He was two when Alvine was born, and he remembered his mother, Emily, holding him in her arms as she stood outside the house on Toulouse St. in New Orleans, trying to keep him quiet so that she could hear the announcement when the midwife emerged. His mother never missed any action in the neighborhood, and Russell and Alvine Goutierrez were about to have their first baby girl. Warren had no desire to witness the new addition, but he also did not understand that God’s providential plan was bringing them together.

He was jolted back to reality as Alvine skipped a breath, his heart skipping a beat with her. She went back to her regular, ragged breathing, and Warren breathed a sigh of relief. His daughters would be here soon to take their turns sitting with their mother, although Warren never left her side. He hadn’t since she was born, and he wasn’t planning to now.

He remembered when he was eleven years old, in 1931, his father Francis and his Uncle John, who were both baseball enthusiasts, decided to organize an 11 and 12 year old little league team. This team was what they called “Rinky Dinks” back then – they had no gloves, balls, bats, or equipment. Because they were so poor, his father arranged a Penny Party to raise funds to buy the equipment the baseball team needed. The entire neighborhood pitched in to make the party a success. There was a lot of entertainment, including a bunch of off-key pre-teen boys singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and Francis, who was once a jazz musician, playing the drums and piano. Warren’s favorite moment of the party was when he got to sing a duet with Alvine.

Warren nervously wandered to the front of the crowd, wringing his hands and swaying back and forth. He was a little ashamed of his tubby form, and he was worried that Alvine would think he was a dud. Alvine was already waiting for him on the makeshift stage, looking radiant in her summer dress of yellow flowers. Her long, dark curls blew in the wind, and Warren was mesmerized. “To bring your coffee in the morning and kisses in the night,” they sang together. Alvine effortlessly hit every note perfectly, and their duet was an instant hit with the neighborhood.

Warren was delighted that he and Alvine had been able to bring each other that coffee in the morning and those kisses in the night for the past 61 years. He looked at Alvine again, repose in the bed next to him. His heart overflowed with love for her, and a single tear tracked a line down his cheek. He had to be strong for his children, his grandchildren, but it was so hard.

He was there when she was born, and he would be there when she died.

Guilty by Association

Zoé Haydel was just waiting for the FBI to come knocking at her door to take her away. She was 16 years old, too young to rot for the rest of her life in prison. She sat on her living room floor, her eyes transfixed to the six o’clock news flashing across the black and white television screen. Zoé’s eyes darted over to her father, who sat a few feet away in his mahogany wood rocking chair, dozing off as he always did while watching the news. She let out a sigh of relief as she realized he was unaware of her blight. Her mother was hard at work in the kitchen preparing dinner – tossing salad, baking dinner rolls and a roast, and boiling corn – and Zoé knew that she would not be paying much attention to the newscast coming from the living room. The succulent smells of tender roast beef and sweet dinner rolls wafted from the kitchen, but Zoé was too mortified to even notice. Could it be? No, it couldn’t be them, could it? She studied the television screen with eyes of scrutiny.

“Time fa dinna!” her mother called from the kitchen, awaking her father just in time for the newscaster to drone on to the next story. She sat dead still on the living room carpet. Her face drained of all color and warmth. She looked down and realized her hands were shaking. She was sweating profusely, and she couldn’t breathe. She and her friends must be on the FBI’s tapes. The four of them would spend the rest of their lives behind bars, their mothers weeping and their fathers looking stoic as the FBI took them away in handcuffs and orange jumpsuits. They would surely die rotting away with murderers and rapists.

“Comin’, mama,” her father said as he lifted himself out of his chair and started making his way into the kitchen. “C’mon, Zoé, don’t keep your mama waitin.’” Zoé couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She glanced at the front door, which remained ominously closed.

