In the Mix With You

By Mary Barbato

In the mix with you; is a story about love, sex, redemption and forgiveness. The main character Vita is caught in the mix of her mother’s secret from the past, and her much younger lover. Vita is blinded by her best friend Donna’s wicked and possessive ways. Vita has her own secret about the man she really loves, but is not able to fight for him just yet. Vita’s mom, Concetta loves her daughter and will sacrifice her own happiness to prove just how much. Vita and Concetta find themselves entwined in the mix with each other and desperately try to hold on to love and family ties that bind them together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Apr 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483449548

Book preview

BARBATO

Copyright © 2016 Mary Angela Barbato.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means---whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic---without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4955-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4954-8 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 04/20/2016

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 The Flirt

Chapter 3 The Guys

Chapter 4 Best Friends

Chapter 5 The Dinner Party

Chapter 6 The Hospital Visit

Chapter 7 The Truth

Chapter 8 Clues, Anyone?

Chapter 9 Cape May

Chapter 10 The Funeral

Chapter 11 We're Pregnant

Chapter 12 The Wedding

Chapter 13 Who Are You Really?

Chapter 14 Discharged

Chapter 15 My Sister

Chapter 16 Bed Rest

Chapter 17 Doug Junior and Senior

Chapter 18 Life Is Good

Chapter 19 Family Vacation

Special dedication

I would like to dedicate my book to my grandchildren; Victoria Rose, Adrianna Charlie, Joseph and Salvatore.

My children Rose, Joseph, and my husband Arthur for their encouragement.

Especially my daughter Rose who has been my inspiration in life, & my son Joseph who gave me a terrific writing prompt leading to this story.

My husband Arthur Barbato for all his heart felt support.

Special thanks to my niece Michelle my biggest fan.

Chapter 1

Vita

Hey, Vita, I'm over here! my recently separated friend shouted across the café, flapping her hands like a small child boasting a big voice.

Okay, I answered, trying to add cream to my coffee. I hear you, and everyone else in this place does too, I thought.

Donna and I had been best friends since grammar school. I could sense when she was hiding something from me. She'd been acting more peculiar than usual since she split up with Jack.

Whenever I asked her about it, she blew me off and changed the topic. I thought Jack was a really a great guy, extremely handsome and so much fun to hang out with. What a terrific dancer he was. I'd followed his lead many nights on the dance floor. Donna would sit it out and brood over the fact that she had two left feet.

Even though Jack was the better-looking half of the couple, Donna was kind on the eyes too. Her shoulder-length blonde hair suited her medium build. Her greatest asset was her big boobs. I couldn't remember her having big breasts when we were teens; I could have sworn she paid for them. She would never have admitted it to me, so I went along with her secret surgery.

Donna loved wearing vintage clothing, particularly bright spandex outfits that hugged her curves and exposed her expensive bust. She turned heads wherever she went. I attributed it to the clanky, chunky jewelry that adorned her wrist, along with her colorful selection of spikes.

I'd been in total awe of her since elementary school. Donna's five-foot-three-inch height commanded a strong presence wherever she went. My friend was a force to reckon with; she would never allow herself to take crap from anyone.

Donna

Vita approached me with coffee in one hand, a protein bar in the other. That humongous smile showed off teeth that could guide Santa on a foggy night.

Hey, you look terrific, I blurted out, waiting for her to shoot a compliment back at me. She was the only person I knew who could receive a compliment and not feel obliged to give one back. Darling Vita was five foot eight, with a lean body that exhibited sexiness without showing any flesh. She was Miss Damn Perfect.

On this day she sported a southwestern look, her wavy, long blonde hair spilling over a pastel-colored poncho. Vita had a golden tan that the sun colored for free that brought out her deep blue eyes, which were not enhanced by contact lenses.

I asked her if that was all she was eating, knowing too well that her typical answer would be Yes, I have to watch my weight.

It annoyed me how Vita would eye my plate and make me feel like a fatty.

Vita asked me if I would like to go to spin class with her. No way, I thought. I'd rather stick pins in my eyes.

Vita, I answered, I don't have banker's hours like you. I have to get back to my shop.

Vita asked if anything interesting had come in at my store. She paused, waiting for me to invite her to take a look at my new inventory. Instead, I shook my head and enjoyed the confused look on her face. I waved good-bye and dumped my mess from the tray into the trash and headed toward the door.

Completely dismissing my wave, she irked me even further by asking me if Jack and I were still on speaking terms. What freaking nerve she has! Vita just didn't get that I didn't want to discuss her buddy Jack with her. I ignored her completely and sped out the door.

Concetta

The stewardess brought me a glass of wine. I took a sip and sank back into my comfortable, wide leather seat, reminiscing about my childhood. I was raised in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, on a tree-lined street in a two-family redbrick house. My parents' garden was surrounded by cement paths, with fruit trees carefully covered during the winter.

