11: ITALIAN BOYS IN THE HOOD (3)

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PHOTO above and below - Francesco

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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'?

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