today I’m happy to be part of another Blog Tour hosted by Neverland Blog Tours and to share an excerpt for “No Sad Songs” by Frank Morelli with you!
Blurb: Following a family tragedy, 18-year-old Gabe LoScuda suddenly finds himself thrust into the role of caregiver for his ailing grandfather. Between the shopping trips and the doctor visits with Grandpa, Gabe and his friend John try to salvage their senior year, meet girls, and make the varsity baseball team. It doesn’t take long for Gabe to realize that going to school and looking after a grandfather with Alzheimer’s is more work than he ever imagined.
And when long-lost Uncle Nick appears on the scene, Gabe soon finds that living with Nick and Grandpa is like babysitting two grown men. Aside from John, the only person who truly understands Gabe is Sofia, a punk-rocking rebel he meets at the veteran’s hospital. When these three unlikely friends are faced with a serious dilemma, will they do what it takes to save Grandpa? If there’s a chance of preserving the final shreds of Grandpa’s dignity, Gabe may have to make the most gut-wrenching decision of his life—and there’s no way out.
Chapter 12 – “Intervention” (p. 103-104)
I open the door and a pair of hands reaches around from behind me and covers my eyes. I can’t see a thing, but I can tell it’s a girl because no guy with hands this silky would ever go up and let some other guy know about it.
“Guess who?” she says—and it appears we’re gonna play this game, which I’m not too happy about because I don’t exactly get accosted in parking lots by insistent female fans that often.
“No idea,” I say. “I give up.” It’s my only real strategy, but it’s effective. She releases her grip and I turn around. And it’s her. Freaking Marlie! I can feel my pulse race. I spend four years trying to get her to notice me and all it takes is a few days as a fugitive and she’s tracking me down like Geronimo. She’s gorgeous as ever, and the blue flame in her eyes is turned up extra hot. Even my newfound persona is no match for a girl like this.
“Oh, uh, hi,” I say. Here we go again, Gabe, you sweet-talking devil.
“Everything back to normal?” she asks.
“Oh . . . yeah,” I say. “Of course. You know me. Just doing my normal, everyday thing. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”
“That’s good to hear, Gabe.” I start to wonder if she’s talking to the right person. Like maybe all those Garys and Jerrys she thought I was a few weeks ago are the guys she’s looking for today. But she keeps talking and I’m the only one here. “Nothing like a man who doesn’t let the heat get to him,” she says.
“Oh, definitely,” I say mopping about a gallon of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I’m as cool as a cucumber. Nothing gets to me.”
For a second I’m glad John is not here because he would have laughed in my face when I said that—and for another second I think Marlie might just fill in for John anyway. And who could blame her? Instead, she says something I thought was reserved for the jocks and the rich kids.
“Cool. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah,” I somehow say without jumping out of my shoes. “Sure.”
Then I duck inside the Trans-Am before I can screw anything up.
About the Author: FRANK MORELLI has been a teacher, a coach, a bagel builder, a stock boy, a pretzel salesman, a bus driver, a postal employee, a JC Penney model (see: clerk), an actual clerk (like in the movie of the same name), a camp counselor, a roving sports reporter, and a nuclear physicist (okay, maybe that’s not true). At heart, he’s a writer, and that’s all he’s ever been. His fiction and essays have appeared in more than thirty publications, including The Saturday Evening Post, Cobalt Review, Philadelphia Stories, Jersey Devil Press, and Indiana Voice Journal. His sports-themed column—“Peanuts & Crackerjacks”—appears monthly at Change Seven Magazine.
A Philadelphia native, Frank now lives near Greensboro, NC in a tiny house under the trees with his best friend and muse, their obnoxious alley cats, and two hundred pounds worth of dog.