PHOTO above and below - Francesco

Part 3 of 4

Maraiano's POV ...

Boom!

A bomb went off as Donatello and I were running up the stairs from the church basement. We'd gone down there to the men's bathroom to clean up from our awesome make-out session that had seemed to last forever. And what a wonderful forever!

"That's the first bomb in quite a while," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Whoa man, it's eight-thirty!" He gaped at the screen in disbelief. "We were up there for a couple hours."

I grabbed him on the landing and pulled him against the wall. "Let's go back. I could spend the rest of the night up there just holding you and kissing you."

He laughed at me. "I doubt that, Mariano. You'd want to do this and then do that, and then something else, and on and on. You are the horniest thing on two legs."

"Hey, you're the one making me horny. And you kept right up with me. You liked all that as much as I do. You're the hottest little boy toy in the world."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Ummm ... Earth to Mariano ... Earth to Mariano ... I'm not little. Jeezus! Join us in the real world, huh? It's not that bad."

Then he kissed me quick and slid his arm through mine to pull me up the rest of the stairs. "We have to meet Francesco. He's probably done by now anyway. He always tells me to come later so he can stay and putz around and suck up to his dad. I'm gonna tell him what we did ... and what we're gonna do. It's gonna be all three of us from now on, like it should be. I'm gonna put my foot down and stand up to him. Really. He won't like it but screw him. He'll get used to it. I was a stupidone to listen to him and shut you out."

He smooched me on the cheek as I opened the door and we stepped out into the vestibule. I was thrilled he was on my side now, but I knew it wasn't going to be easy to win over Francesco. He was stubborn and tough and he loved a good fight, and he and I were always fighting about one thing or another. But that wasn't unusual with Italian men. I'd seen it plenty of times among the older guys. Best buds and coombahs could be far worse bickerers than man and wife.

The church grounds were even more crowded when we got outside. One of the TV stations was there recording for the late night news, interviewing the diners at the Paradisio food concession. Francesco's dad was there in the middle of it smiling and waving at the cameramen, beaming out his big smile to all his dining fans in the city and surrounding area. Oh yes, Donatello had been right. The publicity-loving man would definitely not be happy if everyone knew his son was queer.

Donatello nudged me as we approached. "Look at Mr. Paradisio. He thinks he's the Italian Donald Trump, the biggest big shot of them all."

Yup. Paradisio was their last name. The love of my and Donatello's life was Francesco Antonio Paradisio. I know, really. It's almost orgasmic just to read it or hear it, it's such a beautiful name. And the dude himself wanted us to call him 'Frank'?

"You wait here," Donatello told me, stopping next to the same food trailer I'd watched Francesco from earlier. "Let me tell him what's going on. Better here in this big crowd by the Paradisio food. He won't make a scene. Not with those TV cameras going."

"Okay, but don't let him push you around." I didn't want this to be a fight over who gets Donatello. He wasn't the prize. The three of us together were the prize. And yah, it was one totally worth fighting for. Francesco and I were in love with each other too, hopelessly and ridiculously, and there was no way I was going to live my life without him.

Donatello walked over to the service counter in the big tent and talked to one of the other waiters who then went off into the back. Francesco came out a couple minutes later. He'd been wearing an apron over a white shirt when I saw him earlier, but he'd changed into a form-fitting white tank top that really showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms and chest. His blond hair was combed over to the side and his blue eyes stood out prominently even from where I was standing. He was obviously ready to go and when he smiled and bumped fists with Donatello my dick started chubbing up again. The sight of them together, touching, made my heart start thumping boom boom boom.

Francesco walked around the end of the counter and Donatello motioned for him to follow, and they went over to the far end of the tent next to the school building. I could see now that Francesco was wearing skin-tight jeans that really showed off his butt and muscular thighs, and  ... whoo ... my dick started throbbing in rhythm with my heart. There, Donatello started talking, obviously telling him what we'd been doing all afternoon – what was going on.

Dude wasn't too happy about it. I could see his expression changing for the worse as the story went on. At one point Donatello pointed at me, and Francesco looked and I could almost see the freaking daggers he was staring at me, almost feel their whomp as they thudded into me. Jeez oh man, blond boyfriend over there was really pissed off.

I'd let our baby doll fuck me, and a whole bunch of other stuff too. I could see Francesco's cool blues icing up at me like the polar caps. Oh man, he was ready to wring my neck. But all I wanted to do was send him some sweet air smooches on the flick of my fingertips.

