Page 47 of Average Joe

“Why would you wanna be with a woman who serves coffee in her lingerie, anyway?” came from Frank.

He obviously hadn’t seen her in her work attire.

“True,” Con added. “If I’m with a woman, her body is for my eyes only.”

“I dated an exotic dancer once,” Frank chimed in, having way too much fun at my expense. “Nothing but drama.”

“I know you dickheads are trying to rile me up, but for fuck’s sake, can we stick to the task at hand?”

“Which is what?” Frank grumbled.

“I dunno. My uncle.” I grabbed the nearest chair and dropped my ass into the cushion. “Something isn’t sitting right. Something’s up. Can feel it in my gut.”

Why I wasted time worrying about what Larry was up to was a mystery. That old cranky ass could be Lucky fucking Luciano for all I cared as long as he stayed clear of me and mine. But, like I couldn’t quit Marley, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was unfinished business with my uncle.

“You would’ve made a great cop.” Con hit me with a hard stare, his voice low and gruff.

Frank grunted in agreement.

Fucking shame. Frank and I had planned on attending the academy together. Then the whole “murder” thing happened, and my dreams of being the next John McClane were snuffed.

Worth it, though. Every miserable second. Except for the part where I didn’t get to see Alice enjoy her freedom.

Frank huffed. “You’d be putting away real criminals, not obsessing over a washed-up thug.”

Trudy cut in, her sweet voice stronger when she spoke English. “You know what would be nice?”

Con, Frank, and I shared a glance.

“It would be great if you grown men could sit back, enjoy the service my mother and I provide, and quit pretending like you’re coming here for some big, bad stakeout.” Born and raised in the United States, Trudy had no accent. “You like pedicures. So what? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She dropped Frank’s foot and turned to face me. “Seriously. Why don’t you just walk over there, knock on the door, and see what’s up? What are they gonna do, shoot you at eight-thirty in the morning on a busy street?”

I shook my head no.

She wasn’t finished. “You don’t like your neighbor’s career choice?” She shrugged. “Too bad. What do you do, anyway? I’ve never heard you mention a job.”

Feeling all of two inches tall, I opened my mouth to answer, but she continued.

“You have no idea how hard the service industry can be. Having to smile and be nice when people are being rude, or having to pretend you’re happy to be working when you have a bad cold or severe cramps or you’re just in a terrible mood.” She pointed her loofa my way. “Before you judge what that woman does or does not wear to work, open your own coffee stand.” She laughed, shook her head. “Shirtless men. I’d pay twenty bucks for a latte with a side of beefcake. Women can be just as dirty as you boys, for fuck’s sake.”

She winced and said, “Sorry, Ma,” then continued. “Beautiful men and coffee? What could be better?”

Ly dropped her nail buffer and clapped her hands together. “See, Joe. My girl smart. You date her, you be happy.”

“Ma. Stop,” Trudy hissed. “I have a boyfriend. And Joe has a girlfriend. And he’s too old, anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumbled, ignoring the “too old” comment.

Silence hung in the air a beat past comfortable before my brothers burst into hysterics.

“Yeah, right. Joe serving coffee in the buff.” Con slapped his knee. “Can you imagine?”

“At least he wouldn’t be a thirty-something unemployed loser,” Trudy countered, eyes smiling.

Excruciating minutes later, the ribbing and chuckling subsided.

Con’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at Trudy, then back up to me. “It’s true, man. You taking that waste management job or what? You can’t live off your savings forever.”

---