Page 13 of Married With Malice

“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.

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