Chapter 3: Married With Malice: Chapter 2

The Baron of Brooklyn raises a glass. “To the merger of our two families. Luca, may your union with my daughter be blessed with many sons. Buona fortuna.”

“Buona fortuna,” echoes Uncle Richie and drinks.

I make no comment before swallowing my glass of amaretto and scotch, courtesy of Father Tessio’s private stash. The three of us have temporarily taken over the old priest’s office. Richie suggested a quick celebration before the wedding ceremony and I’m in no position to refuse.

Albie Barone, who still calls himself the Baron of Brooklyn even though he doesn’t set foot in Brooklyn more than twice a year, finishes his drink and passes another obnoxious comment about all the sons I’m scheduled to sire.

He and my uncle share a belly laugh. They’re so busy having fun they don’t notice my silence. My small act of rebellion is to scratch my chin with my middle finger, discreetly flipping them off.

Old Albie finally heaves his girth out of Father Tessio’s polished oak chair and gives me a nod of encouragement. “Annalisa will be a respectful, obedient wife. Just like her mother.”

That’s hilarious.

If didn’t know better, I’d have to wonder if he’s actually ever met his middle daughter. Annalisa Barone is about as respectful and obedient as a badger with rabies.

Another point of contention is that I’m not interested in an ‘obedient’ wife. Or any wife. I’ve just run out of room to navigate a solution.

Albie shuffles to the door. “See you at the altar, kid.” He wags a fat finger. “Don’t be late.”

“Counting down the minutes,” I reply.

That’s too close to sarcasm. I’ll have to watch it.

Albie leaves without catching on. Uncle Richie, who knows me better, though not as well as he thinks, notes my lack of enthusiasm with a raised eyebrow. He waits until Albie is heard coughing down the hall and is out of earshot.

Then Richie cocks his head and assumes a fatherly tone. “I’m sure it weighs on your mind that your brother couldn’t be here.”

He rarely refers to Cale by name anymore. Richie sticks to referring to him as ‘your brother’ when he’s speaking to me. When he’s not speaking to me, I doubt he mentions Cale at all.

Cale was thirteen and I was only four the year our parents died within six months of each other. That block of time is painful and kind of hazy in my head. One thing I can clearly recall is how Richie sat us both down the day we arrived in his house. He said he would honor our mother, his beloved only sister, by raising us as if we were his own children. From then on, we would be the sons he never had.

I’ve often wondered how my two cousins, Bianca and Tiana, felt about being relegated to background roles in their father’s mind. They must be bothered on some level but in a family where honesty is rarely prioritized, they would never admit it. A few years older than me, both of Richie’s daughters have been married off to family associates and installed in mini mansions within walking distance to their parents’ house.

“Cale couldn’t leave Sadie right now,” I say. “She’s in her third trimester.”

True, and I also told him not to come. He’s been clear about his objections to this arrangement. I can’t be sure he’ll hold his tongue.

Richie nods and keeps his penetrating gaze locked on my face. “So I’ve heard.”

I stare right back him without a flicker. “But he sends his well wishes to everyone.”

This isn’t true but my primary mission in life is to keep my uncle from remembering Cale’s defiance. The most direct way to accomplish this feat is by behaving like the perfect mafia apprentice.

Before he was out of his teens, Cale was marked as Richie’s successor. He joined Richie’s crew right out of high school and quickly earned his place. Despite Cale’s best efforts to keep me in the dark, stories would sometimes reach my ears anyway.

The big brother who took pride in my straight A report cards and cheered in the stands at my games was tough to reconcile with this malevolent gangster I kept hearing about. It was Cale who persuaded me to attend college out of state and then continue my education in law school. It was also Cale who always said I ought to reach for the stars and never feel obligated to follow in anyone’s footsteps.

In time, I figured out the reason why my brother was so hellbent on sending me away. It was the same reason he stuck close to Richie. Cale planned to keep me out of a Cosa Nostra destiny at all costs. Even at the expense of his own future.

Our uncle always had big plans. To see those plans through, he needed some hefty alliances. I heard nothing of Richie’s intention to push Cale into marrying one of Albie Barone’s daughters until Cale had already balked and abruptly married our former neighbor, Sadie Wingate.

The Wingate mansion is right next door to Richie’s estate. The only reason this fact was ever even slightly interesting to me was because Asher Wingate owned the New York Dukes hockey team.