*               *                 *                 *                  *

On a stormy night in the middle of January, Kate Riley slumped into the bulky Laz-Y-Boy in the corner of her living room, completely exhausted. She held her fourth cup of coffee with both hands, savoring the warmth and breathing in the steam rising from the Figment mug like an enchanted snake. She remembered the day she bought the mug at EPCOT in Disney World. She was fifteen years old, and she had just gotten off the “Journey into Imagination” ride in which Figment was the main character. Emma was with her, and she remembered how they laughed until they cried over the fact that they were almost adults, but their favorite ride in Disney World was geared toward five-year-olds. A feeling of utter sadness flowed over Kate at the thought of Emma, and she felt a single tear roll down her cheek. She would never be able to laugh again.

Kate was jerked back to reality as a branch broke from the giant oak tree outside her kitchen, swinging 10 feet and crashing through the window. She rushed to close and latch the broken window and then down to the wood box in the basement for wood to board it up. As Kate made her way back up the dim and dusty staircase, she realized how dim and dusty she felt herself. She had a void inside of her, and she felt desperate and empty without Emma’s presence.

When Kate finally got all of the water off the floor, she sat down in one of the antique wooden chairs that matched the table and picked up the newspaper. She could now recite the headline: 23-YEAR-OLD TULANE STUDENT MISSING. Kate sighed and put the paper down. As she reached for her Figment mug, she could not suppress the anger that was rumbling deep down inside her like a volcano ready to erupt. The story was banished to a dark corner of the paper and was not mentioned in any of the other local papers. It was not even mentioned on the evening news.  She deserved better than this. Kate pushed the paper aside, disgusted, and got up to call her art teacher. He had such a comforting voice, and although she knew he would likely hang up on her when she called, she had the feeling that just hearing him say “Hello” would make her feel better.

The sound of roaring engines and barking dogs pounds in my ears, making me feel as if I’m about to explode. The Catholic priest on the radio has a monotone, deep voice like James Earl Jones, which should ease me into the bliss of sleep, but instead it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. My mother is silent in the driver’s seat as the priest drones on, “To You we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of the human hands. It will become our spiritual drink.”

“Blessed be God forever,” recite my grandparents in unison. My grandfather sits reserved and serene in the front passenger seat of the 1996 Toyota Camry while the rest of us – my grandmother, my 13-year-old sister, my six-year-old brother, and I – are squeezed awkwardly in the back seat.

“Dis seatbelt is a vice!” exclaims my grandmother, pulling at the top to draw it away from her neck. “Why dat air blowin’ directly in ma face? I’m tired of sittin’ in this car. When will we getta break?”

“We just stopped ten minutes ago, Ma,” responds my mother.

“How many Animaniac shows left?” asks my little brother, Rogers, with an “s.” The only way he knows how to tell time is by associating it with television shows. The Animaniac cartoon show was 30 minutes long.

“About 500,” I answer, digging for my Discman and headphones in the backpack on the floor in front of me.

“500!” exclaims Rogers. “Mooooommmm, is it really 500?” My mother remains silent and her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“Through Him, with Him, in Him. In the unity of the Holy Spirit. All glory and honor is yours Almighty Father. Forever and ever.”

“Amen,” recites my grandfather alone, his eyes closed and palms toward the sky. As I plug my headphones into my Discman and insert by Backstreet Boys CD, I turn to look at my sister, Nicole, who is staring blankly out of the window opposite me. I wish I could reach her to elbow her and whisper, making fun of the mass, but with my grandmother in between us, I dare not sin. I push “Play” on my Discman and nothing happens.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven.” No.

“Hallowed be Thy name.” HELL NO!

“Thy Kingdom come.” I shake my Discman, hoping to dislodge the laser or to find a bucket of non-existent battery juice to resurrect my escape.

“Thy will be done.” Nicole shoots me a quizzical look as I frantically joggle my Discman, looking back at her with tears welling in my eyes.

“On Earth as it is in Heaven.” I reach back down into my backpack, desperately searching for a new pair of batteries.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” I begin crying hysterically, tracks of tears making lines down my face.

“And forgive us our trespasses.”

