Serial - Part 4

Previously on… Serial:

                Lewiston and Rainwater conversed in Lewiston’s Grocery. The former discussed his past rivalry with and ultimate triumph over “the Italians,” culminating in him skinning them and using their pelts to line his desk chair, sixteen years ago.

Fascinating, you say?

And now, back to… Serial

 

Wisps of smoke pervaded the air. The booth in the old-fashioned restaurant was as idyllic as ever as two men sat down, opposite each other, to enjoy separate dishes of baked ziti and lasagna.

            “How is it, eh?” one inquired boyishly.

            “Good enough” the other responded in a breathy, classical tone.

            The eatery was empty other than these two men, an old drunk sitting alone at the bar, and  a kitchen staff comprised of a fat man named Santino.

            The kid eating the ziti was in his early or mid-twenties, while the lasagna man was sixty at least, with grey hair and a staunch goatee.

            “Tell me more about Joey, Pop” insisted the younger.

            “You’ve heard enough for one evening, son” retorted the old man.

            The two were father and son.

            “Well I just found out I ever had a brother, I think it’s only natural I’m curious about him.”

            The father lifted a heavy spoonful of lasagna into his gullet, chewed, then swallowed.

            “Of course it’s natural” he replied “but there’s really only so much you need to know, you see.”

            “Please, Pop. Please?” the son begged with just a hint of desperation in his voice.

            The old man sighed.

            “Alright… Joey was like no other, kid. He would’ve taken a bullet for any member of the family, any day a’ the week. He was my pride and joy. My darling son. And I loved him. Then…then…”

            The old man was choked up.

            “One night, one fateful night, we were drawn into a conflict with that rat Lewiston and…and…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Joey was stricken down by that rat... that old rat.”

            “You mean…”

            “He killed him…killed him and skinned him. Joey’s livin’ out the rest of his days as a- a-… An a*s-rest for that miserable vermin in that God-forsaken grocery store.”

            The son sat in shock. Ten minutes prior, he had never known he had a brother, let alone a dead one.

            “But we’ll get him” the elder threw in, still a little shaky. “We’ll get him. He thought we were done. Thought he had us, he did. But it’s been sixteen years. We’re ready for him now… We’re ready.”

            The old man suddenly stood up out of his seat, and approached the restaurant’s exit, leaving the half-eaten lasagna. He hastily retrieved his hat and overcoat from the rack by the door, with his son following suit. He began to push open the door, but stopped midway through. The younger looked on.

            The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an old Polaroid photograph. He straightened it out and stared at it fixedly. It was a picture of a black, leather desk chair. The two left the restaurant and the elder cried out.

            “I’M COMIN’, JOEY!!!”

 

To Be Continued…