Give the Sun to You

It was one of the worst summers Mount Pleasant had experienced in years. The humidity was suffocating, the sun too bright, and the heat thickened the air with the scent of jessamines and dirt. The combination of the red clay and saccharine sweetness was something Demetria had grown to be accustomed to over the years. She closed her eyes and breathed it in deeply. It was familiar. It was home.

Demetria opened her green eyes and watched from the passenger seat of her father's truck as they drove through town. The sidewalks were filled with familiar faces. The kids she went to school with clustered in groups and laughing joyously on one side. On the other were her mother's frenemies huddled together and fanning themselves. Outside of Anna's Diner were her father's coworkers. They had noticed the truck and nodded their heads at them in acknowledgement. Demetria lifted her hand to wave politely as they passed.

Her father was quiet as he drove. He wasn't too happy with her at that moment. Had she been a few years younger that would have bothered her. Somebody being disappointed in her? Out of the question! But teenage rebellion was a funny thing, and while she was still the poster image of what a daughter should be, she was starting to realize that the world didn't end with her parents negative opinions.

"I really wish you'd wipe that mess off your face," her father's gruff voice shot out.

"It's not a mess," she quipped, "it's applied perfectly."

Demetria checked herself out in the rear view mirror. That morning she had stolen her mother's red lipstick and spent half an hour artfully painting her lips. Most of the girls her age hadn't even dreamed of trying out mascara and there she was diving into the deep end. It was bold and daring, she felt like one of the girls from the fashion magazines she loved.

Billy shook his head and turned onto the next street, "You're too young for that stuff."

"I'm sixteen, daddy, not six."

Her father scoffed under his breath, "I'm aware. This conversation would be much easier if you were."

He tried not to smirk at the sharp glare she sent his way. She didn't have time to worry too much about it. Soon they had pulled into a large repair shop with a sign hanging out front that read Grillo's Garage.

Grillo's Garage had only been open for a few months but business had been great. The father and his four sons ran it and they clearly knew what they were doing. The women in town had nothing but nice things to say about them all and the men were able to admit that they did decent work. The younger girls on the other hand had simply gushed over the Grillo sons. According to them they were carbon copies of Marlon Brando.

Billy parked the truck and climbed out, Demetria following after him. There was a short man tucked under the hood of an old van. He glanced over at the sound of their footsteps. Recognition hit him and brought a large smile to his face.

"William, it's great to see you," he called out with a thick Italian accent. He wiped his hands with a rag and stepped away from the car. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

Billy laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder and smiled proudly, "This is Demetria, my youngest."

Demetria nodded politely at the man, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Please, the pleasure is mine," he said. He lifted a grease covered hand and pointed to a door beside a wall of tires, "We have a waiting room if you two would like to sit."

Billy patted his daughter's shoulder, "Go on, darling. Tony and myself won't be too long."

She didn't dare question her father. As rebellious as she may have been feeling lately she wasn't going to backtalk him in public. "Yes, sir."

The waiting room was fairly small in size. It had a few folding chairs along the walls with a square table covered in magazines. Across from the table was a desk with neatly organized stacks of papers, an ashtray, and a mustard colored phone resting on top. Demetria grabbed one of the magazines and sat down primly in one of the chairs. For several minutes the room was silent except for the turning of the pages.

"Papá!" A stranger's voice called out. "Where do you want the tires for the Chevy?"

Demetria looked up from the magazine she was browsing to see a young man hunched down and rolling a large tire through the lobby. He hadn't noticed her yet which gave her the opportunity to look him over. She'd heard about the handsome Grillo sons for weeks now and wanted to see one of them for herself.

She subtly glanced up from the glossy pages and saw a head full of messily slicked back dark curls. He was covered in grease. It stained his white t-shirt, blackened his hands, there were even streaks on his face. And what a face it was. Demetria had to do her best to keep her jaw from dropping. The choir girls at church hadn't been kidding when they said the Grillo boys were dangerously handsome. His sharp jaw had a smear of grease on it that contrasted with his tanned complexion. Her eyes found themselves stuck on his full mouth.

He looked up from the tire and his dark eyes went wide with shock at finding another person in the room.

"Oh," he tried to cover his surprise with a nervous smile that sent Demetria's heart into overdrive.

His fingers tapped nervously on the rubber, "I didn't realize there was someone he-" he pushed off the tire to stand but moved too quickly. It rolled out from his fingers causing him to lose balance and fall onto the tiled floor face first with a loud smack.

Demetria shot straight out of her seat and rushed to his side, "Oh my goodness! Are you alright?"

The boy let out a pained groan that was muffled by the floor. He rolled over to reveal a small spattering of blood on the tile and a fresh cut on his cheek, causing her to gasp.

"You're bleeding!"

"I'm what?"

He lifted a hand to try and touch the wound but she quickly smacked it away.

"Hey!"

"Don't do that, your hands are filthy," she scolded. "Have you got a first aid kit?"

"Um, yeah, in the bathroom," he lifted a hand to point in the direction and she nodded.

"Don't move! I'll be right back."

Demetria got up and rushed to find the bathroom. She fumbled around in there until she found the kit under the sink. She rushed back to the lobby to see he had moved from lying on the floor to lean against the desk. The gash on his face was still bleeding leaving trails of crimson down his cheek. His mouth was turned down in a frown. He had heard her hurried footsteps and looked up in her direction. The frown was soon replaced with an abashed smile. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. He must have been the most handsome man she had ever seen. It took a moment but she soon realized that she was staring.

She busied herself with gathering the materials from the box in an attempt to will her blush away. Demetria grabbed the gauze and wiped at the blood that stained his cheek. It took all of her strength to keep a concentrated face as she did it. She was so close she could smell him. He smelled of oil, leather, and cigarettes.

