Chapter 13: Married With Malice: Chapter 12

Jones Beach isn’t among the prettiest beaches even in the vibrant blue sky days of summer.

Still, the place remains a sentimental favorite.

Somewhere on this weathered boardwalk I once stood as a chubby toddler with a plastic pail and shovel in hand while my big brother posed proudly beside me.

Cale had once asked me if I wanted any of the three photo albums he’d saved from our parents’ house. I told him to take them all. They are more his memories than mine anyway. The boardwalk photo is in the final album curated by my mother. I don’t even remember that day.

Today all the summer color is gone, like it’s been sucked out with a vacuum hose. The December chill has turned the beach grasses brown, the sky is grey and the water looks flat and dull. Except for scavenging seagulls making a racket while fighting over washed up fish scraps, the sand is deserted.

Nico and Monte are having an animated discussion by the railing while I hang back on the nearest bench. Monte jabs his finger at the shadowy shape of a slowly gliding cargo ship. His brother busts up with a laugh, then sobers and nods his head. The words “Uncle Vinny” float this way.

They were close to their uncle. I’m told that Cale cornered them at Vinny’s funeral and offered a free warning to get out of this life while they still could, before they get pumped full of holes and closed into a box for eternity. I doubt he knows that they’ve never taken his advice.

I’ve also heard the story about how Cale once caught them ogling Sadie and ordered them to eat on the floor like dogs. The Castelli brothers always repeat that tale with a fond laugh. Apparently, the humiliating memory doesn’t bother them.

Ever since I sat down on this creaky bench I’ve been turning an engraved silver pen around and around in my fingers. This was a gift from Cale when I finished law school. My full name is etched into the surface in bold capital letters.

From anyone else, this would have been a simple gift but there’s nothing simple about my brother. He wanted to remind me what he’d said the day we were both in Richie’s office and I’d just traded my future for his.

“Don’t ever forget where you came from, Luca.”

Lately the pen has become something of a talisman. I carry it in an inner pocket and toy with it idly when I’m feeling restless.

Monte glances over his shoulder to check if I’m still sitting on the boardwalk bench. The look we exchange is packed with grim mutual understanding; a look only shared by men who have killed together.

The three of us did what we did. No going back. The job turned ugly when our assignment was holed up with a surprise guest, a former amateur boxer with a long record of criminal violence.

No matter how I try to blot the details out of my mind, I can hear a man screaming “WAIT!” a split second before I ended his life. The fact that he was a bad man makes no difference.

I got one kill and Monte got one kill. Nico offered to take care of the unpleasant souvenir part but he was gagging and looking green so I took Monte’s hunting knife and completed the chore myself.

Albie was glad to have his souvenirs. The bodies were disposed of not far from the Catskills, at a pig farm owned by a Barone family associate.

And that was that. All scores have been settled.

I slide the pen through my fingers once more and return it to the inner pocket of my trench coat. The cuts to my knuckles are healing but the skin aches in the cold.

Flexing my stiff hands, I picture Anni as she looked while tending to my cuts. She worked steadily with a divot of concentration between her brows and her hair tucked behind her ears. She has a gentle, caring touch and the sight of her only inches away and so warm and angelic, just about cratered my chest in.

I had to have her, to bury myself inside her and forget the existence of everyone else but her. And I wasn’t tender about it, not that she minded. We savaged each other in a quest to feel good and blot out all the ugliness. At times like that I’m convinced fate has connected us on a level that can’t be put into words.

It always sends me over the edge the way she’s so eager to feel everything, to do absolutely fucking everything. She’s so sexy and exciting she makes my head spin.

This time she wanted more than sex. She wanted to talk. Nothing would have felt more natural than holding my wife close all night long and sharing the turmoil in my head.

But later on I would have cursed myself for my own selfishness.

How could I burden her with the awful shit I’d done?

She might have felt responsible, even guilty. Everything I did was done willingly. The responsibility is mine alone.

