So. Massimo's the next Italian Knight. *twiddles thumbs* I can sense the doubt drifting out there and honestly, when I finished
Windows, it was the last thing on my mind. Quite frankly, I'd got a load off my chest and would happily not think about any of those Da Canaveze people or what they went through again. Moreover, I'm Gina/Lyds/Annie/Frankie in age group. Why would I write something that would be inherently 'sugar daddy' ish? And I'd have to think about grey pubes. Oh, cripes, I'm so sorry, that's not helping is it? No. Right.
So there's a reason why Nick embodies so much of what will make me break out the good underwear, the stockings, the violet wands, ball gag and handcuffs. He's like his dad. We're on the same page now aren't we? If we're not, let me break it down for you. Beware. *SPOILERS* This whole play is Massimo's stage, he's been directing it since before my parents gave each other the sexy eye in South London. Does he take nonsense from people? Absolutely not. Hell if he'd had the tiniest inkling about Santori's plans, do you really think that mother fucker would have lived long enough to even try and be a blip on Nick's radar? No. Is he forgiving? One name. Mary Alice. That bitch. I still hate her. I don't think I've ever hated a character as much as I hate that bitch. Is he elegant and stylish? Uh huh! Suited and booted every day. Plays chess and listens to jazz. He is cultured, refined, educated, calculating, and his sons get all their good looks from him. *SPOILERS DONE*
I was talking to my mother about a seventy odd year old man who nearly gave his wife an STD - don't ask how I found out about this. Old people having diseased sex. Wait, wait, roll it back. Old people having sex full stop. Obviously, I was shocked out of my skin and she asked me, point blank, "Do you feel any older today than you did ten years ago?" Honestly, apart from the hangovers which take a good week to recover from? No. I don't. "Do you think I don't still feel twenty four inside, before I had you and your brothers and it was just me and your father?" Yes, mother I know. I borrowed Daddy's awesome sheepskin coat. Found a condom in the pocket from the late seventies which expired just after you two got married, so I know you two weren't all pure and such before you said your vows. Obviously, I didn't say that to her face, because I'm still alive.
The truth is, why would the same not apply to Massimo? He's a single man who needs a challenge. A nice challenge. Belinda's going to do that for him - loud, African and proud. I have aunts (African aunts - not actual blood aunts) who have been alone and abandoned for so long and then they meet someone, and good lord the freakin' scandal, you'd have thought they'd have made a sex tape of them having a threesome with Piers Morgan and Simon Cowell. (heave) But I wanted to write something that says whatever your age, it's never too late to find love. To be happy. Why not? Why waste the days of your life conforming to someone else's ideas of love and passion? Typically, Belinda's the busybody, who'd be so much happier if she was getting some on the regular. So sod it. This story is more of a love letter to Massimo and Belinda as individuals as it is a love story between the two of them. For their histories as immigrants who created lives for themselves in London; their faith; their experiences; their wisdom and their sexuality. I've learned much more about what I want for my own future in writing this and I'm really rather proud of my older people lovin'.
And by the way? He hasn't greyed. Anywhere. Alright? So there. Just wait. Massimo. My O.G. In every sense of that abbreviation.
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