Chapter 4: Married With Malice: Chapter 3

All eyes, including mine, are pointed at the back of the church.

Monte was right. Every seat is full. I only recognize a fraction of the guests. Aunt Donna, seated in one of the front pews, is craning her neck for a first glimpse of the bride. Richie, sitting beside her, looks at his watch.

The organ music piping through the place is almost loud enough to break the stained glass windows. My relationship with the church has been on pause for quite some time, which would disappoint Aunt Donna.

Daisy and Sabrina have already completed their march down the aisle. They wear identical dresses that aren’t quite pink and aren’t quite red. The color probably has some exotic name that normal people know nothing about.

Daisy gave me a lovely smile before taking her place. Sabrina, on the other hand, was having some trouble with self-control. While the organ music drowned out all other noise, she was definitely laughing before she stood beside her sister.

I’ve been to enough weddings to realize a little too much time has passed since the bridesmaids completed their walk. The guests are starting to murmur and get restless.

I glance at Monte and Nico. They both shrug. Father Tessio sways in his long robes and yawns. Richie checks his watch again. He’s probably planning to visit the city and hump his mistress the second he can get away.

The organ music changes. Multiple gasps ring out. Heads swivel with confusion. When I get a clear look at what’s marching down the aisle in my direction, I need a few seconds to process what I’m seeing.

My first conclusion is that I was very wrong to believe Annalisa has no sense of humor.

My second conclusion is that if she intended to shock me she’ll have to try a lot harder.

Monte and Nico are doing their best to quit cracking up. Daisy continues to smile at everyone serenely. Sabrina’s turning red in the face and trying to hide behind her flower bouquet.

Not everyone is amused.

Aunt Donna’s hand covers her mouth and her eyes are wide with horror. Anni’s mother makes the sign of the cross. Albie Barone keeps his daughter’s arm in a vice grip and keeps trucking down the aisle with a granite expression.

Annalisa herself holds her head up and stares straight ahead. Whatever look she’s aiming for (vampire hooker? undead dominatrix?) is a vibe I’m happy to work with. The red laces crisscrossing down the tight bodice of her frothy black dress can be easily snapped into pieces by my fingers. The lime green hair definitely isn’t real but she gets points for creativity.

Albie Barone stops six feet away. He turns his head and gives his daughter the fiercest of glares before disconnecting his arm from hers. When Annalisa fails to step closer to the altar, Albie flattens a meaty hand on her back and shoves her forward.

In an effort to be polite, I reach out for her. She swats her father away and ignores my hand.

Albie huffs with irritation and then catches my eye. His smirk says it all. She’s YOUR fucking problem now.

I never thought much of Albie Barone. A pompous show off, an exaggerated version of all Richie’s worst qualities. I think even less of him today.

Father Tessio stifles another yawn and begins the ceremony. I didn’t realize it would bother me, standing up here and repeating vows that I don’t mean. Vows that are meant to be sacred. At my own wedding I’m just a player in an act. Even the rings were picked out by Aunt Donna.

Annalisa exhibits minimal cooperation. She speaks the required words in a dull monotone. When the time comes, she limply extends her hand to receive her ring. As we touch, a noticeable buzz zings through my blood, traveling at warp speed to my cock.

Anni barely has her ring in place before she snatches her hand back. The sudden flash in her eyes leaves me wondering if she felt the same thing. If so, she clearly resents such carnal needs.

As for my ring, she shoves the thick band on my finger with angry force. How I’d love to say something filthy to get her even more riled up but I’ll need to sit on that thought and use it later, when we’re not standing in front of a doddering priest and five hundred gawking witnesses.

“You may now kiss the bride,” says Father Tessio and breaks into a coughing fit.

Annalisa crosses her arms and lifts her chin in defiance. There’s at least a fifty percent chance she’ll bite my tongue off.

A series of clicks comes from the camera of the wedding photographer. Otherwise, the church is silent. Everyone is waiting. They deserve to have something to look at.

Annalisa flinches when I coil an arm around her waist and pull her to me. She might be getting ready to throw a punch but I don’t think so. Her shuddery intake of breath tells a story and it’s not one of disgust. Her eyes grow heavy and focus on my mouth.

Meanwhile, I’m having a very obvious reaction to touching her. There’s no way she doesn’t feel it. I press harder to make sure. My free hand cups her chin, bringing her face closer. She comes willingly, her full, soft lips slightly parted in anticipation.

At the last instant I switch directions and plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. Then I move my mouth to her ear. “Your nipples are showing.”

With a gasp of panic, she jerks out of my grip and looks down.

Unfortunately, her nipples are not showing.

But that was pretty fucking funny.

Anni’s head jerks back up and she sears me with a lethal glare. With a smile, I take her by the hand and refuse to let go.

“Wave to our guests, sweetheart,” I say as I pump my fist amid cheers and clapping.

