CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revised // Cherry Blossoms // 1.7

Geoff asked her, “What was Rocco like?”

“He was chubby. Chunky.”

“He wasn’t a stud muffin like your Dino?”

“Ha. No, he was . . . he’s more like their dad. He was big and blocky.” She turned to face him, made eye contact, said, “He was good-looking though,” then bounced her eyebrows in a cartoonish way, like she was an accomplished seductress.

He laughed. “Should I be worried?” he asked her.

Her eyes were back on the road. She said, “Time will tell, Geoff. Time will tell.”

“Ow, you’re making my stomach hurt.”

They were on the Gardiner, inching along in traffic, Nia behind the wheel of their Volvo station wagon. Geoff had an appointment with Jenny Brown, editor over at Evergreen Press, to work out where they were on Big Choo, and where they were going to be a few weeks from now. A friendly meeting—Jenny was a sweetheart—but tense just the same.

Nia was on her way out to Etobicoke for her job interview. A formality, she had said, just paperwork, but he could still feel her nervousness. She’d primped herself thoroughly this morning. A long hot shower, aloe and creams and moisturizers, about eight outfits laid out on their bed, blow-drying and styling and curling, then came the makeup. She was at it for more than an hour. Fuck, she looked good. She looked good to him, though, first thing in the morning when she still had sleep crusted in her eyes and her black, tangled hair made her look like she was a super-villain—some kind of Disney witch that ate puppies and stole the souls of children.

She’d settled on a very form-fitting skirt and sweater. She was thin and shapely, and her outfit hid nothing. It made him squirm thinking about how she was going to be out of the house today, on display—a visit to her ex-boyfriend’s brother. She had heels and a nice wool suit jacket. Very professional and very presentable, but there was something noticeably sexy about it. Geoff could determine that if she was going to a job interview with a stranger at a company of unknown people, this is not quite the outfit she would have picked. There was something to her outfit selection this morning that said she wanted to be noticed for her figure.

They got off the Gardiner and into the city and she drove him along King Street until they came to the renovated factory that Evergreen was in. She signaled and pulled to the curb.

“You sure you’re going to be back for lunch?” he asked her.

“Sure, I’m sure. I’m just going for a quick meet and greet. I have the job practically. They just want me to come over and, I guess, see what I’m getting myself into. Least that’s what he said on the phone.”

“You’ll be back in, like, two hours?”

“Yeah. Probably. What you don’t want to do lunch with me?” she said, one eyebrow up, one eyebrow down.

“Nia. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll be sitting on that planter,” he pointed out the car window to a concrete cylinder with a honey locust growing up out of it.

“Got your drawings?” she asked him.

He patted his art bag. He’d printed out copies at print size of his progress so far to go over with Jenny and had digital copies on his iPad.

She looked a little anxious, said, “You excited for me?” and she bit the inside of her lip.

He leaned over to her and gave her a kiss. “I’m excited. I want you to be happy.” She turned her cheek to him so he wouldn’t muss her lipstick.

“Careful,” she warned him.

“Hey. You’re going to knock em dead. Okay?”

“Thanks, Geoff. You are too. Tell Jenny I said Hi.”

“I wish you were coming up with me . . . I’ll see you for lunch,” he said as he got out of the car. He closed the door behind him and patted the roof of the Volvo like she was going off to battle. He watched her signal, pull back into traffic and head to Dufferin and turn, disappear on her way to something new that was all her own.

***

She saw Rocco Dragonieri standing next to a dump truck in the noisy work yard behind the Dragon Pools main office and retail space. That big chubby boy who was the younger brother of her onetime boyfriend had become a giant.

He stood talking to another man dressed for work in his Dragon Pools polo and khakis and work boots. He nodded, his face serious as he took directions from Rocco, who towered over him.

He was way over six feet and he was massive. He had leaned out, lost his baby fat, but he was still a big boy. Thick-waisted with a huge chest and wide shoulders. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and his arms were heavily muscled and tattooed. He looked very little like the youngster she had known.

She adjusted her jacket as she clicked her heels across the asphalt. She had caught their eyes now, saw that glint that men got when she walked a certain way. Rocco’s head turned to watch her come. He said something to the one in the polo shirt and he walked off, also looking her up and down.

A smile peeled her lips back as Rocco took her in walking those last twenty feet, feeling very conscious of herself but also loving it too. She felt like she was back. From where she didn’t know, but boy, it felt nice to be looked at on a bright sunny day. He smiled as she came to a stop in front of him and she held her hands out to the side and said, “Ta-daa.”

Rocco nodded, looking very confident. His eyes narrowed and went up and down her body. “Holy shit. Nia Giannoppoulos. I remember you so good. Fuck, look at you—I’m not lying, I swear you look exactly the same last time I saw you.” His voice was deep and guttural.

