Read Online Extracurricular Activities by Maggie Barbieri - Free Book Online Page B

consumed by the case. I set them down on the counter and waited while Tony assembled the sandwiches I had ordered.
    â€œHow is everything, mi amore ?” he asked, turning slightly from the meat slicer to get a look at me. Judging from his expression, I must have looked pretty hot.
    â€œEverything is great, Tony,” I lied, putting a plastic smile on my face. I made a great show of looking at the food in the glass-fronted case and tried to avoid making eye contact with him. “How’s the family, Tony?”
    He turned back and focused on the meat slicer. “They’re good,” he said, pulling off some roast beef and throwing it onto a roll. “I didn’t see you at all this summer. Vacationing?” he asked.
    â€œA little vacationing, some work. I tried to get some rest before school started,” I said, plucking a couple of bags of chips from the display behind me. He kept looking back at me and I desperately hoped that he would turn his attention back to the slicer; a day at Phelps Memorial Hospital for microsurgery to attach his missing digits did not fit into my plans.
    He cut to the chase. “Are you still dating the detective?” he asked, unable to meet my eye.
    Damn that Magda. As cleaning ladies go, she’s the best. However, her great big mouth was starting to mitigate her ability to get mold off the grout in my shower. I only laid eyes on her occasionally because she came while I was at work, but she seemed to know every intimate detail of my life, as did every Hungarian in Dobbs Ferry and, apparently, Tony.
    â€œNot really, Tony,” I said.
    He smiled. “So, I still have a chance!”
    I smiled back. “I guess so!” I said, with as much enthusiasm I could muster for my new life with a widowed senior citizen. Getting into the movies with his AARP card would be a nice by-product of our relationship, but that was about it.
    He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, the smell of freshly sliced roast beef rising from his hands and apron. “You…I’ve always loved you. You’re a nice girl. Those men were no good for you,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
    I didn’t want to get into the “Crawford isn’t as bad as Ray” conversation, so I just let it go.
    Tony looked at me, his expression so sad that I knew where he was going next. “And your poor husband. Ray.”
    Not my husband, not poor in any way, shape, or form. But I played along. “Yes. Terrible.”
    His eyes narrowed. “And you found him? No hands and feet?”
    I nodded.
    He whistled through his teeth. “Must have been some sight.”
    Yes, indeedy. Can I have my food, please? “I don’t really want to talk about it, Tony.”
    He stared at me for a few more seconds before getting the rest of my food. I think he wanted the gory details but I wasn’t about to provide any. He put it into a big bag and rang up its contents on the cash register. I handed him a couple of twenties and waited for my change.
    â€œDon’t be a stranger,” he said in his lilting Italian accent, using the return of my change as another opportunity to hold my hand.
    â€œI promise, Tony.” I picked up the bag.
    â€œOne more kiss,” he said, putting his stubby fingers to my cheeks and pulling me close.
    I gave him the quickest peck I could and extricated myself from his grasp. “Okay! That’s it! No more kisses,” I said as pleasantly as I could, grabbing the bag and backing up toward the door.
    He called out his usual parting greeting, “Anytime you’re ready, I’m yours!” as the screen door slammed.
    I ran down the street with the bag half obscuring my face, my pocketbook hitting the outside of my thigh with every step. I had a five-pound bag of deli food for two people and I had to make it last for a while; I was never setting foot in Tony’s delicatessen again. At least not while I remained