All is fair in love and
war.
Or maybe sometimes Life and Fate just love being mean.
An AU Babe
story told from a different perspective.
Theme Song: Starships by Nicki Minaj.
*******************************************************************************
Chapter 1
Cupcake!
Chapter 2: It Wasn't My Fault!
It Wasn't My Fault!
Cupcake!
She was so soft and sweet.
Like a simple vanilla cupcake with rich chocolate buttercream frosting on top.
Not too expensive to afford, and easy to swallow.
Not too much a burden to your stomach, and a saving grace to your mental health.
She smelled like cinnamon and honey.
So warm.
So familiar.
So tasty.
She always smiled, and never hesitated to said "Yes" whenever you wanted something.
Too bad that was back when she was sixteen.
I lie on the pavement, unable to move or feel my arms and legs. She jumps out of the brand new sleek shining black Porsche Boxster and stands above me. I stare at the huge designer three-carat diamond wedding ring wrapped around her slender finger.
"I've told you not to call me Cupcake!" She yells.
She looks so cute when angry. I can't help letting out a dreamy sigh. She hears my sigh and narrows her oh so beautiful ocean blue eyes. Her wild unruly light brown curls dance in the breeze. I know she's about to kick me in the ribs. Like she usually does. I brace myself for the upcoming pain and hear the sound of an engine approaching. The familiar sound of a sexy, powerful engine. The engine of a Porsche 911 Turbo I know too well. She turns away from me. Like she always does. And I feel like crying. My invincible rival is finally here. No doubt to take her away from me. Again. And forever...
The ever so curious bystanders moan. I know he has just wrapped her in his perfect muscular Mocha Latte arms. The traffic stops. A couple middle-aged women faint and drop to the ground. Great. Now he's kissing her soft red lips. I lie on the ground cursing my fate and hearing them leave. The crowd lets out a collective sigh and disperses. No one pays any attention to me. My hair—the wavy curly longish hair on my head, chest, back, butt, arms and legs— hurts. My whole body aches. I hope someone has already called 911. A pug and a poodle come near and sniff at me. Their owner barks out a sharp command and they trot away from me. I suddenly have a feeling that the ugly little pug wanted(and probably still wants) to pee on me.
My name is Joseph Anthony Morelli. I am a hardworking, highly-praised Trenton police detective. I come from a well-respected, God-fearing local family. I am also known as Trenton's Very Own Italian Stallion. I have a big orange playful dog and a nice cozy 2-story house on a quiet street. And I've just found out the love of my life Stephanie Plum, the Bounty Hunter From Hell, the woman who has been bullying me ever since I was 8 and she was 6, is now married to her mentor and my sworn enemy Ricardo Carlos "Ranger" Manoso, the tall dark handsome mysterious and dangerous Cuban American who owns a very successful security company. The sky darkens. Rain starts to fall. Still I lie on the pavement, unable to move or feel my arms and legs.
This is my life's story.
I hope the merciless raindrops can wash away my misery...
Could somebody please call 911 and ask for an ambulance?
Please?
Chapter 2: It Wasn't My Fault!
It Wasn't My Fault!
I was born a healthy beautiful baby, but somehow grew up into a tormented man.
A drop of crystal tear falls out of my eyes as I lie on the pavement looking up at the dark foreboding sky. The unbearable pain and sorrow within me rage though my scarred heart, traumatized soul, and aching body. Sometimes I can't help feeling like an innocent lamb that's going to be butchered, cooked and devoured by a mob of gluttonous monsters. From time to time I feel the powerful urge to look up at the sky and ask no one in particular what I did wrong in my previous lives. But I have never ever yielded to the urge. Not even once. Why? Because being a devout Catholic, I am not allowed to believe in previous or after lives. So I stagger onward on my life's path with ferocious courage and tightly clenched teeth.
And I have totally no idea what went wrong.
I was born the second son of Anthony and Angie Morelli. My sweet, gentle, loving and caring Grandma Bella burst into tears of joy upon the sight of me. "Oh Merciful Lord in Heaven! He looks just like a little angel!" She exclaimed in heavily accented English. All the doctors and nurses and irreverent bystanders smiled and nodded in agreement eagerly. Everybody was so kind. No one wanted to upset this fragile little old lady. And it took my poor father—may the Lord rest his soul in peace—48 hours to persuade Grandma Bella not to name me Edward. Or Jacob. And they finally agreed to name me after my grandfather Joseph, a famed good man and most loyal husband.
I close my melted chocolate eyes to shut out the annoyingly persistent raindrops. No. Don't lie to yourself, Joseph. A familiar stern and snarky little voice sounds in my mind. Maybe you do know what went wrong. You are named after your grandfather. You should try you best to be an honest and decent person. I blow out a sigh of defeat. Yes, I do remember. I still remember the day I stood inside my father's dark stuffy garage with my pants and underwear around my ankles. It was a hot cloudless summer day and I was 8. I was bathed in cold sweat and had never felt so scared. I wanted to scream for help or run away, but I didn't dare. The only door of the garage was blocked. And there was no way I could run with my pants and underwear around my ankles. Besides, I was only a child, a terrified 8-year-old little boy, who was helplessly hypnotized by the beautiful fearless bright blue eyes in front of him.
"It will be fun!" My elder brother Anthony had said with his trademark cheeky grin on his face. "Trust me, Joseph. The girls will love this new game!" I should've have known not to trust him...
Hello?
Has someone called 911 and ask for an ambulance?
I can need some help here, please.
Hello?
Chapter 3
An Intergalactic Princess
As usual, my desperate call for help receives no response. I am always, always left to fend for myself. And sometimes the world feels so dark and so lonely...I know I should not whine. I know I should stay calm and strong. I am a 6 feet, 1 inch fully grown-up man. I weigh nearly 184.5 pounds. I am a Trenton Police detective. I am the proud owner of a always drooling dog. Life's difficulties are God's special tests for me. I have to prove my worth. I have to work extra hard. I have to set a good example and show the world I am really, really notTrenton
All of a sudden my ears twitch and my heart leaps up. I can hear the sound of sirens coming nearer and nearer. Thank God I am saved! I want to yell. But I manage to get a firm grip of myself just in time. I have an image to maintain, and I really don't want to scare all the passersby who look at me weird. I am the Hairy Italian Stallion. I am a polite, considerate and decent man. My mother and grandmother say I am tall, dark and very handsome. And you bet I would rather die than do any harm.
Soon 2 TPD patrol cars and—Yay! Sorry, I just can't help it—an ambulance screech to a stop. The EMTs jump out of the ambulance and hurry toward me with a stretcher. I smile gratefully at them and let out a huge sigh of relief. They arrive earlier than I expected. Maybe my luck has finally changed. Maybe from now on my prayers are going to be answered. Maybe I can have a fair chance for true happiness. Maybe I can even make the love of my life smile at me...I am so absorbed in my blissful thoughts that I fail to hear the footsteps of my fellow brothers and sister in blue.
"Joe. Joe. Joe." Carl Costanza, the uniform officer who grew up in the same neighborhood with Stephanie and me, grins down at me like the full silver moon. "When are you gonna learn?"
The other 3 uniform officers and the 2 EMTs laugh heartily at Carl's tease. Both my eyes start to twitch. Yes, you may have already guessed that this is not the first time I got beat up by my angel, the sweet, pretty and lovely Stephanie Plum. Everyone knows how much Stephanie hates me calling her "Cupcake". But somehow I just can't stop calling her "Cupcake". Every time my eyes fall on her my brain turn airy and fluffy. Every time I think of her my heart bursts with sweetness and softness. Every time I hear her beautiful voice the universe turn all rosy and pink. I am so helplessly and hopelessly in love with Stephanie. Nothing can ever thwart my love for her. Not even her huge diamond wedding ring. Not even her perfect yet scary mentor. Not even her fearsome temper. Not even—
Even if she was the person who traumatized you and left you scarred and broken for the rest of your fucked-up life that Sunday inside your father's dirty garage? The snarky little voice in my head snorts knowingly.
My throat goes dry. My body temperature drops 10 degrees. My teeth start clattering in fear as once again the memory of that day creeps back into my head like a hissing black mamba. I was supposed to teach Stephanie a new game that day. A game called "Choo Choo". A game my elder brother Anthony taught me. I was supposed to make sure no one was watching. I was supposed to take Stephanie to my father's garage. I was supposed to make her take off her panty. I was supposed to...supposed to...supposed to...