“Fuck you,” she replies through gritted teeth.

“Have patience. We’ll get to that.”

She digs her nails into my palm. Perhaps she thinks she can hurt me. That’s cute.

Aunt Donna blows me a kiss. Uncle Richie is already on his feet, bored and ready to leave. Annalisa’s mother ambles over with tears in her eyes and hisses a string of Italian words to her daughter. They might be obscure curses for all I know. Her husband hauls her away before she can really make a scene.

“You’re supposed to leave now,” Sabrina hisses and gives us both a push.

Anni gives up trying to detach her hand from mine and allows her unsmiling self to be lifelessly tugged down the aisle. This day feels like a weird dream as I spot the face of the New York State governor among the cheering wedding guests while I drag my new green-haired wife toward the exit.

Between Albie’s men and Richie’s men and a menagerie of private security crawling around outside while awaiting their VIP bosses, the whole place has the look of a black suit convention.

A vintage Rolls Royce from the personal collection of Albie Barone awaits to convey us to the reception five miles away. This hulking dude who I recognize as one of Albie’s most trusted bodyguards opens the door to the backseat and motions for us to slide in.

Annalisa, however, stops in her tracks. The word ‘Motherfucker’ passes her pretty lips but by the time I turn around she’s finished with her short outburst. She throws her father’s man a ferocious glare and moodily ducks into the car.

This is the first time since the wedding announcement that we’ve been alone. Sort of. There’s a driver at the wheel and Albie’s bodyguard deposits himself in the front passenger seat. Rocco is his name. Jowly, mid-thirties, comes across as a dim bulb who can take brass knuckles to the skull and feel no pain. He swivels around with a grunt.

“Congratulations to you kids.”

Before I can make a polite comment, Annalisa pipes up with, “Turn your fucking fat neck around before I spike one of my heels through your eye.”

Rocco, who must be used to the mood swings of his boss’s daughter, reacts with a raspy chuckle and orders the driver to move along.

“That was harsh, Mrs. Connelly.” I pat her knee.

She tries to kick me but misses. “Eat shit, Luca.”

So far, marriage has not improved Annalisa’s temper. This might be a long evening.

The reception is being held at a posh north shore country club belonging to the extensive list of Barone family properties. I’ve paid zero attention to the wedding planning but someone put in a high degree of effort to dress up the club’s big ballroom like a royal palace.

Anni sticks close to her sisters and I’m left on my own to make the rounds, shaking hands and accepting cheek kisses. Doesn’t bother me. Social interactions are no trouble and people are interesting. Cale and I have always been complete opposites in that way. He prefers quiet settings and has no use for small talk with strangers.

To my dismay, the past year has created a big wedge between me and my brother. Cale was the one person in my life who always thought the world of me, whether I deserved the honor or not. There’s no getting around the fact that I’ve disappointed him.

And yet I’d do nothing differently. Cale is with the girl he loves and he’s about to be a father. He spends his days rescuing homeless animals and performing hard labor on the ranch. He’s home. Knowing this makes everything worthwhile.

When an army of waiters begin delivering plates of food, I make my way back to the head table. The last time I saw the bride she was huddled on the other side of the room with her sisters. For all I know, since then she’s escaped through a bathroom window.

Time will tell. In the meantime, I may as well eat.

“Hey, man.” Daisy’s husband steps in front of me with a goofy grin. Bowie extends a fist and waits for me to bump it. “Hell of a party.”

“Sure is.” I’d have to be coldblooded to dislike the sunny hamburger king who won Daisy Barone’s heart. He’s cheerfully ignorant about the family he’s married into and everyone he meets is treated like his new best friend.

Bowie’s shaggy, sand-colored hair is tied up in a man bun. Under his robin’s egg blue suit he wears a souvenir t-shirt from the Santa Monica pier. “We’ll have to hang out,” he says. “Like double date and stuff. Now that it’s all official.”

“That would be super cool,” I reply, speaking his language.

He smells heavily of weed. I wonder if that’s the secret ingredient in his famous hamburgers. “Awesome,” he says and holds his fist out again.

“Have you seen my wife lately?” I ask. My wife. Saying that is going to take some practice.

He thinks really hard. The process looks painful. “Uh, yeah, she was hanging out in the hallway with Daisy and Sabrina. They went to, like, go find a couch or something.”

“I see.”

Actually, I don’t see. But I have a feeling that asking a follow up question would be a waste of time.

The catering staff is nearly finished delivering plates. Bowie eyes the food with interest. His stomach growls.

He wanders off to go take care of that problem and I return to my seat.

There are animated conversations happening at the table where Richie and Aunt Donna are sitting with Annalisa’s parents. I’ve never seen anyone literally wring their hands before but that’s exactly how I’d describe Anni’s mother. Extremely traditional and perpetually tense, Giulia Barone always had a difficult time managing her daughters. Right now she’s on the verge of hyperventilating.