Donatello finished up what he had to say and folded his arms across his chest in an unyielding stance while Francesco started an obvious tirade to refute it. His hands whipped around in front of him and his handsome features contorted in rage, but Donatello held his ground. Yup, I could see it now. He definitely wasn't 'little'. He was just as big as Francesco and he looked just as badass as any other neighborhood dude when they just plain didn't want to fucking hear it.

His hair had dried and curled up and it bounced as he gave Francesco a final firm shake of his head when he was done speaking. All right! Hot hunky boy toy was not going to budge.

I was so happy. I stood there with my hands on my hips and a big smile on my face as my two boys walked toward me through the crowd.

Francesco scowled at me as they neared. He checked out my bulge and, when he saw how big it was, he did a dramatic eye roll to let me know what an idiot he thought I was. But I caught the little smile on his face he never was able to hide when he saw me, and the bulge in question throbbed harder and harder the closer he got.

I didn't know how I was not going to grab him right there in the middle of the largest crowd La Feast had ever had. But Donatello took care of that. He stopped in between us after they had approached and placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on Francesco's, keeping us apart.

Then he said, "Okay, boys. You both love each other and are dying for each other, no matter what the fuck other kind of feelings are going on. So just shake hands real nice and don't do anything stupid . Neither of you. Ca-beesh?"

We both looked at him, startled. He really was asserting himself and I totally loved it. Donatello could boss me around all he wanted. Then Francesco and I looked at each other and I saw the challenge in his eyes. It made my knees weak. I could've dropped to those knees and begged him to take me back into his life again. But I already knew he would, eventually, and I had promised Donatello no crazy homo dramatics at the feast.

I extended my hand to Francesco and he reluctantly did the same. Touching him was like sticking my fingers into an electrical socket. I had to force a little laugh to mask the gasp that shot out of me. If he experienced the same, I couldn't tell, but he did grip me harder after the first few seconds. I was suddenly very aware that I had no tissue stuffed in my Calvins at the moment.

"I missed you," I said..

"I missed you too, Mariano." He gave me a final squeeze and then let my hand go. Then a smarmy grin. "Life was getting so peaceful I hardly knew what to do."

The jerk. He just had to bust my balls. "See ... you need me around for some excitement, Franky."

Donatello, sensing that we might blow up like the feast bombs, grabbed us both by the upper arms and hauled us forward into the depths of the crowd. "Let's get movin', dudes, and start socializing before you two get at it and I have to call the feast police."

"Wait a minute." Francesco started pulling us in the opposite direction toward the school. "I gotta take a leak."

"Yah, me too," I said as we approached the back door. "Like a fuckin' horse."

Donatello shot me a scowl. We'd just been in the church bathroom where I'd peed like crazy. I scowled back at him. I was on a mission and this would be a good opportunity to be alone with Francesco and state my case. Donatello got the message because when we got to the entrance he let us go and just stood there with his hands on his hips.

"I'll wait out here," he said, as I pushed open the big glass door and held it for Francesco to go inside.

"You're actually going to come with me to the men's room?" He looked totally disgusted as he walked by me.

"Yup. I gotta go."

"Bullshit. You had like forty-nine orgasms over in the church, according to Donny. I bet you peed plenty after that."

"I did. But I gotta go more." Which, of course, was a lie. I just wanted to get him alone. "And I only had three."

He grunted and shook his head like he was wishing I was a hundred miles away. People were milling around inside because of the Bingo games in the school hall and those coming in to use the bathrooms. I knew I had to get him into one farther away from the back doors where we could have some privacy.

He turned to go left to the rest rooms by the assembly hall. I grabbed his arm and pulled him the other way down the hall that led to the part of the school where all the classrooms were located, far away from the hall and the gym and all the people.

He tried to shake me loose. "What the fuck, dude? You gonna start with all this crap now?"

I was gripping him hard, right on his bicep. "Come on, Franky. Be nice, dammit! I haven't seen you in weeks and you're acting like you hate me. You know damn right you don't."

"What? You want me to fuck you in the boys room like Donny did up in the choir loft?"

"If you want to. Or I can at least suck your dick."

He let out an angry breath but didn't say anything as I pulled him around a corner and down another hall that led to a bathroom we'd used almost daily when we were kids. When we reached it, I pushed open the door and shoved him inside. I knew he wanted to punch me because I was being so aggressive but I didn't give a damn. I let him go as we crossed over to the urinals, amazed at how small everything looked. We'd gotten a lot bigger since elementary school. It was a bathroom for young boys, not big dudes like us.

Francesco growled with annoyance and took off for one of the stalls. "I hate this fuckin' place, Mariano. I could never pee at those urinals with the nuns standing there watching so we didn't masturbate, and I ain't gonna pee now with you watching, wanting to suck my dick!"

