch and the low creak of rusty hinges. Then nothing: their plan was not happening. Louie could hear the rustling of clothing, passionate moaning and the smack, smack, smack of slurpy kisses.
He grabbed Mario by the throat, pulled him close and whispered, “Where’s the frigging fireworks? You said you had it all worked out!”
“I dunno,” Mario croaked out. “There must be a loose wire or something.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Louie growled.
“Angela Marie Stefano!” he shouted, “get your young ass out of that car and bring that worthless boyfriend of yours with you. Don’t make me come over there!”
The car door creaked open, then the rustle of clothing being frantically pulled on reached Louie’s ears and finally the sounds of feet running through the long grass, around the end of the fence and back into Louie’s yard.
“Jesus, Dad,” Angela screamed. “How could you!”
“How could you, young lady?” He shouted back. “Get yourself in that house this minute. And you, Anthony, you better get walking on home before I totally lose my patience and fix you so you’ll never walk again! Get outta here!”
Being a young man with excellent survival instincts, Anthony lit out down the driveway shoes in hand and shirttail still aflutter.
“See ya later, Ange,” he called over his shoulder as he ran into the night.
Mario and the other men who had witnessed this outburst of paternal rage exploded with laughter at the sight of Louie standing at the end of his driveway, shaking his fist high in the air as a final threat to the teenage boy. His friends’ laughter deflated Louie’s rage and he began laughing with them.
“Happy Anniversary you two!”
”Great party Carla.” the last of the partygoers called out as they headed down the block to their respective houses.
Breathing a deep sigh, Louie put his arm around his bride, escorted her back to the table and with a flourishing bow asked, “Care for a nightcap Gorgeous?”
“Don’t mind if I do, good lookin’,” she replied.
Just as he replaced the stopper in the bottle, they heard the screen door creak and there stood their precious Angela, hair in ponytails, wearing her fluffy slippers and Minnie Mouse pajamas.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “Nothing happened. Honest. Don’t hate me, okay?”
“Come here, baby girl,” he said opening his arms to her.
“I could never hate you,” he said as she snuggled him. “I just want you to stay Daddy’s little girl for a while longer, okay?”
“I love you, Dad. Goodnight!” She headed back toward the screen door.
“Hey Angela,” he called to her, “Flip that light switch by the door. We don’t need these lights anymore.”
“You’re such a good Daddy, Lou,” Carla whispered to him as he held her close.
“Aw, enough about Daddy. How about some sugar for Mama?”
“I know why you were so worried about them being alone in that car,” Carla said. “I remember the back seat of that car. I wonder if it might be as fun as it once was.”
“You little vixen,” Louie teased, nibbling on her neck. “Why don’t we just find out? I’ll race you.”
They took off running around the fence, giggling and stripping off clothes as they went. Louie reached the door just one step in front of his wife. The moment he pushed the button and pulled on the door, the latch opened up and four different car alarms began blaring, headlights, tail lights and turn signals began flashing and a recording of the Boston pops playing the Star Spangled Banner began blasting, set on ten, through the super deluxe stereo system Mario had devised just for the occasion.
© 2014 Victoria L. Steik