And somehow I ended up standing in the middle of my father's dark stuffy garage with my pants and underwear around my ankles. In front of Stephanie Plum. And all her little girl friends. All 15 of them. I am still not sure what happened. All I remember is the giggles and "Ah!" and "Oh!" and "Eeeeew!" of the little girls. Stephanie didn't say a word. She just looked at me with those amazing blue eyes. And I almost died of shame and fear. I had secretly fallen in love with Stephanie ever since the first time I saw her at Carl's birthday party. I was 6 that year and, yes, she was 4. I'd wanted to hold her hand. I'd wanted to hear her laugh. I'd wanted to be her Superman, her Spider- Man, and her Batman. And now here I was, standing in front of her with my pants and underwear around my ankles like an idiot. It was not supposed to happen this way. I didn't know what to do. I so wanted to cry...
And then all Hell broke loose when Stephanie's wavy-haired cousin Shirley suddenly ran out of the garage screaming bloody murder. It didn't take long for all the grown-ups in the neighborhood to arrive. The little girls started talking, crying, laughing at the same time. Silence dropped like a nuke bomb when all of little girls turned to point their fingers at me. Everyone inside the garage stared at me hard. I peed on myself. The little girls said "Eeeeew!" at the same time. That night Anthony and I were almost beaten to death by our weeping, raging mother.
But still I was in love with Stephanie Plum, the girl who wanted to grow up and become an intergalactic princess, the girl who narrowed her eyes and made me take off my pants and underwear in my father's dirty garage...
Chapter 4
Clueless Joe
I
yelp in surprise and pain as my stern and rigid mother smacks me on my
forehead. The deafening silence that follows grows awkward and
foreboding. My mother becomes frighteningly quiet and borderline violent
whenever she's angry. And the best way to stay alive under this
situation is keep your head low and your mouth shut until her boiling
rage is spent. I chew my lip nervously, waiting for my mother to cool
down a bit. In the cheap plastic chair beside my narrow hospital bed, my
always happy and carefree Grandma Bella starts to sing a song in
Italian. My mother places a shaking hand over her eyes and lets out a
frustrated sigh.
"When are you going to grow up and learn,
Joseph?" My mother's tone is calm and tired, but the blaze in her eyes
is screaming at me like a crazy banshee. "When are you going to let go
and move on and stop bothering Stephanie? She's a married woman now. Her
husband won't be happy if you don't give up."
I look into my
mother's beautiful and sorrowful eyes. I wish I have an answer for her
question. I wish I can find a way to stop bring shame to my already
tortured family. I wish I know why I am so obsessed with Stephanie.
She's not exactly the most beautiful woman in the world. She's not
exactly a sexy kitten. She's not exactly kind and pure and innocent. But
I love her anyway. And I just can't take my eyes off her.
I
follow her everywhere. I watch every breath she takes. I watch every
move she makes. I left roses and chocolates on her doorstep under the
cover of the night. The reason why I chose to become a policeman is that
I wanted to be able to stop her car at anytime and smile at her. Yes,
at one time I did plan to join the Navy after high school. I wanted to
be a Navy SEAL. I wanted to be the national hero who single-handedly
killed off all the enemies and saved our country and obtained world
peace. I wanted to flash my million dollar smile when shaking hands with
the President in front of CNN, ABC and NBC news cameras. I wanted to
look into the cameras and say "I love you, Stephanie Plum, Cupcake. Will
you marry me?" on national live TV. I wanted to put my Navy SEAL hat on
Stephanie's head and sweep her off her feet while the crowd clapped and
cheered. But I was forced to forfeit the dream when I found out that I
suffered from seasick. I was, and still is, afraid of the sea. The cold,
vast, and merciless sea. Where man-eating sharks, ultra-venomous sea
serpents, giant squids, and sea monsters live...
"Joseph!" Again my mother smacks me hard on my already bruised and swollen forehead. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes,
mother. Sorry, mother" I murmur. The memory of my father's lean
handsome face surfaces in my mind. My father died in a car accident when
I was 10. He and the lady who sold donuts and fruit tarts eloped and
were on the way to the airport to catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro when
his bright red Alfa Romeo skipped and slammed head-on into an
18-wheeler. My mother didn't speak to anyone for over 3 months after his
funeral. It was a closed casket viewing. And Grandma Bella kept trying
to pry the coffin open so that she could kiss her beloved favorite son
goodbye. Everyone cried. But my mother's eyes remained dry. I turned my
head around, and saw Stephanie crying in her mother's arms.
And I fell in love with her all over again at that moment...
They release me from the hospital.
The moment I unlock the front door and steps inside my lovely cozy silent empty 2-story house, loneliness hits me in the face like a sledgehammer. A drop of salty crystal tear rolls down my cheek. I let out a ragged sob. My concussed brain is no longer swollen. My cracked ribs will heal on their own. But the gaping hole in my bleeding broken heart grows larger and deeper every day. Stephanie Plum, my cute and pretty angel, my sweet and fluffy Cupcake, is now married to my foe. Ricardo Carlos "Ranger" Manoso, the cold-blooded mercenary, the calculating opportunist, the manipulating, self-righteous loose cannon, the tall dark handsome perfectly muscular mysterious dangerous man I envy and hate, has stolen the love of my life away from me like a shameless thief.
I wonder what Stephanie sees in him. I wonder what everyone sees in him. Men respect him. Cats, dogs and kids like him. Women drool after him. Hell, even my Grandma Bella moans a little whenever he is near. Oh Lord, am I the only one who's capable and smart enough to see through his façade? He's not a hero. He's not a savior. He's not a brilliant and successful businessman. He's nothing but a soldier of fortune, a hired muscle, an ordinary and average thug. He hires crazy, ugly, dangerous men with questionable past. He plays by his own freaking rules and moral code instead of the law. The first time I overheard my Stephanie, my beloved Cupcake, calling him "Batman", I almost died. The first time I overheard him calling my Stephanie, my darling Cupcake, "Babe", I wanted to smack someone really, really hard upside on the back of his head or choke myself to death.
Whenever she gets herself in trouble, he's always there to sweep her off her feet and save the day.
Whenever she's upset, he's always there to kiss her on top of her head and lighten up her day.
Whenever I get the call and arrive on the scene, thinking I am finally able to live my dream, he's always there to ruin my day.
I so want to jump out of my greyish blue Ford SUV and stomp toward her. I so want to wave my hairy arms through the air as if they are windmills in a hurricane. My face shall contort with worry and anger and fear. Tiny drops of garlic-scented saliva shall fly out of my mouth and spit everywhere. "Cupcake! Jesus Christ! What the HELL have you done this time, Cupcake? Haven't you done enough damage, Cupcake? Can't you see you are just not good enough for this, Cupcake? Don't you know you are worse than a bad joke, Cupcake? What if you get someone killed, Cupcake? What if you get yourself killed, Cupcake? Why can't you just quit your job, marry me, settle down, wash my underwear, cook me dinner, bear me children, and be happy and contented, Cupcake?" I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how deeply I love and care about her. I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how much I worry about her safety and happiness. But my hateful enemy, my cursed rival, is always there to block my way and make me swallow back my confession of love...
I break down and weep as my mental stress and physical pain finally get to me. I look upward pleadingly seeking divine intervention and once again see the small hole in my ceiling. I can't help asking out loud, "Why me?" I am so helplessly and hopelessly in love with the woman in my dream, but now she's wearing somebody else's ring. Oh the woe! Oh the sorrow! Oh the angst! What have I done to deserve this? I'm a 30-something Trenton police detective. I'm known as the Hairy Italian Stallion. I am 6 feet 1 and not terribly bad-looking. I have a playful dog and a house with a small rose garden in front. I have a steady job and stable income. I have ambitions and dreams and good table manners. I brush my teeth before sleep and I take my shower every morning. I have family and friends who love me. I may be traumatized for life because of the garage/Choo Choo incident but I always look at life positively.
Why oh why did my Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, marry him?
Why can't she smile at me and love me?
Why did she have to run me over with the wedding gift he gave her?
Why are my prayers never answered?
Why did I have a feeling that Venus, the Goddess of Love, has just shrugged and said, "C'est la vie"?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
I lost my innocence that summer day inside my father's garage.
I lost my virginity 8 years later in the backseat of my cousin's pick-up truck.
I was a scorned and lonely teenager. She was one my cousin's ex-girlfriends. She was drunk and didn't give me the chance to say no. It was over in less than 3 minutes. The smell of alcohol smacked me so hard in the face that I almost puked. I didn't even know her name. I only knew that she was 2 or 3 years older than I was and snored like a train. I tried to wiggle from under her, but she was too heavy and I had no strength left in my lean thin limbs. So I bit my lip and wept. I felt so helpless and so ashamed. I had been saving myself for my Cupcake, my Stephanie. I has always wanted to wait till our wedding night. We would lead a happy, fulfilled and normal life. I would be the proud man of the house. She would be my lovely obedient wife. We would laugh, joke, and enjoy life. There would be no shadow of guilt and unhappiness in her beautiful eyes. She would love me much, much more than her own life. But now all of a sudden all was lost. My body and lips were no longer pure. I had been tainted by someone named Emily, Elizabeth, Carlo, Amy, Janet, Kim, or Joyce. Oh the grief! Oh the pain! Oh the—
"Joseph!" My mother smacks me hard upside the back of my head, making me bite the tip of my tongue, and hisses under her breath. "Stop making funny noises. People are looking at us!"