I headed after him. "You know none of the boys ever jacked off in here. That was just a stupid excuse. Those nuns just wanted to see some dick. Like I do. Yours."

He pushed into one of the stalls and I crowded in right after him, shoving him into the corner and locking the door behind us.

"What the hell, Mariano? Get the fuck ..."

I slammed myself against him, wedging him in tight, and my arms coiled around him. Ohmygod, he felt so good. He was meatier than Donatello and the brawny heft of him, all that luscious boy beef, sent shivers of sensation zinging throughout me. I clamped my mouth down on his and forced my tongue into his mouth, and smashed my throbbing boner against his equally-as-hard one.

Francesco was making a piss-poor attempt at fighting me, groaning and pushing like he didn't want me on him. Ha! He could have easily creamed me if he wanted to. Not because he was so much tougher than me, but because I'd never fight back if I knew he was serious about not wanting me.

He wanted me, all right. His big hard dick pressing against mine was proof of that, as was the look in his pretty blue eyes when we pulled apart and gasped for air.

"I love you, Franky," I whispered. "Please stop all this crazy shit. We belong together - me, you, and Donny. I won't tell anyone. No one will ever know. It'll be our secret. I promise!"

His hands tightened on my back. His lips brushed mine. "Angie LaMarca knows. Others will find out."

"It's not my fault she knows. It's because of how you acted when I was going with her. And she won't tell anyone. She likes you and Donny and wants to be your friend. You're the one who'll get everyone talking by going out dancing with Donny at Dudepile."

He started pushing against me, struggling. "But I ... I ..."

I pushed back harder. "Tell me you love me, Franky."

Again he muttered, "I ... I ..."

"Tell me you love me, dammit!"

He just about spit it out. "I love you, Mariano. Okay? It's true. But you drive me fuckin' crazy." He kept pushing, getting frantic. His eyes widened and he looked like he was going to cry. "I just can't live with you! And ... dammit! I can't fuckin' live without you."

My heart swelled hearing that and I kissed him again like a fucking beast. My hands slid down to his butt and I pulled those hot glutes against me as my mind spun with hope. Yes! Definitely, he could not live without me. Even he knew it. And he most certainly was not going to!

My hands moved to unbuckle his belt and we were both squirming to get his jeans and underwear down, his bulging dick almost ready to pop out at me, when the bathroom door pushed open and someone came walking into the room.

We both froze and I pushed in on him, my palms on his bare hips, fingertips on his butt, my heart thumping. We both looked through the narrow space between the door frame and the door to see who had come in.

"Ohhh ... fuck!" Francesco hissed, and I could feel him tense up like a rock.

I watched as the man who entered walked across to the urinals. I let out a slow horrified breath, knowing he was the worst possible person who could have come in the room with us making out in the stall.

Monsignor.

Not only was he the pastor of the parish, one step away from being a bishop, and a man people either loved or hated because he could be the best guy you knew or the biggest prick in town, but he was also Mr. Paradisio's best friend and the number one customer at his restaurant, taking his evening meal there almost every day. And Francesco was his favorite waiter.

"Oh ... fuck," I whispered too, as the tall handsome man in the flowing black cassock with purple trim walked up to the urinals.

Francesco seethed in my ear, "Mariano ... I'm going to kill you if he finds out we're in here!"

He was trembling. He didn't like the man. He'd been afraid of him when we were kids and hadn't become an altar boy because of it. With his fear of the religion's attitude toward being gay and his general anxiety of it being found out he was gay, this was the worst scenario possible. And, of course, it was All My Fault.

Ohmygod had I ever fucked up!

"Yes, I deserve to die," I whispered back. "But I swear I'll kill him before I let him see you!"

We stood there clinging to each other while we watched the most popular, and the most hated, man in the neighborhood ... pee.

He finished up and went over to the sink where he washed his hands, looking in the mirror in front of him at the stalls behind him.

"Dammit! He sees our feet," Francesco groaned.

"Shhh! Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll take care of it."

Monsignor grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and dried his hands, tossed them in the waste basket, then turned and stalked right over to our stall like he was one of the local hoods. He was friends with all of them, and pretty much a badass mother fucker too.

He stopped and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, fellas, who the hell is in there and what the fuck are you doing? As far as I know, there are no four-footed males anywhere around this city."

I held Francesco as tight as I possibly could. "It's me, Monsignor," I said, not caring if he recognized my voice.

"Who? Who the hell are you?"

"Oh ... you remember ...," I started out, knowing I might really fuck everything up now. Like our entire lives. But I had to take the chance. "Christmas Eve ... six years ago ... the midnight Mass, remember? I helped serve it and you asked me to stay after we'd closed up the church. You needed help ... somebody to help you finish up the leftover Holy Communion wine. Remember that? And you got me drunk ..."

