As Diane parked the truck behind the pizzeria, she turned to Mark with a grin. "Yeah, Tony was smart using those exhaust fans not only it cool down the kitchen in the summer but also spread the smell. It did it make his pizzeria the talk of the town, but it also grew his business... and his stomach."
Mark chuckled at Diane's remark just as a voice, thick with an accent, called out from behind them. "Come on, Diane, it can't be that big, you know."
Turning around, they spotted a middle-aged man approaching, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. His thinning hair was combed over in a futile attempt to hide his baldness, and a thick chevron mustache adorned his upper lip. Clad in a violet shirt open at the chest to reveal a gold chain with a cross pendant, his navy pants were stained from a long day in the kitchen.
Diane snorted, "Oh please, Tony. You look like you're nine months pregnant."
Mark struggled to suppress his laughter, noting the playful tension in the air. Tony huffed, clearly embarrassed but not angry. "Your mouth's as sharp as your mother's was," he muttered under his breath.
The comment struck a nerve. Diane's tone turned icy. "Don't mention her."
Tony quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. My bad. Even when you're rude, you still win the argument," he sighed, shaking his head. "These Americans are too much sometimes."
Diane rolled her eyes but stayed silent. Tony's gaze shifted to Mark, and his expression softened as he extended a hand. "Ah, you must be the new face. I'm Tony, this girl's godfather."
Diane crossed her arms, a mock glare on her face. "I'm not a girl anymore, Tony."
Tony smiled warmly. "You'll always be a little girl to me," he replied, nostalgia dripping from his words.
Mark accepted Tony's handshake, feeling the warmth in his grip. "Hi, I'm Mark. I'm a friend of Frank and temporarily staying with Diane for a bit and thought I'd help her with the delivery. And I hear there's some legendary pizza involved."
Tony's face lit up. "Ah, you heard right! The best pizza in town—maybe the best in the whole state!" But then his expression dimmed slightly. "Right… Frank's funeral is tomorrow. He was a good man, smart too, but he got mixed up with the wrong crowd."
A heavy pause lingered, and Tony quickly caught himself. He turned to Diane with sincerity. "My condolences, Diane. If you need anything for the funeral, just let me know."
Diane waved it off. "Thanks, Tony, but we've got it covered. Just make sure you're there."
With that, the mood lightened again. "Well, Mark, it's good to meet you. After we unload these crates, I'll give you a proper tour of the place, and we'll get you some pizza—on the house, of course."
Mark's stomach grumbled, and he grinned. "I think I'm ready for some serious pizza magic."
"Get your stomach ready, Mark, because it might burst if you can't get enough of my pizza," Tony replied with a smirk.
Diane rolled her eyes as Mark laughed, watching the two bond like old friends.
"Come on, people, the crates ain't gonna unload themselves," Diane remarked with a hint of sarcasm. The duo exchanged glances, shrugged, and got to work.
As they unloaded, Tony wheeled over a push cart. He watched as Mark effortlessly stacked two crates together, raising an eyebrow. "Careful there, buddy. You might wanna take it easy. Breaking your back just to impress a lady ain't worth it."
Mark smirked, gripping the crates. "Don't worry, man, I'm not putting myself in danger. And not I'm notjust doing this for the ladies but for that slice of pizza."
Diane shook her head humorously. "You heard the man—let him break his back."
Tony laughed. "Oh, right! If you're that keen on it, I'll go get the wheelchair ready." They shared a hearty laugh, and Tony stood by Mark's side, ready to assist if needed.
Mark hoisted the crates as if they weighed nothing, strolling over to the push cart. Tony blinked in disbelief, glancing at Diane, who simply shrugged.
"Damn, son!" Tony exclaimed. "Is your father Superman or something?"
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, he's not Superman, but I guess I'm just strong as I am." He grinned and winked. "Or maybe I'm just Clark Kent in disguise."
Tony laughed, patting Mark on the back. "Clark Kent, huh? Dream on, You're not half even as handsome as I was at your age."
As the two exchanged playful jabs, Diane rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, we're not paid to listen to your 'epic' story, Tony."
"But you can get a pizza if you do!" Tony shot back with a grin.
"Come on, who would deny a slice of pizza, right?" Mark chimed in.
"Just unload the crates," Diane sighed, her tone playful yet firm.
With that, they quickly finished unloading, each trying to outdo the other in strength. Tony, sweaty and panting, grinned. "You're lucky I'm getting older. If I were your age, I could lift a cow or two."
Mark shot back, "Might as well lift the whole truck!"
Tony laughed heartily. Once finished, they pushed the carts toward the back door of the pizzeria.
As Tony opened the door, Mark's eyes widened at the sight. The kitchen blended old-world charm with modern efficiency, countertops gleaming under soft, ambient lighting. The deep yellow walls created a rustic vibe, while a banner in bold red letters proclaimed: "MAMMA MIA."
"Welcome to La Cucina di Mamma Mia," Tony announced proudly, spreading his arms wide. "This is where true Italian flavors come to life."
Mark admired the space as Tony's passion illuminated the room. "Now, let me tell you about the magic of our pizza. This oven may be modern, but the heart of La Cucina di Mamma Mia remains the same. We make our dough fresh every morning, right here. Flour, water, a little olive oil—my mamma's recipe."
He pointed to a long marble-topped counter, where fresh ingredients were laid out. "Everything you see here? Fresh. Nothing frozen. You can't rush a pizza, Mark. You've got to respect it. From the dough to the sauce to the toppings—it all has to be perfect."
A flicker of nostalgia crossed his face. "You know when my wife and I first opened this pizzeria, we faced discrimination as one of the few Italian families here. But we persisted, believing in our dream. Every setback fueled our passion."
He gestured around the kitchen, pride evident. "We kept our heads high, refused to let their words bring us down. Every pizza was a statement—a slice of our culture, our love, our dreams."
Mark felt the weight of Tony's words. It wasn't just a business; it was a legacy. "That's incredible, Tony. You didn't just make pizzas—you made a legacy."
Tony smiled, wiping his forehead. "Exactly. And now I get to share it with people like you." He clapped Mark on the back. "So, after all this talk, how about we grab that pizza?"
Mark's stomach growled in agreement. Diane smirked. "Sounds like your stomach's the one doing the talking now."
Disclaimer:
The characters, settings, and elements in this fanfiction are the intellectual property of their respective owners. New Life, New Saga is inspired by Summertime Saga, which is owned by Kompas Productions. This fanfiction is created purely for fun and non-commercial purposes, and I do not claim any ownership of the original works. All rights to the original material belong to their creators. If you appreciate my work and would like to support my writing, consider making a donation on my Patreon. Thank you for your support and for reading!