“What’s da matta honey?” asks my grandmother, putting her arm around me as I raise my Discman to show her the empty battery compartment.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t need dat awful music anyways,” responds my grandmother. “You should be talkin’ wit’ yo’ family.” I struggle to pry my grandmother’s arm from around my shoulder and stick my head back out the window, only to be hit again with the flames of Hell. Whoever coined hurricane evacuations “Hurrications” obviously never spent 18 hours crammed in a car with their entire family like circus clowns.

“Why don’t we say da rosary?” asks my grandmother, producing five baby blue rosaries handmade with thin rope from her petite flowered handbag and doling them out to everyone except Rogers since he was too young to know the rosary. “That will make us feel betta.” I watched as my mother’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel and her jaw locked into the “Oh, God please deliver me” position.

“Great idea, mama,” says my grandfather, reaching out his knotted fingers for one of the rosaries from my grandmother. Nicole and I caught each others’ eyes, terrified.

“How many Animaniac shows?” Rogers asks again.

I am definitely in Hell.

“But deliver us from evil.”

He kept running farther away from the pigs, but he was quickly developing a splitting pain in his side. He doubled over, tripping himself in the process and falling flat on his long, pointy face. He self-consciously looked around to ensure no one was able to witness his sorry ass. He was such a failure. As he sat there contemplating his languorousness, he heard an extremely irritating, high-pitched sound coming toward him. Was that…singing? He didn’t have time to sit and decipher it, so he quickly (well, as quickly as he could) darted behind a tree to hide. His olfactory sense perked up as the smell of human flesh wafted through the air and into his nostrils. Mmm, young flesh. Female flesh. His mouth began to water and his golden eyes glazed over as he realized how hungry he was.

The high-pitched sound drifted closer, and the Wolf peeked out from behind the tree. Standing directly in front of him was a little girl of about twelve, dressed in a pretty white laced dress with ruffles on the bottom and a bright red hooded cape. Seriously? Who still wears capes these days besides Superman? Plus, that cape was so bright and so red, this kid was asking for it. Begging, even. The Wolf began to wonder if this may be a trap. Was she poison like that apple the witch had given to that Snowdrift girl? She sure was the same color.

The girl began skipping again in the direction of the witch’s house deep in the woods. Was she crazy? Didn’t she know what had happened to those other two kids that showed up at the witch’s house a few weeks ago? What were their names again? Harry and Gretchen? Something like that. Obviously, this girl either didn’t know about the witch or didn’t care, because she just kept skipping along, that ridiculous red hood flopping up and down behind her, swinging her wicker basket and singing You are My Sunshine. Was this kid for real? She was so cheesy and cliché, like something out of a fairy tale, which made the Wolf want to eat her even more.

The Wolf continued following the young girl all the way to the witch’s house, where she stopped to ring the doorbell. He watched from a nearby bush as she stood there waiting, smiling like an idiot and bobbing her head up and down to the tune of her song. When five minutes had passed by and still no one had answered, the girl knocked on the window, putting her hand up as a shield and peering through, and yelled, “Grandma? Grandma, are you in there?”

GRANDMA!?!?!? The witch was a GRANDMA? Oh, this was too good. This was WAY too good. He couldn’t wait to tell his father about this!

“Grandma! It’s me! I’m here with your lunch!” the girl yelled again, but still no one came to the door. The Wolf continued sniggering as the girl turned around on a heel and started in the direction of Rapunzel’s tower. He heard her mumble to herself, “I guess I’ll visit sister first” as she skipped past him, starting to swing that basket again and humming O, Happy Day this time. Okay, this girl just had to go.

The Wolf watched as she skipped away, and as soon as she was out of sight, he headed toward the witch’s house. He let himself in with his key and immediately began searching for a disguise. This may be his stepmother, but she had hidden this little secret from him and his father for far too long. As he started dressing himself in her nightgown, he thought, “Sorry, evil stepmother, but there are no secrets in this family. Time for me to make my father proud.”

He glanced at himself in the full length mirror, pulling on a bonnet and glasses, flashing a smile, and striking a pose. He practiced his impersonation of his stepmother, which he had mastered over the years and which had made him and his father laugh uncontrollably too many times to count. He still sounded exactly like her. The Wolf chuckled to himself as he crawled into his stepmother’s bed and waited for the red hooded girl to return with lunch.