But Sadie, a chronically upbeat savior of animals, had nothing in common with Cale. Ten years younger than my brother, she fled her starchy family after college and opened up an animal sanctuary in Colorado. The likelihood of Sadie Wingate and Cale falling madly in love seemed about as probable as meeting a talking frog. At first I was skeptical, thinking my brother must be working some angle he didn’t want to discuss.

Then I saw them together and changed my mind. My brother was positively smitten with that girl. He also had a problem. Sadie couldn’t abandon her ranch. And Cale’s job as Richie’s second-in-command wasn’t a responsibility that could be escaped by turning in a two week notice.

After Cale married Sadie, it became clear that his heart was now the property of a feisty redhead in Colorado. He had no desire to remain in New York and do Richie’s bidding.

Meanwhile, Richie has always been extremely keen on adding me to the family business. For years my brother had sidelined his own plans to give me other options.

Now Cale was stuck. I knew what I had to do for him.

I also knew he’d never allow it. The only way around his stubbornness was to give him no choice.

The deal I made with my uncle was that I’d take Cale’s place. Sure, I didn’t have my brother’s gritty street background but I’d amassed more knowledge about Richie’s business realm (both legal and illegal) than I ever let on. I’m good at putting pieces together and my uncle was impressed. My legal education would also be a huge asset. Anyway, I was tired of living ten states away from the family. I’d commit to staying right here for good.

In return, Cale would be released. To sweeten the pot, I even agreed to Richie’s marriage scheme with the Barones.

No one, not even my brother, guessed that I had no intention of fulfilling my end of the deal. My plan was always to figure out a solution before the time came for anyone to march down the aisle.

Which brings me to my present predicament.

Unless some brilliant idea strikes me within the next half hour or Holy Family Catholic Church gets struck by a meteor, I’m getting married.

The original bride was the eldest Barone daughter, Callista, nicknamed Daisy. I’ve never had a problem with Daisy. I just had absolutely no desire to marry her. For a year I stalled any wedding talk with the excuse that I was busy learning the ropes at Richie’s side.

Then last month Daisy shocked the world. She went and married some guy who owns a hamburger truck.

No one was happier than me.

For sure everyone would now see this business of arranging marriages was medieval mania and forget about it.

What a misfire.

Just as I’d taken my brother’s place, Annalisa was shoved into her sister’s role like we’re interchangeable mafia parts.

Now running low on replacements, Richie and Albie were in a rush to send us to the altar before someone else eloped or quit.

When I was told about the new plans I nearly broke a rib trying to stifle my laughter. Surely Annalisa would run off to a Sicilian convent or join the Witness Protection Program before she’d agree to be my wife.

Apparently not.

Here I am, brooding in a priest’s stuffy office that smells heavily of menthol and tossing around the idea of getting drunk before the ceremony.

As for Annalisa, I have no clue what she’s thinking or why she agreed to go through with this.

Maybe her father threatened to cut off her allowance. Or maybe she sensed a unique opportunity to murder me in my sleep.

I guess I’ll find out pretty soon.

Uncle Richie’s face softens. “Luca, I sure wish your mother were here. It’s been a privilege to raise you and I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

Right. Of course he’s proud. As long as I fall in line every time he snaps his fingers. Richie was mightily proud of Cale too. Until he wasn’t.

Keeping a straight face nearly chokes off my air supply. “I’m ready to do my part for the good of the family.”

This is the kind of eye-rolling sentimental horse shit that Richie likes to hear.

He leans a little closer and I catch of a whiff of his stale breath. “I hope this will be a good marriage for you. But even if things are shaky at home there’s plenty of entertainment elsewhere. Keep that in mind.”

He’s telling me that no matter what, I can go fuck whoever I want whenever I want. That’s what he’s always done. If Aunt Donna has any clue, then she keeps her angst to herself and boils another pot of ravioli to stay busy.

“Thanks for the tip,” I say to my uncle.

Richie nods and heaves his bulk out of the chair with a bronchial cough. “I’ll give you a minute alone. Feel free to raid Father Tessio’s liquor cabinet again if the nerves are getting to you. Considering how much I’ve paid into the church, they can spare a bottle or two.”

He wobbles the short distance to the door, turns with a final fond glance and closes the door behind him.

“Fuck,” I mutter and rake a hand through my hair. This is really happening. It’s time to embrace the horror.

Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I decide that I have time for a quick call. Cale answers on the first ring.

“Did you make a break for it?” he says. “Come here and hide out for a while. Nobody will look in the barn.”

With effort, I snort out a laugh. “Nope. Feel free to fill the barn with another resident.”

“You’re really doing this.”

“Might as well. I’m already wearing the tux.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and finally sighs. “How are you and the bride getting along?”

