Page 39 of Married With Malice

Anni has spent a lot more time in high end circles than I have so she knows about things like French wine. She praises George on his selection for the table and he flushes with pleasure. Her wedding ring glitters on her left hand as she raises the glass to her sexy lips.

For a second I’m rocked by a sudden feverish wish for things to be completely different between me and Annalisa, like she’s this fascinating girl I just met and I’m instantly consumed with winning her over. There are no mafia entanglements, no arranged marriage pressure, none of the baggage we’ve collected over the years. Just the two of us.

The thought disappears just as quickly. There’s no point in wishing for the impossible.

Belinda wants to hear more about Anni’s figure skating past, especially when she learns that Anni once used one of her songs in a competition routine.

“Junior regional championships,” Anni says. “I’ve always had a strong affinity for eighties ballads and I skated my long program toHard Luck. Came in second place but the song choice wasn’t to blame. I wobbled on two of my jumps.”

Belinda is thrilled. “Do you have a clip of the performance? I’d love to see it.”

“So would I,” I say. I would. Ireallywould.

But maybe it was a bad idea to pipe up and remind Anni of my existence. A shadow falls over her face and she refuses to glance my way.

However, she manages to pull off a smile for Belinda. “I’ll see if I can find one.”

Belinda sips her wine. “And do you still skate?”

“Not competitively,” says Anni. “But I give lessons at a nearby local rink. Or at least I did until recently.”

Huh. I didn’t know that. Anni left NYU before finishing and I never heard anything about her holding down a job for very long. I was under the impression she traveled whenever the mood struck her and went shopping a lot.

She orders the dry-aged ribeye and rolls her eyes when she hears me order the same thing. I wasn’t copying her. I’m just a big red meat fan. I don’t know how my brother deals with being a vegetarian. He didn’t used to be. When he married Sadie he cheerfully changed his eating habits to match hers.

Twice during dinner people approach the table and ask for Belinda’s autograph. She’s very gracious about the interruptions and even poses for photos when they ask.

Toward the end of the main course, George starts having trouble with his insulin pump. Belinda is immediately concerned. She insists that they need to return home and call the doctor. They live on the property in a converted multi-suite space that was customized for them.

George doesn’t argue with his wife but he insists we stay here and enjoy dessert.

“Please give your father my regards,” he says to Anni and I wonder if she also hears the nervous quaver in his voice. Albie Barone is the kind of man who is feared even by his friends.

George and Belinda depart with their arms around each other.

The instant they are out of sight, Anni makes a point of moving her chair two feet away farther away from mine.

“Nineteen years,” I say, and inch my chair closer, chasing her.

She drinks her wine and gives no sign she heard me speak. I watch the column of her throat as she swallows. My mind goes straight to the gutter. I can give her far better things to swallow.

“That’s how long they’ve been married,” I say as if she asked what I was talking about. “Belinda was touring, though it was years after the heyday of her career and the venues were all small. For weeks George had been sending her gardenia bouquets. I don’t need to tell you why. Wouldn’t you agree thatGardenia Castleis her most famous song? Pretty sure I heard it in a tire commercial last month. Anyway, it took a month of steady gardenia deliveries before Belinda agreed to have dinner. George met her in Vegas and took her for a ride in his plane. He’d had a pilot’s license for years and knew what he was doing. However, while they were up in the air there was a mechanical problem and he ended up making an emergency landing in the desert. I guess the whole debacle was a bonding exercise because two weeks later they were married.”

Anni is no longer drinking her wine. She’s staring at me. Judging by her expression, you’d think the words falling out of my mouth are spoken in ancient Sanskrit.

Since I’m done eating, I take my napkin from my lap and set it on my plate. “Do you care if I finish off the wine?” I pour the rest of the bottle into my glass, figuring she won’t give an answer either way.

A manicured hand waves from somewhere in the back of the restaurant. When I focus on the source, I see that my new friends have decided to dine here tonight. They are now both waving. I wave back at them.

Anni turns to see who has my attention and her head whips back around. “How do you know them?” she hisses.

“Evan and Elsie? We’re friends.”

“Really? When did you meet?”

“About three hours ago. Wait, I’ll call them over and introduce you.”

She swats my hand down when I start to raise it in the air. “Stop it.”

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