Amanda
As we entered the mall, Christmas lights twinkled throughout the shops and carols played in the background. It was magical. I loved shopping around Christmastime, but shopping with my sister was not like shopping with other people. First of all, the shop owners knew her by name. Secondly, she had a great eye, and always found the perfect things for me to wear. Especially when it came to shoes.
“It’s a good thing we wear the same size,” she said. “My shoe closet is your shoe closet.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, putting a hand over my heart.
“Yes,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a few staples of your own.”
What she meant by “a few staples” was a pair of Kate Spade black heels and a pair of nude Christian Louboutin pumps. My eyes widened at the price tags, but Eliza waved away my protests.
“Early Christmas present,” she said. “Try them on. Afterward, you’ll understand.”
Celeste preferred that I didn’t wear heels. Part of my appeal, she insisted, was my youthful appearance. But as I slipped on the Louboutins, I didn’t feel childlike at all. I felt taller. Stronger. Sexier. And my calves and butt looked amazing.
“Wow.” I turned back and forth in front of the mirror. “Just…wow.”
The saleslady, an older woman with her jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun and large, statement jewelry, clasped her hands together. “Is this her first time?” she asked, her voice reverent. “Her first Louboutins?”
“Yes,” said Eliza, a proud smile on her lips. “She’s all grown up now.”
“These are amazing,” I said.
Eliza, sitting in a chair and watching me strut back and forth, couldn’t contain her pleasure. “And do you see how it changes your whole outfit? Your clothes are fine, Amanda. They reflect your own special style. The only problem is you’ve been buying them a few sizes too big, and you’ve had totally the wrong shoes.”
The saleslady agreed. “The shoes complete the outfit.”
I had to admit they made a good point. I wore a boring pair of black pants and a black turtleneck sweater. It had been a comfy, slightly sloppy outfit with my red tennis shoes, but now I looked positively chic.
The Kate Spade heels were also amazing. And Eliza insisted I needed a pair of black boots as well. They didn’t have a heel, but Eliza said they would still make my legs look longer, and she was right.
“Now for some clothes,” she said.
A few hours later, we went back to her car laden with jeans and fall sweaters and some dresses for work. I even found something to wear to church and dinner with Tommy’s family—a deceptively simple mauve dress that enhanced my curves while still being classy. Always a bonus for a church dress. And I’d only bought one nerdy T-shirt. It had Elton John’s face on it, with the words “Benny’s got Tourette’s.”
“It’s too perfect. I can’t pass it up.”
Eliza shook her head. “It’s wrong on so many levels.”
I grinned at her. “That’s why I like it.”
After grabbing a quick lunch, we went back to the South Side and Eliza took me to her favorite hair salon. Salvatore, the owner, was a handsome, dark-haired man. His name immediately made me think of Tommy’s confirmation name. I saw it as a sign.
We were ushered straight inside. I had a feeling most people waited months for an appointment with Salvatore, but not my sister. She was the kind of beauty most stylists only dreamed about, and I was the kind of challenge most of them wanted to avoid.
“It’s so good to see you, Eliza,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. He turned to me, took my hands in his and studied me from the top of my mousy brown head to the bottom of my tennis shoe clad feet. I’d wanted to wear my new heels but thought I ought to practice first at home rather than break an ankle.
Salvatore lifted my chin with his fingers, and gently turned my face from side to side. “Ah. A diamond in the rough. My favorite kind of jewel. You are young, and you are beautiful, but today I’m going to make you shine.”
I said goodbye to Eliza as Salvatore engulfed me in a black cape. My sister had some work to do at the office, so she left me in his capable hands. Evidently, she thought this might take a while.
“Will you straighten my hair?” I asked hopefully, wrinkling my nose at my reflection.
His eyes widened in horror. “No. No way. You must never straighten this beautiful hair. I will not allow it.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Let’s get to work.”