Anyway, by the next morning Annalisa was back to being petulant and generally irked by my presence while she stalked around in heels and avoided eye contact.

If I had to guess, I’d say she’s bored and frustrated with her new domestic life. She doesn’t ask for my input but maybe she’d be more cheerful if she went back to doing some of the things she used to enjoy instead of sulking in the house.

More than anything, I’d love to figure out how to make her happy but for that to happen she needs to be willing to tolerate my company outside of the bedroom.

Monte and Nico start to wander away from the railing.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Nico says and the brothers wait for me to join them.

The boardwalk traffic is light for a Saturday. The cold wind rolling off the ocean doesn’t help. Among the intrepid pedestrians there are a lot of parkas and pom hats.

“Look who it is.” Monte gestures to a familiar red and white food truck in the parking lot.

The words BIG MAN BOWIE’S BURGERS scream in vivid paint. There’s also a cartoon version of Big Man Bowie himself with a big, dopy grin. Cartoon Big Man Bowie now has a mate, a smiling cartoon Daisy.

I’m still admiring the artistry when the real Daisy steps out of the truck. She’s looking festive in a puffy red jacket and a huge, flashy necklace made of red and green jingle bells.

Big Man Bowie sticks his head out of the ordering window. She stretches up on tiptoe to give him a kiss. He looks up as we approach and when recognition sets in he starts ecstatically pointing like he’s just spotted Tom Cruise.

Nico coughs up some laughter and I shoot the brothers a look that’s meant as a message not to be dicks to my brother-in-law.

Daisy turns around, her cheeks pink and her face alight. “Oh, it’s Luca!” She waves her arm in the air with a broad smile.

There’s enough of a hint of Annalisa in her smile to tempt me to wave back.

Daisy trots over and gives me a warm hug. She gives Monte a hug. She gives Nico a hug. Then she gives me another hug.

“Come here,” she laughs and grabs my hand like we’re little kids.

I get tugged over to Big Man Bowie, who is leaning so far out of the window he’s in danger of toppling to the ground.

“Hey, guys! What kind of burgers are you having? I’ll make you anything you want.”

Nico and Monte, perpetually interested in all the greasiest food groups, step right up to the window.

Daisy squeezes my arm. “I’m so happy you came to see us.”

I’d hate to puncture her joy by pointing out that I had no idea she’d be here. It completely slipped my mind that Big Man Bowie sometimes gets permission to park his food truck in the area.

“How are you two doing?” I ask, just as Monte and Nico accept Big Man Bowie’s invitation to check out the inside of the truck.

“We’re amazing,” she says. Her lovestruck eyes remain on her husband until he disappears from the window. Then she peers up at me and cocks her head. “You look different. You look more like Cale now.”

“I’m missing a few dozen tattoos but I’ve perfected the scruffy jaw look.” I run a hand over my rough cheek. Lately, I’ve been going a few days between dates with the razor.

Daisy continues to examine me. She has the same pretty brown eyes as her sister but without the inscrutable layers and ever changing moods.

“No, that’s not it,” she says. “You’re so serious. You didn’t used to be serious.”

She gets credit for being more perceptive than I realized.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” I say.

Like mafia business.

And murder.

And my wife.

Daisy clucks her tongue. “Do you know what you should do? You should go see the tree.”

“The tree?”

She nods. “You know, in the city. When we were little, Mama would take us to Rockefeller Center every year and we’d always go skate at the ice rink. Anni loved going so much. She was always the best skater there and people would cheer. Those are some of my favorite Anni memories.”

I really wish it was possible to have a window into someone’s head. I’m jealous of Daisy’s memories. I’d be awestruck by the sight of Annalisa having the time of her life as she glides over the ice amid the twinkling holiday lights.

I’ve pretty much forgotten that Christmas is just around the corner, though the evidence is everywhere once I step outside the house. Anni hasn’t decorated for the season at all and I don’t know if she plans to or not.

