“Don’t worry guys, my kids aren’t here,” Ford says.
For no apparent reason, Ford turns on Bellissimo and hits him squarely in the face twice — boom, boom — forgetting that he has a bagful of Big Macs in his hand. Burgers and fries scatter. Ford makes Bellissimo pick them up.
Down the stairs they go. Ford’s wife Renata is on the couch, a tired lounger that has been described to the Star by paramedics and firefighters who have attended calls at the house over the past two years. Renata is smoking a joint.
“You’re a f—ing idiot,” Renata says.
Enraged, Ford rummages for his Don Bosco coaching jacket. “It’s where I keep my weed,” he tells people in the room. Ford turns on his wife, screaming that she has taken his drugs. Standing there quietly are Lisi and Bellissimo.
To a visitor, Ford says, almost offhanded, “You can f— her if you want, in front of me.”