Alyson's Six : Interview with Nick

Today I’m interviewing Nick Buonamici, the hero of my MIP. First a little background. Here are Carly Lockhart’s first impressions when she meets him in her back yard. He’s helping a friend, Ewan, move into the three flat where she lives –

Her attention slowly drifted toward a tall, dark and dreamy guy in his early twenties carrying a customized wine rack across the back lawn. The wine rack was what attracted her attention, but the guy carrying it promptly stole the show. He had deeply tanned, olive-toned skin, sinewy biceps, long muscular legs and thick, espresso-colored curls that grazed his broad shoulders. Although he was totally gorgeous, she lived in a big city where she saw gorgeous guys everyday. That wasn’t what drew her in. Rather, something about him reminded her of a big, playful puppy—easy, amiable, energetic, a wee bit naughty perhaps, but adorably so. She had always loved puppies.

He caught her looking and waved. His smile was devastating. “G'day. You must be Ewan’s new neighbors. I'm Nick.”

His voice was warm, rich and buttery. Did she detect an accent? British maybe, or Australian? Worth investigating. She smiled back.

And a little later –

She gulped. Up close and personal, Nick was a lot more virile than puppy like. He had a square jaw, strong cheek bones, and a slightly hooked roman nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. His lips were impossibly full, especially his lower lip, and his saucer-sized eyes were the color of liquid dark chocolate. Oddly, something about him struck her as familiar. Had she met him before? Surely, she’d remember. Her response to him was most irregular.

Personally, he reminds me of a mix of Eric Bana, Criss Angel, Alessandro Nesta (and other hot Italian soccer players), my dear husband at age 26-30ish, and my son Dante when he grows up.

For our interview, I agreed to meet him at a small airport north of Chicago. He has a pilot license and has just flown into Chicago from an undisclosed location. Apparently, he was on a top-secret photo shoot (although I don't know why in the world it would be top secret).

My first impression when I see him again? Wow! Six feet four or five inches of steely, lean muscle and Mediterranean yumminess. He’s toting all kinds of camera equipment.

“What’s with the camera equipment?” I ask.

“I’m a photographer, as you know,” he says. “Mostly outdoor adventure stuff. Some landscapes and wildlife. Since hooking up with Carly, I also do vineyards and wineries. "

"Tell me more about that."

"Photography or the vineyards?"

I shrug. I want to see where he will go with it.

"In a nutshell, I see photography as a vehicle for seizing the day, living a life of passion, adventure, treks, exploration, and truth. Facing death changed my life in that I don't worry about marketing, money or recognition anymore. I just follow my bliss. The wine fits in because it is Carly's passion, part of her bliss, and she's part of mine."

He hands me a picture of Carly and him at a winery next to a jeep packed with camping gear and camera equipment, both looking very blissful. "A picture is worth a thousand words, no? Of course, Ewan's not the best photographer."

Long pause.

"Crikey-- probably not the perfect thing to say to a writer.”

I smile, glad that it’s working out for them. He looks so good you would never guess what he’s been through. “How is it going with Carly?”

“It’s going great,’ he says. “We recently returned from Oz—she met my dad and his side of the family. They loved her.”

‘You grew up in Australia, right? You have dual citizenship?”

“Right. My mum is American. Second generation Italian American. My dad is Australian, but his parents were born in Italy also. My mum and dad met in Italy on holiday. I was born in the States but when I was about two, my mum and I moved to Melbourne to live with my dad. It took them awhile to figure out that they wanted to be together, despite logistics. They have houses here, there and in Italy.”

"Okay, so what’s your favorite type of food? Australian? American? Italian?"

"Italian. Pizza. To Carly’s chagrin, I also like sausage 'n peppers with vesuvio potatoes, Nottoli sausage, of course. Chicken parmesan, baked ravioli, tiramisu."

"To Carly’s chagrin on the sausage because she is a vegetarian, right?"

"Right. If she wasn’t madly in love with cheese and how well it pairs with wine, she’d be a vegan."

"Hmm. Sounds suspiciously familiar. So what type of adventures are you partial to photographing—and participating in yourself?"

“I love it all. My own passion for adventure usually places me alongside my subjects. I skydive a lot. Surf when I get the chance. I've done a lot of mountain trekking by foot and bike. Ice climbing. Back country skiing. Rafting, kayaking. Bungee jumping. It's all good. Race car driving—Bronson got me into that. You remember him, no?"

"Yep, he's a character, pun intended. Still playing rugby?"

"Every chance I get. We travel a lot."

"Favorite music?"

"Rock, preferably hard, dark and classic with some goth elements. I also love blues, especially Chicago style blues and I have been known to dance the night away to old school Motown."

"You sound like a Renaissance kind of guy. "

“What can I say? My ancestors are Toscano-- it's in the blood. That’s six questions, no? I’d like to wrap this up and phone Carly. She’s doing pretty good with the whole curse thing-- no drama-- but if I don’t call her shortly after I land there’s a good chance she could pass out from holding her breath a bit too long—not that she’d admit it.”

He flashes those to-die-for dimples, flips out his cell, and that’s a wrap.

Darn it. I didn't get a chance to ask him how Ewan is doing. Oh well-- there's always next time. Can I just say, what a doll! I’m madly in love with my own creation (but he does have a couple of flaws, I swear.) Luckily, I can live vicariously through Carly (duh!)

For eye candy related to Nick (my inspirations), see the entries below (he, he) including a You Tube video of hot Italian soccer players. I didn't choose the music, btw.

Cheers and happy writing,
Alyson