Page 89 of Bless This Hot Mess

“Uh… I have a pencil. It’s perfectly legal to execute them with a pencil,” Stanford answered, producing a No. 2 from his cardigan’s pocket. “Just push really hard.”

“Rebekkah? Ronald?Cucciolo?” Rino said, turning to them, eyes suddenly soft.

“Yes?” Rebekkah said warily but dutifully stepping forward.

“Yes?” Ronald echoed, dimples on display, trying to distract from thoughts of death.

“Mio Capitano?” Japheth floated forward, nostrils flaring hungrily at the man’s cologne and oblivious to being such an easy mark.

“Sign here. And here. And here,” Rino directed, indicating where to scratch their signatures.

“What is this?” Rebekkah asked, scanning the agreement as if it might indeed still end her in some murderous mob mystery. A paper cut of death? Lead poisoning?

“A release form. You won the1999 WWJD Not Short on Talenttalent show right?” Rino asked.

“Yeah, we did!” Ronald confirmed, pride breaking through the panic.

“And part of the prize was a 1999 five-door hatchback, front wheel drive, metallic grey Kia Rio, right?” Rino continued, voice like silk sheets.

“It was…” Rebekkah said, heart doing cartwheels.

“So, I’m a man of my word. We would have had them for you earlier, but ourlawyerwas playing tiddlywinks instead of doing his job,” Rino said, side-eying Stanford like a medium rare steak.

“Won’t happen again! Definitely won’t happen again,” Weinus squealed while buttoning and then unbuttoning his cardigan. The urge to look presentable was overridden by his belly’s protesting protrusion.

“Is this for… really, Rino?” Japheth asked, pencil hovering over the paper, feeling like the floor would fall out from beneath them at any moment. It seemed that as hard as they worked, as big as they believed, dreams coming true just wasn’t something that was meant for them.

“Really. When my stars are driving around town, I want them to be stylish, comfortable, safe and with efficient fuelconsumption,” Rino said, clapping a hand on Japheth’s shoulder warmly.

“You’re not bad at all are you? You’re a good guy!” Rebekkah said, startled by the feeling of hope and letting her guard down a little around Mr. Ferrari.

“Of course I’m a good guy. Who said I wasn’t?” Rino asked, glancing around.

“No one! No one would ever say that about you,” Japheth said quickly, acting as his advocate.

“That’s what I thought. Well, I gotta get back to the dealership. We’ll get those three Kia Rios shined up and have them delivered to the radio station?” Rino asked, already turning to go.

“Wait… three Kia Rios?” Japheth stammered.

“There are three of you aren’t there,Polpetto?” Rino asked, and he threw an amused wink at Japheth.

“Yeah… but… we thought. Oh my! Thank you, Rino! This is incredible!” Japheth said, practically levitating. He crossed the office and gave Rino a huge hug. It lingered. Then both men quickly stepped apart, cleared their throats and shook hands.

“You’re welcome. I should be… I should go. If you see Emma-Lou when you get back to the station, tell her I always keep my promises,” Rino said, adjusting his cuffs and avoiding looking Japheth in the eyes but a silly and uncharacteristic grin had stuck to his face as he backed out of the room. It looked good on him.

“We will! We’ll pass on your hellos and tell them all what agoodguy you are!” Rebekkah said, glowing and bouncing on her toes.

“Bye Rino, uh… Mr. Ferrari! Thank you!” Ronald added, bowing awkwardly and then feeling the awkwardness, bid him adieu with a little tip of the hat he wasn’t wearing.

“Japheth, may I speak to you for a moment?Da uomo a uomo?” Rino asked with a little lift of his chin indicating Japheth should follow him. “I can um… give you the spare sets of keys to the cars.”

“Go! Go!” Ronald and Rebekkah encouraged him, pushing Japheth after Rino by the shoulders.

There were manly murmurs from the foyer as Rino and Japheth exchanged keys and pleasantries. Then, a request to join as a plus-one for a dinner date and a guarded acceptance couched as nonchalance. Rebekkah, Ronald, Betty and Stanford pretended to talk about the outdated golf magazines on Weinus’ waiting area table. In reality, they all had their ears perked to the delicate dance of vulnerability playing out in the lobby. Finally, the bells on the front door signalled that the Casanova had left the building and Betty broke the silence, “That man is… what aman!”

“Right?” Trinity chorused with a delighted sigh.

“A really, reallygoodman,” Rebekkah nodded, as if she’d known it all along.