Novel - The Ozone Café - Tattoo Lady, 2

Tattoo Lady (contd)

Everyone makes an effort for the party to be the coup d'etart of all parties. Winifred's mum and dad arrive with freshly cooked prawns, Ronny and Marjorie hover at the doorway with a bottle of champagne and homemade sausage rolls. The dining room table is filled with all kinds of assorted meats, chicken, turkey, ham. Strong smells of antipasto with olives, Gruyere cheese, dried tomatoes, salami, deliciously erupt through the room. Bill Sanderson and his lady friend are sitting in the corner with drinks on their lap, watching Pomadina's antics, while she spins crazily on all fours.

In the kitchen, Sandra pulls Vincenzo by side, away from an in depth conversation with Betty from the Club. 'I want you to meet my friend, Mandy,' says Sandra, bringing Vincenzo a little closer by pulling on his knitted vest. 'Mandy and I work together, Vin. We've known each other for fifteen years, through thick and thin.'

'Through divorces as well,' adds Mandy, shaking Vincenzo's hand. 'I've heard so much about your wonderful cooking and your Ozone Café, I'd like to take a look sometime,' she says, sweeping her blonde hair over her shoulders.

Vincenzo felt a little tongue-tied and all he could manage was a nod, saying, 'anytime, I be there.' What a babe he thought, nice looking, nice figure, smart too. He couldn't help thinking that tonight he would let his hair down, although he only had a few on top. It didn't matter. Wait until they hear the music. He waved all the women in from the kitchen to the lounge room where the men were seated. He asked his sisters to stand beside him. He wanted to make the introductions just right.

'Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, it gives me...I mean I am a very proud man tonight. Be quiet Pomadina,' he says, shaking his finger at the dog, so that she sat up on er haunches for the first time. 'My three lovely sisters have paid me the honour of a visit, so it is fitting that I pay them the honour of introducing them, one by one.'

Vincenzo proceeded to name his sisters, each time telling his guests about their little quirky natures, their good points, their not-so-good points (which got a laugh), and how back in Paola with a big family, they didn't have very much money, but the family was close and he promised that it would always be so. He got loud cheering at the end, with plenty of back slapping. Everyone warmed to Vincenzo. You see a man will be blessed by "the one above who sends down the warmth of the sun each day", if he leads a virtuous life, if he is good and kindly and leads the life of a saint. Well not quite so for Vincenzo, although he tried very hard to please everybody. However, Vincenzo's life was full of sunshine, and tonight he thought while God was sleeping he might get up to some wild things.

After the champagne and toasting, and before everyone dispersed, Vincenzo made another announcement. 'In the backroom,' he says, waving Bill Sanderson over. 'We got a machine, so just wait a minute, we gonna bring out the music.'

After a few minutes, with loud sounds of crashing, Bill and Vincenzo trolley in the largest juke box you have ever seen.

'Oh, man, the real deal,' says Rennie.

'It's a Seeburg, one of the best playing, sounding machines you'll ever find. But as from tonight it belongs to Vin. Let's rock 'n' roll the Seeburg, Vin.'

The women stand amazed at the sight before them. A nickelodian on wheels. It blipped and blinked on seconds of being plugged in; red, yellow, green, and blue lights flickering on and off as Vincenzo stacks some of his favourite records. Sandra and Rennie help clear the room, lifting the carpet rug from the floorboards. 'Let's dance,' Vincenzo says, clicking his glass with Anna's.

It was the Fourth of July, the end of the war, end of the revolution, Mardi Gras, New Year's Eve and Vincenzo's party all rolled into one. The discs clicked over, spinning the sounds of Bobby Darren, Elvis Presley, the Animals, and with uproarious laughter they clicked their heels, swung into a jive, or jigged on the spot, all singing along to the night has a thousand eyes, and a thousand eyes can see but true...uuuuuu.

Vincenzo knew he would have to dance with Mandy after his three sisters, Marjorie, Betty and Sandra. He gulped down two shots of Vodka for Dutch courage. He walked out to the back verandah, where Mandy was talking to Ronny, about real estate.

'Hey, watch that man, he sell you his grandmother,' says Vincenzo.

'I'm thinking of moving here, Vin. What do you think of that?'
'Okay, but I bet you can move on the dance floor better. Madam, would you like to dance with me?'

'Guess, I'll give it a burl.'

'Huh?'

'I'll try Vin, but I can't dance. I never learnt.'

'Doesn't matter. Come with me. I show you. Flapper style.'

It was Vincenzo's chance to show off his dance skills. He boogied, jitterbugged, and showed Mandy the Charleston. She nodded her approval, moving in close to his jiggling knees, telling him she could also cross her knees like the roaring thirties.

Puffed out, Vincenzo guided Mandy out the front, to the small porch where there were just two convenient cane chairs for them. 'I think I danced my knees off,' says Vincenzo. 'I can't feel them, oh, yes there they are. Still on their best behaviour.'