Right then, the drone at the front of the room gasped mid-sentence about some new policy they were implementing as five Baton Rouge policemen burst through door to the conference room.

“Allen Forman!” one of them yelled, the largest one of course, with the bald head, massive hulking muscles, and scowl on his face. The policeman drew his Baton Rouge Police Department issued handgun and pointed it toward the group sitting at the conference table. Everyone immediately threw both hands in the air as if admitting defeat. Except Allen.

“Fuck!” Allen thought. “Mother fucker! What the fuck?!” as every eye in the room turned to focus on him. The police officer trained his gun on Allen, yelling, “Allen Forman, stand up! You are under arrest!”

Allen’s boss (the drone at the front of the room) shot him a quizzical look as he ignored the officer and just sat there. “Mother fucker!” he said aloud. “How could this have happened?”

He and Izzy had a pact. That fucking little bitch. When he worked his way out of this, he was going to find her, and he was going to calmly strangle her to death. Then, he was going to give her one last goodbye fuck before dumping her on his sister’s doorstep. That would teach her to tattle to her mommy.

Allen was too busy reeling to notice the mammoth policeman manhandling him to put him into cuffs or to hear him saying, “Allen Forman, you are under arrest for unlawful carnal knowledge of a minor. You have the right to remain silent…”

Author’s Note: Believe it or not, this is a true story! One of my family members was actually in this meeting when the cops burst in to arrest one of her coworkers for “unlawful carnal knowledge of a minor” for having an affair with his 16-year-old neice. I’m sure his sister was mortified. I can’t even imagine.

Another Author’s Note: The story of how I came up with the title for this one is interesting, so I thought I’d share. I couldn’t think of a good title, and my husband and I were in the car. I said “I’m really having a hard time with this one…” and my husband shouted, “That’s it! Hard time!” It has many facets of meaning (sexual, jail time, he’s having a hard time paying attention in the meeting, etc.), so I said, “That’s perfect!”

“It’s MINE!” a small voice yelled over the crowd.

“No, it’s MINE!” a bigger voice roared, as a large hand grabbed at the smaller hand’s egg, stole it, and ran off. The sound of crying then filled the air.

“No fighting!” The Church Director yelled, drowned out by the hysterical screams and merriment of the crowd of children.

The six-year-old boy who just had his egg stolen clutched his sky blue basket close to his chest and ran, crying hysterically, but trying to hide it, into the nearby forest. The smell of pine needles, bark, mud, and grass filled his nose as he stepped onto the plush, mushy forest ground. When he looked up, all he could see forever into the never-ending sky was bright green leaves and dark branches looming overhead like arms of demons. It was shady, almost completely dark, as the sun had very little space to peek at him.

As he continued deeper into the woods, his knuckles became whiter and whiter around his basket. He turned to look back, but he could no longer see or hear the church festivities. He plopped down onto the plush ground, tears streaming down his rosy red, plump apple cheeks. His crystal clear blue eyes looked straight ahead, terrified and wishing he would have never left his mommy.

He went to place his basket on the ground next to him so that he could look around to get his bearings, but it was stuck on something. He pulled harder, but it didn’t seem to be working. Finally, he stood up and used all of his 50 pounds to pull as hard as he could, and the basket came loose as he fell backwards onto the ground.

Dangling in front of his face hanging from the bottom of the basket was a dismembered human finger. He looked toward the place where his basket had gotten stuck and was horrified to see the head priest’s body laying motionless on the ground. The young boy let out a blood curdling scream, dropped his basket, and sprinted back in the direction he thought he had come from, forgetting all about the Easter egg madness.

Let me know what you think!

The Day Tigger Found a Home

There once was a puppy who was lonely and sad,

who didn’t have a mom, and didn’t have a dad.

He lived in a shelter with other dogs and cats

but he wasn’t very happy with where he was at.

He dreamed every day about finding a home

with a big backyard where he could bury his bones.

One day, a nice couple came in to take a look.

They saw this cute puppy, and they knew they were hooked.

