THE OZONE CAFE - Available now on Kindle Unlimited

I hope this doesn't sound like an advertisement for Amazon, (some people view them negatively) but my take on this company is that they are by far more professional when it comes to helping Indi authors. I haven’t yet looked into Smashwords or Ingram Spark who offer a similar service, but the fact that (at the moment)with Amazon it’s free, and Kindle Unlimited (per se KDP Select) as a promotional tool is also “free” for authors, I would say, how can one go wrong? It’s the buying readership market who are paying to read our Kindle books.

This is Amazon’s explanation of Kindle Unlimited.

Kindle Unlimited is a subscription program for readers that allows them to read as many books as they want. When you enrol in KDP Select, your books are automatically included in Kindle Unlimited. Your books will still be available for anyone to buy in the Kindle Store, and you’ll continue to earn royalties from those sales like you do today. For more information about Kindle Unlimited, click here.

The Ozone Café

Chapter 1

‘To all the pleasures and treasures of a new country,’ said Rennie, a large glass raised in drunken salutation.

    ‘To Australia, my new life here and to you, my brother,’ said Vincenzo. He drank deeply from his own glass, a middle-aged man trying hard to focus on the joyful occasion after sharing several bottles of Grappa. Vincenzo Polamo was indeed happy. Even though a large fly had resided on his nose for several minutes, and the bright sunshine had made him sweat, he could still raise another glass and toast a cheerful saluti to his new homeland.  ‘I’m very grateful,’ he said, a slur of other words following, like prost and nostrovia.

    ‘Take it easy, old man,’ said Rennie, patting his brother’s knee.

    Vincenzo scrunched his eyes into the glare. He liked being with his younger brother, and although older he was taller and hairier. Vincenzo remembered, as a boy, his deep set eyes and his thick eyelashes continually flicked. Two main vital parts of his nature mattered to Vincenzo. His brother’s warmth and emotion, a softening after a drink like the old days, and a trickle of tears when they first hugged dockside. Vincenzo had arrived only three days before in the middle of a sailing regatta in Sydney harbour and couldn’t quite believe he was here. In the relaxed atmosphere of warm weather and alcohol, he reflected on his past journey, meeting new Sicilian friends onboard, his brother’s crazy bear-hug on the wharf and then a sight-seeing tour across Sydney Harbour Bridge.

   On the upper deck where the two men sat drinking, Vincenzo witnessed the idyllic life of his brother, a successful model he’d worked hard for in the ten years since migrating. His north shore mansion was especially ornate with statues of cherubs, angels and crouched griffins, each one facing towards the treetops. The frontage featured high walls, twisted brickwork, automatic wrought iron gates, and reclining lions atop of two pillars. The street spanned into a wide cul-de-sac with other houses of similar build, backyards facing the river, some with their own private jetties.

    The afternoon sun shone hot on Vincenzo’s face. He didn’t mind after a cold blustery sea voyage. He had his feet firmly on terra ferma, and it was good to reconnect with someone from his family, while his own remained in Italy.

    A downstairs telephone rang, interrupting the men’s reverie. ‘That’s just business,’ his brother said. ‘I’ll be back soon, won’t be long.’

     Vincenzo loved his brother, but he couldn’t help notice the extra weight he was carrying; a paunch at his belly, wide across the shoulders and chest. H he was no longer the skinny little brother from ten years ago. Renato still had his thick wavy hair, and although Vincenzo’s was thinning on top, they had the same inherited nose, slightly elongated, robust tip with hairy nostrils.  Both could claim a further family resemblance to their father’s and grandfather’s five o’clock shadow, a dark stubble appearing within hours of shaving.

    In his inebriated state, Vincenzo lay back with his arms behind his head. His wife Maria hadn’t wanted to migrate with him. Before the voyage, he should have revealed the terrible stress he was under with the Camino brothers. He owed them extortion money. They had visited his car repairs, taken stock and machine parts; smashed everything in sight, leaving him shocked and humiliated, powerless to stand up to them. He remembered their combat boots kicking over every piece of furniture in his office.  The truth was he needed to get out of the country.

