"You're threatening me over a girl I just met?" Aurelio asked, baffled. He'd grown surprisingly fond of Jewel. She was fun—something his life severely lacked.
"Woman," Nicolo corrected, not realizing he was raising his voice. "She's a woman. And YES. Now get the hell outta here before I—"
"Basta! BASTA!" a large, half‑bald Italian man roared, waving his arms as he stormed over. He smacked Nicolo on the shoulder. "Wazza matta wit' you, eh?! You tryna' drive all my customers away again?!"
"Ouch! Nothing is a matter with me, Uncle Agnelli! I just want HIM," Nicolo jabbed a finger toward Aurelio, "to get out of here."
"He gonna get a trim? Good. Then he stays. If not—" Uncle Agnelli turned to Aurelio, "Scram. Your father ain't welcome in my shop, and if you're anything like him—"
"I'm nothing like my father!" Aurelio snapped, anger flashing hot through his veins. "I will never be like that man," he spat, hands curling into fists at the mere thought. Silence settled before he whispered, "I'm not…" The fury vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by something far heavier. His shoulders sagged. He didn't even understand why he'd lost control so quickly, but he regretted shouting the moment he heard his own voice.
[Daaaaayum, he only said *if* not that you were… Wow, trigger activated.]
Uncle Agnelli sighed, dragging a hand down his face before resting the other on Aurelio's shoulder. "Come, come," Uncle Agnelli said gently, giving Aurelio's shoulder a pat and nodding toward an empty barber chair a few seats down.
Nicolo started to protest, but Uncle Agnelli shut him down with a sharp glare before guiding Aurelio into the seat. He looked at their reflections in the mirror. "You got your mother's temper, you know that? She used to come here all the time when she was your age—then she married your father and never came back. How's Lia these days, eh?"
"My mother is well most days. She had pneumonia last year, but she pulled through like the amazing woman she is. She can't laugh like she used to, though. I... I miss hearing her laughter." Aurelio's mood soured further, feeling even more awkward in this space. Would it be better to leave before he caused another scene? He couldn't help but wonder.
"Ah, at least she's healthy now. And your little brother? He'd be sixteen this year, right?" Uncle Agnelli tried to make light conversation but realized he'd hit a fragile spot the moment Aurelio went pale.
"My… my brother…?" Aurelio swallowed down the whimper that threatened to escape. He hated looking so exposed in front of others, but one mention of his late brother and every optimistic thought vanished. "He died eight years ago... My father blames me because I was the last person to see him alive, even though I was nowhere near him when it happened. One afternoon, he rode out on his bike, but it got stormy and he never came home. Cops said he lost control and got thrown into the creek. It wouldn't have been a problem if the currents hadn't turned rapid because of the rain; the creek isn't that deep. He didn't know how to swim, though, and his body was too small to withstand the current..." By the time Aurelio finished, he hadn't realized he'd started crying. His eyes stung, and tears streaked down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, son. I didn't know. I shouldn'ta brought up your family." Uncle Agnelli handed him a clean handkerchief, which Aurelio gratefully took, wiping his face and blowing his nose. "It's not much, but I'll give you a trim on the house today. That good with you, eh?"
"Uh…," Aurelio stared at the man's reflection in the mirror before nodding awkwardly. "Yes, sir."
"Please," Uncle Agnelli chuckled as he draped a cover over Aurelio's clothes and clipped it around his neck, "call me Uncle Agnelli. That's what everyone calls me—friend, foe, don't matta. Anyone younger than me, anyway. Even some of the older ones still do-." He paused mid‑sentence as his gaze landed on Nicolo.
"Uncle, why are you looking at me like that…?" Nicolo asked with suspicion, though he already had a sinking feeling. He unfolded his arms with a weary sigh as Uncle Agnelli grinned from ear to ear and pointed toward the door.
"Nicolo, go let our other guests in, eh? They're out there in the shadows like they got nothing better to do. Bring 'em in and sit 'em on the bench so I don't gotta keep turnin' my head."
"I don't see anyone, though?" Nicolo muttered, peering out the window and scanning the corners of the sidewalk.
"They're there, my boy. I can feel eyes on this place, I swear. Now go—bring 'em in."
"Uncle, I really don't think—"
"Ay! I told you, my boy. Eyes on this place," Uncle Agnelli muttered.
Nicolo let out a long, suffering groan.
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