My heart was pounding like an air hammer busting up concrete. I was trembling even more than Francesco was. That horrible Christmas Eve was never very far away in my thoughts, and right now it was totally banging in my head like it was happening all over again.

Monsignor just stood there, not saying anything.

"Remember, Monsignor?" I went on. "I sort of liked getting drunk, but I had no idea what you were going to do next. And I didn't want to do it. But I couldn't fight you off. You were so big and strong and I was just a kid.

"So that's who I am ... that nice little altar boy you messed around with on Christmas Eve back in twenty-eighteen." And then with a tough guy growl, I did my best badass attempt at a veiled threat. "But I'm not a fuckin' little kid any more, let me tell ya."

We could see the angry look on his face and how his hands balled into fists at his side. He turned abruptly, surprising us, and walked toward the door, his cassock swaying. He turned his head a little and tossed over his shoulder, "Finish up what you're doing and get the hell outta here!"

A moment later, he was gone.

Francesco pushed me back, his eyes searching mine. "What the hell did he do to you?"

I made a face and shrugged. "I can't talk about it. It's too fuckin' weird. Definitely not what you think.  And there's no reason for you to know. You hate that bastard enough as it is."

Then he was suddenly Mr. Tough Guy again, the magic of our recent moments together totally dissolved into nothingness by the appearance of the priest. It had scared the hell out of him, almost getting caught loving me. He was back to his usual self, the one who wanted me far away. He quickly unlocked the door and pushed me out.

"You're just too damn dangerous to be around, Mariano. I can't take it, dude. I really can't take it. Get outta here and let me pee. Please! I'll see you outside in a few minutes."

I knew better than to argue with him. I'd come so freaking close to winning him back, but it'd been ruined by the unexpected presence of a monster from our childhood who had reinforced all Francesco's fears in the short span of minutes. And there was nothing I could do about it but plaster a smile on my face and go back outside to Donatello.

And so for the next half hour, the three of us roamed around the feast, Francesco and I acting as if everything was fine and dandy, Donatello happy that we'd been together without any fireworks erupting. We talked to friends and classmates and other neighborhood regulars. Dudes our age we knew from the suburbs stopped us to say hello. Girls too. They thought us neighborhood boys were all junior Mafia hoods and treated us accordingly, like we were somebody special. And we totally dug it.

Girls stopped to squeal over Donatello. Everything about him turned them on. Over Francesco too, mostly because of his blue eyes and blond hair, unusual for a Little Italy boy. I doubted they appreciated his buff bod as much as I did. Were straight girls into guys' bodies as much as gay dudes were? Probably not, and I was insanely dying to get my hands on him again, finding it impossible to stop thinking about what had almost happened in the school bathroom before Monsignor showed up.

We told everybody about the entertainment at Joey Ragazzo's house at nine-thirty and recruited at least a couple dozen others to join us there. Francesco and I managed to get along despite the tension between us. A few times I caught him looking at me with desire in his eyes, and I knew I'd hooked him. But then he'd scowl at me and I'd remember how the turmoil in his mind was driving him crazy.

About twenty after nine we headed out to Joey's house. Francesco and Donatello hadn't questioned our going. It was totally understood in the neighborhood that if you got such an invitation, you showed up. So we hoofed it through the crowd out to the front of the church where Cherry Street was just as ridiculously mobbed.

We turned down Market Street and headed along the sidewalk with the others going that way. The street was open here only for police and emergency vehicles. Police cars, a fire engine, and ambulances were waiting for any need that might arise. The hot weather often caused people to pass out, fights were pretty common, and pick-pocket theft was always a problem. Some troublemakers came down just for the purpose of starting something up to defy the neighborhood's reputation of being the toughest place in town.

We crossed over the Market Street bridge which arched above the swath of railroad tracks that cut through the neighborhood. Joey's street was the first one on the other side, typical of the neighborhood with wood frame houses and brick apartment buildings, here and there an Italian-style yellow-brick villa. Here too, residents were sitting on their porches, on chairs in their driveways, and milling around in the street.

It was crowded. Joey and his boys' entertainments were always popular and well attended. We waved and said hello to people we knew and I made sure to keep a cool distance from my two hot hunky buds so no one would think there was anything unusual about us.

God forbid anyone we saw should think we were queer.

There was a huge crowd lined up in front of Joey's house and spilling out into the street, waiting to pay their ten bucks each to get into the already crowded driveway. Music from The Godfather soundtrack was playing from a stereo set on the front porch, and a lot of the younger hoods were around making all kinds of deals with visitors to the neighborhood. Some of Joey's coombah buddies were taking the money behind velvet theater ropes set up a little ways down the drive.