They grew the best tomatoes and squash in the neighborhood. My mother's friends would often gasp at the size of the squash they picked, making subtle dirty jokes in Italian. The aroma of fresh basil was planted in my mind.

My parents were born in Naples, Italy, and immigrated here. Ellis Island was their first stop in America. My father was a mason by trade and my mother a seamstress. We were a traditional Italian family, especially on Sunday at the dinner table. The spread on the table was fit for kings---who, back then, were the men of the family.

My mother was known for her homemade sauce, incredible meatballs, and the sweetest fried eggplant that melted in your mouth. My aunts would bring their specialty dishes, including tiramisu that made everyone at the table sigh with delight. The women in my family proudly held the title of best cooks in the neighborhood.

On my sixteenth birthday, my mother gave me a box, decorated with mosaic tiles, containing carefully written index cards of her cherished recipes. Concetta, she would say in Italian first and then with a broken English accent, this box holds the key to family. Use it frequently, and love will surround you.

I remember thinking how cheesy she sounded and how I wanted a new car key instead.

Wineglasses clinking and the sound of loud chatter was the background music in our home for many years. These wonderful meals my mother cooked were the glue that held my family together.

I was an only child; I never bothered to ask why. I knew the answer would be Concetta, children should be seen, not heard.

I was book smart, and in those days they loved to skip us kids to the next grade. I was fortunate to go to college and graduate earlier than my peers. I got a job teaching third grade at a local Catholic school I had attended.

It was safe to say I lived a sheltered life until the evening I conceived. I was the only neighborhood girl who wasn't married yet. I didn't buy into Grandma's advice about becoming an old maid if I didn't marry soon. I felt immune to her tales of woe. After all, I was a college graduate, the first in my family.

I was a worldly young woman of the seventies---at least I thought so anyway. The thing was---I still was a virgin at twenty, a status I had to change soon. I went from being a good girl to a slut in one night.

I was traveling home from a parent-teacher meeting around nine on a Friday night. A few of the newbies and I decided to meet at a local pub for a few drinks. My engine started to knock; luckily, I was on Third Avenue and able to maneuver into a spot.

I needed to call home, so I stopped into a dingy-looking bar named Dorothy's to use the pay phone. My father answered and instructed me to leave the keys under the front floor mat. He would have a tow truck pick up my car. Dad offered to come get me, but I told him I was fine and that one of my friends would drop me off later.

I couldn't stop staring at a couple playing pinball. He was humping her from behind, and she seemed to be enjoying it. Out of nowhere, a guy sneaked up behind me, causing me to jump up in my seat.

Are you enjoying the show? he asked me in a sinister tone.

I ignored him, hoping he would go away; instead he sat next to me and offered to buy me a drink. I nodded without any hesitation. Unsure what to order, I said, I'll have whatever you're having. He ordered two scotches on the rocks and asked me if I was waiting for someone.

I answered no a little too hastily.

He was taller than me and had green eyes. His dark hair was cut into a shag that suited him. He was handsome in a rugged way, which his attire reflected. He wore a black leather bomber jacket, straight Levi's jeans tucked inside of his pointy black boots, wrapped with a thick silver chain.

Our order came. He picked up his glass and said, Drink up, sexy girl.

I darted my eyes left to right to see if he was speaking to anyone else. I realized I was the sexy girl and guzzled that drink down in record time.

By the way, my name is Steve. And yours? I told him my name, and he instructed the barmaid to make our next round doubles. He eyed me up and down and said, I like your getup.

I explained to him how I wound up in this dive.

Lucky for me, he said, gesturing me with his huge hand to drink up.

I watched him as he got up, walking toward the Skee-Ball machine.

He turned around and said, Do you know how to play this game?

I lied and said yes.

What are you waiting for? he asked loudly. Bring that sweet ass down to me.

I obeyed.

Concetta, you can go first, he said, putting his arms around my waist.

I took the puck and slid it down the middle, scoring a strike. I watched the lights beam on top of the game.

He slid his hands below my waist, trying to stick his fingers in my panties. His tongue flickered in my ear. He said, Concetta, I bet you're a real dirty girl in bed.

An alarm went off in my head; red lights flashed two doubles too late.

I'm way out of my league, I thought as he continued rubbing himself against me. I felt his huge hard-on poking me in the rear.

You're So Vain was playing on the jukebox.

All I could think of at the moment was You're so freaking stupid, Concetta.

Next thing I knew, we were swapping spit while sharing a tightly wound joint. I tried not to choke while I exhaled. He turned me around and lifted my skirt up and pulled my panties down. He stuck his fingers up me, and I let out a scream. Not one person bothered to turn around; they were self-absorbed in their own private parties.

Easy, darling, he said to me harshly. I must've dug my nails in him a little too hard.

Please stop! I shouted to deaf ears.

Yes, I will please you, he replied. Next thing I knew, he was on top, thrusting himself in me. He mistook my moans for pleasure instead of pain.

He kept on repeating, You're making me wild, baby. His