Chapter 6 #4
Suwarna perked up, standing a little straighter. “I wouldn’t mind that granite god pushing me up against a wall.”
Emma-Lou turned to her, wide-eyed. “What?”
Suwarna shrugged innocently, “Come on, you two. Rino Ferrari is the handsomest man in Greater Napanee. He’s incredibly rich, irresistibly swarthy, and he smells expensive.”
Carrington raised a skeptical brow. “So, you like him?”
“We all like him, Carrington,” Suwarna replied with a smirk. “You can play coy, but you didn’t wear your vintage Gucci today by accident.”
Carrington gave a nonchalant shrug, “He would be acceptable date material.”
Suwarna grinned, “Uh-huh. Finally, Carrington tells the truth.”
The sound of well-made Italian shoes clicked against the chapel floor, and the trio turned to see Rino Ferrari approaching.
He moved with the smooth confidence of a man who knew his charm was irresistible, his olive skin glowing with a natural tan honestly earned by charming clients in the car dealership parking lot.
His dark hair was perfectly tousled, and the sharp lines of his suit cut through the air like he was walking onto a runway, not into a funeral.
“Suwarna. Carrington.” His voice was warm, laced with a thick Italian accent that made even the most mundane words sound melodic. “Good evening. You both look… lovely.”
His eyes landed on Emma-Lou, and he took her hand in both of his.
“Emma-Lou, Bella! I’m so sorry for your loss.
I still can’t get over it. Lost in the Bermuda Triangle…
” He shook his head in disbelief. “My parents are beside themselves. They can’t believe the way they found the yacht, just floating there like nothing had happened.
Except… well… your parents vanished! The ice not even melted in their caipirinhas.
I’m just so sorry, Emma-Lou. So strange, so mysterious, and so, so sad. ”
“Thank you, Rino,” Emma-Lou managed, her voice tight. “It’s good of you to come.”
“Of course,” Rino said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Our families have always been like family. And you know the Ferraris, as Christians, have always been loyal investors in WWJD. It’s never been more important than now to see a real return on that investment. To honour your parents.”
Emma-Lou blinked, her heart skipping a beat, “Of course, now that I’m taking on…”
“Everything, yes, I’ve heard,” Rino interrupted smoothly.
“You’re responsible for everything. And we’ve had some concerns that WWJD has been in dire straits.
It really needs to grab the new Gen Y audience if it…
and you want to survive and thrive. Our parents had a great arrangement.
The Ferraris put money into the radio station, and for that, we expect to see results.
Maybe it’s a bit of our old-world business mentality.
The problem is, lately, the money’s going in, which logically should grow a business, but instead, it’s shrinking and shrinking.
And soon, maybe it even disappears, like your parents. ”
“I didn’t…” Emma-Lou stammered, feeling a cold sweat break out across her forehead.
Rino leaned in close, his breath warm on her ear, “I know. You didn’t know. That’s why I stopped by. You need a new sound, Emma-Lou. Fix this.”
He released her hand, the click of his shoes echoing through the chapel as he walked away, leaving behind a trail of expensive cologne and tension so thick you could cut it with a mezzluna.
Carrington let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Ughhhh… why is he so damn sexy?”
“Even when he’s sprinkling around veiled threats?” Suwarna added, her eyes still trailing after him.
“It’s the way he unveils the violence. So velvety.” Carrington mused; arms crossed. “Are we masochists?”
“Maybe,” Suwarna shrugged. “Because I would definitely let him tie me up.”
“Or spank me,” Carrington added, with a sly grin.
“Absolutely!” Suwarna clapped, catching the attention of the next guest in line, thinking she was signalling them to approach. She quickly held up her hand as a stop sign, shaking her head. The guest skittered to a halt.
“Guys!” Emma-Lou snapped, exasperated. “A little more help and a little less porny picture painting? Do you think the Ferraris and my parents…”
“... were laundering money through a Christian radio station in butt-fuck nowhere-Ville?” Carrington interrupted.
“... were having sex?” Suwarna asked, her face innocent before quickly adding, “Oh, sorry, I was going to say the same thing. Money laundering.”
“Seriously?” Emma-Lou’s face paled.
Carrington rolled their eyes, “He’s Italian, rich, bang-me brawny, not relevant, but worth mentioning, and he kind of just threatened your life.”
“No!” Emma-Lou protested loudly, which again caught the cortege’s attention. She lowered her voice and turned into a huddle with Carrington and Suwarna. “No!”
Suwarna shrugged, “Rino said, ‘if you want to survive and thrive.’”
“But that’s like… a euphemism,” Emma-Lou insisted.
“No,” Carrington said dryly. “It’s Italian.”
Emma-Lou threw her hands in the air, her voice edging toward panic. “What are we going to do?”
Carrington considered for a moment, then offered, “I’d do what he said. Find a new sound for the station. Find an audience. Seriously, the hymns and chanting 24-7 are a little repetitive. Some new music wouldn’t hurt.”
As if on cue, Japheth and Rebekkah launched into their new song, MMMBless, that had sun drenched musical phrases reminiscent of Hanson’s MMMbop but with lyrics conveniently adjusted for the subdued setting.
The familiar upbeat tune filled the chapel, and despite themselves, people began to tap their feet.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh yeah!
You make so many exits in this life,
only one of them sticks fast…” Rebekkah led the first few lines of verse.
Japheth shimmied his shoulders and took over,
“You go through all the praise and strife, then poof!
At least you’re not raptured last. Oh yeah!”
Rebekkah leaned in and echoed,
“And you’re gone so fast, yeah, oh!”
And then together in perfect harmony, they continued the song that though very upbeat was still surprisingly appropriate for the funeral.
“So, hold tight to the ones who still despair,
‘cause at your wake, they’ll be in those folding chairs.
And when you get old and start losing your hair,
who gets your ashes? Do you even care?
Can you tell me if you care?
Yeah–ee-yeah-eee-yeah-ee-yeah!”
Suwarna stared at the duo, then turned to Emma-Lou, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Emma-Lou groaned, rubbing her temples. “I can’t hear myself think over all those vocal runs.”
Japheth and Rebekkah had started stomping their feet and clapping along with the chorus and a few people had joined in with them,
“MMMBless, ba duba da ba do DROP.
Bury it or burn it up. Ba dube bop, ba duba dop ba du.
Yeah, eee-yeah-ee-yeah. MMMBless, ba duba da ba do DROP.
Scatter your ashes from a rowboat ba du yeah!”
“Stop thinking and listen,” Suwarna insisted. “That dolled up denim duo could be the answer to your prayer.”