"Whoa ... cool!" Donatello whispered to us. "There's Diego the Dago and Johnny Z. Ohmygod, those dudes are hot!"

I chuckled and nudged his arm, but Francesco gave him a sour look, obviously for having said something so queer ... in public.

'Hey, you never know, Donny," I said. "They might think the same about you."

To which Francesco hissed, "Cool it with the queer talk, boys, before we're forced to walk these streets with scarlet Q's on our foreheads."

My back stiffened. Damn, he acted like we already had those Q's painted on us. I figured he was going to be even worse now than before, after what had happened with Monsignor.

I shrugged at Donatello. The two young hoods taking the people's money were as hot as guys their age could be, darkly Italian like me and looking like they belonged in a sexy episode of The Sopranos. I was tickled that Donatello had remarked about them. He was getting so much more open about things than Francesco.

Joey himself stepped out of the crowd in the drive and waved us over. We left the line and crossed the grass to where he'd gone to stand by another of his coombies who was collecting admissions, Vinnie Vee. Donatello looked at me and sighed. I grinned back. Joey and Vinnie together were so hot I wouldn't have been surprised if they combusted right before our eyes. But we knew better than to say anything with the stern Sister Mary Francesco (which we often called him) right there at our side.

The nuns had really done a fucking number on him!

"You fellas don't have to wait in line," Joey said. "Vinnie, give 'em the VIP passes so they can get up front. And enjoy the show, boys. Thanks for spreading the word."

He took off to round up some others, and Vinnie Vee, last name short for Vitantonio, looked us up and down with his tough guy smile. Man, was he ever like really handsome. He looked like that new actor who's been playing Superman, built and muscular like him too. I saw him now and then at the gym and just about keeled over when I got to see him naked in the shower room.

"Mariano! Franky!" He nodded hello as we pulled bills out of our pockets. "And Donny .. yo!" He gave Donatello a long appraising look that I thought was going to make boy toy squeal. Then he laughed. "Donny Donatello! I keep hearing how big and good looking you've gotten. No wonder my kid sister's dying over you every day. Says she has a fan club for you. Better watch out, dude. She's determined to get you."

Donatello sucked in a big breath and was absolutely beaming as he handed Vinnie a ten dollar bill. "I'm growing every day, Vinnie. Maybe I'll get as big and good looking as you."

Yow. Flirting with one of the hoods? Boy toy was sure aching to come out of his closet. I thought I was going to come in my pants just watching it.

Vinnie chuckled as he took our money and gave us passes. "Looks like you'll make it, kid. And when you do, give me a call. I'll give you some pointers on how to keep all the broads at bay."

'Hands off' Francesco grabbed us each by the arm and yanked us away. He hissed at Donatello, "You stoonad! I'm surprised you didn't ask him if you could suck his dick!"

"Whaaa ..." Dude looked at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to say.

I loved Francesco's touching me but shook his hand off. I should have controlled myself but I just had to bust his balls. I was losing patience with his paranoia and internalized homophobia. "Hey! No touching, remember? And stuff it with the queer talk."

He let Donatello go, giving me a dirty look. "A few hours with you, Mariano, and he's getting just as bad."

I struggled to ignore the remark. All this conflicting emotion between us was overwhelming. And he was so damn sexy when he was angry!

I led the way down the drive to the back, changing the subject. "Donny, do all the girls call you 'Donny Donatello'?"

"Nah, just some of them, including Vinnie's sister. They think it's cute."

I thought it was cute too, but didn't dare tell him that.

Francesco was simmering when we got into the back yard. He was so uptight about our relationship, wanting it so bad but scared and ashamed about being queer. Having heard Donatello make just a couple comments about other dudes had him all pissed off now, and we hardly knew what to say to him.

Joey's back yard was paved and it faced the railroad tracks, a high chain link fence separating it off. During the Prohibition era a hundred years ago there'd been another house back here where illegal whiskey had been made and shipped to points north and south by the trains. There was a large deck where the house had been, and it overlooked the tracks and the back of Cherry Street across the way. An old double garage was next to it and there was room for several hundred people. The performers put on their shows on the deck and a five-member band of young musicians was up there now getting ready to play.

"There's the VIP section," Francesco said, pushing on ahead and banging into an older couple who looked like visitors from one of the wealthy hunt country exurbs. Frightened, they stepped back as he shoved on.

I could see he was all riled up. But this definitely was not the place for him to lose it and start throwing himself around.

