Chapter Twenty-Nine Nomi #2
The Council-friends have already taken their seats on stage, the city manager chatting with Tonuto a few feet from the mic.
This is how all parades in Sparrow Nook end—in the park with a bandstand for civic speeches and wholesome entertainment, surrounded by food trucks shilling pierogis and cheesesteaks and all other manner of gut bombs.
After the last float, the town joins the parade, walking down Main Street together, pulling beach wagons filled to the brim with zero-gravity chairs, kids, and Yeti coolers.
Small Town America at its most tricked out.
Sammy’s food truck is parked directly next to the bandstand—a prime location he must’ve camped out overnight to get. When the tiny car comes to a wheezing stop, I unclench my legs and hobble to the food truck window. “Sammy!” I screech over the sound of sizzling meat.
A bandana’ed head appears from the side, wielding a metal spatula. “Nomi? What’s up, hun?”
“What is Mike Tonuto’s last name?”
“Huh?” Sammy frowns.
“What’s his full name, Sammy? Say it!” I slap the counter. It’s at my face’s level, which makes me feel like a toddler.
Sammy’s face hardens, fingers gripping the spatula. “Michelangelo Shawn Tonuto DiFiore. Why?”
“We got him, Sammy!” The grin explodes on my face. “Look!”
Sammy reviews the welcome letter from Jersey Mike’s, his face reddening in rage. “Jersey Mike’s?! He’s trying to destroy Mom’s legacy with corporate bread!” His eyes are big and desperate. “They don’t use Sarcone’s, Nomi! They don’t!”
“No.” I grimace in agreement. Even I, a Georgia transplant, understand the sanctity of Sarcone’s rolls. “They do not.”
“This is low, this is LOW! Even for Mikey!”
The last float arrives, the town tailing behind. The audio tech’s doing a last-minute sound check, tapping the microphone while Tonuto stands by, preparing to give the opening remarks.
I whip back around. “We’ve got to expose him, Sammy! Today, now, before it’s too late!”
“Let’s take ’im down,” Sammy growls.
Julian jogs back to my side, having “parked” the tiny car in a nearby ditch. “I’m here! What’s the plan?”
“Um, plan. Right.” I wince, wishing I’d vaped literally any other strain. Julian and Sammy are looking to me to lead this rally against injustice, but I keep getting distracted by the siren smell of funnel cake. “I’m thinking.”
“Welcome to Sparrow Nook’s Annual Labor Day Big Day Off Celebration!
” Tonuto’s amplified voice bounces suddenly around the park.
Families are still setting up their picnic blankets and chairs, battling tent poles and rolling out grills too big to be portable, but Tonuto’s impatient as always.
He clears his throat into the microphone, peeved already.
I form a tight huddle with Julian and Sammy.
“We need to get Council-friend Min’s attention, lure her off the stage somehow.
If we tell her what’s going on, she’ll know what to do.
Sammy, you try from over here. Offer her—I don’t know.
A free cheesesteak or something. Julian, see if you can creep around backstage.
I’ll take the other side.” As we break apart, my comrades look less than impressed with my plan, but I don’t know what else to do.
“But there are security guards back there,” Julian says.
“Seduce who you must. You have my permission.” I slap his confused face lightly on the cheek, then sprint off for the other side of the stage, closest to where Min’s sitting.
Tonuto rails over the general hubbub. “Our musical entertainment will begin shortly, but before that, it is time to appoint this year’s slate of new officers for your city council!”
I trip over a family’s blanket. They’re appointing the new officers today? Shit. Is that why Tonuto’s leading the ceremony? Is he up for chair? If he gets it, he’ll control the agenda for the next year!
This might be our only chance to expose him for the fraud he is.
I take my position at the side stage, as close as I can get. “Min!” I hiss through cupped hands. “Min!”
She doesn’t hear me. I try again. When that doesn’t work, I take a deep breath and run up to the security guard posted at the side stage entrance.
“Listen, I have to talk to Min Lee—it’s a council emergency! Can you get her attention for me?”
The security guard looks me up and down. Really regretting wearing this cropped wife-pleaser that states “Bong Hits for Jesus” right now.
“You can wait,” the guard says from behind her black sunglasses, like I’m some weird council groupie here to get my bra signed.
I groan, then stomp back to signal the others.
Sammy’s busy waving a long, foil-wrapped steak at Min, but he’s having no more luck than I am.
