"No, you got it all wrong!" Richie pointed at the man in front of him.

They didn't even make it through the front door yet. The petty arguing had been going on for at least five minutes at this point.

Carmen stared off into the space in front of him, hoping that the arguing would subside soon, and Alessia dropped her head onto his shoulder, this was going to be a long day.

"It's literally the easiest fucking job a person can do." Cicero claimed.

"—I'm the only one that stands up to your ass."

"The phone rings, there's a problem—" Cicero continued, as they both practically shouted over one another.

"It wasn't my phone!" Richie claimed.

"You call an electrician or a plumber, that's it."

"I've been saying this for fucking years! It wasn't my phone—"

"Cousin! Cousin!" Alessia reluctantly lifted her head off of her brother's shoulder, "—ok, ignore me, great."

Once the yelling finally subsided, Carmen spoke up, "Do you want us to get this stuff out back...or?"

Finally, Cicero's eyes caught on the Berzatto siblings, and he calmly nodded, "Yeah, take it around the side for me, will you?"

"Around the side, sure." Richie nodded.

"Yeah, thanks, Rick."

Alessia's head dropped in defeat, and she turned towards Carmen just as another argument was about to break out, "I'm gonna go get the propane tank and take it around the side. You deal with this."

The blonde couldn't help but feel a little bit sick. There were so many people in that house that she had absolutely no desire to see or talk to.

She wished more than anything that she would have backed out of the party.

Several minutes later, Carmen was cutting up oranges and Alessia was preparing sides. Their work had only just begun and Alessia was already much ready for it to be over.

"Carmen? Is that you?"

Carmen's eyes flickered up, away from his task at hand, "Hey, Mr. Szorski, how are you?"

"I thought you'd killed yourself?"

Alessia's eyes grew wide, as she looked between Carmen and the old man. A pit of worry had already formed in her stomach and now she couldn't help but feel worried for her brother too.

"No sir, that was my brother."

The man wordlessly nodded, and without another thought turned and walked away, "Well that wasn't strange at all..."

The woman's voice trailed off, and Carmen nodded, going back to cutting up the oranges.

"Bullshit." Richie's voice carried, as he approached the tent, "That motherfucker is completely fucking bullshit."

"Hey, perfect timing, we already did everything, dick." Carmen noted.

"Who does he think he is?" Richie scoffed, stuffing his hand in his pockets, "You know he's not even Italian, right? One hundred percent polish. Fucking insulting."

Alessia rolled her eyes, "Dude, you're not even Italian."

"Yeah, well, I'm more Italian than that guy."

With a shake of her head, Alessia set down her knife and looked at the man, "Richie, that doesn't even make any sense."

"Okay, turn on the grill, we really need to get the hot dogs started." Carmen instructed, interrupting the argument before it could even begin.

Richie sighed, twisting the cap of a pill bottle, "Just give me a second here—"

"Richie, what the fuck is that?" Carmen stared at him.

Alessia could see the thoughts spinning around her brother's head, she gently brushed past him to start the grill up, not really feeling the need to be involved in their conversation.

"Relax. Shit's regulated." He dumped some pills out in his hand, "I suffer from anxiety and dread."

Carmen shook his head, "Who doesn't?"

"You want half?" Richie offered, biting the pill in half.

"You know," Alessia could not help herself but to pipe up, "splitting the pill in half doesn't necessarily lessen the dosage, it's not precise at all—"

"Less, does it look like I give a shit about precision?"

The woman sighed, "I was just sayin'"

"Which box did you put the uh, ketchup in?" Carmen asked, effectively getting both of them back on track.

"Hmm?" Richie hummed, so Carmen repeated himself.

"The ketchup. Which box."

Richie looked at him quizzically, "I didn't bring ketchup."

Alessia spun around, "You didn't bring ketchup? To the children's party. Where we're serving hot dogs?"

"What kind of asshole puts ketchup on a hot dog?" Richie screwed the cap back onto his drink.

Carmen looked him dead in the eyes, "A child, Richie."

Just as Alessia was saying, "Me, Richie."

"Point proven," Richie pointed at the blonde, "Asshole."

"Oh, fuck you, Richie." Alessia scoffed, resting her hands on her hips, "I'm like one of the nicest people you know."

Carmen rolled his eyes at their interaction, and brushed by them to see if there was any ketchup inside.

"Yo! Cousin, what's up with all this gay ass fruit?"

Now it was Alessia's turn to roll her eyes, she gave Richie a tiny shove, "Don't be an asshole."

"Homemade ecto-cooler motherfucker." Carmen answered.

"Oh shit," Richie snapped his fingers, "That's actually pretty fucking dope."

"Rest in peace Harold," Richie said to himself.

Alessia turned to Richie, "Are you just going to stand there, or did you wanna do something productive?"

"What's up your ass today, cousin?"

The blonde sighed, her posture relaxing slightly as she rested her hands on her hips, "There are a lot of fucking people in that house that I don't wanna see and I'm kinda stressed about it."

A sympathetic smile formed on Richie's face, "I get it," he shrugged.

"Yeah, thanks...I guess."

Alessia turned away from Richie and towards the grill, beginning to work on the hot dogs. A few minutes later, Cicero made an appearance.

"Didn't come out here to talk to you alright," he informed, "I don't wanna bicker, I just need quiet."

Richie held up his hand in surrender, "I don't got anything to say to you. Except, heads up, you know...Pete's here."

"Oh, I'm aware." Cicero sighed, and Richie nodded, "Sugar, better watch his ass."

"Sugar's stuck at work."

Richie sighed, exasperatedly, and Alessia just watched as the two for once in their life had a civil conversation.

"Fucker drops off a gift and now he won't leave."

"Oh my god," Richie exclaimed, "Yeesh."

"'Yeesh' is right." Cicero shook his head.

Alessia continued to grill the hot dogs, subconsciously looking for Carmen. Wondering if he got cornered, inside the house.

"He just always looks like he's...about to call the cops on us, you know what I mean?" Cicero inquired.

"Like a narc." Richie added.

Alessia scoffed, "You two are ridiculous. Pete is a...good person."

Cicero shook his head, "love you, Lessia. But you're totally wrong. He's exactly like a fucking narc."

"You two just can't stand anyone who's normal," Alessia crossed her arms, "Pete's normal, the rest of our family is all kinds of fucked up."

Richie scoffed which lead Alessia to continue, "You guys didn't like Julia either," she spoke pointedly.

"Well Julia was fuckin' too nice," Richie claimed, "Like—like—"

"The kind of nice that's totally fake?" Cicero offered and Richie nodded.

"Yeah! Exactly!"

Someone Alessia didn't really know approached the table and Cicero greeted him, "Heya Phil."

"Hey, Jimmy," he nodded.

Alessia held out a paper basket, "Hot dog?"

"Sure," the man nodded, accepting the basket, "Richard."

"Hey, what's up Phil?" Richie asked half-heartedly.

The man raised an eyebrow and then looked toward Alessia, "Thanks."

Alessia nodded as he walked away. Cicero turned to Richie, "Well that was fucking weird."

The man grumbled in reply, and Alessia arched an eyebrow at him.

"What, you fuck up one of his properties too?"

"Actually, no. Because you know what, Jimmy?" Richie turned to him, annoyed, "I don't fuck up properties. Sometimes, people think they're calling me to fix a toilet but in reality they've called someone else!"

"All you had to do was pick up the fucking phone man!" Cicero persisted.

"I never got a fucking call!"

Alessia pinched the bridge of her nose, "I actually can not fucking take the bickering. I'm gonna go find Carm. And the fucking ketchup that you, cousin, didn't pack."