I hurried up next to him. "Please, Franky. Calm down. Okay? Don't get yourself all worked up here in Joey's yard."

He didn't look at me, just walked up to the hood letting people into the roped-off section. I could see the tension in his face, the anger in his eyes, and I could feel the fear I knew he had in his heart. All I could think of was, What can I do to help him? You couldn't live with all that boiling up inside you without sooner or later going nuts.

Donatello and I followed him into the VIP area where he started pushing his way up toward the deck, annoying some of the people who'd already been there in place. I had to lunge forward and grab him by the wrist and pull him over to the side by the garage, Donatello following right behind me.

Francesco tried to shake off my hand, but I held him firmly. "Stop it!" I whispered tersely. "Take a deep breath and chill. You can't do this here!"

"Please Franky," Donatello pleaded from behind him. "If you don't feel good, we'll leave. But don't start any trouble here at Joey's house."

He stood there rigid, staring off into the railroad tracks. He was burning up, fuming with anger at me and Donatello and himself for being the way we were, yet wanting it so badly at the same time. Sure I'd gone too far, rubbed him too much the wrong way, and it was wrong, but I knew I couldn't help it any more than he could help how he was.

"Yah," I continued to whisper. "We'll go back to the feast or one of our houses. We can slink outta here real easy and go somewhere else."

I couldn't believe we were having this crazy little drama in Joey Ragazzo's back yard surrounded by the feast revelers from all over town. We stood there at least two full minutes, not moving, while Francesco's face went through a gamut of emotional expressions. Finally, he slumped. losing his rigidity, and his face relaxed and Donatello and I sighed in relief. We'd seen him do this plenty of times before, ready to blow his stack about something and chilling down only at the last moment. But never so extreme and never in such a totally wrong place to do it.

"I'm all right," he gruffed. "Let me go, Mariano. I'll be okay."

I let go his wrist and shared a relieved glance with Donatello. Then I looked away, ahead at the musicians on the deck and felt myself trembling. I balled my fists and growled softly to myself. At that moment I realized I hated it all – this neighborhood, the religion, the Church, the school, our old-country culture – all of it that had taught us we were perverted and sinners, abominations in the eyes of God, and disgusting outcasts of society – all that fucking bullshit that had brought us to this ridiculous insanity on this night of celebration for the Mother of God.

I mean, the mother of God. I wanted to scream at the insane concept of that. That God ... yes God ... would even have a mother. And if so, why the fuck didn't she straighten him out, like mothers are supposed to do, and tell him that if he's gonna go ahead and create queer people he should at least let it be known that it's his idea, not theirs, and that it's ... fucking okay!

Damn it all to hell! How stupid-ass crazy is this world that even God doesn't know how to do the right thing?

Then suddenly, in the midst of my outta-my-mind consternation, the woman in front of me turned around to look and, good thing, I got shocked back to my senses.

It was Angie LaMarca.

"Oh baby," I sighed, throwing my arms around her in a hug. "Am I ever glad to see you."

And then it happened.

I heard a cry from Donatello, "Frank! No!" 

And then ... whomp!

Strong arms smashed down on my shoulders, the hands grabbing my shirt and skin like eagle claws. I was ripped away from Angie and saw half the back yard spin in a whirl as Francesco spun me around to face him. His face was contorted like he'd gone insane, his pretty pink skin red with anger. He lifted me up off my feet by my shirt, its fabric straining against my armpits, and he shook me, shouting:

"You always gotta be touching somebody, don't you? You dirty son of a bitch!"

I saw the others gaping at us, totally startled, And Donatello pulling at Francesco, shouting, trying to get him to let me go.

But he didn't. He pulled back his right arm, almost dropping me because of the imbalance, and it immediately flew back at me with a resounding hook to my jaw that felt like a ton of fucking bricks.

I saw stars everywhere and, next thing I knew, there were screams and shouts going on all around me. I was on my butt on the ground with several others sprawling around me, one of them Angie.

Whoa! My head was spinning and there was total chaos going on. A couple of the hoods and Donatello were holding Francesco back. He was cursing at me and still wanted to hit me some more. His blue eyes were glaring ice daggers at me. Diego the Dago and Johnny Z came into view and helped the others to pull him away.

I couldn't figure how they'd gotten back here so fast. Or maybe I'd been knocked out and just now coming to? The crowd was chattering and exclaiming and rustling and swaying as others stooped to help those of us who'd been knocked down. I felt a big strong hand grasp my arm and pull me up and, a few seconds later, I was gazing into the dreamy hazel eyes of Vinnie Vee.

Awhh ... Superman to the rescue. Was he going to take me into his arms and fly away?

"What the fuck was that all about, Mariano?" he asked, his strong arms not letting me go.

