The cook waddled out to the front of the shop, his big cheeks ruddy, which covered up the spot of acne scarring over by his left cheek. He was thickly built — he definitely didn’t have a six-pack, but he wasn’t fat — he looked like he fancied himself a bodybuilder and lifted weights a lot, but ate too much of the pizza he cooked here to really have a great body.
He had dark hair like Robert’s, but his was curly, tangled and greasy, slick with sweat. He did not have sculpted cheekbones — he had no cheekbones at all that Avery could see — and his jaw was entirely too square, giving him a cavemanish look.
So he was not a handsome movie-star type. He looked Italian though, like he should really work in a pizza shop — he even had a map of Italy with the state of Puglia colored in tattooed on his wide but short neck — while Robert looked more like a dark-haired Irishman.
From The Cook
He went back into the kitchen to put down his gallon jug of water and take a pizza out of the oven. He walked with his arms out to the side like they didn’t fit next to his chest, and he had a little strut to his stride too, his movements a little herky jerky, as though each of his limbs danced to its own music. He shoved the pizza out of the oven like he was angry at it, then tossed it in the to-go box. He placed it on the counter by the backdoor where the delivery guy would get it.
Vinnie laughed jovially and lifted Neil’s shirt up, revealing a six-pack and skinny torso with protruding ribs. “Ah, shit, I thought maybe you had a six-pack, you skinny as hell! I do sit-ups all the time, man, I just can’t get it-” He lifted his shirt again and slapped his belly, which was flat but not fat-free enough to have a six-pack. “No matter what I do.”
From The Pizza Guy
