They Call Me...Montey Greene

Chapter Five

HOUSED in an unassuming two-story building within the confines of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, Café Biffi was abuzz as usual. Montey thought it was amusing that he and Annette ordered the same thing; mixed grilled fish with a salad while Daniel had the Milanese veal cutlet with a side order of spaghetti.

"How's Patricia taking it?" Annette wanted to know.

"Taking what?"

"You guys being separated."

"Ain't nuthin changed since you guys last saw me. She wanted me out, so I'm out."

"So, you're just going to let your relationship go?" asked Annette a little befuddled. "Thought you guys were going to try and work through it?"

"Happy birthday to me...shit...after seven years maybe I wasn't scratching her itch like she wanted me to. I can't call it. I mean, ya'll should know. You guys been married how long?"

"Six years," offered Daniel.

"Seven years," Annette said simultaneously.

"See what I mean. Your brain starts short circuiting, turning to mush up under the same person breathing down your neck day in and day out, can't even remember how long you've been married. If you had little mouths to feed adding to the noise you may be able to keep track."

"It may be seven years, but I still get my itch scratched," Daniel's wife suggested through a smirk.

"Okay. Wasn't referring to that type of itch."

Daniel laughed.

"I'm just saying," Annette assured Daniel with a provocative look on her face.

"What does your mother say, about seeing her grandkids and stuff?" asked Daniel.

"You know moms and you know Patty. Moms won't move from the PJ's, and Patty's not comfortable bringing them over there. I can't win for tryin' man."

"What you should have done was bring her down to the comedy club a few weeks ago and let them fools hypnotize her into letting you stay," Daniel suggested.

"My mom's?"

"No, your wife Patricia silly."

"Those guys were so corny," Annette chimed in.

"Yeah, it don't matter though. It is what it is. I'll deal with that shit when I get back."

Annette called for the waiter.

The man in black pants, white short sleeved shirt, black tie, almost bald head with a receding hairline and glasses perched on the bridge of a sausage nose walked over.

"Is everything fine?" the waiter asked.

"Splendid," Annette answered, "the check please."

The hairy armed waiter gave Annette the check. She paid for the bill in cash.

Annette raised her glass of wine, "A toast to positive energy, good thoughts and good fortune."

"And friends in foreign places," Montey summarized.

Cling, went the wine glasses.