I couldn't think of what to say. All I knew was those big muscular arms around me. But I was saved from having to answer him by Angie, right there next to me being helped to her feet by Joey Ragazzo. The fall had shifted her skimpy halter top and most of her ample breasts were exposed, including one pretty nipple. Joey was intent on helping her put things back in place and didn't look like he minded the unexpected interruption at all.

"They were fighting over me," she told Vinnie in an exasperated voice, covering up the truth that Francesco was jealous of her. "Mariano hugged me hello and Franky got pissed. All these boys want to fuckin' own me, Jeezus!"

Joey just grunted, more interested in getting Angie's boobs in order. Vinnie looked at me doubtfully, then over at Francesco who was getting hauled down the drive out to the front by the four hoods and Donatello. "Come on, kid," he urged, pulling me along with him as he stepped forward. "You and your buds better get out of here."

I was still a little wobbly as we passed through the crowd on our way down the drive. People were staring, pointing, talking about me, most of them excited because they'd gotten to see a fight over a girl between two young Little Italy toughs at one of the hood's houses. They could go back to their suburban or country homes and brag about it to friends and neighbors for the rest of the summer.

Ha! I wanted to laugh at them all. They should've known the truth. It wasn't about a girl. It was a boy-love fight, and not much of a fight at all. Just a quick grab and spin and a really good punch.

Vinnie's hands were all over me. He didn't have to hold me like I was going to run away. But I was diggin' it, those big hands. He was about three inches taller than me, thirty pounds heavier, and ten years older. In the narrow part of the drive between the houses, where it was really packed like sardines, he was feeling up my abs and pecs as he hustled me out. I couldn't believe one of the hoods was feeling me up. And with my head still spinning from Francesco's punch, I was getting another boner.

Vinnie cleared his throat. "I see all your working out at the gym is paying off."

"It sure is. Hopefully I'll soon look like you." I wanted to say, Jeez dude, that feels good, but I didn't have the balls.

He laughed. "You need three-four more years of hard work before before that happens. Just stick to it, Mariano."

As soon as we got near the sidewalk where the crowd thinned, his hands went up on my shoulders. He pointed down the street. "There's your two other thirds." Francesco and Donatello were a few houses away, walking back toward Market Street. "Go get them and straighten out your shit. It only makes things worse when you're not all on the same page. You'll have a much better story goin' on when you get it all figured out."

"Whaddaya mean?" I asked, like I didn't know what he was talking about. Could he really sense what was going on?

"Don't play stupid with me. Mariano. You know exactly what I mean. And if you three want to talk about it, give me a call. Now get the fuck outta here." He spun me around, patted my ass, and pushed me forward. "And tell Franky he's gotta learn to control his temper. You were stone out for a couple minutes. He sure wouldn't want a scene like that at his dad's restaurant."

I walked away, my dick throbbing and my ass tingling. I couldn't believe Vinnie was as touchy-feely as I liked to be. I couldn't believe we'd just gotten thrown out of Joey's yard. I couldn't believe Francesco had knocked me out! I couldn't believe fucking anything anymore ...

Boom!

Another bomb to knock me back to my senses. My jaw hurt and I rubbed it as I walked down the street. He'd really punched me hard, my hot hunky stud. He was worried about us being perceived as queer, yet he was giving off more distinct signs of it than me and Donatello together. Vinnie knew the whole damn story! I watched the two ahead of me turn the corner onto Market Street and head toward the bridge.

"Mariano!" I heard from behind me.

I turned to see Angie running toward me like a track star in her spike heels. I was surprised to see her, figuring Joey would have scooped her and her fabulous boobs up for the night.

I waited for her and when she caught up to me, I said, "Thanks for covering up that ridiculous situation back there."

"You guys are too much. What the hell happened? We hugged hello and then Franky jumped on you like a maniac."

"You know how jealous he gets. He saw us together and he went nuts." As we walked to the corner I told her what had happened this afternoon between me and Donatello and how Francesco had reacted to it. I didn't tell her about me and Francesco and Monsignor. That was something I'd never tell anyone.

"So he was totally ready to explode when I made the mistake of touching you in his presence," I concluded.

Angie flapped her hand like it was all a big nothing. "Screw him. He'll get over it. I'm glad it happened. And you got to have sex with Donny. That's awesome. I wish I'd get a turn."

"Whaddaya mean you're glad it happened? Well, other than Joey getting to feel you up."

She gave me a beaming smile. "He invited me back to watch the fireworks at midnight. He's got a great view from that deck. And then ...," she added dramatically, "... ta-da! He wants me to spend the night!"