Oh yes, people are always snickering behind my back all the time. They say I am a poor lovesick fool. They say I am delusional. They have been saying the same thing ever since I was 18 years old. I force a weak smile at my annoyed mother. I secretly let out a sigh of relief the moment she turns her attention back to my Grandma Bella. People inside Pino's give my mother the familiar sympathetic look as she gently wipes a smidge of tomato sauce off Bella's face. Yes, my mother can be tender and loving at times. And even if the good and kind people of Trenton suspect she had something to do with my father's tragic death, they wisely keep their mouths shut around her.
I bite into my last piece of mushroom and roasted red pepper pizza. Somehow the hot gooey yummy cheese reminds me of the evening I walked into Tasty Bakery and saw Stephanie behind the counter. Her wild unruly hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a princess out of a fairy tale in that cute little apron. And she was smiling so brightly that I nearly went blind. I stood there gaping at her like an idiot. I wanted to say Hi. I wanted to smile. But my brain was a gooey mess of excitement and emotions. This is your chance, Joseph. The snarky little voice in my head slapped me in my face and said in a no nonsense tone. Give her a good new impression. Show her you have grown up and matured. Show her you are no longer the brainless fool you once were. Be smart. Be polite. Be brave. And win her heart. OK. I closed my eyes for a brief second to collect myself. I took a calming breath.
"S...Stephanie," I finally stammered.
"Yes? How many I help you, sir?" Her voice was sweet and polite and professional. Her beautiful smile was firmly in place. My head became airy. My mind went blank.
"S...Stephanie," Again I stammered after a long minute.
"Yes? How many I help you?" Her enchanting blue eyes held me captive.
"Steph...Stephanie..." I whispered. I fell in love with her little frown.
"Yes? Now she was looking at me as if I was the sole center of her universe. In my mind's eyes I saw her in a snowy white wedding gown. We were standing in front of the altar. I held her hand in mine. I was ready to slip the ring, our wedding ring, onto her finger, her "Yes" still ringing in my ears...
"Stephanie..." I moaned dreamily and drooled a little. And the next thing I knew was that I was lying in the cold hard floor of the bakery. My jaw and the back of my head hurt like hell. And Stephanie, my darling Stephanie, my cute lovely sweet Cupcake, was cursing in both English and Italian and kicking me like a professional thug in my ribs.
"What the Hell do you want, Joe Morelli? Why can't you buy a cannoli like a normal person?"
God, she looked so adorable when she was mad. And suddenly I felt no pain. Her "Yes" was still ringing in my ears, and now I had her full attention. It was a moment I would always treasure. It was a memory that would keep me warm on the coldest night. I felt so happy that I could die...
Hot burning tears flow down my face. And now my Stephanie, my Cupcake, is married to another man. I curse the day she got laid off from her former job and met that perfect muscular Mocha Latte mysterious dangerous man.
I started dressing in all black. People snorted and told me I looked like a two-bit bouncer of a cheap gay strip club. I asked around for the price of a second-hand Porsche. My mother smacked me hard on my head and told me to get real while my Grandma smiled to no one and hummed another sweet Italian song.I thought about waxing my chest, back and butt. My mother smacked me again when my then unmarried sister caught me with her waxing kit in my hands. I thought about taking kick-boxing classes or Taekwondo. I gave up after my cousin told me how much it would hurt. No, I was not afraid of pain, I swear. It was just that my cracked ribs—bestowed to me by my sweet lovely cute beautiful Cupcake, my darling Stephanie, yay—hadn't completely healed. I thought about perming my hair straight. But I was having trouble finding the perfect beauty salon. I really, really didn't want to become the target of the rumour mills, you know. I tried to learn to raise one brow. I tried to speak with a lower sexier tone. I tried to smile barely there smiles. I tried to hold people prisoner with my mesmerizing eyes. I was this close to my goal. But one day my Captain called me into his office and told me to cut this shit and stop acting like a pervert.
"We are supposed to serve and protect, Morelli, not make a fool of ourselves and make men, women, children, cats and dogs feel ill."
The cold merciless look in my Captain's narrowed steely eyes and his tightly clenched teeth told me maybe this was not a joke. I was a very good team player. I knew how to follow orders. I had no other choice but to forfeit my secret dream. It was all for the greater good, gently but sternly I told weeping myself that night with my blanket over my head. We should be glad that it seemed no one could stand our charm. The snarky little voice in my mind snorted rudely but I paid it no heed. I tried my best and remained calm and collected. I would not budge and give in under any circumstances. I didn't have to be Cuban to be tall, dark, handsome, dangerous, mysterious and ultra-sexy. No, I was not a copy cat. I would win my Cupcake back in my own way and in my own style. Soon she would see the only truth. Soon she would choose the correct path. We were meant for each other. We were born to be together. We had to yield ourselves to our great creator's will. I was her fate. I was her destiny. I was her future. I was her happiness. I would be the father of her children. I would be her calm, assertive pack leader. She would be my calm, submissive wife and Cupcake. People would write songs about us. People would write books about us. People would make movies and TV shows about us. People would write fan fictions about us. Women of all ages and races would fight each other to death to join our fan club. Women world wide would want their daughters and grand daughters to have husbands like me. Stephanie, my Cupcake, my precioussss, and I and our 6 most beautiful wonderful children would live in heavenly bliss. No ugly nasty little pugs would ever again pee on me. EVER.
And I will never ever feel the pricking sensation at the back of my eyes and drool and moan whenever Ranger is near...never...
I
put on the tie I bought the other day on the internet. It has
unbelievable, immense power, the colorful little ad has said. Once I put
it on, I will have whatever I want. Once I puts it on, I will be the
master of my Cupcake's heart. I don't know why this ordinary-looking
grey tie has so much power. But I am most willing to give it a try.
Today is another day. I look into the mirror at myself and bravely
smile. Today shall be the day my darling Stephanie, my sweetest Cupcake,
leaves that perfect, delicious Mocha Latte man and comes to me. We
shall be happy and fulfilled. We shall have no remorse and no regrets.
She shall be mine and I shall be hers. I shall finally have the love of
my life in my bright red round waterbed. I shall never wake up in the
middle of the night and cry my heart out in loneliness and in despair.
And I shall never dream of his barely there smile and those enchanting
dark brown eyes...I shall never hear that sexy, amused "Babe" in my
ears...
"STOP It!"
I yell at the top of my lungs and slap my forehead. My loyal orange dog Bob yelps in my bedroom and runs down the stairs with his bushy tail between his legs. No no no no no no no I am not gay. I am a normal healthy not terribly bad looking man who has average needs: I love pizza. I love football. I love Tom Cruise. I love John Wayne. I play baseball. I watch Smackdown and Monday Night Raw. I am just...I am just intrigued by Ranger, my Cupcake's beautiful mysterious dangerous man. I just want to be happy. I just want to stop feeling lonely. I just want to be cherished. I just want to be loved. I just want to put my ring on my angel Stephanie's slender hand. I just want to hold her hand and kiss her lips. I just want her to clean my house. I just want her to do my dishes. I just want her to sew my buttons and mend my socks. I just want her to make me a grilled cheese sandwich when the night is dark and the land is far and the moon is the only light I see. I just want her to be my perfect submissive obedient Burg wife and the mother of my kids. I just want her to stop being Stephanie Manoso and become Mrs. Joseph A. Morelli. And then my dear mother and the whole Trenton will know I am not a good-for-nothing/pervert who knew how to take advantage of little girls inside dark dirty garage at the age of 8. And now my humble wish shall finally be granted!
My trembling fingertips feel the smoothness of my magical tie. I'm so happy and and excited that laugh my happy laugh. The sky darkens. The wind blows. A flash of lightning flashes outside my small bathroom window. A loud thunder sounds right above my roof. Bob the mutt howls from his hiding place under the kitchen sink. And somehow my mirror cracks. I smell magic in the air. My confidence rises to an all-time high. I walk downstairs and leave my lovely cozy 2-story house. I get in my car and drive toward my destination. Yes, I know where my Cupcake is. I just have to look her in her beautiful blue eyes and smile my charming smile and then she will be mine. Mine. MINE! Our wedding shall be grand and luxurious. Everyone shall be envious of us. The ever so calm and perfect Ranger shall be on his knees begging. My brave and loyal Cupcake, my dearest Stephanie, shall hold her head high and ignore him and come to my side. I shall get my pay raise and promotion. I shall become the Police Chief. I shall rid Trenton of evil and imbeciles. I shall be the father of 6 beautiful perfect little Cupcakes.