    He did not deny now that he’d made a big mistake being frantic and pig-headed in front of his family about living in Sydney. But since arriving in Australia he knew he could make a fresh start with his brother’s help.    

    The hot afternoon sun glared into Vincenzo’s face jolting him awake. He’d gone from musing about his time onboard, to his hometown, now he was back lounging in his brother’s magnificent house. He didn’t want to move. He gazed at the great expanse of Renato’s property, a work utility and a Mercedes Benz parked in the driveway. Grape vines and conifers lined the side of the driveway and a terraced backyard reached the verge of the river beginning with a swimming pool.

    He still couldn’t get Maria out of his mind. On their last day together, sitting on a bench in the main square of town, and in between the skulking shadows and branches, he had pleaded with her, the nervous, uncontrolled jiggling of his knees, his hands curling to a fist. Saying their goodbyes, he remembered the terrible darkness in her face, that stubborn sign that she would never come to Australia.  

    ‘I make a beautiful home for us,’ he said, getting up and shouting. ‘You wait and see! You will love Australia. I build a large home for you with my brother with lions on the gate and a big backyard.’

   How uncomfortable it had been arguing. 

   This day with his brother had brought many interesting and new things, and taking one more sip of Grappa, Vincenzo brought his grateful mind back to the blue sky and the warm still breeze. He crouched down on the floor, patting Rennie’s dog, a black and tan terrier. ‘We see,’ he said tousling her fur and lifting her name tag. ‘Maybe they will want to come later, hey… Pomadina!’

    The dog slid her paws across the tiled patio, barking at the top of the steps. ‘Hey, it’s me, stupido!’ said Rennie. ‘Pack some things, Vin. I’ve got a few weeks off. I want to show you my cottage in Satara Bay. We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn. It’s a slow trip.’

    ‘Oh good, Renato,’ he said.

    ‘Oh, one thing old boy, my name is Rennie now.’

    ‘You shortened it, hey?’

    ‘They put ‘e’ on the end of things here, like ‘vegie, barbie, tinnie’. I like it short.’

    ‘Oh, okay. I get used to it.’ Vincenzo scratched the back of his neck, so many changes and a mystery surrounding Cattania. He was surprised how silent his brother was about his wife, nowhere to be seen, although a large room upstairs remained locked. Another unusual thing tweaked his attention. Rennie had bought birthday roses for a neighbor up the street. He didn’t like to ask questions, it was none of his business, yet he hoped that his brother would tell him about his new lady when he was good and ready. On his arrival and telephoning Maria and the girls, Vincenzo explained that Cattania wasn’t in the house and stranger still that no one had heard anything from her, a girl who talked non-stop.

    Back in Paola, it had been a double celebration, his brother marrying Cattania and leaving for Australia in the coming weeks. Vincenzo and Maria joined the family singing around a large table, enjoying their last meal together. Although a little misty-eyed, Vincenzo was happy for his brother, the wine helping to toast a farewell to the happy couple. Later, in his brother’s letters, he mentioned owner-building different houses, the first one in Seaforth, then moving to Manly. He built his current one not far from the Gladesville Bridge, informing the family now and again about fishing from his boat or catching large silver bream off the rocks. But they hadn’t received any news about Cattania or whether a little bambino had arrived.

   Vincenzo and his brother had parted ways as young men living in different Calabrian towns. Rennie was once in a long relationship with a girl called Anna, but Cattania had been a strange choice over the girl they expected he would marry.

    If anything, Vincenzo preferred to talk about the good times as teenagers fishing for hours, trolling their skiff along the crusty valleys of the Savuto River. In the planned holiday tomorrow, he would learn about his brother’s his new life and he hoped those happy times would return, this time in a different bay, near a different ocean, casting rods into the sunrise.