“Fantastic,” I lie. “The honeymoon will be a dream.”

“Huh.” Cale is skilled at uttering one wordless syllable that conveys the message, ‘Bull Fucking Shit’.

It’s time for a topic change. “How’s Sadie feeling?”

“Energetic. She just cleaned out the fridge for the third time this week and then tried to fill the wheelbarrow with manure until I took her shovel away.”

“I think they call that nesting.”

“She needs to nest in the house with her feet up.”

I have to chuckle at the thought of my spirited sister-in-law taking orders from anyone. “Good luck making that happen. Maybe you should both try to take it easy while you still can. My niece or nephew will be showing up before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Cale says and I hear the excited smile in his voice. “You’re right.”

The day he and Sadie received the news that they’re going to be parents, I was the first person they called. Whenever I think about my brother becoming a father, the lump in my throat is real.

I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Cale and his family, including repeat marriage vows to a girl who has made a hobby out of hating my guts.

Cale clears his throat. “Do you think you’ll make it out here for a visit before the baby comes? We’d love to see you for the holidays. You and…Annalisa of course.”

The idea of my soon-to-be bride paying a polite visit to my brother and his wife in their rural animal sanctuary doesn’t spring to mind with ease. It actually refuses to spring at all.

“I’ll see what I can arrange,” I tell him. “In the meantime, say hello to your wife for me.”

“Yeah, you too,” he replies with palpable sarcasm, then gets serious. “Take care, man. Keep your head up and your elbows out.”

My eyes flicker down to the ring on my right pinky. An old fashioned mafia status symbol, Cale used to wear one just like it.

“Will do,” I say to make him feel better.

Then I disconnect the call before I say more than I should. Cale has been exiled from the family. I can’t share too much. This is for his own good.

The minutes keep ticking away. I was told Annalisa arrived over an hour ago. She’s with her sisters somewhere in the maze of rooms, perhaps slipping into her white wedding dress this very second.

Annalisa and I aren’t strangers. We’ve known each other since we were kids. The Barone family was invited anytime my aunt and uncle hosted an event.

In those days I didn’t understand that Uncle Richie had reasons for cozying up to Albie Barone, head of one of the surviving old time mafia families.

I didn’t even have too clear a picture of what the mafia was.

After binge watching The Sopranos and all three Godfather movies I came away with a lot of questions and an intense crush on Sofia Coppola. I remember thinking that she reminded me of Annalisa Barone. Which seems kind of comical now, considering.

Cale was so much older than the Barone girls that he wasn’t required to interact with them but I was expected to be friendly.

Daisy, an ethereal beauty who turns heads everywhere she goes, was always a bit on the vacant side. I’m still convinced she’d get lost walking to the corner and back. And Sabrina, forever dramatic with voluptuous curves that would send most men into a tailspin, never inspired more than a vague sense that she needed to be protected from a sleazy world.

It was Annalisa, the middle Barone sister, who captured my imagination. For looks, she’s my dream girl with a tight, athletic body, long dark hair, pouty lips and deep brown eyes that could have been my downfall if they’d ever once looked my way with longing.

Anni, a figure skating prodigy, was unlike her sisters. She lived for the ice and had little patience for anything else.

My hockey practice and her time at the rink used to intersect sometimes. She never noticed how I’d hang out in the seats just to watch her, even showing up when I wasn’t scheduled to practice. Anni was always the first skater out there and the last one to leave. If a skill wasn’t perfect, she’d attack it over and over with grit that bordered on obsession.

One day she was trying out a new jump and crashed hard. I’ve fallen on the ice often enough to know that kind of impact leaves a mark. Yet for Annalisa, no amount of pain could keep her down. She jumped right back up, clearly pissed off at gravity itself, and ten tries later she landed the jump.

With all of Anni’s talent and intensity, it was a shock when she abruptly hung up her skates. The rumors said she was furious after placing second at the junior regional championships and quit in a fit of rage. The rage part is absolutely believable.

All evidence points to the fact that Annalisa Barone was born without a sense of humor. She was so chronically unamused that I would have needed to be a saint to resist the temptation of screwing with her.

I’m definitely no saint.

When I was young and stupid, I didn’t know when to quit with the practical jokes. Getting her to turn red-faced and furious was too much fun. Yet I always hoped that someday she’d crack and do something outrageous, like laugh out loud.

This strategy has yet to work.

Annalisa was the first girl I ever knew personally who left me feeling a certain way when I was still exploring how my own dick functioned. She became my favorite adolescent fantasy.