"Yo!" I hooked my arm around her shoulder. "Angie, that's awesome."

"I guess he never noticed me much before."

"I don't know how he missed you. But tonight he got to touch you. That must've done it. Didn't he want you to stay for the show?"

"Sure he did. But I explained that we're close friends and I wanted to make sure you're okay. So he invited me back and ... haha ... slipped me a joint. I got it in here." She patted her little clutch bag.

I figured I could sure use a hit or two on that after what had just happened. "Who you gonna smoke it with?" I asked, as we turned onto Market street and walked toward the bridge.

"You, of course. We can go in the new church and light up. Get a load off our feet. They've got it open and dimly lit, probably because they know the kids and hipsters will go in there and make out or get high. Those numbskulls will do anything to get us in church."

We saw Donatello and Francesco up ahead, at the very crest of the bridge. They had just turned around, probably to see if I'd gotten kicked out too. Donatello waved at me but Francesco turned right back around and stalked on.

Angie sighed. "Franky's so hot when he's angry. He and I could make such beautiful babies together."

"Yah, laugh out loud, huh? It'll never happen. He's got enough trouble doin' boys. You two look like brother and sister. That's probably why I went for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yah, you went, Mariano. But not fucking far enough."

"Hey, not fair. We went all the way."

"Yah right, dude. Tell me about it. The all-the-way we went wasn't nearly far enough."

"Puh! What? You wanna marry me or something?"

"Hell no. I just want more sex. You want to marry Franky and Donny anyway. If Franky ever stops being angry at the world, that is."

I shrugged. "Who knows if he'll ever stop? He's so fucked up and I don't know what the hell to do about it. But he'll only be mad at me tonight for about another half hour, then he'll come find me and hang around my heels like a repentant puppy. That's his usual routine – once he blows up, he cools down, and then sucks up."

I told her about Vinnie and how he'd felt me up and told me to call if I needed help with Donatello and Francesco. "Do you think he can be queer too and really sense what's going on?"

"You are so naïve," she sighed. "You look like a man but you're still a boy, Mariano. You sure got a lot to learn. Of course Vinnie and some of the other hoods could be gay, even more likely bisexual. Why not? It happens everywhere. They act like homophobes because that's part of their game, but if one of them goes for some boys, what the hell would they care? Some of them have been in prison and they sure as hell know what goes on in there. And some learn to really like it."

I'd never thought about that. We younger dudes were always so concerned about living up to the tough macho standards of masculinity that rule an Italian neighborhood. Angie was right. Many of the hoods, young and old, had been in prison for long periods of time. I doubted if any of them lived like monks when they were there. Their homophobic stance was as hypocritical as the Church's, where many, if not most, of the priests were gay and messing around with other men and often any boys they could get their hands on.

I had to laugh at myself. "You know how I am, Angie. I think I know everything."

She didn't laugh, she growled. "You don't know shit, Mariano," she said as we started walking up the bridge. We could hear the rock music from the show in Joey's back yard behind us. ""You're so focused on your boyfriends and your body and going to Hollywood next year that you may as well be living with your head in the sand. But so what, huh? We're all like that. Being Italian, we're all so obsessed with whatever it is that hooks us. But at least you'll get a stack of neighborhood cred tonight. Getting knocked out by your best bud at Joey's house over a girl. Ha! You'll be the big sfacheem for the next week or two. Everybody'll be talking about you.

"And Franky too," she added. "He'll be the new up-and-coming tough guy if his old man doesn't kill him first when he finds out."

Yes, Mr. Paradisio was not going to like it. He'd consider it bad publicity for the restaurant. But Francesco sure would like it, better a reputation as a tough guy than his daddy's queer son.

I let out a snort. "All in a night's work, huh Angie? And the craziest part of all, we missed out on Matt Bomer's straight younger brother."

Chuckling, we both stopped to look back at Joey's house across the tracks below, the back yard all lit up and filled with people in the now falling twilight. Matt's little bro was on the stage and singing away. He sounded pretty damn good from the bridge top, belting out that old Michael Jackson song about not stopping till you get enough. Chills streaked up my spine as we listened, and hearing that song on this night, of all nights, I considered it a sign from the Mother of God herself.

I definitely was not going to stop until I got enough. And Donatello and Francesco were what was enough for me. I knew damn well they'd come find me within the hour, even on the most crowded night La Feast had ever known.

And I would not stop until I got them!

https://youtu.be/yURRmWtbTbo

**

Thanks everybody for reading! Click to the next page for Part 4, the conclusion.  I have a whole notebook filled with stories about the boys and the hoods of Little Italy. Watch for some new ones to be posted in the weeks ahead.