It took hours, but Salvatore was an artist. He gave me blonde highlights that brought out the honey-brown tones in my hair and brightened my face, and cut my locks into a flattering style that hung just past my shoulders.
“Ah-ha. You no longer look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket. You didn’t have hair. You had…” Clearly, he struggled to come up with the right words. “A rat’s nest.”
“Thanks?”
“But now you are gorgeous. Well, almost gorgeous. Have you never shaped your eyebrows, child? And your nails are atrocious. You need a mani-pedi. ASAP. And a wax.”
He called over a young woman with a heart-shaped face and gave her instructions in Italian. She nodded, shooting me a shy smile.
“Giada will take care of you,” he said. “She is my daughter. Now get to work. Pronto.”
Giada led me through a door and into a spa-like space. A waterfall tinkled as soft music played, and it smelled like lavender. She indicated a door. “Here,” she said. “Please undress. You’ll find a robe inside. I’ll join you shortly.”
I was confused. “Undress?”
“Yes.” She indicated my body with a graceful wave of her hand. “For the waxing.”
“Oh.” I had the feeling we were talking about more than eyebrows.
“Unless, you don’t want your legs waxed as well…”
“No. Let’s go for it. Wax on. Wax off.”
Giada, it turned out, was a waxing pro. I only screamed in pain once or twice. She distracted me by telling me about her family.
“My brother, Luca, makes Papa upset. He has so much talent, but he didn’t want to work here. He joined the marines.” She shook her head. “We don’t understand why. He could have worked here and stayed safe, instead he’s been through a nightmare.”
“What happened?” I asked, wincing as she waxed an extremely sensitive area that had never been waxed before.
Giada’s grey eyes grew sad. “His team was ambushed while on a special mission. Luca was their leader. He was a hero, and he saved many of his men, but not all of them.” She let out a sigh. “He got badly hurt trying to help them.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too. But he’ll be home soon. His body is healing, but his mind…” She bit her lip and blinked away tears. “It will take longer.”
Giada applied a lotion to soothe all my sore spots. My legs had never felt so smooth. I took a moment to admire my hair and brows. Holy cow. I looked pretty good.
I tied the belt of the white robe tighter around my waist, and Giada took me to another area of the salon with big, comfy chairs. To my surprise, Alvida Fontana, Tommy’s grandmother, sat in the chair next to mine.
“Amanda,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Hello, Mrs. Fontana.”
“Call me Alvida. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, as Giada gave me a list of nail polish colors. Another girl with dark hair, took out a bottle to paint Alvida’s toenails. She resembled Giada.
“This is my little sister, Nicoletta,” she said. “My other sisters work here, too.” She pointed to three other women helping customers. “Bianca, Annalisa, and Susana.”
“Wow. Five girls.” And they were all beautiful, too. “Any other brothers, besides Luca?”
She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “Nope. He’s the only one.”
“Big families are the norm for Italians,” said Alvida as I settled into the chair. “Or at least they used to be. Things are changing now, of course. It’s so nice to see you, sweetheart. Your hair looks gorgeous. Look at those curls.”
“How do you know each other?” asked Giada as she put my feet in warm, scented water to soak.
“Amanda is a friend of Tommy’s,” she said, giving Giada a pointed look.
“We went to school together,” I explained, my cheeks getting hot.
Alvida patted my hand. “And she sings at church. She has the voice of an angel. An absolute angel.”
She wore a grey sweater that perfectly accented her silver curls. Her eyes were dark and missed nothing, but she was quick to smile, and had the most gorgeous dimples. Nicoletta painted her nails bright crimson. I chose a more subdued pink.
“Nice,” said Giada. “Will you sing at church tomorrow?”
“Yes. At twelve o’clock mass,” I said.
“And she’s coming home with us for dinner. Can you make it tomorrow, girls?”
Giada and Nicoletta both shook their heads. “And we’ll miss your singing, too,” said Giada. “We have to go to nine o’clock mass. We’re visiting Luca tomorrow after church.”
“How’s he doing?” asked Alvida, her expression somber.