I stop my car outside the Tasty Bakery. I put a bright blinding smile on my handsome clean-shaven face. I push open the door. I walk straight toward my lovely Stephanie. The aroma of fresh doughnuts surrounds us. I pay no attention to the overweight and oversized black woman who shamelessly claims to be my Cupcake's best friend. I pretend I didn't see the scowls on people's faces. My dream is about to come true.
"Cupcake," I clear my throat and happily say.
Stephanie, the love and only light of my life, the source of my great courage and inspiration, the kindest and most beautiful woman in this cold heartless world, the future mother of my 6—no, make it a dozen—children, turns around and looks at me. Our eyes lock for an eternal moment. She frowns a little, as if confused. Her bright shining eyes widen a fraction. She opens her perfectly-shaped mouth. Oh Lord, her lips are so close to me. The fruity scent of her sweet perfume dances in the air teasingly around me.
"Stephanie," I whisper huskily and smile sexily. "Will you marry—"
She opened her mouth and throws up on me. Carrot, tomato, whole-wheat bagel, low-fat yogurt and assorted fruit cover me from face to toe. I gape and gag and try really hard not to swallow. Lula, the loud and rude and undereducated black woman puts a hand over her blood-red mouth and excitedly squeals:
"OMG! White Girl! You're carrying the Bat Baby!"
Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, blushes fiercely and doesn't say a thing. The world around me darkens. The chilly breeze howls in my ears. My dream shatters. My universe crumbles. The meaning of my life ceases to exist. Oh the woe. Oh the despair. Oh the loneliness. Oh the longing. Oh the pain. Tears flood down my cheeks.
Will somebody just kill me?
Please?
I
turn around and march out of the bakery like a heartbroken zombie. I
drive across the city, park outside my house, and stumble out of my car.
I fish out my keys, unlocked my front door, strip myself of all my
dirty clothes and socks and shoes in my living room, and go upstairs for
a long hot shower. I walk a dead man's walk. I cry a grown man's tears.
I scrub myself squeaky clean. I wash my hair and brush my teeth. I
stand in front of the mirror, and my reflection weeps with me. I dry my
furry body. I rub a whole bottle of baby lotion into my dark Italian
skin. I let out a long, ragged sigh. My loyal orange dog Bob yelps twice
and howls under the kitchen sink. I climb into my cold lonely bed,
close my puffy swollen eyes, and cry myself to sleep. I toss and turn in
my dark, disturbing dream. I moan and groan and yell and scream as a
bunch of deformed monsters snarl and chase me around. And I finally
scare myself awake.
It is such a bright sunny day. I sit up in my bed, feeling sad, small, and desperate. A bird sings outside in a tree, as if mocking me. A breeze dances through my window and laughs in my ears. Sorrow and pain snicker behind my back. Bob has stopped whimpering. I think I can hear him chewing my 500 dollar tie. Like a pair of assassins loneliness and depression stab me right in my chest. I wrap my arms around myself. I start rocking back and forth. Why is my heart still beating? Why am I still breathing? Why is my brain still functioning? When oh when will I stop suffering? Why can't I be happy? I just want to spend the rest of my life with Stephanie. I just want to be the father of our 12 beautiful children. I just want to smile proudly and make people envy. I just want to walk around the Burg with my head high and a smug on my face.
But now the woman I love and need and want, my Cupcake, my sweet fluffy angel Stephanie, the sole light of my life, the only reason of my existence, is wearing Ranger's loud, flashy diamond ring...
But now the future Grandma of my tens of dozens of grandchildren, my Cupcake, my lovely playful snowy white kitten Stephanie, the answer of my prayer, the salvation of my soul, is carrying Ranger's baby...
No no no it can't be true. No no no there must be a mistake...Will the child have her eyes? Will the child have her smile? Will the child have her wild, unruly curls? Will the child have her Hungarian-Italian hot violent temper? Will the child be a boy? Will the child be a girl? Will the child grow up and learn how to kick me in my ribs like his/her mother does? Will the child have Ranger's silky smooth straight hair? Will the child have Ranger's flawless Mocha Latte skin? Will the child have Ranger's midnight dark brown eyes? Will the child have Ranger's beautiful, enchanting smile? Will the child grow up and learn to raise a perfect brow a tiny little fraction and scare the hell out of me like Ranger does?
OMG! They are not having twins, are they? Identical little boys... Identical little girls...Identical little boy and girl...And they should be mine. They should call me Dad. They should have my last name. They should have my lazy melted chocolate eyes. They should have my charming, slightly crooked smile. They should have my off-white uneven teeth. They should have my garlic breath. They should have my furry arms, legs, backs, butt, and chest. They should be mine, mine, MINE!
NO! I won't give up. No! I have to try. This is my life. This is my happiness. This is my dream. I can't just let go without putting on a fight. I can't live without Stephanie. She is my redemption. She is my salvation. She is my saving grace. She is my breath of life. I need to have her by my side. I need her to chase away the darkness and light up my path. This is a war I have to fight. This is the chance I have to take. I can't just admit my defeat and walk away. I can't. I won't. I shall not budge—
All of a sudden my bedside phone starts ringing. I nearly jump out of my skin and almost fall out of bed. I run a shaky hand through my still wet hair. I take an unsteady breath to calm myself. "Hello?" I pick up the phone and gingerly say. My mother's tight, controlled voice thunders in my ear:
"Joseph Anthony Morelli! Stop making those terrible, silly noises! You are annoying your neighbors!They can hear you from across the street! And why are you still in bed? Don't you have to work? Do you want to get fired? Do you want to lose your badge and become a pizza guy or a mall security guard? Get out of bed right now and go to work. Now! Come over for dinner tonight. I want you to meet someone. And stop bothering Stephanie Plum. Do you hear me? Mrs. Nesta, Mrs. Baggio, Mrs. Beckham and everybody else all told me her husband, that Ranger, is going to kill you if you don't stop stalking her! I didn't raise you and bring you up to be a shameless creepy stalker! They said he's going to chop you up and feed you to the fish and no one will ever find your dead body. Joseph! Did you hear me? You are not still asleep, are you? Don't make me go over to your house and slap you awake! Joseph! Hello? Are you listening? You'd better be listening to me..."
My mind goes blank. My head start to spin. My eardrum screams. I wince. I cringe. I can taste bile in my mouth. I try to speak but can't make a sound. No no no no no no no. My mother has arranged another blind date for me. I hope she's not trying to hook me up with that horrible, horrible woman, Joyce Barnhardt...Oh the woe! Oh the fear! How I wish my Cupcake, my Stephanie is here to cuddle me in her slender arms and tell me everything is going to be alright...
But now she's carrying Ranger's child...
"You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness, like resignation to the end, always the end..."
Quietly I sing under my breath, ignoring the single drop of my lonely tear. My trembling voice breaks a little. My vision blurs. I try to take a deep breath to calm and collect myself. I fail miserably. I don't know if I can survive the depression and despair I feel. I don't know if I can wake up from this living nightmare. I don't know when I will stop having fits of sobbing. I am no longer sure of the date. I am no longer sure of the time. I am no longer sure if I do exist. I feel like my whole world, my whole universe, has broken apart and is little by little melting into nothingness. I am now a soulless robot aimlessly moving around in a endless meaningless circle. I have lost the strength to live. I have lost my lovely, lovely Cupcake, my sweet darling Stephanie. And her husband, the ever so perfect and beautiful tall dark dangerous attractive man, Ranger, Carlos, may going to kill me for loving her...
Will I feel the burning slicing pain when he shoots a bullet through my weeping brain?
Will I sense the cold numb death when he stabs a merciless razor-sharp dagger into my already shattered heart?
Will he look into my lonely teary eyes and see my desperate sorrowful soul when he bends down to check if I am really dead?
Will he frown?
Will he smile?
Will he dream about me in a hot humid night?
Will he remember my really not that bad-looking face till the day he dies?
I wish I know all the answers.
I wish I don't have so many questions.
I keep on crying, silently.
I wish I can be braver and smarter.
I wish I can be happy and fulfilled.
I just want to spend the rest of my life with my Cupcake, my Stephanie...