'Are you always on you best behaviour?' asks Mandy.

'Tonight, I very drunk....and you the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Mandy, I wanna...make...make you the most delicious meal in my café. What you say to that?'

'Why don't we go there now. You can show me around. No-one will miss us, they'll all drunk in there.'

Vincenzo's ears pricked. His groin suddenly ached. When was the last time, he thought, that he had been alone with a woman, a beautiful woman like this. And she was coming onto him in a big way. He couldn't believe his luck. He patted his belly. No, it was no longer a rotund lump of lard, he had lost weight, slimmed down with all the walking along the beach. He was only fifty six, still young and his body was telling him that he would like to touch this woman in the night, enter her gently from behind and feel lost in the smell of her Venus de Milo body.

'Okay,' he said, slapping his knees and getting up. In fact he sprung from the chair, delighted by the soft, delicate skin of Mandy's hand placed in his.

'It's just a short walk. Good shoes. Flat. Just right for walking along in the sand.'

'I once came to Satara Bay when I was little, for a holiday. But it's all changed. The Club is bigger, and there's more shops. It seems everyone on the Sunrise Coast commutes down the line to Sydney. I could do that until I found a job, maybe, in Heystbury.

Vincenzo opened the front doors, turned on the lights, then doused them quickly to just cubicle lights. He wanted to keep this wonderful mood happening. He was itching to ask this woman to be his friend from the very start, but thought it wise to take things slowly.

'What's up there?' Mandy points, wobbling slightly towards the first stair.

'It's my bedroom, and bathroom, of course. Actually I have two bathrooms and one other room for Pomadina.'

Vincenzo suddenly realised that he had forgotten Pomadina. She would fret, at first, then probably during the night would scratch at the front door. 'I forget Pomadina,' he said, giggling. 'Come with me. We have another drink upstairs.'

'I love your café, what I can see of it.'

'It's better in the daylight. Here, I show you my family.'

Mandy gently put down the photo album that was in Vincenzo's hand, and bent over in front of him, pulling down her lace panties. Vincenzo couldn't believe the beautiful porcelain sight in front of him. 'I wanted to show you my seahorse tattoo,' she says, pointing to another, below the bikini line. She lifted her blouse to reveal two full breasts pushed up by a wire contraption, and lowering the lace to almost the tip of her nipple, she showed Vincenzo her ladybird on the left, and her Scorpion on the right. Then Vincenzo discovered another tattoo on her belly, touching it with his hands like a precious jewel. He found himself kissing another slightly above her pubic hairs and then he was searching his naked body for war scars, but there were none, and both these two single people began pressing into each other, the dark pressing down gently on their bodies, their tongues finding the sweetness of each other's mouths. For a moment the ladybird flew away, the scorpion crawled under a rock, the seahorse rocked away, the butterfly winged skyward, and two swords sunk deep into flesh during the night, and one very hard sword belonged to Vincenzo.

* * *

In the morning Vincenzo had plenty of opportunity to study the nude body beside him. Mandy looked like Lady Godiva. Her hair was slightly wrapped around her body so that it covered one of her breasts as she lay on her side. He was smitten.

Novel - The Ozone Café - Tattoo Lady

Tattoo Lady

There's a flurry in the morning to get dressed. Rosanna puts on her yellow silk suit. Anna raises one eyebrow at Natasha's purple and pink dress, matching pill-box hat. They are all dressed for the Queen, but haven't realised that they will have to walk the sandy road edges to the Ozone Café. The café that has floorboards covered in the stains of the sea, cracked seats and youths playing billiards. Louts who would look at you with their toothpicks dangling, their mouths grinning. The same café that once served beautiful Italian pasta, gonchi, baked fish with garlic and wine, now offers fish and chips, hamburgers, greasy savaloys or steak and onions. The women are in a rush, the back verandah where the sleepout is, is overflowing with junk. Starting with the three beds, the covers are in chaos; strewn skirts, hats, underwear, slips and pyjamas of all shades and hues. The sickly-sweet smell of perfume is unbelievable. The one dressing table that they all share is a dust bowl of powder, jewellery, lipsticks and hair pins.

Anna is looking for her one last unholed stocking. 'Excuse, excuse,' she says, pushing past Rosanna who is plastering her lips candy apple pink. 'You seen my nylons, I put them there,' she says, pointing at the end of the bed.

Rosanna shrugs. 'You can have a pair of mine, down there, in my suitcase. We find yours later, hurry, hurry. We need a cup of coffee first.'

It was a tight squeeze around the kitchen table. Sandra had made a pot of good Italian coffee and was serving her guests with Bouslaka bread and cheese.

'You good girl,' says Natasha. 'We like you, better than Titianna. She was, how you say, a packet of noodles short of a bowl.'