Richie and Albie don’t seem bothered. They are exchanging jokes while Aunt Donna lends a sympathetic ear to Anni’s mother, who blots her flushed neck with a napkin before launching into another wave of hysterics.

It turns out Annalisa didn’t escape through a bathroom window after all. She stands at the threshold of the ballroom and glowers at the scene before she begins marching this way, green wig and all. A few guests rise to greet her but she doesn’t even slow down. Behind her, at a far slower pace, Daisy wafts through the room. More flowers have been added to her hair.

Bowie stands up and shouts his wife’s name, just in case she fails to see him in his bright blue suit. Daisy waves back at him with excitement and runs over. Their passionate embrace suggests they’ve been separated for half a year instead of about twenty minutes.

Anni plunks down at the seat beside me in a huff. Her father pushes back from his table and levels a hostile stare in her direction. She ignores him and she ignores me as she takes a gulp from her wine glass.

I finish chewing the bite of prime rib in my mouth. “Did you ever find your couch?”

She sets her glass down. “What the hell are you babbling about now?”

“My new brother-in-law informed me you were searching for a couch.” I gesture to Bowie, currently in the middle of a public make-out session with Daisy.

Annalisa glances at her sister and something happens to her face. The murderous scowl disappears. There’s even a wisp of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Then she remembers who she’s sitting next to and the smile evaporates.

Yet that brief breach in her armor provides a glimpse of common ground.

Annalisa is devoted to her sisters. That might explain a few things, like what the hell we’re doing here with rings on our fingers. Perhaps I’ve drawn some incorrect conclusions about her. And this whole sham would be far less unpleasant if we could manage to be at least a little bit honest with each other.

“Is everything all right?” I ask her and for once I’m being genuine.

She purses her lips and then sighs. “Sabrina isn’t feeling well. She needed to lie down.”

“I don’t see her anywhere.”

“That’s because she’s not feeling well. Like I just told you about six seconds ago. Check your hearing.”

“Maybe we should go look in on her.”

“We are not doing anything. I will go check on my sister in a few minutes. You can stay right here and continue to slobber all over yourself.”

I don’t think I was slobbering. But so much for trying to be pleasant. And I guess we won’t be sharing our secrets anytime soon.

“I’ll slobber less openly,” I say.

Her faces scrunches with distaste as she inspects me. “Might help if you clean the trail of meat juice off your clothes.”

I look down and find a tiny spot half the size of a thumbtack on my shirt. I blot it with my napkin. “All done. Now I’m free to assist you with removing the stick that’s jammed up your ass. Bend over.”

She’s great at withering looks. This one is punctuated with a smirk. “At least this tux is in better shape than your last one.”

Prom night is still a sore topic. I had no plans to ever mention it again. But the memory gets me pissed off. Pissed enough to part with a brutal little kernel of truth.

“Yeah, burning your date’s clothes is just adorable and not at all deranged. By the way, that tux was my father’s. One of the few things I had that belonged to him.”

Cale had saved the tux for years. He’d only given it to me a few months earlier on my eighteenth birthday. I never told Annalisa that part. After she left me with nothing but a beach towel to wear I didn’t feel like talking to her very much.

Her smug smile disappears. A glimmer of uncertainty flashes across her face. “You just made that up.”

I finish my glass of wine and then I grab hers to polish off as well. “Maybe.”

The look on her face says she knows I’m messing with her.

So what if I am? Can’t stop, won’t stop.

“Do you even know how to not be a lying prick, Luca?”

“Do you even know how to not be a heinous bitch, Annalisa?”

Her eyes become hate lasers. “Try whining about it to Matthew. You’ve always enjoyed that.”

“Who?” I’m playing dumb. This should be good.

She knows it and seethes. “Matthew Pentone.”

“Oh yeah, Matt. Haven’t had time to catch up with him in a while but I heard he got traded to Detroit. How’s he doing?”

“I wouldn’t know. Six years ago someone told him that I’m the devil’s handmaiden.”

I look her up and down. “Aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“But I love your whole wedding look. How’d you guess that I have a witch kink?” I slide my fingers through a section of green hair. “You’re bringing this on the honeymoon, right? I can’t wait.”

Anni stands, rips the wig off her head and throws it in my face. “Here. Use it to jerk off until your fucking hands rot!”

She’s about one decibel away from screaming. Most of the guests are now staring. They keep staring as she stomps away. Literally stomps. In fact she stomps with so much force that the heel of one of her shoes breaks.

With a shriek of fury, Anni rips both of her shoes off and throws them at the wall. How delightful. It’s a safe bet that everyone in the room is feeling very sorry for me right now.

Anni charges through the ballroom doors, presumably to go check on Sabrina and her couch. Daisy gallops after her, dripping flower petals in her wake.

Now that this particular chapter of excitement is over, I return my attention to my plate. No sense in wasting excellent food.