"Jesus Christ!" Across the old dented desk in the interrogation room the 30-something dark hairy man who was arrested for breaking and entering and burglary lets out a pleading moan and tries to bang his head on the desk as his eyes start to twitch. "Will you stop doing that? PLEASE? You are driving me crazy here! What the hell is so wrong with you, Joe? Can't you just act like a normal human being for once in your life? I'm gonna call your mom if you keep on crying! I mean it! Jeez!"
I pay my cousin Mooch no heed. What I can see in front of my sad sad eyes is nothing but a grey sea of hopelessness. I feel so cold and so lonely. I want to yell, to shout, and let out all my suppressed emotions but I do not dare. My Captain said he's gonna chop me up and feed me to the fish if he hears a sound from me. And I know crystal clear he's not joking. I have heard countless rumours and stories about him. Jethro Reacher is a living legend. He used to be one of the best and the toughest of NYPD. He's friends with Ranger and they both scare me stiff. He lets me keep my job because I am "worthless in the field but quite useful in the interrogation room". I am not really sure I know what he meant. I just follow his order and sit all day inside the small stuffy room. So far 13 suspects have willingly admitted to their involvement in more than 49 criminal activities. Every single one of them winced and cringed and then ratted out their buddies and partners of crime like they were nothing. And they all turned to look at me and shook their heads before being led out by my smiling smirking snorting fellow brothers and sisters in blue. All day long people keep coming in to take a peek of me. A couple of them actually pat me on my back. I can't decipher the look in their eyes. I am just doing my share of the job. I am just doing what I was told to do. I am just trying to earn my living here. I just want to bury myself with work when trying to forget what I have lost...
Mooch signs his confession, looks at me weird, and then leaves. I wipe away my tears, blow my nose, and find out it's time to go home. I stand up my my cheap plastic chair. I stretch and move my limbs. I know who I am. I know what I can be. I am Detective Joe Morelli. I know I will never be like Lucas Davenport, Harry Bosch, Jesse Stone, Elvis Cole, Joe Pike, my Captain, or Ranger. I have just lost the love of my life and my purpose to live. I leave the station, get in my car, turn on the radio and sing along as I drive toward my mother's house.
"But you didn't have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing..."
I love my voice. It sounds shaky, sad, true, and intriguing. They should have come to me and beg me to sing the song instead of that Belgian-Australian guy with a funny fancy name. I stop the car at my mother's door. I undo my seat belt, get out of the car and let myself in. The TV is on. My Grandma and my dog are peacefully snoring on the couch. The heavenly scent of my mother's cooking dances in the air. My heart leaps up as my mother comes out from her tidy spotless organized kitchen with a large bowl of warm Italian salad. Grandma Bella and Bob wake up on their own. I sit down at the old heavy oak dining table. A smile breaks on my face. My mouth starts to water. Eggplant and pumpkin lasagna. Grilled stuffed tomatoes. Extra cheesy spicy mushroom risotto. Zucchini soup and homemade Tiramisu. A small family dinner. All my favorite dishes. Just what my tender heart and vulnerable soul need after a long day of hard tedious work.
A loud car screeches to a stop right in front of the house. A pang of foreboding grabs hold of me. The door bell rings. My mother smiles and goes to answer the door. Strong heavy perfume invades my nose and makes me gag. High heels TAP on the floor behind me. Very slowly I turn my head. My mouth drops open. My eyes bulge out. I want to jump up and run away screaming as fast as I can. My poor poor legs feel weak. I can not move a finger. I stare at the too familiar face of the red-haired curvy woman. I start to panic as her hungry evil green eyes hold me captive.
"Hello, Joseph." The woman purrs.
Joyce Barnhardt. The horrible, hor
rible woman. The bane of my humble existence. The sly little girl who lured me into her daddy's garage and molested me when I was 8 and she was 6. The 14-year-old demon who sold my virginity without my knowledge for 20 bucks to my cousin's drunken ex-girlfriend and then wrote about my...little Joseph on public bathroom walls. The greedy ferocious predator who forced herself on me and made me cry in fear and pain and shame 2 years later...
And the surprise blind date my mother arranged for me tonight. Oh Lord.
Joyce
rolls off me, lights a cigarette, and smirks. A drop of crystal tear
falls down my face. I don't know what happened, honestly. I know I might
have drunk a glass too many at dinner. It wasn't my fault, really. I
needed the alcohol to calm my nerves and help me concentrate on my food.
I needed the alcohol to numb me and stop me from running away screaming
in the middle of the family dinner while Joyce's stocking foot rubbed
against my trembling leg. I felt sick. I felt scared. I was helplessly
frightened. But I should've known something wasn't right when my mother
smiled her kind, beautiful smile and asked Joyce to be a dear and drive
me home. I should've known what was going on when Joyce turned to look
at me with an evil gleam in her predator eyes and licked her blood-red
lips. I could hear my Grandma Bella muttering something and singing a
song. I could sense the change in the air as my smiling mother opened
the front door for us. I wanted to scream for help. I really did. But I
had no strength let and I couldn't make a sound. The stars were so
bright. The moon moon was so dim. How the winds were laughing. They
laughed with all their might. And just like the calf with a mournful eye
who was doomed to die, the red-haired she-devil drove me away from my
mother's nice cozy house and then stripped me naked, tied me up, and
ravished me on my own groaning bed.
It all happened so fast. I really didn't have time to react. My heart moaned in pain. My brain screamed in shame. I sobbed. I pleaded. I twisted and tossed beneath a laughing Joyce. And then little Joseph betrayed me...Oh Lord, I felt so wronged, so used, so unclean...
"Oh yeah, Joseph, you taste so good." Joyce smiled down at me and casually says. I start crying.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, you are so hairy." Joyce runs a sharp fingernail on my furry chest. I cringe, shudder, and wince.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are going to make beautiful babies."
Joyce tilted back her head and like Bellatrix Lestrange, the ever so evil and demented witch who killed the ever so handsome and dauntless Sirius Black, laughed victoriously. I whimpered and choked on my tears.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are so going to get married." Joyce holds me prisoner with her eerily bright eyes. "And I'm going to punish you every day and every night and make you so happy that you will forget Stephanie. Your mommy will be pleased. She will be so proud."
"No! No! No! No! No! No! NO!" Helplessly I shout in my head and tearfully curse my fate. I won't have the path of my life chosen for me. I won't have the love of my life taken away from me. I will be happy. I will be rich. Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, the woman of my dream and I will have rainbows, day after day. I will put my ring on her hand. I will stay loyal. I will remain true. I will not end up being some other crazy woman's child-making machine. I will...I will...
Desperation grabs hold of me. Reality sinks in. Pain, pleasure, regret, shame and all kinds of sensations rush through my naked, extra hairy, cuffed, shackled, and chained body.
Stephanie is already married.
She is carrying Ranger's baby.
Ranger is going to chop me up and feed me to the fish, the crabs and the shrimps if I don't stop loving Stephanie.
And now I am no longer pure.
I am tainted.
I am contaminated.
I have been marked by another woman.
I have betrayed my sweet fluffy Cupcake, my beautiful Stephanie.
Oh the shame!
Oh the woe!
Oh the pain!
And Joyce said she'll post the video of us on YouTube.
Somewhere downstairs Bob howls like a lonely terrified wolf.
Joyce puts off the cigarette and ties my 500 dollar nylon grey tie around my neck.
I know what she's going to do to me.
I know there' no escape for poor, poor me.
So I do the only thing I can.
My eyes roll back into my head.
I faint.
But somehow I know nothing will stop Joyce from ravishing me.
Nothing.
Nothing...
Thief Of Hearts
The moment I unlock the front door and steps inside my lovely cozy silent empty 2-story house, loneliness hits me in the face like a sledgehammer. A drop of salty crystal tear rolls down my cheek. I let out a ragged sob. My concussed brain is no longer swollen. My cracked ribs will heal on their own. But the gaping hole in my bleeding broken heart grows larger and deeper every day. Stephanie Plum, my cute and pretty angel, my sweet and fluffy Cupcake, is now married to my foe. Ricardo Carlos "Ranger" Manoso, the cold-blooded mercenary, the calculating opportunist, the manipulating, self-righteous loose cannon, the tall dark handsome perfectly muscular mysterious dangerous man I envy and hate, has stolen the love of my life away from me like a shameless thief.
I wonder what Stephanie sees in him. I wonder what everyone sees in him. Men respect him. Cats, dogs and kids like him. Women drool after him. Hell, even my Grandma Bella moans a little whenever he is near. Oh Lord, am I the only one who's capable and smart enough to see through his façade? He's not a hero. He's not a savior. He's not a brilliant and successful businessman. He's nothing but a soldier of fortune, a hired muscle, an ordinary and average thug. He hires crazy, ugly, dangerous men with questionable past. He plays by his own freaking rules and moral code instead of the law. The first time I overheard my Stephanie, my beloved Cupcake, calling him "Batman", I almost died. The first time I overheard him calling my Stephanie, my darling Cupcake, "Babe", I wanted to smack someone really, really hard upside on the back of his head or choke myself to death.
