His Mafia Romance

First Date Gone Wrong

Homer stared ahead, his lazy eyes resting on the curve of the sea as he rode within Napoli. He had been instructed by everyone to take a break, a vacation. Something to get his mind off the stress of work and kids, and his good-for-nothing wife. God, he hated it, his therapist had advised him that a trip to somewhere exotic was exactly what he needed, so he booked a private flight under the pretense of a business trip and planned accordingly. Maybe a tour of Rome, a visit to the colosseum. He needed the sights, the chance to get away from his average, boring life.

And oh, how Homer Simpson would regret it.

The driver was some 40-something, prattling on about the weather and clearly trying to make small talk to distract Homer from the egregiously overpriced wares. It was a tourist trap just like anything else in this godforsaken country.

"Don't worry, just drop me off here." He pointed to a small hotel on the side of the road: 'Hotel Bella Luna', the nude color paint and the exposed brick made the place seem worn, though it shone beautifully in contrast to the bright pink oleander blossoms.

The driver pulled over, "That will be 330,000 lire, ciccio."

Homer mentally converted the money to USD, carefully trying to calculate.

"What the hell? That's way too much for a 10-minute drive, I refuse to pay that!"

The driver clicked his tongue, chastising the passenger of his car. "I'm sorry ciccio but I cannot allow you to leave the car if this is the reception I'm getting. It's a fair price."

"That isn't the price you advertised! I could sue you!"

"What seems to be the problem my friends?" A saccharine sweet voice called from the passenger side window; Homer watched as the expression of the driver twisted from a telling smirk to a scowl.

"N-nothing, sir. Just having this man pay for his ride." The driver responded, quickly. His voice whimpered slightly when he mentioned his supposed superior. Homer's eyes lifted to meet the other mans, dark bangs falling in front of his ocean blue eyes, a white suit, his face was handsome, and his jaw was sharp. Homer felt a light blush dust his cheeks.

But Homer Simpson wasn't gay? He was just appreciating another man's beauty. He averted his eyes and the other man noticed.

"Don't tell me you're harassing this poor man for his cash. Are you, Signore?" The strangers voice had gone lower, clearly agitated at the exchange.

The driver swatted his hands. "O-of course I wouldn't," he laughed nervously, he spoke quietly to his passenger. "Just take your stuff and get out of here, now."

Homer hurriedly took his suitcases and travel bags out of the trunk, the kind stranger next to him assisting with his belongings. Homer stared deep into his deep blue orbs as they accidentally both touched the handle of the same bag, their hands brushing against one another's. Homer coughed, a clear diversion from the situation in front of him.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I can take your bags from here." The man's words rumbled off his lips and sent butterflies through Homers stomach. Such a foreign feeling. Homer couldn't remember the last time his wife had said something that sent goosebumps down his back.

"Thank you, sir, but D'oh, I'm in no rush. I planned on ordering takeout tonight so there's no hurry."

The strangers face morphed into one of concern. "I see... would you like to go on a date with me tonight? I know a great dessert place too."

Homer was caught incredibly off guard by the man's question. A date? With another male? It was taboo... scandalous. But something inside Homer felt such warmth at the man's comment.

"I mean... I don't even know your name so how could I..." Homer felt his face becoming red.

"The name is Bruno Buccellati, I'll pick you up at 8." Bruno walked into an alley, disappearing from Homer's sight but not his mind.

"What a strange guy. Are all Italians gay?"

—

Homer Simpson did exactly what the homosexual Italian man had instructed him to do.

He stood on the curb with an impatience in his eyes and questions on his lips, dressed to the nines in a silken undershirt, leather pants highlighting his curves in all the right places, a leather blazer emblazoned with the mark of a high-end retailer. He decided to go all out.

Nothing in his life had really grabbed his attention and yanked him out of the norm much like an offer of fancy dinner. The date in question had even threatened the driver out of the cash in the first place, so he had plenty to spend on harmless Italian endeavors.

Just as expected, at 8 a car pulled up next to the road of the hotel, a handsome young driver in tow. Homer did a once over of his magnificent garb, a simple black suit with stylistic choices: a popped collar and undone shirt, a few buttons exposing his chest with a lavish tattoo. His eyes were dangerous and hungry.

Bruno Buccellati was dangerous, but something about him drew Homer Simpson in.

"Get in sweet cheeks. You're in for a ride." The passenger door opened, and Bruno patted on the seat. Homer felt himself blush again in the presence of the man.

Homer got in, the interior of the car matching his initial assumption about Bruno being loaded. Maybe he wouldn't even have to spend any of his own money tonight

But something about the man's voice tickled in the back of his head, His sharp jaw and high cheekbones making him look like a god among men. Homer found himself staring in the other man's orbs, lost in thought as the blue overtook his vision.

Pretty soon they found each other's gaze, Bruno's eyes off the road as a screeching bump came from the front of the car. The sickening stench crawled through the streets as the two hurriedly stepped out, their eyes witnessing the dead body of a man lying in the street.

"This is..." Bruno began, "This is one of the capos, he oversees the division Polpo used to work for..." Bruno suddenly became aware of the severity.

"Signore... we just ran over one of the most influential capos of Passione..."

Homer went white as a sheet (or as much as you can when you are yellow).

"What- what do we do?"