The puppy made sure to be loving and sweet,

and the nice man and woman even gave him a treat!

They picked him up right out of his cage,

and he knew that he didn’t have to be afraid.

The nice couple brought him back to 3 Bistineau Street

where he had a nice big family to meet!

There were three cats named Rory, Ellie, and Fifi,

and even another dog; his name was Indy!

They were all very nice, and although he was new,

this band of friends were now his best friends too.

The nice man and woman brought him out the back door

where the yard was so big he could bury bones galore!

With love his heart grew bigger and bigger.

The couple gave him a name – he would be Tigger.

Never again would he have to be sad.

He had found a mom, and he had found a dad.

With this new home and new family, too,

all of Tigger’s dreams had now come true.

So never stop dreaming; you’ll always find a way

to make your dreams come true too someday!

The Day Fifi Ran Away

There once was a house at 3 Bistineau Street

that from the outside looked sturdy and neat.

And inside that house lived a loving family -

two humans, three cats, and Tigger and Indy.

While Tigger and Indy were dogs who liked to play,

Fifi the cat daydreamed all day

about what it was like outside of the house.

She could explore, run, and maybe even catch a mouse!

Ellie and Rory, the other two cats,

were perfectly happy just where they were at.

When their humans weren’t home, these pets had so much fun

playing, cuddling, and sleeping in the sun.

But one day, when the humans walked out the front door,

Fifi spotted grass and knew she wanted more.

The humans had not shut the door all the way,

and Fifi thought she could escape and play all day.

The other pets were playing and didn’t notice the crack,

so Fifi slipped right out, thinking she would be right back.

At first, it was wonderful to be outside in the sun,

where she could eat grass, explore, and freely run.

Then, when the clouds started gathering in the sky,

it started to get dark, and Fifi wondered why.

She started to feel tiny drops on her nose.

Drops that felt like water, so she looked up, and she froze.

The rain began pouring right down on Fifi’s head,

so she ran to find shelter, full of fear and dread.

As the rain came down, she noticed too far had she roamed.

For now she was lost and couldn’t find her way home.

How she longed for the warmth and comfort of her house!

She felt very lonely and didn’t want to be doused!

After she waited for what seemed like days,

she heard a loud voice calling out her name.

“Could it be?” she thought. “Could it really be true?”

Yes! They were calling – not one voice, but two!

She got so excited she ran out and meowed.

She made sure they could hear it.

She made sure it was loud.

Then, she saw them coming round the bend -

Her two human owners and her best band of friends!

She looked around and realized she hadn’t gone far.

She was under a bush in her own front yard!

She vowed right then that she’d never again roam.

She had learned her lesson -

There’s no place like home!

Guilty by Association, Part I:   http://www.cheshirescribe.com/2010/01/guilty-by-association-part-i/

Guilty by Association, Part II: http://www.cheshirescribe.com/2010/01/guilty-by-association-part-2/#more-42

Remember, this is a true story!

The girls had rented a room in the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street for an after prom party. Zoé was there with Kenny Roussell. The only reason she had even agreed to this date was because his brother, Keith, one of her best friends, had begged her. He even offered to pay her $20 to take him to prom, but she refused the money. After seeing him, however, she wished she had taken it. Kenny was not attractive. He was about six inches shorter than Zoé, who was five-foot-six, but in his white platform shoes, they were the same height. He had curly fire-engine red hair down to his collar, big, bushy eyebrows to match, and braces. He thought he was super cool in his baby blue tuxedo, white ruffled shirt, and blue bow tie. After they had been there for about an hour, Edith gathered the girls together.

“Teddy wants us ta go see him,” she said.

“We can’t just leave our dates here. They’ll wanna know where we’re goin,’” Breanna answered.

“We’ll just tell ‘em we’re goin’ outside for a few minutes. We won’t be long. We’ll just go tell Teddy hi, have a few drinks, and come right back.”

“Okay, as long as we come right back.” The girls rounded up their dates and told them they were going outside to smoke and walk around.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Kenny. Don’t wait around for me,” Zoé said.