Whenever she gets herself in trouble, he's always there to sweep her off her feet and save the day.
Whenever she's upset, he's always there to kiss her on top of her head and lighten up her day.
Whenever I get the call and arrive on the scene, thinking I am finally able to live my dream, he's always there to ruin my day.
I so want to jump out of my greyish blue Ford SUV and stomp toward her. I so want to wave my hairy arms through the air as if they are windmills in a hurricane. My face shall contort with worry and anger and fear. Tiny drops of garlic-scented saliva shall fly out of my mouth and spit everywhere. "Cupcake! Jesus Christ! What the HELL have you done this time, Cupcake? Haven't you done enough damage, Cupcake? Can't you see you are just not good enough for this, Cupcake? Don't you know you are worse than a bad joke, Cupcake? What if you get someone killed, Cupcake? What if you get yourself killed, Cupcake? Why can't you just quit your job, marry me, settle down, wash my underwear, cook me dinner, bear me children, and be happy and contented, Cupcake?" I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how deeply I love and care about her. I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how much I worry about her safety and happiness. But my hateful enemy, my cursed rival, is always there to block my way and make me swallow back my confession of love...
I break down and weep as my mental stress and physical pain finally get to me. I look upward pleadingly seeking divine intervention and once again see the small hole in my ceiling. I can't help asking out loud, "Why me?" I am so helplessly and hopelessly in love with the woman in my dream, but now she's wearing somebody else's ring. Oh the woe! Oh the sorrow! Oh the angst! What have I done to deserve this? I'm a 30-something Trenton police detective. I'm known as the Hairy Italian Stallion. I am 6 feet 1 and not terribly bad-looking. I have a playful dog and a house with a small rose garden in front. I have a steady job and stable income. I have ambitions and dreams and good table manners. I brush my teeth before sleep and I take my shower every morning. I have family and friends who love me. I may be traumatized for life because of the garage/Choo Choo incident but I always look at life positively.
Why oh why did my Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, marry him?
Why can't she smile at me and love me?
Why did she have to run me over with the wedding gift he gave her?
Why are my prayers never answered?
Why did I have a feeling that Venus, the Goddess of Love, has just shrugged and said, "C'est la vie"?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
I lost my virginity 8 years later in the backseat of my cousin's pick-up truck.
I was a scorned and lonely teenager. She was one my cousin's ex-girlfriends. She was drunk and didn't give me the chance to say no. It was over in less than 3 minutes. The smell of alcohol smacked me so hard in the face that I almost puked. I didn't even know her name. I only knew that she was 2 or 3 years older than I was and snored like a train. I tried to wiggle from under her, but she was too heavy and I had no strength left in my lean thin limbs. So I bit my lip and wept. I felt so helpless and so ashamed. I had been saving myself for my Cupcake, my Stephanie. I has always wanted to wait till our wedding night. We would lead a happy, fulfilled and normal life. I would be the proud man of the house. She would be my lovely obedient wife. We would laugh, joke, and enjoy life. There would be no shadow of guilt and unhappiness in her beautiful eyes. She would love me much, much more than her own life. But now all of a sudden all was lost. My body and lips were no longer pure. I had been tainted by someone named Emily, Elizabeth, Carlo, Amy, Janet, Kim, or Joyce. Oh the grief! Oh the pain! Oh the—
"Joseph!" My mother smacks me hard upside the back of my head, making me bite the tip of my tongue, and hisses under her breath. "Stop making funny noises. People are looking at us!"
Oh yes, people are always snickering behind my back all the time. They say I am a poor lovesick fool. They say I am delusional. They have been saying the same thing ever since I was 18 years old. I force a weak smile at my annoyed mother. I secretly let out a sigh of relief the moment she turns her attention back to my Grandma Bella. People inside Pino's give my mother the familiar sympathetic look as she gently wipes a smidge of tomato sauce off Bella's face. Yes, my mother can be tender and loving at times. And even if the good and kind people of Trenton suspect she had something to do with my father's tragic death, they wisely keep their mouths shut around her.
I bite into my last piece of mushroom and roasted red pepper pizza. Somehow the hot gooey yummy cheese reminds me of the evening I walked into Tasty Bakery and saw Stephanie behind the counter. Her wild unruly hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a princess out of a fairy tale in that cute little apron. And she was smiling so brightly that I nearly went blind. I stood there gaping at her like an idiot. I wanted to say Hi. I wanted to smile. But my brain was a gooey mess of excitement and emotions. This is your chance, Joseph. The snarky little voice in my head slapped me in my face and said in a no nonsense tone. Give her a good new impression. Show her you have grown up and matured. Show her you are no longer the brainless fool you once were. Be smart. Be polite. Be brave. And win her heart. OK. I closed my eyes for a brief second to collect myself. I took a calming breath.
"S...Stephanie," I finally stammered.
"Yes? How many I help you, sir?" Her voice was sweet and polite and professional. Her beautiful smile was firmly in place. My head became airy. My mind went blank.
"S...Stephanie," Again I stammered after a long minute.
"Yes? How many I help you?" Her enchanting blue eyes held me captive.
"Steph...Stephanie..." I whispered. I fell in love with her little frown.
"Yes? Now she was looking at me as if I was the sole center of her universe. In my mind's eyes I saw her in a snowy white wedding gown. We were standing in front of the altar. I held her hand in mine. I was ready to slip the ring, our wedding ring, onto her finger, her "Yes" still ringing in my ears...
"Stephanie..." I moaned dreamily and drooled a little. And the next thing I knew was that I was lying in the cold hard floor of the bakery. My jaw and the back of my head hurt like hell. And Stephanie, my darling Stephanie, my cute lovely sweet Cupcake, was cursing in both English and Italian and kicking me like a professional thug in my ribs.
"What the Hell do you want, Joe Morelli? Why can't you buy a cannoli like a normal person?"
God, she looked so adorable when she was mad. And suddenly I felt no pain. Her "Yes" was still ringing in my ears, and now I had her full attention. It was a moment I would always treasure. It was a memory that would keep me warm on the coldest night. I felt so happy that I could die...
Hot burning tears flow down my face. And now my Stephanie, my Cupcake, is married to another man. I curse the day she got laid off from her former job and met that perfect muscular Mocha Latte mysterious dangerous man.
In Too Deep
I saw his
beautiful eyes in my dream. I heard his enchanting voice when I was
asleep. I longed to run my hand down his muscular arm. I craved to feel
his smooth Mocha Latte skin. No no no no no no no I was not gay. I
just...I just...I just wanted to be like him. Perfect. Composed. Calm.
And cool. Handsome. Attractive. Mysterious. And mouthwatering. I'd seen
the twinkling light of love and trust in my Cupcake's eyes when she
looked at him. I bet that nasty little pug would never ever want to pee
on him. I later learned that he was a bounty hunter and mercenary. I
whispered his name in secret when I was alone with my heart thumping in
my ears. He was such a beautiful man. He'd just stolen my Cupcake's
heart away from me. I wanted to be his rival. I wanted to be his equal. I
wanted to be as rich and successful as he was. That was the only way to
win my Cupcake back, I was most certain of that.I started dressing in all black. People snorted and told me I looked like a two-bit bouncer of a cheap gay strip club. I asked around for the price of a second-hand Porsche. My mother smacked me hard on my head and told me to get real while my Grandma smiled to no one and hummed another sweet Italian song.I thought about waxing my chest, back and butt. My mother smacked me again when my then unmarried sister caught me with her waxing kit in my hands. I thought about taking kick-boxing classes or Taekwondo. I gave up after my cousin told me how much it would hurt. No, I was not afraid of pain, I swear. It was just that my cracked ribs—bestowed to me by my sweet lovely cute beautiful Cupcake, my darling Stephanie, yay—hadn't completely healed. I thought about perming my hair straight. But I was having trouble finding the perfect beauty salon. I really, really didn't want to become the target of the rumour mills, you know. I tried to learn to raise one brow. I tried to speak with a lower sexier tone. I tried to smile barely there smiles. I tried to hold people prisoner with my mesmerizing eyes. I was this close to my goal. But one day my Captain called me into his office and told me to cut this shit and stop acting like a pervert.
"We are supposed to serve and protect, Morelli, not make a fool of ourselves and make men, women, children, cats and dogs feel ill."
