Page 48 of Married With Malice

On instinct, I hug my arms around my body. When I notice that Luca is watching closely, I relax them immediately.

“If you won’t tell my father no,” I say, “then I’ll tell him. I’m not a kid anymore and I won’t tolerate getting roughed up in my own house.”

I’ve said too much. That story is unknown outside the immediate family. If I hadn’t been feeling so raw already then I would have managed to keep my mouth shut.

But Luca has already caught on and he’s furious. “Which one of those bastards touched you? Tell me right now and I swear to god I’ll fucking handle it.”

I believe he would. But if I revisit that awful day then I’ll end up blubbering in Luca’s arms. And I won’t be doing that tonight or any other night.

“Never mind,” I say. “It’s in the past. But no one from my father’s crew is allowed anywhere near here. Understand?”

Luca’s jaw is tight. He dislikes this answer but there’s nothing he can do about it. “They’re not welcome at our house. I’ll make that clear to your father. You have my word.”

A few minutes ago I wasn’t tired at all. Now I’m so weary that it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open. “I’m going to read for a little while and go to sleep.”

Luca nods. He rakes a hand through his hair. It’s a habit of his when he’s especially troubled.

“Anni, I hope you know that I would never ever let anyone hurt you.”

I can’t answer him. There are too many intense and mingled emotions threatening to surface. If I open my mouth, I’ll surely cry.

As I slowly climb the stairs without acknowledging Luca’s last words, I hear him breathe out a sigh of irritation.

9

LUCA

There’s plenty to love and plenty to hate about New York City but I’ll always appreciate the variety. After forty-five minutes of idle people watching in the center of midtown, I’ve heard eight different languages and glimpsed so many unique faces I can’t even keep track.

My phone has stayed in my pocket. I don’t need a distraction that might cause me to miss the reason why I’ve scrapped all other plans to lurk on this corner on a weekday afternoon.

A red digital clock on the face of the bank across the street ticks away another minute and I’m having doubts that Monte got his information correct. According to him, class should have wrapped up five minutes ago. My impatience grows with every second.

A couple strolls into view, advancing at a much slower pace than the other pedestrians who impatiently sift around them. They are both drenched in impeccably tailored lawyer/stockbroker chic and could have been coughed up by any high rise in the area. If I were searching for stock photos of Manhattan Business Creatures they might be the first result.

The only reason they are worth a second look is because they are so engrossed in each other they are holding up foot traffic. She’s hanging on his arm and when he whispers a few words she breaks into peals of tinkling laughter. Her laughter fades and they share an intense soul-searching stare. There’s a possessive quality to the way he draws her even closer to his side.

I never used to take special notice of couples but now I find myself staring at them all the time, like I’m searching for clues to their success. I’ll never know anything about these two. It’s possible they just met yesterday. It’s equally possible they’re colleagues carrying on a tawdry affair while being married to other people.

As usual, I find no clues, nothing that might help unlock the standoff in my own marriage. Life with Annalisa is like playing a video game for the first time when you don’t know what’s behind the next door. There could be a pot of gold or there could be a bomb. But you’re already addicted to playing so you’ll take the chance.

There have been days when I could swear we’re on the same page. Then a cement wall suddenly shows up between us and there are no tools at hand to break through it.

It’s only when we’re having sex that we’re insanely in sync. Saying we have chemistry in the bedroom is inadequate. It’s as if I was created just to fit inside of her body. In those moments I would fucking bleed for that girl.

But those moments always end.

And when they do, Annalisa prefers to keep me at arm’s length. Despite the fact that there are a million conversations I’d love to have with my wife, I’m careful not to make demands. She doesn’t realize that I’m devoted to unlocking all the secrets behind her watchful dark eyes. If she did, she’d withdraw even further. Always guarded, always suspicious.

But two nights ago she accidentally parted with one of those secrets. That’s the reason I’m standing here.

Finally, the tall doors swing open and people begin pouring out. Roughly eighty percent of the students emptying out of Manhattan’s Game Design School are young and male of all different sizes and skin tones.

After a minute, the river of students has stopped jogging down the stairs and there’s still no Sabrina. I could just barge in and start looking around for myself. Monte was sure she’d be here today. Now that Richie and Albie Barone are up each other’s asses with this new alliance, Richie has lent out some of his lower tier soldiers for chores that Albie considers unimportant. Among these ‘unimportant’ chores is retrieving Albie’s youngest daughter from her city classes. Monte picked her up here last week.

At the exact second I decide to climb the steps and hunt down the wayward Sabrina, she appears. There’s some pale, lanky dude trying his best to chat her up as she stares at her phone screen and nearly trips on the bottom step. Her hair is gathered in a high ponytail and she’s wearing an open thick black cardigan over a vibrant pink crop top that’s paired with a matching mini skirt.

The guy she’s with is a total clown. He’s practically tap dancing in front of her and begging for her to notice. He tells a joke and snorts out laughter. Sabrina frowns and pulls her phone screen closer to her face.

---