I can’t see Julian anywhere, so either the seduction has failed or is still in progress.
“Council-friends, without further ado, the floor is open for motions to appoint the city council chair.” Tonuto straightens his lapels and grins as Vlad the Tiler promptly stands and states: “I move to appoint Council-friend Mike Tonuto to Chair.”
Fuck!
Mike places a hand on his chest, simpering. “I’m honored, Council-friend Vlad. Truly. Do I have a second?”
My eyes widen as Chester clears his throat. I don’t have time for Min, or intelligent plans, or anything other than action. I hurry over and tap the security guard’s shoulder. “That man has a free steak for you.” I point to Sammy.
While the guard’s head is turned, I race up the wobbly steps, boots thundering across the stage, then snatch the microphone from Tonuto’s shocked hand.
“Assassin!” Council-chair Chester shrieks, then throws himself flat on the stage.
Really? I know Chester’s paranoid, but he went straight to assassin?
“No, no, no.” I wave my hands in the universal sign of there’s been a mistake, please don’t shoot! Lil Dom’s already approaching the stage at a clip but slows when he sees it’s me. “I’m not here to assassinate anyone, but I am here to expose Tonuto for corruption before you appoint him Chair!”
“Guards!” Tonuto bellows.
“Wait one second, Tonuto! Or should I say, Michelangelo uh…Shawn? Yes, Shawn Tonuto DiFiore!”
Tonuto’s face blanches as the crowd gasps. It is a terrible name.
“Let Ms. Wyeth speak.” Council-friend Shar raises her hands to stop the guards bustling onto the stage. Reluctantly, they halt, and she smiles at me grimly. “Nomi, this better be good.”
“Sammy DiFiore’s been claiming his half brother, the so-called Mike Tonuto, uses his city council position to unfairly target Sammy’s Steaks for years.
Well, I have proof!” I shake my phone in one hand, the welcome letter in the other.
“Mike Tonuto used his real name, Michelangelo DiFiore, to start a secret LLC with Zoning Commissioner Jacqueline Lombardi and Tonuto’s long-time lackey Wilson Phillips.
Their LLC registered their business to my dispensary’s address, which they planned to lease to deliver the ultimate slap in the face to Sammy—by opening a Jersey Mike’s directly across the street! ”
The crowd burbles in shock. “Hell yeah!” one guy yells. “I love Jersey Mike’s!”
“But my dispensary beat Tonuto’s LLC to leasing the space, and since then, he’s done everything in his power to shut me down. Here’s the proof.” The Council-friends pass my phone and the letter down the line, shock painting their faces.
“Corporate bread, Mikey!” Sammy roars from below. “How could you?!”
Tonuto’s eyes ground into mine, his face dimpled with a deep, furious scowl. “This woman is a complete loser, a stoner, don’t listen to her—she’s high right now! Do you deny it?”
A thousand pairs of eyes swing toward me, collectively fixating on my tank top.
“No,” I assert, standing as tall as I can. I look hot in this tank top, and I know it. “I don’t deny it, Tonuto. Today is supposed to be my big day off, but because of you, I’m up here working to take out the trash!”
Unaccountably, the entire sanitation workers union goes up in cheers.
I… think I’m a labor hero? I saunter over to Tonuto, high on rowdy union applause and the piss of a unicorn.
“You can try to vilify cannabis and the people who use it all you want, but I know who I am, I know my worth, and I deserve every good thing in this life whether I fit into your idea of a good capitalist achiever or not.” I drive my finger into Tonuto’s chest, hard, and take a deep breath in, swallowing as I turn to face my town.
Mom’s words come back to me in a rush, and I realize now that she’s right.
If there ever was a time to show both sides of the cannabis debate—how it could help the town and change people’s lives at an individual level—it’s now.
It’s here, with me, owning my illness and all the vulnerability I’ve fought so hard to hide.
If I don’t give this moment everything that I’ve got, if I hold back and Tonuto gets away with all his bullshit, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
I’m tired of living in shame, and maybe it’s time that I expect more from myself and my town—acceptance and love for me, all of me, even the parts that, occasionally, shit fire. I take a deep breath.
“I didn’t always believe happiness is possible. I—have Crohn’s disease, and at times I get very, very sick.”
I glance down and find Eve and Graham, still panting from their run up Main Street. Eve forms a heart with her hands, her eyes big and proud.