“Can’t I go with you? I don’t like you girls wandering around out there by yourselves,” Kenny replied.

“No, you can’t come. We’ll be back in a few minutes. Now let us go.” Zoé and the other girls left their dates and snuck downstairs. They made their way to Scorpio’s around the corner, where Teddy was waiting for them.

“Oh, girls! How wonderful to see you! Edith has told me you wanted to come back.” Teddy poured them some Ouzo and the party began. The same woman was singing, but she was wearing a green sequined gown this time. Teddy walked up to the Mafioso table where the girls were sitting and said, “Come. I have a place I want you girls to see.”

The girls followed Teddy outside, and he led them down the street to an obscure building that he needed a password to enter. The door opened to another world, and Zoé felt like she was walking right into a movie. There were illegal gambling tables scattered around the room, from blackjack to roulette. Men and women dressed in formal wear milled around, gambling, drinking, and having a great time.

Teddy led the girls straight through the gambling room into a suite of offices in the back. They passed through Teddy’s office and into a conference room. The room was extremely plain, adorned with nothing but a large conference table, some chairs, and a couple of bookshelves.

“You girls have bright futures ahead,” Teddy said as he poured each of the girls another drink. “You want make lots of money, yes? I can help you make lots of money,” Teddy announced.

Zoé did not like what she was hearing. She looked at her watch and realized they had been gone for two hours.

“I think we need ta go,” she said. “Kenny’s probly worried. He’s gonna come lookin’ for us in a few minutes.”

“You do not need go just yet,” Teddy replied. “I want to ask you girls somesing.”

“You don’t understand. Kenny’s a dork. He’ll probly call the police.”

At the word “police,” Teddy jumped. “Okay, you girls may go as long as you promise to come back.” The girls jumped up and practically ran back to the hotel. Kenny was a nervous wreck.

“Where the hell have you been? I was about ta call the police.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re back now,” Zoé replied.

“You girls didn’t get yaselves in trouble, did ya?”

“Does it look like we got in trouble? Just shut up.”

“I think it’s time ta go. I need ta bring ya home.”

Zoé looked at her watch. It was almost two in the morning. “Yeah, okay.” They said their goodbyes and climbed back into Kenny’s mother’s Lincoln town car.

 *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *        

Zoé could not believe her eyes. Could it be? No, it couldn’t be them, could it?

“The FBI broke up a major gambling and prostitution ring earlier today in downtown New Orleans after surveying the ring for about nine months. The ring was led by a man who called himself ‘Teddy’ along with his two associates, ‘Billy’ and ‘Stavros.’” Images of the three men being arrested flashed across the screen. “The men have pleaded ‘not guilty’ to the crime, and have been deported back to their home country of Greece. In other news …”

Zoé’s face drained of all color and warmth. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t move. She just knew that at any moment the FBI would come knocking at her door to question her about what she had seen. She and her friends had to be on the FBI’s tapes. She was just waiting for the FBI to come knocking at her door to take her away, along with four of her friends. This could not be happening.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

This is a true story of events that happened to these girls back in 1979. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Today, the women are 47 years old and still remain friends. The girls were never questioned, nor did any of their parents ever find out what they had done. None of the girls ever saw what they now call “The Greeks” ever again, though they do still meet for dinner once a month and sometimes reminisce about the experience.

The popular downtown New Orleans restaurant Anything Goes was so popular because of its atmosphere. Each table had a theme, and the waiter or waitress dressed according to the theme of the table. There was a cheese table where the waiter was dressed as a mouse, a mafia table where the waiter was a gangster, and even a cave dweller’s hut that covered a private table. The food was below par, especially for New Orleans; they served delicacies such as burgers and fries and spaghetti. The girls sat at the firehouse table, their favorite due to the sexy fireman that waited on it, and ordered burgers and fries.

“Can you believe those guys? I mean, that one guy was like, 100 years old!” Breanna exclaimed as she handed the menu back to the waiter and winked at him.

“I know! Thank God we just left ‘em. They’ll be gone by the time we get outta here,” Lydia said.