Nicoletta’s eyes filled with tears. “The same, but he’s coming home. We’ll take care of him.”
“We will,” said Alvida. She turned to me. “Salvatore is my sister’s son. She was born here, but she went back to Italy after she got married, God rest her soul.”
They all made the sign of the cross. I joined in automatically and realized at that moment my confirmation name likely came from the man who’d just styled my hair.
I turned to Giada. “Tommy is your cousin?”
Giada smiled, showing a dimple that was an exact replica of Alvida’s. “Yes,” she said. “And he’s handsome, isn’t he?”
My cheeks got hot once again. “He is.”
“Why are you blushing, Amanda?” asked Nicoletta, with a teasing note in her voice.
“I’m not. It’s just hot in here.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Giada with a giggle. “But that’s okay. It’ll be our secret.”
After she finished massaging my feet and painting my nails, I said goodbye to Alvida and went back to the dressing room to change. I thought I was finished, but Salvatore wasn’t done with me yet.
“Now Giada will do your makeup. Sit.”
I obeyed, like a dog, but that was how it was with Salvatore. He was in command. But he gave Giada a gentle pat on the shoulder before he left us alone again.
“Is it fun working with your father?”
“Yes,” she said, and lowered her voice, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Most of the time. But we all live together, too. Sometimes it’s a lot.”
“I get it. I live with my father and my sister, and now I work at Eliza’s office.”
“Do you get along with your father?” she asked as she smoothed foundation on my skin.
“He’s great. My mom is a different story, however.”
“What’s she like?”
I paused, not sure how to describe her. “Let me just say, it’s better living with my dad.”
“Well, you are lucky to have him. I love my dad, too. At work, he is the boss. But at home, my mama is in charge. She’s small in size, but big on crazy. Like most Italians. I should warn you about that if you’re dating my cousin.”
“I’m not—”
She laughed. “You’re blushing again. And you should know something. Tommy has never had a girl at Sunday dinner before. This is a big deal.”
I sat a little straighter. “Your aunt invited me. Not Tommy.”
“Whatever you say,” she said, giving me a wink. She applied mascara, and a touch of lipstick and blush. When I faced the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize my own reflection. Giada was a genius. She was also a relentless matchmaker. “I know my cousin. This is exactly what he needs right now. A sweet girl like you. He’s been a little lost lately, but you might be the one to help him find his way. If he doesn’t ask you out, he’s crazy.” She leaned close, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “And Tommy is not crazy, but he’s about to get a surprise.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“He’s here to pick up his grandmother. He just walked through the door.”
Giada spun me back around to face the door, and there he was. In his firefighter uniform. A black shirt, pants, and jacket with a South Side Fire Department patch on his right sleeve. I made a squeaking sound deep in my throat, but Tommy seemed to have been rendered momentarily speechless. He stared at me, mouth agape, a large white box in his hands.
“Hi, Tommy,” said Giada, her pretty grey eyes sparkling with amusement. “You know my friend, Amanda.”
He stared at me. I stared at him. Salvatore slapped him on the back of the head. It was kind of funny, especially because Salvatore was at least a foot shorter than Tommy.
“Wake up. What’s the matter with you, Tommaso?”
“I brought cannoli,” he said, handing Salvatore the box, but keeping his gaze on me.
I gave him the world’s most awkward wave. “Hi, Tommy.”
“Hi, Amanda. You look…” He swallowed hard. “Want to taste my cannoli?”
Salvatore smacked him again. “Sometimes I don’t think you hear the words coming out of your mouth, Tommaso Bernardo.”
“What did I say?” Tommy rubbed the back of his head.
Salvatore rolled his eyes. “Tell her she looks beautiful.”
“She always looks beautiful.” He turned to me. “Did you get a haircut or something? It’s nice.”
Lifting his hands in disgust, Salvatore walked away, muttering under his breath. Giada let out a giggle. “Oh, Tommy. You are such a man.”
