Chapter 4: Gift Shop (Excerpt)

An old woman watched them from her perch on a stool behind the front counter. She was round and flabby. Parts of her oozed over the side of the stool. Her face was red and rough. Above her scowl, her hair stuck up like wires.

Alison remembered what it felt like to be overweight, not that she’d ever been as big as the old woman. She wondered for a moment if that’s what she would have eventually looked like if she hadn’t started eating better and exercising more. If Olivia hadn’t helped her. Alison felt kind of sorry for the old woman who had no Olivia in her life. Maybe she didn’t have anyone in her life. Alison smiled at her, but the old woman just kept scowling. This annoyed Alison. This is why I never bother to be nice to people.

Even this far up the highway, there were Cape November postcards and magnets, picture frames and ashtrays. Some showed the beach or the ocean, but they could have been of any beach as far as Alison could tell. There were a few old-fashioned sepia pictures of old cars and men in suits with derby hats and women in long hoop skirts. A few faded postcards showed a lighthouse that looked like it was made of blue stone blocks.

But the place was more like an antiques store than a gift shop. There were sets of old dishes, racks of men’s neckties, a whole row of used coffeemakers, all shoved next to each other with no order, just chaos.

As Alison moved farther in, the shelves became more cluttered and dusty. A black mug caught her eye. Examining it, she saw a dark sky over a stormy ocean. Huge octopus tentacles reached up out of the waves. Blue, dripping letters spelled, Beware of Cappy. Alison shivered slightly and set down the mug. The whole place was giving her the creeps, and she was sorry she’d come in. Alison glanced back at the old woman. Still scowling.

Alison found Olivia, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up a ratty old pocketbook and then a huge desktop lighter. She was fascinated by stuff like that. Olivia was curious about everything, like a little kid in some ways. Each new thing she would pick up and show Alison. They laughed together. It felt good.

They laughed like that the night before when they were packing. Alison had spent an hour giving Olivia a killer pedicure, and then she hid her toes inside her stupid running shoes. She had probably destroyed the pedicure, but Alison had learned a long time ago that it wasn’t worth getting annoyed at Olivia for things like that. That was just Olivia. She was proud to be clueless about fashion.

Chapter 3: Feeding the Pythons (Excerpt)

At the table...

Olivia swallowed her last bite of awesome cheeseburger. Mr. Nunios was right; the food was great. The old wood paneling made everything dark, but antique stained glass lamps, each one different, hung over the tables. In the yellow light of the lamps, Olivia saw dozens of black and white photographs stuck on the mirror. Many were of parties from long ago with people dancing in suits and dresses. In some they wore paper party hats like it was New Year’s Eve or something. Some were close-ups, signed by people Olivia had never heard of, but who must have been famous once. She wondered if she signed a picture and hung it on the mirror, would some kid in fifty years think she had been a celebrity because she had a picture hanging on the wall.

The table was littered with their dirty plates. Everyone’s antique map placemat was stained with ketchup and barbecue sauce except Mrs. Nunios’s. Her map was still clean. Olivia could see the tentacles of a mythical sea monster just offshore near a finger of land labeled Cape November.

Feeling guilty for picking at her fries in front of Alison, Olivia covered her plate with her paper napkin like Alison had. That had been Alison’s nutritionist’s suggestion. If Alison finished all her fries, her mother would be all over her about it.

To distract herself from the fries, Olivia watched Michael tip back in his chair and pat his rock-hard abs. The terrifying boneyard in his plate used to be his Oink and Cluck Deluxe platter.

Mrs. Nunios called the pale, young waitress and politely asked her to wrap up her grilled chicken Caesar salad.

“You’re taking that?” Mr. Nunios asked, sounding doubtful.

“It’s a whole piece of chicken and a lot of salad.”

“Who’s gonna eat it?”

“I’ll eat the chicken.” Michael beamed.

“You’ll eat anything,” Alison pointed out.

“I gotta feed the pythons.” While the waitress cleared their places, Michael grinned broadly and, leaning farther back in his chair, flexed his huge biceps in his red sleeveless tee shirt. It said Bulls Wrestling. The waitress was pretty, Olivia decided, in a washed-out kind of way. Not her type, but she could see where Michael would try to flirt with her.

Olivia had spent a lot of time in one gym or another, and as a swimmer, she had seen plenty of great bodies, both male and female. There was no denying that Michael was in impressive shape. Big, but not bulky. Solid as a rock. A lot of girls thought Michael was totally hot and, while he definitely wasn’t her type, she understood the attraction. She considered for a moment what it would be like to be with Michael, but it was only a thought experiment. With his thick mop of curly black hair, he looked like a male version of Alison, except his eyes were blue like his dad and Alison’s were brown like Mrs. Nunios. It wasn’t like she never fantasized about being with Alison, but when the fantasy was over and reality returned, she felt dirty and guilty, so she rarely indulged in that daydream. There were plenty of other pretty girls to think about.

Olivia felt embarrassed and slightly violated when Michael’s chair made a loud cracking noise, startling her out of her naughty thoughts. He flapped his arms like a bird to keep from falling over backwards. Olivia laughed out loud.

“Don’t encourage him,” Mrs. Nunios sighed.

“Did you just break the chair, Mikey?” Mr. Nunios snapped. “I swear if you busted that chair…”

Michael looked down and wiggled his weight around on it. “No. I saved it.”

Olivia cracked up at Michael and then really lost it when she saw that Alison had snarfed club soda out of her nose. Michael was laughing, too.

The waitress looked more annoyed than amused, probably because she was the one cleaning up. The waitress scurried back into the kitchen to wrap the food for Michael’s pythons. Watching her sway Olivia realized the waitress might have been more her type than she had first thought. Not that Olivia could do anything about it at the moment. She couldn’t even flirt badly like Michael. Not unless she was ready to answer a bunch of uncomfortable questions. And she wasn’t. Story of my life.

Artists Wanted

We are looking for artists...

Tonio Favetta, the author, is inviting all artists to create illustrations of characters and scenes from his new book Falling From the Ground.  Your art work can be submitted as an attachment to an email to tonio@fallingfromtheground.com in either JPEG or EPS format. 

All credited submittals will be displayed on this web site as part of the GALLERY along with the artist's name and contact information.  In addition, the artwork will be prominently displayed on social media and at live public events for the novel. 

Author Meet and Greet, A Milburn Chamber of Commerce Spring Event

Tonio Favetta will talk about his new book, Falling From the Ground, his love for reading, and the process that lead to his book being completed and published.  He will also sign your book, answer any questions you may, and entertain you with his wit at this Milburn Chamber of Commerce Spring Event.

• Saturday, May 20, 2017
• 3:00pm  5:00pm
• Unwind Boutique Atrium, Milburn, NJ

• 345 Millburn Ave. Millburn, NJ 07041

Falling From the Ground is available at Amazon.com

SPEAKING OF STRANGE CHARACTERS...

Falling From the Ground was partly inspired by the funky, slightly freaky vibe of beach towns like Cape May, NJ and Provincetown, MA.  The Strange Xchange pop-up flea market today, hosted by Mark and Mark of Weird NJ Magazine manages to bottle up a little of that lightning.  This will be a fun place to set up a table and meet some new readers next time the event comes to town.  I wonder what new characters it will inspire...

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