However, even if she hadn’t always given me the kind of looks a person usually reserves for maggots, she was still Albie Barone’s daughter. Richie made sure that I knew when it came to the Barone girls, anything exciting was off limits. You don’t get freaky with a mafia princess unless you’re willing to lose your good health.

Annalisa’s brittle personality might have been my saving grace. Without it, I could have gotten myself in a whole lot of trouble.

The whole prom debacle, however, was unfortunate.

In my defense, it was a complete surprise to get selected as Annalisa’s prom date. I hadn’t even applied for the position and considering how well we got along, the idea made as much sense as ketchup on ice cream. But Albie and Richie cooked up the plan and Aunt Donna persuaded me to cooperate. She made it sound like Annalisa was just shy around boys and I could be her hero. All I had to do was escort her to her high school prom, show her a good time and behave like a gentleman.

Partial success achieved.

I showed up, rolled a corsage on Anni’s wrist and even posed for photos. With her long hair loose and her sexy body wrapped in a sparkly blue dress that I still think about to this day, she was by far the most striking girl in the room. I would have enjoyed the opportunity to stare at her a lot more but she preferred to act like I was a disease vector and kept disappearing. I accepted the loss and found more pleasant people to talk to.

All night long there was a lot of stealth drinking. And I faintly remember smoking something before I passed out in a beach house at the post-prom party. When I woke up, there were floppy tits in my face and my dick was being energetically sucked.

I barely knew the two girls who decided to host a circus on the bed, starring my body as the main attraction, but teenage hormones and alcohol have a way of interfering with good judgment. Clothes came off, things got even hotter and then the bedroom door flew open.

Annalisa Barone, doing her best Godzilla impression, stormed in making all kinds of noise and trampling everything in her path. I didn’t even get a chance to disentangle myself from the pile of naked limbs before she grabbed my clothes, ran outside and tossed them into the bonfire flames. She stood there, hands on her hips, her face aglow with satisfaction for having vanquished my tux on a funeral pyre.

Maybe she thought it was me in there burning to a crisp. And I wasn’t exactly innocent, but seriously, who the fuck does that???

When a girl torches your clothes it’s kind of the point of no return, no matter how badly you want to see her naked. For years I steered clear of her. Now the best I can hope for is that she’s mellowed out since prom night.

So far, the signs haven’t been too promising.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of wedding planning. There was no engagement party, no wedding rehearsal. I’ve only seen Anni a couple of times. Whenever I enter her line of sight, the contempt in her eyes is impressive, like she believes she has the power to melt my face if she focuses hard enough.

There’s no getting out of the wedding at this point. I may as well choose optimism and try to look forward to the honeymoon. Her father arranged our Key West trip and we leave on his private plane just as soon as we’re finished with the reception.

Annalisa and I are both adults now. Just as I have good reasons for proceeding with this marriage charade, she must have reasons of her own.

Maybe she’ll tell me, maybe she won’t.

But since we both need to play along for now, we might as well have some fun in the meantime.

Besides, I happen to like a challenge. Charming the literal pants off frosty Annalisa is the most stimulating challenge I can think of. I’d take bets that pent up temper of hers can be put to good use. I’m setting a goal that by the end of our honeymoon she’ll be quivering underneath me and falling apart.

This plan is almost enough to bring a real smile to my face.

With three sharp knocks on the wooden door, all pleasant thoughts dissolve.

Monte Castelli’s head appears. “Ten minute warning.”

“Were you sent to fetch me?”

He shrugs. “I think your aunt is worried you’re getting too drunk to stand.”

“Not even close.” I spring out of my chair, adjust my tie and follow Monte into the hallway.

He and his brother Nico have rapidly become my two closest friends. They’re family boys. Their uncle, Vinny Tello, served Richie for decades and was one of his most trusted soldiers. Last year Vinny Tello caught a bullet in the neck while chasing down some scumbag who had double crossed Richie. Cale was there too, right beside Vinny when the life left his eyes.

Vinny’s death was the last straw for Cale. I could see it in his face at the funeral. Everything changed on that day. I told my uncle what it would take to get me on board.

And when my brother showed up in Richie’s office, it was for the last time. His ring was left on Richie’s desk, a symbol that he was finished with the mafia life for good.

“The seats are all full,” Monte says. He works at his own tie with a frown. Since my own brother isn’t here, Monte and Nico are rounding out the wedding party.

I pause at a hallway mirror to make sure I look presentable. Satisfied with my reflection, I gesture to Monte. “Lead the way.”

And so it begins.