Page 86 of Married With Lies

Last month when she stayed at my place, I did something kind of odd. I watched her while she slept. Not in any kind of a fucked up way. She’d just spent hours puking her guts out and I was worried about her. Sadie slept on her right side with one arm curled under her and the other arm hugging a spare pillow. With her hair fanned out all around her and her pink lips slightly parted, she was adorable as hell.

And while I stared, an unfamiliar feeling snuck up out of nowhere. I found myself tucking the covers snugly around her and nudging a red curl from her soft cheek. The closest comparison to the way I felt as I looked at Sadie is the fierce determination to protect my brother. Even that feeling doesn’t quite match.

I wanted to do far more than keep her safe.

I wanted to keep her with me.

Then she stirred in her sleep and I left in a silent hurry so she’d never know I stood there like a creep and watched her breathe.

Now as I watch Sadie’s video clip, Jasper pops up with a goofy wave. With only a few seconds left, Sadie finally turns the camera on herself. She’s stepped outside and a breeze lifts strands of her beautifully wild hair. The backdrop beyond the ranch is far greener than it was when I stayed there in early April.

“One more thing, Connelly,” she says with an arched eyebrow a cute tilt of her head, “don’t be too busy to call me later. Or my feelings will be hurt.” She winks. The last thing she does is blow a kiss.

I’m about to replay the video. However, shuffling footsteps punctuated by deep grunts are signals that it’s time to send the phone to my pocket.

Richie turns the corner. He’s walking at the speed of a slug. He looks a little unsteady and could probably use a hand but I don’t offer because he’d hate the pity.

Richie holds onto the wall and throws me a grumpy look. “This fucking hernia shit is for the birds.”

“Did you take something for the pain?”

“Nah. It’s better than it was yesterday. Doc says within two weeks after surgery I’ll be moving around like normal.” He stops and studies me more closely. “Were you talking to your wife just now?”

“No. She just sent me a short video of the ranch.”

“Pull it up. Let me see.”

I’d rather not but I don’t have that option. I’m just glad Sadie didn’t say anything that would provoke any questions. Richie takes the phone away from me and watches with the screen inches from his nose. I’m trying not to squirm. It’s more difficult than usual. I dislike the fact that Richie is watching Sadie’s video. It wasn’t meant for him. And just feels too personal or whatever. Like he’s getting too close to her.

At the end, Sadie blows her kiss and signs off. Richie hands the phone back with a grin. “She’s a cutie.”

“Yes, she is.” Before I return the phone to my pocket I pause to look at the screen wallpaper. Vegas. That kiss.

I stare at the screen for too long. When I look up again, Richie is watching me. There’s a shrewd gleam in his beady eyes that I don’t like very much but I’m careful to keep my face neutral. Richie Amato didn’t get where he is by being bad at reading people but he’s never been able to correctly read me. Let’s keep it that way.

Richie’s jaw flexes. He tends to grind his teeth when he’s thinking. “What’s this I hear about you messing up the heir to some restaurant chain?”

I meet his eyes without a flicker. “That was a personal project.”

He snorts. “You couldn’t give your uncle a heads up first?”

“It’s not a big deal. He walked out of there. Between the trucker’s strike screwing up all the construction deliveries and your surgery I didn’t want to bug you.”

“Hey.” He knocks a hand against my chest and comes closer. “You give me a heads up next time. Capisci?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I understand.”

He sighs and gestures to his office. “After you, Carmine.”

Franco and Brisetti have moved on from arguing about oregano. Now they’re arguing about whether Bugs Bunny is male or female. Fucking idiots.

The only open seat in the room is the leather sofa parked against the wall. That’s fine because from that perch I can keep an eye on everyone in the room. I’m not nervous, not exactly. There’s been a mood shift around here lately I can’t blame my imagination because I don’t have much imagination.

I’ve felt it ever since I returned from my gun battle mishap out west. The death of Albie Barone’s brother was a hit by a cartel-affiliated rival who was trying to flex some muscle in Barone’s Brooklyn territory. The target was actually Barone himself but in a quirk of fate he’d lent his brother his car.

It’s an old story; overconfident upstarts try to make a bold move and get clobbered for it. Richie and some of the other family heads partnered with the Barones to remove the threat and it was all over by the time I returned to the city.

The thing that still bothers me is how I was kept out of the loop. Even once I was back I had to corner Richie and extract the whole story. For whatever reason, I’m no longer one of the first people he calls to confide in. And while I’m happy to distance myself from my uncle, I want to know the angle. With my uncle, there’s always an angle.

---