She said, “Well, it’s been a long while, so, thank you.”

“Holy shit, step back. Look at you.” His eyes went all over her again, and they sparkled, like he was enjoying what he saw. She turned for him, knew she should be offended, but here she was, submitting, showing him her body because he asked.

She stopped herself, said, “You don’t look the same. At all.”

He smirked and nodded. “I grew.”

“You did. How tall are you?”

“Six-six. Three-fifty.”

“Not quite the little brother any more.”

“Chubby little brother, you mean.”

“No . . .”

He ran a huge, thick-fingered hand over his stomach in a half circle, said, “I still carry a little—”

Then he squatted right down low and wrapped his enormous tattooed arms around her thighs just below her ass and he stood up with her like she was absolutely weightless. He hugged her to him and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to support herself. His traps were like stone. A girlish laugh squeezed out of her and it surprised her.

“—but I’d still crush Dino if he said shit about it—I’m mostly muscle.”

Her eyes locked with his and she felt them draw her in. His eyes were dark, almost black, like hers. She said, “D-Dino was the one said you need somebody.”

He kept his eyes on hers, said, “How the fuck he ever let you go?”

“His loss,” she said and ran a lock of her hair behind her ear.

He said, “His loss.” He held her eyes one uncomfortable second too long—then he set her down, and he was walking, waiting for her to catch up.

She wobbled a bit on her heels, reached to pull her skirt down, then trotted to catch up with him. She said, “Dino said you have three kids. How do you have three kids already? You’re younger than me.”

“How do you not have three kids already? You married me I’d pump that body so full of fucking babies your fucking head would spin.”

She giggled, said, “I married a white boy.”

“Ah, ah-hah, a mangia-cake? Okay. I see.” A skinny guy with dusty black jeans and a Dragon Pools ball cap was walking near and Rocco shouted to him, “Hey, you tell fucking Godfrey to get his dumb ass over to Steeles and grab that fucking Bobcat and get it on to Markham for tomorrow. I saw it sitting there driving in. He shoulda moved it yesterday, I fucking told him.” The skinny guy gulped, nodded, and scurried off.

“Hey. Your folks are doing well? Dino said your dad is loving retirement.”

Rocco walked with purpose, taking her back towards the building. It was a low plaza with a brown metal roof and beige brick walls. The front was all glass-front retail space, where they sold pool supplies and hot tubs.

“Yeah, you know . . . he doesn’t know what to do with himself most days. Ends up here.”

“Helping out?”

He looked at her over his shoulder and gave her a knowing smile, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

Dino and Rocco’s dad had started the business and had run it up til about five years ago. Rocco never went to University, stayed and helped with the family business. Dino told her, that night at Square, that Rocco had completely taken over about five years back and the business went bonkers. Dino said he’d added haulage and aggregates and branched out the construction side to include many landscaping projects that weren’t always pool related. Dino said he’d doubled the income in a few years.

They stopped at the back of the building, stood in front of a brown metal door. He put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his arms bulging and flexing. His tattoos snaked around his arms, black dragons twisting and writhing from his shoulders down to his thick wrists. His gold wedding band winked in the cold spring sunlight.

“We got eight teams of two. They do openings now, this time of year . . . those same guys do maintenance contracts in the summer. They float around though. I pull em for construction when I need them. They do overtime sometimes. I got four crews of four, full-time construction . . . retail, hauling, aggregates, listen, I ain’t gonna lie, it gets hectic here sometimes. We got eight months to make real money, you know?”

“It sounds hectic. You need somebody to keep it all organized for you.”

“That’s right. We have to move fast, then we generate so much fucking paperwork and the goddamn government . . .”

“I can handle all that for you.”

“Dino said you did business at York.”

“I have a BBA with a specialization in accounting. But I’m not CPA.”

He nodded, looked out over the work yard, said, “You’re over-qualified for this job. But it pays well.”

“I’ve been out of the workforce for eight years and eight years ago I was hardly in it, anyway.”

“It’s not just bookkeeping. You okay with that?”

“Sure.”

“It’s bookkeeping, it’s secretary, it’s assistant . . . it’s go-go-go, for, like, eight months. We have fun, don’t get me wrong. You’ll be with me, every day. Sometimes it gets hot around here. I yell a lot.”

“Yell at me?” she laughed.

“Don’t fuck up and I won’t,” he said, not smiling, and he looked down at her.

She held his gaze, said, “I don’t fuck up.”

“Dino always said you were smart.”

“I am.”

He kept looking at her, looking her in the eye, and up and down her body, too. “You remember the last time I saw you?”

“Probably. When?”

“Party at our house. You were with Dino. Late at night. I was on the couch.”

She blushed, winced, said, “That was the last time?”

He smiled again—he had a nice smile—and held the metal door open for her, gesturing into the building. “C’mon into my office.”