“What does that even mean?” he asked.
His response just made her laugh harder. “You’re done, Amanda.” She wiped away a tear of laughter trickling down her cheek. When I opened my purse, she shook her head. “Your sister already paid for it, and I texted her to let her know you are finished.”
“Thanks, Giada. And thank your father for me, too.”
She gave me a hug. “I will, but you can thank him yourself. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of you.” She shot Tommy a cheeky smile and laughed to herself as she walked away.
Tommy watched her go. “My cousins are so delightful.”
“They are.” I pulled on my coat and walked over to him. “Are you here to deliver cannoli?”
“And to pick up my grandmother. Her car is in the shop, so I told her I’d give her a ride home before work.”
“So, is your offer still good?”
“My offer?”
“You asked me if I wanted to taste your cannoli.”
I had absolutely no idea where that came from. Did I just flirt suggestively with Tommy Belfiore? Maybe the hair salon fumes had gone to my brain. Since I couldn’t run away and hide, I straightened my shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. Boldly. Brazenly. Hungrily, because I’d eaten lunch ages ago and the idea of having cannoli right now really sounded good.
He gave me the sexiest possible smile. “I never tease about my cannoli.” Opening the box, he took out one of the pastries and handed it to me on a napkin. “Prepare yourself. It’s pretty special.”
“That’s what they all say.” I took a bite and let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. “You weren’t exaggerating. You’re good, Tommy.”
“That’s what they all say.” He parroted me, giving me a wink. When I finished eating, his eyes focused on my lips. “You have some powdered sugar here.”
He wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb. As if mesmerized, he slowly traced the outline of my lower lip.
“Did you get it all?” I asked, my voice oddly husky.
“Almost,” he said, leaning forward. “Amanda, I—” But before he could finish his sentence, his grandmother interrupted us.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Tommy. Can’t I leave you alone with the poor girl for a minute? We’re in a beauty shop. You shouldn’t go around flirting with people in a beauty shop.”
He furrowed his brows. “Now there are rules about flirting with people in a beauty shop, Nunny?”
“Of course, there are,” she said, a definite twinkle in her dark eyes. “See you tomorrow, honey.”
“Can I bring something?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No. We always have too much.”
“She’s not kidding,” said Tommy. “The woman thinks she’s cooking for an army.”
“Have you ever seen your cousins eat? I am cooking for an army, caro.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now say goodbye to Amanda. I’ll wait for you at your truck.”
And with that she glided out the door, graceful even in heels, and with a wool wrap elegantly placed around her shoulders. Alvida Fontana was a force of nature.
Tommy cleared his throat. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You will.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay.”
Salvatore rushed past us, carrying a jar of styling gel, and shooting Tommy an annoyed look. “Could you be more awkward, Tommy?”
“Hey, what is this? Pick on Tommy Day?”
“It’s always Pick on Tommy Day,” shouted Salvatore from the other side of the shop.
I let out a giggle, and Tommy raised an eyebrow at me. “You think that’s funny?”
“I do,” I said, surprised when he leaned over and kissed my cheek, causing both of us to blush.
“See you tomorrow, Amanda,” he said, backing up a step toward the door. He stumbled, nearly knocking into an old lady standing there. She hit him with her umbrella and swore at him in Italian. He lifted his hands. “Sorry. Scusa. My bad. Bye, Amanda.”
“Bye, Tommy.”
I watched him leave, noticing how flustered he seemed. Had Tommy always been this shy? And what had Giada meant about him losing his way? I had no idea, but as I walked down the street toward my sister’s office, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. If this was the new me, I liked it. Not because of my hair or makeup or the freshly waxed areas of my body. I liked it because I didn’t feel like a mouse anymore. But there was one thing I hadn’t yet shopped for, so I made a small detour on the way to my sister’s office and stopped by Lolita’s Lingerie. The time to turn in my plain cotton undies had finally come, and the thought of it didn’t make me blush. Not even once.