'I never met her,' says Sandra. 'Rennie told me that one morning she packed her bags and left while he was at work. The police found out she went to Queensland and Rennie told me he was better off without her.'

'She probably wanted a cane farmer,' says Anna. 'You know, a man on the land, that she could work beside. I bet she's up there now, cutting cane and killing snakes.'

'Na, too soft for that. That little babushka would be rocking the cradle, with three children, and baking cakes.'

'Oh, well. Hey, what time is Vinnie coming to collect us?'
'He'll be here any minute,' says Sandra. 'I won't be coming because I must prepare for the party tonight.'

All the women give a loud cheer, fluttering their polyester front bows, fingers under their cultured pearls. They scuff around, rinsing coffee cups and generally getting in the way of each other.

There is a squeak of the front flywire door and Vincenzo pops his head around the kitchen door. He's dressed in shorts, a white open-necked sports shirt and thongs. He chuckles at the sight before his eyes. 'Hey,' he says, 'You look like the time you came to my wedding. You girls could always put a man through the punishment, but believe me, and seven hail Marys for my penance, how you gals gonna walk along the road in those crocodile stilts?'

'Walk?' says Anna.

'Yeah, it's just up the road,' giggles Vincenzo. 'I never had anyone dress up for me like that before.'

The ladies look unforgiving at each other through Sandra's coughing smoke fit. 'I'm glad you're telling them, Vincenzo,' she says, swiping the air to dispel her extra cigarette plume. 'I didn't have the courage.'

'We don't know Australia,' says Natasha, 'so how we know what to wear, huh?'

'Oh, come on. Doesn't matter. We wanna see the Ozono. What you got for lunch, Vinnie?'

Anna swings herself around in the hallway, dervishing her new pleated skirt, while Natasha pushes her along.

Vincenzo hasn't told his sisters yet, but he has a surprise for them. He couldn't bear to think of the ladies trying to plonk their false teeth into a mound of hamburger meat or a thick beef steak, so he has prepared his piece de resistance. Fresh King Prawns with a pesto salad for his entree. Then he's baking a whole large Queensland Barrumundi with yoghurt, shallots, red peppers, garlic and wine, with fresh side vegetables. For dessert he will open his strawberry preserves, serving them with homemade waffles, so that he will drizzle each section with the fruit, strawberry juice and fresh cream.

* * *

The three women sink down into a cubicle and remove their shoes. The café is an inner sanctum after the long, hot walk on their wobbly high heels. Vincenzo had held them in suspense about the lunch he will serve, keeping them in good cheer, telling them that next time he would take them to the supermarket and buy each sister a pair of rubber thongs (for the sand).

On impulse Anna tries every flavour of syrup at the milkshake stand. Natasha is a little annoyed that Maria was too pained to come with them to see her husband's beautiful café. They take photographs commenting on the children's mural, the outside walls shaped like a woman's body, all curvey and humpy like big thighs and bosoms. His beautiful vegetable and herb garden. The outdoor dining area for special events, with Mediterannean umbrellas and timber decking. His palm trees with colourful fairy lights. His emaculate kitchen with stainless steel pots, a deep fryer, and all the latest modern appliances, especially the waffle machine. They love the pinballs, the young men playing snooker and play the jukebox along with the boys, as if they eighteen again.

A trickle of tears lines Vincenzo's cheek. He wanted four women today, prancing around. Maria begging him to dance to Tony Bennett, while Natasha and Anna rock 'n' roll along the aisles. But there is only three and he claps to their knees-up, the flaying of skirts side to side like Annette Funicello. Anna pretending to slick her hair back like Bobby Darren.

'Oh,' says Natasha, sitting back down again. 'I get too old for this. Hey look! Vinnie's bringing out the first course.'

* * *

They plied through the meal, laughing, joking, singing all the old songs from back home. When the last of the snooker boys had left, Vincenzo closed the front door, swinging his sign around. He was tired of listening to the clacking balls. It was time to give some cheer to his favourite sisters and maybe plug them for some information about Maria.

When the dishes were stacked away, Vincenzo brought out his best Blue Mountain coffee. He had bought a new Italian coffee pot for the occasion, little white porcelain cups and saucers, sugar bowl and milk jug to match.
'You think of everything, Vin.'

'I think of Maria, Anna. I don't wanna spoil you girls fun, but I was hoping...'

'Ah, it was never meant to be. She's too selfish, full of her own aspirations....she wanna be a famous artist. Vinnie, forget her. You got a new life here, with your brother, a beautiful bay to fish, a cafe that has a view that is magnifico and well, why not think about...'

'Hey, leave him alone,' interupts Anna. 'He can get drunk tonight at the party.'

'Party?'

'Yeah, Sandra is putting on a party for us. Would you believe it? She's invited all your friends, Vinnie.'

'In that case, I have a few Oozo's.'