Pee-Shy by Frank Spinelli

Author:Frank Spinelli [Spinelli, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

“SO YOU’RE THE FAMOUS FRANK I’VE BEEN HEARING SO MUCH ABOUT,” said Uncle Vito, leaning up against the door with his hand slung over it like a monkey clinging to a branch.

The Saturday after the science fair, Jonathan invited me on the Day Line—a boat tour up the Hudson—with his entire family, including his uncle Vito. Since the boat departed from Manhattan, the Durans thought it would be easier if we all slept over at Uncle Vito’s apartment in the West Village. Jonathan’s uncle was not exactly what I expected. When he opened the door, I took a step back. He was wearing a black tank top and tight blue jeans and sported a thick mustache and dark, curly hair. Yet, the longer I stared, the more I could see the Duran resemblance: the bushy eyebrows, the soft, milky brown eyes, and the sinewy torso. Uncle Vito looked like Jonathan’s father but sounded more like his mother.

“Come in,” he urged. “You must be exhausted.” He swung open the door and motioned me into the apartment as if he was a model on The Price Is Right.

His apartment was small compared to my house (not that I’d ever been in a New York apartment before). The layout was simple: the first room beyond the entrance was the kitchen, with dark wood cabinets and eggplant-colored walls. To my right, I could see the sunken living room, which was painted red. There was a large black leather couch against the far wall, a zebra-skin rug in the center of the room, and huge pieces of art—what looked like a knight’s coat of arms on red velvet—hanging on all four walls. Big leafy plants in large, round ceramic pots sprouted in almost every corner of the living room. In the far corner was a dining area with a large, rectangular table and six high-back chairs fit for a medieval king. I stood at the entrance taking it all in.

“Don’t be bashful now,” said Uncle Vito. “I won’t bite.”

From the kitchen, I heard Mrs. Duran laugh. When I entered, she was choking on a thick plume of smoke. Setting down her cigarette, she bent over the sink and spit out an olive.

“Careful, Sharon,” sang Uncle Vito. “We got the whole day ahead of us tomorrow.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at me. “Come on in, kid. Don’t mind the Dragon Lady over there. Do you want a drink?”

“Vito!” screamed Mrs. Duran. “He’s just a child!”

“I meant a glass of soda, Sharon,” he clarified. “What do you take me for?”

“Sorry, I thought you meant—”

“You thought I was going to corrupt a minor with a cocktail?” he interrupted with both hands resting on his hips. “Not tonight, Sharon. Mama needs her rest. Speaking of—Jonathan, why don’t you show your friend where you’ll both be sleeping?”

“You’re out to kill me tonight,” continued Mrs. Duran as she grabbed her martini off the counter. “Kids, ignore Uncle Vito. As usual he’s hell-bent on giving me a coronary because I’m making him come with us tomorrow.

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