Page 35 of Married With Lies

MY WIFE.

Listen to me. This whole performance has really sunk into my head. I’m ready to throttle the fat neck of Richie’s oldest capo for mouthing off. It was a cheap shot and not even a creative one.

At least Gino Brisetti knows how to take a scolding from the boss. He hardly pipes up for the next half hour and sticks to diligently adding to his thick waistline by scarfing down a new plate of ravioli.

Richie is the first one to stand and call an end to lunch, as is the custom. Brisetti practically sprints for the door after giving me a lame, “Sorry about the confusion earlier.”

I’m not confused in the slightest. “Forget about it.”

Franco murmurs a few words to Richie, who nods before the two men part ways. A pair of Richie’s regular soldiers wait by the door. I don’t think bodyguards are necessary for lunch at Greasy Vito’s but my uncle sure likes having an entourage.

“Where are you off to?” Richie asks now.

“Meeting with the new in-laws,” I say.

Not exactly a lie. Baylor is running his campaign from the Dukes executive office. And thanks to the text from my source, I know he’ll be there this afternoon.

My uncle rubs his jaw and grins. “Donna’s been talking about hosting a party to celebrate your wedding. It would be a good opportunity to get together with all the Wingates and discuss our common interests. When will Sadie be in town?”

“Not sure,” I say, very truthfully. To my knowledge, Sadie has no plans to visit New York again in the near future. “She’s got a big project she’s working on and she needs to see it through. I’ll let you know.”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “It’s not a bad thing to have goals but she’s part of the family now.”

“We’ll work it out.”

“You do that. And whenever she does make it out here again we’ll fly Luca up for the occasion too.”

“Sounds good,” I say and manage not to grit my teeth.

There’s no way to explain that the plan doesn’t sound good at all. Nothing matters more to me than keeping Luca out of Richie’s clutches.

My brother was quiet when I told him about my marriage. If there’s anyone on earth with the ability to see through my lies then it would be him. I was halfway hoping he would guess the truth, even without ever speaking it. Finally, he murmured a few words of congratulations and then he needed to end the call because he had a class.

Richie tells me to check in later. Then he takes off with his bodyguards and I set out for my next errand.

My ex best friend and I are overdue for a little chat.

9

CALE

The security at this place is a fucking joke.

My arrival at the arena coincides with some of the players arriving to prep for tonight’s game. A few feet from the entrance there’s a disorganized press crew fretting over their camera equipment. Edging closer, I spot a media badge lying on top of a backpack. What luck. No one bats an eye when I stroll inside with the badge hanging from my neck.

It's not hard to bullshit my way upstairs into the warren of executive offices where I know I’ll find Baylor Wingate. According to my well paid source, he’ll be sticking around to attend the game later for some photo ops. Baylor always wanted to play hockey. All he lacked was athletic ability.

Sadie didn’t tell me much about her family’s reaction when she shared our big wedding announcement. Whenever we talk, the conversations are short and only include vital bullet points. She sends me lots of pictures. Pictures of the ranch, pictures of her animals, pictures of the architecture plans for what she intends to build. No matter what I say, she seems to think I want all the details on how she’s spending my money. I’ve stopped trying to explain that I don’t care but if it makes her happy, she can keep sending her pictures.

Two days after I arrived back in New York, Baylor left a profanity-laced tirade of a voicemail. I was mildly impressed that he somehow located the remnants of his balls. And then he ruined it by following up the next day with a meek texted apology.

I never answered. I figured it was best to give him some time to stew over the matter. I think he’s stewed for long enough.

“I’m here to see Baylor Wingate.” I wave my laminated media pass. “Drew Carson from the New York Daily. I’m hoping he has a few minutes for an interview.”

The woman seated behind the reception desk on the executive floor is young and pretty. She doesn’t look twice at my badge before pressing some buttons on her desk phone. “He’s not at his desk. You can have a seat in one of those chairs and I’ll try again in a minute.”

“No need.” I’m already on my way down the hall. “We go way back, me and him. I’ll just wait for him in his office.”

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