The girls then began a different conversation, letting the smells of grilling hamburgers and frying grease penetrate their noses and fill their bodies. They ate a good meal while talking and laughing, and they all had a wonderful time just hanging out and stuffing their faces with burgers the size of bowling balls. They even had a contest to see who could stuff the whole burger in her mouth, chew it, and swallow it the fastest. As always, Lydia won – the reigning burger eating contest queen. No one had been able to dethrone her yet.

The girls finally finished about two hours later, and after they paid, they headed outside to smoke and walk around. When they opened the door to the restaurant, they saw the same three Greek men still standing there.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” Lydia whispered. “They waited dis whole time?”

 “Ah, ‘ello girls. You finis now? How you like your food?” the oldest one asked.

 “It was, uh, good,” Breanna answered.

 “Zat’s wonderful. You girls ready now?”

 “Ready for what?” Zoé asked.

 “To ha’ some fun of course. Oh, how rude I am! You do not know our names. I am Teddy, zis is Billy, and zis is Stavros.” As he pointed to each of the men to introduce them, the girls’ eyes followed. Teddy was a big man of his late thirties with a curly, black afro, large, round, black eyes that penetrated to your soul, a pointy nose, and a mustache. The man to his left, Billy, was the youngest of the group, probably around his early twenties. He was extremely attractive with short, straight, dark hair parted to the side and sharp features. He had a square chin and no facial hair, and his teeth were so white they seemed to glow in the dark. The other man to Teddy’s right, Stavros, was a quiet man with a commanding presence. He was in between the other two in age, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. He had wavy, dark hair down to his collar, large, round, dark eyes, and a pointy nose. He never spoke, but he still somehow commanded your attention.

 “We are from Greece. You ladies ready to ha’ some fun now?” Teddy continued.

 The girls looked at each other, all thinking the same thing – adventure time!

 “Sure, we’ll hang out wit’ ya,” Breanna said. “Where ya wanna go?”

“We go to my bar around za corner. Follow me.” Teddy took off down the street, taking long strides and looking over his shoulder every few feet. He seemed extremely paranoid, which the girls found weird considering how large he was. The group rounded the corner, and Teddy stopped at the corner building. He walked up the five steps to the large double doors even with the corner and held one open for the girls. As Zoé walked up the steps, she looked up at the sign over the door that read “Scorpio’s.” A chill went up her spine as she read the name. This place didn’t sound so nice.

The inside of Scorpio’s consisted of a large, Mafioso table in the center of the room filled with place settings, Sangria, and food, a bandstand on which a large breasted woman in a blue sequined gown and lots of blue and purple eye shadow sang Greek songs, and a small dance floor in front of the bandstand. The place smelled of cigars, sweat, and alcohol.

Teddy led the girls to the large Mafioso table where they all sat and ordered wine and mixed drinks. After a few minutes, Teddy decided to introduce the girls to real Greek culture with some Ouzo. The waiter placed shot glasses in front of each girl and filled them with a thick, minty and licorice tasting liquid.

“Drink up!” Teddy shouted as the girls slammed the shots.

“Opa!” they all screamed, then smashed their glasses on the floor. Zoé was amazed at this foreign culture and their unique traditions and lifestyle. It was so much fun, and these guys had ended up being a lot cooler than she thought. She continued to have a great time with her new friends, and, as the night waned away into the early hours of the morning, the girls became more and more intoxicated. After about three or four hours of Greek parties, music, and Ouzo, the girls decided they had better get home.

“My motha is gonna kill me if I don’t get up for church in the mornin’,” Zoé slurred. “We gotta go.” Zoé stood to leave, along with Lydia, Breanna, and Tonia. Edith was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Edith?” Lydia asked. The girls searched the room and found Edith in the corner with her hand down Teddy’s pants. He had his hand on her rear end, and they were passionately making out in the dark recesses of the bar.

“Edith! Come on, let’s go,” Zoé said, dragging Edith away from her new found love.

“I’ll see ya lata, hun! Call me!” Edith yelled as her friends dragged her to the car.