This somehow bothers me.

“Babe!” Big Man Bowie sticks his head out of the window. “You hungry?”

“Always.” Daisy claps her hands. “Extra aioli sauce on my burger.”

“You got it. Luca, you take yours well done with Pepper Jack cheese, right?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” I say, wondering how in the hell he knew this information.

“Coming right up,” Big Man Bowie says and ducks back into the truck.

I’ll have to assume he’s drafted Monte and Nico into his assistant cooks because they haven’t emerged.

The air begins to smell strongly of sizzling meat, which draws new attention. Prospective customers step up and check out the menu on the side of the truck.

“I need to go take orders,” Daisy says. “But your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

I pull out my wallet and try to hand over my bank card but Daisy backs away and refuses to accept it.

“Family always get free food,” she says with a shrug. “And you’re family.”

“I appreciate that.” The last thing I want to do is insult her so I push my card back into my wallet. “Hey, you know I’m really happy for you, right? Bowie’s a great guy. I’m glad you two found each other.”

She pauses halfway to the truck and stares at me. An ocean breeze blows her hair into her face and she tucks it behind it her ears the same way her sister does.

“I’m happy for you too, Luca. You also found the love of your life. So did Anni.”

Her words have a significant effect, although I’m sure she has no idea as she merrily returns to the truck.

Annalisa has never said a word about love.

In fairness, neither have I.

We’re only married out of necessity.

But there’s never been another girl who fascinates and electrifies me the way she does. I don’t know what to call that but she’s in my head all the time. I want her constantly. I’d walk through lava for a chance to make her smile. As imperfect as we are together, I’m deeply attached and can’t stand the idea of ever losing her.

Big Man Bowie calls me over to collect my burger. In the space of fifteen minutes he’s turned Monte and Nico Castelli into huge fans.

In order to avoid crowding out the other customers, the three of us hang back while we eat. Nico and Monte rave about Big Man Bowie between bites and I feel a fresh wave of affection for that excessively perky dude.

After all, if not for Bowie and his burger truck, the chain of events that turned Annalisa into my wife never would have happened.

The boys and I aren’t done for the day. After leaving the beach, we take a ride out east to Suffolk County, paying a visit to one of Richie’s construction suppliers. The place is the epicenter of a lucrative scrap metal operation and their contributions have been inexplicably lackluster for a few months.

All it takes is ten minutes of tense conversation in a cramped office with the balding, nervous manager to get everything straightened out. Flashing a gun helps to get the message across. We leave him sniveling in a puddle of his own piss.

The sky is dark by the time I pull up to the house I share with Anni. Many other houses on this street are decorated for the holidays while ours looks cheerless and barren. But all the lights in the kitchen are on and through the open shutters I can see Anni seated at the counter.

Rather than opening the garage and taking the long route to the kitchen, I opt to park in the driveway and trek through an empty flower bed to access the side door.

When I barge in, Annalisa is startled enough to jump right off the barstool. There’s a hockey game playing on the propped up tablet. It falls face down and Anni turns her head at the noise. She picks up the tablet and holds it to her chest.

“You’re home early,” she says, giving no sign whether she’s thrilled or irritated.

I toss my keys on the counter and eye the tablet she’s clutching. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her watch a sporting event of any kind.

She doesn’t resist when I pull her in for a kiss but she doesn’t fly into my arms either. The kiss is too quick and unsatisfying. She simply submits and then takes a step back when I release her.

“I didn’t know the Dukes were playing tonight,” I say. “I thought this was a travel day.”

She shrugs. “They’re not the only hockey team in the world.”

“No, they are not,” I agree.

There are plenty of other pro hockey teams, including the one her ex plays for.

A sudden surge of possessive anger must show up on my face as a scowl. Anni notices and rolls her eyes. This could be just her standard stubbornness. Or it could be something else.

She hasn’t had many romantic relationships. There’s only one that I know about for sure. She mentioned him on our wedding day.