“But when I was hurting and too ill to eat, cannabis gave me my life back. When I was down because of how isolated my illness made me feel, cannabis helped me find joy. Maybe you’re hurting, too.
Maybe you’re sad. Maybe you have loved ones facing these problems, and you’re trying your very best to be there for them in the ways you know how.
I can’t promise that my dispensary will solve all your problems, but I can promise that you’ll find people who care there.
Who’ll help you the best way we know how.
And isn’t that what we all really need? People who care?
People who’ll help so we don’t have to face everything on our own? ”
The emotions boom through my chest, each heartbeat sending a pulsating wave of love to my town. God, this is good pot.
“Right now, I need your help, Sparrow Nook. To stop Mike Tonuto’s petty vendetta against his little brother, and to give my dispensary the chance to serve this town with love, and hope, and laughter.
But I need to hear your voices—this city council needs to hear your voices, right now, demanding that these wrongs are righted.
” I swallow, my throat tight. “What do you say? Will you help me?”
For a second, all is quiet. Somewhere a port-a-potty door slams shut. I feel almost woozy with adrenaline, with how exposed and vulnerable I feel, all the Nomis on display, asking for help.
Ever since the Jersey Shore reality show went off the air, Jerseyans have sorely missed sitting in judgment of their own.
Until now.
“Get Tonuto outta here!” a woman yells, cracking the silence, and that’s all it takes. The crowd goes wild.
“Tonuto’s a crook! He’s not even Irish!”
“Corporate motherfuckin’ breaaaaad!”
“Let the nice girl sell her pot!” and “I have Crohn’s, too!”
Just then, Julian bursts onstage, fez askew and shirt half-unbuttoned. I can’t tell if he’s been fighting or making out. My eyebrows rise higher as he drags Jackie Lombardi with him. “I found this one trying to get away!”
A fight then… I think?
Lombardi doesn’t even look mad about being forced onstage. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes sparkling with excitement at the hundreds of angry picnickers demanding justice. She really does love violence.
Council-friend Shar stands, eyeing Tonuto and Lombardi warily, and reaches for the mic. I hand it to her, hoping beyond hope for a miracle, that the town’s support and my evidence is enough.
She clears her throat, authority dripping from her steely gaze.
“Under the Council’s Code of Ethics, Mike Tonuto’s involvement in the targeted attacks against Ms. Wyeth’s dispensary and Sammy DiFiore’s shop presents an inexcusable conflict of interest. Furthermore, Zoning Commissioner Lombardi’s personal stake in JM Enterprises LLC renders the zoning decision against Ms. Wyeth’s dispensary illegitimate.
Council-friends, I move to overturn the zoning commission’s ruling and put Mike Tonuto and Jackie Lombardi on immediate suspension pending the outcome of a thorough investigation. ”
“I second!” Min jumps to her feet.
“All those in favor, say aye!” Shar calls.
And to my great astonishment, every Council-friend does. Everyone except Tonuto, who’s shouting “Nay! Nay!” as Lil Dom drags him offstage like a very belligerent horse.
“Congratulations, Ms. Wyeth,” Chair-friend Chester says, reaching for a gavel to slam that isn’t there. “You’re officially in business.” He air-gavels, anyway.
Wild cheering erupts across the lawn, interrupted only when Julian bellows, “Permission to approach the bench!”
“That’s not how that works,” Council-friend Shar says, then turns to Chester. “Does he know that’s not how this works?”
“I have one last piece of information that everyone in Sparrow Nook needs to hear.” Julian strides over to me, grabbing both of my hands. I am utterly speechless.
“Nomi Wyeth, I love you with my whole heart. And because of you, I’ve learned that I love this town, my batshit family, being a doctor, and oddly enough, civic service, too.
I’m coming for that seat, District Five!
” He points at Tonuto’s empty spot and turns back to me.
“Most of all, I’ve learned that I don’t want any other future than you. ”
“But… what about Philly Gen?” I search his eyes.
“I turned them down weeks ago. I’m a family man now. A family practice man, at least, and more, if you’ll have me.” Julian drops to one knee, and my eyes flare wide. “Nomi Wyeth, will you marry me?”
The crowd gasps.
“Julian!” An incredulous laugh bursts out of me. “God, no! It’s been, like, a month and a half.”
Julian’s beatific smile turns naughty, and my blood heats in response as he stands, looming over me, then sweeps me off my feet and into his arms, princess-style.
“Fine. I’ll ask again next week.”