The cold merciless look in my Captain's narrowed steely eyes and his tightly clenched teeth told me maybe this was not a joke. I was a very good team player. I knew how to follow orders. I had no other choice but to forfeit my secret dream. It was all for the greater good, gently but sternly I told weeping myself that night with my blanket over my head. We should be glad that it seemed no one could stand our charm. The snarky little voice in my mind snorted rudely but I paid it no heed. I tried my best and remained calm and collected. I would not budge and give in under any circumstances. I didn't have to be Cuban to be tall, dark, handsome, dangerous, mysterious and ultra-sexy. No, I was not a copy cat. I would win my Cupcake back in my own way and in my own style. Soon she would see the only truth. Soon she would choose the correct path. We were meant for each other. We were born to be together. We had to yield ourselves to our great creator's will. I was her fate. I was her destiny. I was her future. I was her happiness. I would be the father of her children. I would be her calm, assertive pack leader. She would be my calm, submissive wife and Cupcake. People would write songs about us. People would write books about us. People would make movies and TV shows about us. People would write fan fictions about us. Women of all ages and races would fight each other to death to join our fan club. Women world wide would want their daughters and grand daughters to have husbands like me. Stephanie, my Cupcake, my precioussss, and I and our 6 most beautiful wonderful children would live in heavenly bliss. No ugly nasty little pugs would ever again pee on me. EVER.
And I will never ever feel the pricking sensation at the back of my eyes and drool and moan whenever Ranger is near...never...
50 Shades Of
"STOP It!"
I yell at the top of my lungs and slap my forehead. My loyal orange dog Bob yelps in my bedroom and runs down the stairs with his bushy tail between his legs. No no no no no no no I am not gay. I am a normal healthy not terribly bad looking man who has average needs: I love pizza. I love football. I love Tom Cruise. I love John Wayne. I play baseball. I watch Smackdown and Monday Night Raw. I am just...I am just intrigued by Ranger, my Cupcake's beautiful mysterious dangerous man. I just want to be happy. I just want to stop feeling lonely. I just want to be cherished. I just want to be loved. I just want to put my ring on my angel Stephanie's slender hand. I just want to hold her hand and kiss her lips. I just want her to clean my house. I just want her to do my dishes. I just want her to sew my buttons and mend my socks. I just want her to make me a grilled cheese sandwich when the night is dark and the land is far and the moon is the only light I see. I just want her to be my perfect submissive obedient Burg wife and the mother of my kids. I just want her to stop being Stephanie Manoso and become Mrs. Joseph A. Morelli. And then my dear mother and the whole Trenton will know I am not a good-for-nothing/pervert who knew how to take advantage of little girls inside dark dirty garage at the age of 8. And now my humble wish shall finally be granted!
My trembling fingertips feel the smoothness of my magical tie. I'm so happy and and excited that laugh my happy laugh. The sky darkens. The wind blows. A flash of lightning flashes outside my small bathroom window. A loud thunder sounds right above my roof. Bob the mutt howls from his hiding place under the kitchen sink. And somehow my mirror cracks. I smell magic in the air. My confidence rises to an all-time high. I walk downstairs and leave my lovely cozy 2-story house. I get in my car and drive toward my destination. Yes, I know where my Cupcake is. I just have to look her in her beautiful blue eyes and smile my charming smile and then she will be mine. Mine. MINE! Our wedding shall be grand and luxurious. Everyone shall be envious of us. The ever so calm and perfect Ranger shall be on his knees begging. My brave and loyal Cupcake, my dearest Stephanie, shall hold her head high and ignore him and come to my side. I shall get my pay raise and promotion. I shall become the Police Chief. I shall rid Trenton of evil and imbeciles. I shall be the father of 6 beautiful perfect little Cupcakes.
I stop my car outside the Tasty Bakery. I put a bright blinding smile on my handsome clean-shaven face. I push open the door. I walk straight toward my lovely Stephanie. The aroma of fresh doughnuts surrounds us. I pay no attention to the overweight and oversized black woman who shamelessly claims to be my Cupcake's best friend. I pretend I didn't see the scowls on people's faces. My dream is about to come true.
"Cupcake," I clear my throat and happily say.
Stephanie, the love and only light of my life, the source of my great courage and inspiration, the kindest and most beautiful woman in this cold heartless world, the future mother of my 6—no, make it a dozen—children, turns around and looks at me. Our eyes lock for an eternal moment. She frowns a little, as if confused. Her bright shining eyes widen a fraction. She opens her perfectly-shaped mouth. Oh Lord, her lips are so close to me. The fruity scent of her sweet perfume dances in the air teasingly around me.
"Stephanie," I whisper huskily and smile sexily. "Will you marry—"
She opened her mouth and throws up on me. Carrot, tomato, whole-wheat bagel, low-fat yogurt and assorted fruit cover me from face to toe. I gape and gag and try really hard not to swallow. Lula, the loud and rude and undereducated black woman puts a hand over her blood-red mouth and excitedly squeals:
"OMG! White Girl! You're carrying the Bat Baby!"
Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, blushes fiercely and doesn't say a thing. The world around me darkens. The chilly breeze howls in my ears. My dream shatters. My universe crumbles. The meaning of my life ceases to exist. Oh the woe. Oh the despair. Oh the loneliness. Oh the longing. Oh the pain. Tears flood down my cheeks.
Will somebody just kill me?
Please?
Little Red Corvette
It is such a bright sunny day. I sit up in my bed, feeling sad, small, and desperate. A bird sings outside in a tree, as if mocking me. A breeze dances through my window and laughs in my ears. Sorrow and pain snicker behind my back. Bob has stopped whimpering. I think I can hear him chewing my 500 dollar tie. Like a pair of assassins loneliness and depression stab me right in my chest. I wrap my arms around myself. I start rocking back and forth. Why is my heart still beating? Why am I still breathing? Why is my brain still functioning? When oh when will I stop suffering? Why can't I be happy? I just want to spend the rest of my life with Stephanie. I just want to be the father of our 12 beautiful children. I just want to smile proudly and make people envy. I just want to walk around the Burg with my head high and a smug on my face.
But now the woman I love and need and want, my Cupcake, my sweet fluffy angel Stephanie, the sole light of my life, the only reason of my existence, is wearing Ranger's loud, flashy diamond ring...
But now the future Grandma of my tens of dozens of grandchildren, my Cupcake, my lovely playful snowy white kitten Stephanie, the answer of my prayer, the salvation of my soul, is carrying Ranger's baby...
No no no it can't be true. No no no there must be a mistake...Will the child have her eyes? Will the child have her smile? Will the child have her wild, unruly curls? Will the child have her Hungarian-Italian hot violent temper? Will the child be a boy? Will the child be a girl? Will the child grow up and learn how to kick me in my ribs like his/her mother does? Will the child have Ranger's silky smooth straight hair? Will the child have Ranger's flawless Mocha Latte skin? Will the child have Ranger's midnight dark brown eyes? Will the child have Ranger's beautiful, enchanting smile? Will the child grow up and learn to raise a perfect brow a tiny little fraction and scare the hell out of me like Ranger does?
OMG! They are not having twins, are they? Identical little boys... Identical little girls...Identical little boy and girl...And they should be mine. They should call me Dad. They should have my last name. They should have my lazy melted chocolate eyes. They should have my charming, slightly crooked smile. They should have my off-white uneven teeth. They should have my garlic breath. They should have my furry arms, legs, backs, butt, and chest. They should be mine, mine, MINE!
NO! I won't give up. No! I have to try. This is my life. This is my happiness. This is my dream. I can't just let go without putting on a fight. I can't live without Stephanie. She is my redemption. She is my salvation. She is my saving grace. She is my breath of life. I need to have her by my side. I need her to chase away the darkness and light up my path. This is a war I have to fight. This is the chance I have to take. I can't just admit my defeat and walk away. I can't. I won't. I shall not budge—
All of a sudden my bedside phone starts ringing. I nearly jump out of my skin and almost fall out of bed. I run a shaky hand through my still wet hair. I take an unsteady breath to calm myself. "Hello?" I pick up the phone and gingerly say. My mother's tight, controlled voice thunders in my ear:
"Joseph Anthony Morelli! Stop making those terrible, silly noises! You are annoying your neighbors!They can hear you from across the street! And why are you still in bed? Don't you have to work? Do you want to get fired? Do you want to lose your badge and become a pizza guy or a mall security guard? Get out of bed right now and go to work. Now! Come over for dinner tonight. I want you to meet someone. And stop bothering Stephanie Plum. Do you hear me? Mrs. Nesta, Mrs. Baggio, Mrs. Beckham and everybody else all told me her husband, that Ranger, is going to kill you if you don't stop stalking her! I didn't raise you and bring you up to be a shameless creepy stalker! They said he's going to chop you up and feed you to the fish and no one will ever find your dead body. Joseph! Did you hear me? You are not still asleep, are you? Don't make me go over to your house and slap you awake! Joseph! Hello? Are you listening? You'd better be listening to me..."