At the time, I laughed it off with some wiseass comment because no matter how aggravated I might get, I’ve always protected her from the truth about Matthew Pentone. If she knew the whole story about that guy she wouldn’t have wasted a minute pining for him, but I figured it’s better for her to blame me than to feel degraded. And now it’s a little too late to start spitting out the facts.

Besides, with the way I’m feeling right now, speaking his name will only spark an argument. I’ll save that for another time.

“There’s just ten days left until Christmas,” I say.

“I too have seen the calendar,” she replies, full of snappy sarcasm.

My teeth grind together as I try to bite back a cynical remark. “We’re still going to your parents’ house, right?”

She shrugs. “As far as I know. But I don’t make the arrangements.”

The blandly neutral décor beckons everywhere I look. It’s all basic and impersonal.

“This place could use some holiday cheer.” I gesture to the living room. “There’s still time to decorate.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

“No worries if it’s a hassle. I know you have a busy schedule.”

She bristles and squares her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You just seem kind of unfulfilled. Why not go back to teaching at the ice rink?”

“Do you want me to decorate the house or get a job? Make up your mind.”

She’s still hugging that tablet to her body like it’s a freaking shield that can somehow ward off my advances. Her defiantly raised chin is back.

It was not my intention to start an argument.

“I was thinking about going into the city,” I say.

Her shoulders slump just enough to notice. Her eyes shift away. “Then I won’t keep you. Have fun.”

“Come with me. We’ll go see the Rockefeller Center tree, admire the lights, skate at the rink.”

Slowly, her eyes settle back on my face. There’s caution within, a search for a trick. “It’ll be crowded,” she says but this isn’t a refusal. I could swear there’s a note of hope on the end.

“So what? We could even make a night of it, stay in a hotel.”

Her arms relax a little. The corners of her lips twitch, a sign that she’s holding a smile at bay. She’s on the verge of speaking when my phone goes off.

And it’s Richie’s ringtone. Shooting Anni a look of apology, I hold up one finger and make a plan to get rid of my uncle as soon as possible. Ignoring the call isn’t an option. He’ll just keep calling back until I answer and by then he’ll be pissed.

I’ve hardly put the phone up to my ear when he starts popping off about a problem at one of the Atlantic City properties. It’s not a small problem. A beef with a local politician has escalated and now he’s trying to strong arm the state into shutting the place down. He’ll need to be enticed to drop the matter.

“He’s got a price tag,” I tell my uncle. “We’ll find out what it is.”

Richie’s a dog with a bone when he gets worked up about something and he won’t quit carrying on until I agree to make the drive to Atlantic City tonight.

By the time I hang up, Anni has heard enough to grow sullen once more. I’ll make it up to her if she gives me a chance. But she starts backing away the second I reach for her hand.

“I should have been quicker,” she says. “Sounds like you’ve already made other plans.”

“We’ll do this another night,” I say. “I promise.”

“In the meantime, I’ll just wait to be of service to you.”

“Anni, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, Luca. I don’t know what you mean at all. But someone somewhere needs a gun waved in his face so you should go follow Richie’s orders and make yourself useful.”

“Look on the bright side. You can get back to ogling hockey players. Or whatever you were doing.”

Her cheeks flush and she sniffs out a testy noise. “I don’t feel obligated to tell you everything. Just like you don’t tell me everything.”

“You’re right.” I grab my keys and head for the door. “I don’t.”

After I’ve slammed the side door harder than I meant to, I stand on the other side for a moment and consider returning to the house to patch things up. The temperature is dropping rapidly and my breath comes out in a frost cloud.

There are no magic words that would fix everything. And there’s an unpleasant job to do. I shoot a text to Monte to let him know what’s up tonight. I can pick him and Nico up at their apartment before making the drive to Jersey. I’m in no mood for polite diplomacy so this field trip ought to be quick. I expect to be back before morning.

And after a quick gun check, I’m on my way without looking back.