"Sal," he said suddenly.

"Hm?" Her gaze left his cut to his eyes. She had never seen eyes as dark as his. They were blacker than night and kept her frozen to the spot.

"That's my name," he explained, a small smile growing on his handsome face. "Salvatore Grillo."

Warmth was spreading throughout her cheeks again. His voice was deep and raspy with the slightest hint of an accent. She knew it to be Italian, everyone in town knew that, and they had pounced on that piece of information like predators. It didn't take long for the citizens to find out the Grillos had moved from New York but originated from Italy. Some people thought of them as exotic, most of them held prejudiced ideas of the family.

She grabbed the peroxide and poured it onto a new piece of gauze, "I've gotta clean your cut so this is gonna sting," she warned.

Demetria glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him pouting. She bit her lip to hide her smile and tried to divert his attention. "Does this kinda thing happen to you often, Sal?" She asked him teasingly.

Sal's pout turned into a sheepish grin. "I guess I got distracted. But can you blame me? Tu sei la donna più bella che abbia mai visto," he said simply.

The words were foreign to her ears but the way they rolled off his tongue had her wanting in a way she'd never experienced. She wondered what that sentence sounded like whispered into her ear. If she would feel his warm breath on her skin. The golden cross lying delicately on her chest was enough to remind her that she was a good Christian girl and good Christian girls didn't have impure thoughts about boys.

"If you're trying to distract me you should know it won't work," she insisted. Even though it was working just the tiniest bit.

Carefully she wiped at the cut. He hissed and flinched away. Demetria tried to move quicker to spare him from any unnecessary pain.

"I'm sorry, sugar, but I'm almost done, promise."

Demetria cleaned his cut and placed a band-aid over the gash. When she finished she smiled proudly at him. "All better."

"Thank you," he breathed.

They sat dangerously close to one another on the floor. His gaze wandered down to her painted lips and then back to her eyes. She licked her lips and noticed his eyes followed the movement. She had started to move, towards him, away from him, she wasn't sure, then stood up quickly. He did the same.

"So..." He leaned against the desk and toyed with his hands in an effort to seem nonchalant. "Do I get to learn your name?" He asked. "Or can I keep calling you Angioletto in my head?"

Demetria laughed nervously, "Where are my manners?" Internally she was cursing. How could she have forgotten to introduce herself? If her mother had been around she'd have scolded her for being so impolite.

"I'm Demetria Whitaker."

Sal bit his full lip and nodded along, "Your pops is William, right?"

"That's him," she agreed.

He nodded again and opened his mouth the say something else but was interrupted by the lobby door opening. Both of their heads snapped towards the door to see Billy standing there. He eyed the two of them suspiciously.

"Demetria," he said slowly, "Who's your friend here?"

Tony, who had been walking behind Billy, hadn't noticed that the other man had stopped in the doorway and bumped right into him. The shorter man laughed it off, "Scusa, Billy, I did not see you there."

His gaze turned to Sal and Demetria who had taken a few steps away from each other and were hiding embarrassed smiles.

"Sal!" His expression turned from open and happy to concerned in a flash. "What happened to your face?"

Demetria giggled then quickly tried to cover it up with a cough.

Sal's tanned face quickly turned red. "A tire got uh... Got away from me," he said stammered.

Tony pushed by Billy and strode towards his son. Sal was a few inches taller than him so he grabbed him by the jaw and pulled him down to his height to get a better look at the band-aid and the dried blood. He turned his face this way and that while muttering in Italian and then smacked him upside the head.

“Fesso,” he cursed, then he released his son’s jaw.

Billy circled around the father and son quietly to reach his own daughter. She had been watching the pair with an amused smile before she saw her own father. She immediately sobered up.

"Daddy," she said quietly.

He stared down at her with a stern look, "We're leaving."

She nodded and glanced over at Sal. He was ignoring his ranting father and was instead staring right back at her. Their eyes met and once again she was frozen. He smiled softly, something small and private that she felt was just for her. She could feel butterflies flitting around her stomach.

Billy must have noticed because his face grew even more agitated. He laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder firmly, "Now, Demetria," he warned.

Demetria's stomach sank down to her toes and brought the butterflies with it. That tone told her that there would be no argument and she was going to do as she was told. She nodded and held her head high but made no noise. When Billy saw that she wasn't going to fight back he nodded in approval and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Tony, pleasure doing business with you," he called out.

Tony stopped scolding his son long enough to smile pleasantly at the father and daughter.

"Of course, my friend, we hope to see you soon." he agreed. "It was wonderful to meet you, Demetria."

Demetria smiled politely and nodded her head in agreement, "Thank you, sir." Her eyes unwillingly darted to Sal. Every so often he'd try to 'casually' look in her direction. She smirked to herself and decided to have a little fun with it. "Sal?"

The boy in question straightened up from where he had been slouching against the desk and turned hopeful eyes to her. "Yeah?" He asked eagerly.

"Maybe you ought to put a leash on those tires," she suggested, "you know, in case they get away from you again."

Sal's face turned as red as the lipstick she wore. He laughed nervously, much to her amusement, and tried to play it off nonchalantly, "Well... I-I could.. Actually- The thing about tires-" He sighed and shook his head, "Ignore me. I'm a spaz."

Demetria giggled and pushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear. At that point her father had gotten sick of waiting and started none-to-gently guiding her out the door.

She waved at Sal and grinned, "See you, Sal," she called over her shoulder.

The boy was quick to push past his father and raced to the door of the lobby. The father and daughter had already walked out but he could see their figures walking towards the large red truck.

"You will!" He yelled after her.

Behind him his father was shaking his head and staring at the spots of blood on the floor.

"Salvatore," he said, "Stop drooling and clean this mess up. Leaving blood all over the place... We're not in New York anymore!"