My mind goes blank. My head start to spin. My eardrum screams. I wince. I cringe. I can taste bile in my mouth. I try to speak but can't make a sound. No no no no no no no. My mother has arranged another blind date for me. I hope she's not trying to hook me up with that horrible, horrible woman, Joyce Barnhardt...Oh the woe! Oh the fear! How I wish my Cupcake, my Stephanie is here to cuddle me in her slender arms and tell me everything is going to be alright...
But now she's carrying Ranger's child...
No Man Is An Island
Quietly I sing under my breath, ignoring the single drop of my lonely tear. My trembling voice breaks a little. My vision blurs. I try to take a deep breath to calm and collect myself. I fail miserably. I don't know if I can survive the depression and despair I feel. I don't know if I can wake up from this living nightmare. I don't know when I will stop having fits of sobbing. I am no longer sure of the date. I am no longer sure of the time. I am no longer sure if I do exist. I feel like my whole world, my whole universe, has broken apart and is little by little melting into nothingness. I am now a soulless robot aimlessly moving around in a endless meaningless circle. I have lost the strength to live. I have lost my lovely, lovely Cupcake, my sweet darling Stephanie. And her husband, the ever so perfect and beautiful tall dark dangerous attractive man, Ranger, Carlos, may going to kill me for loving her...
Will I feel the burning slicing pain when he shoots a bullet through my weeping brain?
Will I sense the cold numb death when he stabs a merciless razor-sharp dagger into my already shattered heart?
Will he look into my lonely teary eyes and see my desperate sorrowful soul when he bends down to check if I am really dead?
Will he frown?
Will he smile?
Will he dream about me in a hot humid night?
Will he remember my really not that bad-looking face till the day he dies?
I wish I know all the answers.
I wish I don't have so many questions.
I keep on crying, silently.
I wish I can be braver and smarter.
I wish I can be happy and fulfilled.
I just want to spend the rest of my life with my Cupcake, my Stephanie...
"Jesus Christ!" Across the old dented desk in the interrogation room the 30-something dark hairy man who was arrested for breaking and entering and burglary lets out a pleading moan and tries to bang his head on the desk as his eyes start to twitch. "Will you stop doing that? PLEASE? You are driving me crazy here! What the hell is so wrong with you, Joe? Can't you just act like a normal human being for once in your life? I'm gonna call your mom if you keep on crying! I mean it! Jeez!"
I pay my cousin Mooch no heed. What I can see in front of my sad sad eyes is nothing but a grey sea of hopelessness. I feel so cold and so lonely. I want to yell, to shout, and let out all my suppressed emotions but I do not dare. My Captain said he's gonna chop me up and feed me to the fish if he hears a sound from me. And I know crystal clear he's not joking. I have heard countless rumours and stories about him. Jethro Reacher is a living legend. He used to be one of the best and the toughest of NYPD. He's friends with Ranger and they both scare me stiff. He lets me keep my job because I am "worthless in the field but quite useful in the interrogation room". I am not really sure I know what he meant. I just follow his order and sit all day inside the small stuffy room. So far 13 suspects have willingly admitted to their involvement in more than 49 criminal activities. Every single one of them winced and cringed and then ratted out their buddies and partners of crime like they were nothing. And they all turned to look at me and shook their heads before being led out by my smiling smirking snorting fellow brothers and sisters in blue. All day long people keep coming in to take a peek of me. A couple of them actually pat me on my back. I can't decipher the look in their eyes. I am just doing my share of the job. I am just doing what I was told to do. I am just trying to earn my living here. I just want to bury myself with work when trying to forget what I have lost...
Mooch signs his confession, looks at me weird, and then leaves. I wipe away my tears, blow my nose, and find out it's time to go home. I stand up my my cheap plastic chair. I stretch and move my limbs. I know who I am. I know what I can be. I am Detective Joe Morelli. I know I will never be like Lucas Davenport, Harry Bosch, Jesse Stone, Elvis Cole, Joe Pike, my Captain, or Ranger. I have just lost the love of my life and my purpose to live. I leave the station, get in my car, turn on the radio and sing along as I drive toward my mother's house.
"But you didn't have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing..."
I love my voice. It sounds shaky, sad, true, and intriguing. They should have come to me and beg me to sing the song instead of that Belgian-Australian guy with a funny fancy name. I stop the car at my mother's door. I undo my seat belt, get out of the car and let myself in. The TV is on. My Grandma and my dog are peacefully snoring on the couch. The heavenly scent of my mother's cooking dances in the air. My heart leaps up as my mother comes out from her tidy spotless organized kitchen with a large bowl of warm Italian salad. Grandma Bella and Bob wake up on their own. I sit down at the old heavy oak dining table. A smile breaks on my face. My mouth starts to water. Eggplant and pumpkin lasagna. Grilled stuffed tomatoes. Extra cheesy spicy mushroom risotto. Zucchini soup and homemade Tiramisu. A small family dinner. All my favorite dishes. Just what my tender heart and vulnerable soul need after a long day of hard tedious work.
A loud car screeches to a stop right in front of the house. A pang of foreboding grabs hold of me. The door bell rings. My mother smiles and goes to answer the door. Strong heavy perfume invades my nose and makes me gag. High heels TAP on the floor behind me. Very slowly I turn my head. My mouth drops open. My eyes bulge out. I want to jump up and run away screaming as fast as I can. My poor poor legs feel weak. I can not move a finger. I stare at the too familiar face of the red-haired curvy woman. I start to panic as her hungry evil green eyes hold me captive.
"Hello, Joseph." The woman purrs.
Joyce Barnhardt. The horrible, hor
rible woman. The bane of my humble existence. The sly little girl who lured me into her daddy's garage and molested me when I was 8 and she was 6. The 14-year-old demon who sold my virginity without my knowledge for 20 bucks to my cousin's drunken ex-girlfriend and then wrote about my...little Joseph on public bathroom walls. The greedy ferocious predator who forced herself on me and made me cry in fear and pain and shame 2 years later...
And the surprise blind date my mother arranged for me tonight. Oh Lord.
A Ravished Rose
It all happened so fast. I really didn't have time to react. My heart moaned in pain. My brain screamed in shame. I sobbed. I pleaded. I twisted and tossed beneath a laughing Joyce. And then little Joseph betrayed me...Oh Lord, I felt so wronged, so used, so unclean...
"Oh yeah, Joseph, you taste so good." Joyce smiled down at me and casually says. I start crying.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, you are so hairy." Joyce runs a sharp fingernail on my furry chest. I cringe, shudder, and wince.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are going to make beautiful babies."
Joyce tilted back her head and like Bellatrix Lestrange, the ever so evil and demented witch who killed the ever so handsome and dauntless Sirius Black, laughed victoriously. I whimpered and choked on my tears.
"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are so going to get married." Joyce holds me prisoner with her eerily bright eyes. "And I'm going to punish you every day and every night and make you so happy that you will forget Stephanie. Your mommy will be pleased. She will be so proud."
"No! No! No! No! No! No! NO!" Helplessly I shout in my head and tearfully curse my fate. I won't have the path of my life chosen for me. I won't have the love of my life taken away from me. I will be happy. I will be rich. Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, the woman of my dream and I will have rainbows, day after day. I will put my ring on her hand. I will stay loyal. I will remain true. I will not end up being some other crazy woman's child-making machine. I will...I will...
Desperation grabs hold of me. Reality sinks in. Pain, pleasure, regret, shame and all kinds of sensations rush through my naked, extra hairy, cuffed, shackled, and chained body.
Stephanie is already married.
She is carrying Ranger's baby.
Ranger is going to chop me up and feed me to the fish, the crabs and the shrimps if I don't stop loving Stephanie.
And now I am no longer pure.
I am tainted.
I am contaminated.
I have been marked by another woman.
I have betrayed my sweet fluffy Cupcake, my beautiful Stephanie.
Oh the shame!
Oh the woe!
Oh the pain!
And Joyce said she'll post the video of us on YouTube.
Somewhere downstairs Bob howls like a lonely terrified wolf.
Joyce puts off the cigarette and ties my 500 dollar nylon grey tie around my neck.
I know what she's going to do to me.
I know there' no escape for poor, poor me.
So I do the only thing I can.
My eyes roll back into my head.
I faint.
But somehow I know nothing will stop Joyce from ravishing me.
Nothing.
Nothing...
No comments:
Post a Comment