Page 116 of Married with Mayhem

Four sons later, she was well on her way to living happily ever after when she was killed in her own house by one of her husband’s many enemies. Cass had taken Julian and Tye on a camping trip but the two youngest, Getty and Fort, were home. They weren’t harmed and Fort was only a baby. Getty was a toddler, too young to remember anything. But three years passed before he spoke another word.

Getty has put his knife away for the moment. His face is abnormally solemn as he gazes at his mother’s portrait. He makes the sign of the cross first and waits for his brothers to finish their private moment of silence in honor of the mother they all lost so brutally.

My father never did get over the murder of his only sister. He still gets emotional when he speaks her name. She was also my godmother. The cross that hangs around my neck was a gift from her and I don’t even remember the sound of her voice.

After a silent prayer, I cross myself the same way my cousins do. Julian is watching me and seems satisfied with my effort.

When we file out of the house, they keep me in the middle. This, I know, is intentional. I won’t be allowed to stray very far until I fulfill my obligation to sit down with their father.

Though my dad had grave misgivings about Cassio Tempesta, he wanted me and Nico to know our four cousins. They were still Teresa’s boys, no matter who their father was.That’s why we spent a chunk of our summers here from the time I was ten and Nico was eight.

Back then, my brother and I would wait all year for our visits to Storm’s Eye Ranch. To a kid, the vast, open land with the promise of a million separate adventures was downright magical and we envied our cousins for having the privilege of living here all the time.

Back in the eighties, Cass Tempesta’s father saw the writing on the wall when the feds were cracking down hard on the New York mafia families. He moved his whole operation all the way out here and began investing heavily in western real estate and Vegas casinos. I’ve heard he obtained the ranch through less than savory means but no one was ever willing to share the details.

Uncle Cass never married again. At a young age, I was in awe of my uncle. And both Nico and I enjoyed being around our cousins. Sure, they were a tough bunch but so were we. The fights we got into were always playful with no real injuries and everyone was always ready to be friends again by dinner.

The summer when I was seventeen and Nico was fifteen was the last good summer. Julian found a tattoo artist who was willing to ink some underage arms and we all received matching tattoos.

Famigliaè tutto. Family is everything.

My dad raised an eyebrow when we came home like that but he didn’t complain. He approved of the message and he was glad we were close with our cousins.

But the following summer was our last visit to Storm’s Eye Ranch.

I’d just graduated from high school and my uncle pulled me aside to offer me a place in the family.Hisfamily. My status would be up there right alongside his own sons. As the nephew and godson of his beloved Teresa, he considered this honor tobe my birthright. He promised that in two years, when Nico reached eighteen, he would get the same offer.

I never saw this coming and I turned him down as politely as I could. Nico and I should have figured out it was wise to leave right then and there but we didn’t. Needless to say, my uncle didn’t take too kindly to being refused.

My brother and I finally realized our future health depended on maintaining permanent distance with the Tempestas the night Tye and Getty tried to drown him in the creek.

I’ll never know if they really would have held him underwater for too long. After five seconds I barreled straight into Tye’s chest and then broke his cheekbone with my fist. Nico was able to get free of Getty on his own but then Julian and Fort jumped into the fight and the scene turned into a full blown bloody brawl. It’s a miracle no one was killed. Nico and I held our own, but the battle was still four against two.

Uncle Cass’s way of handling the matter was to dump me and my brother on the next plane back to New York. My father took one horrified look at us hobbling through the airport with blood still on our clothes and said, “No more”. Then he drove us to the hospital to get our broken fingers set and monitor our concussions.

From the Tempestas, there was no apology, no attempt to make things right. They were finished with us and we were finished with them.

Now here I am again, but without my brother at my side.

And instead of four against two, it’s four against one.

25

MONTE

The horse I’m riding is a skittish Appaloosa mare and she flinches no matter how gently I nudge her along. It’s not helpful that Getty insists on riding his Arabian stallion too close on her heels. Each time I move aside to let him pass, he halts where he is and waits for me to continue so he can keep being a pain in the ass.

Behind us, the fortress of a mansion grows distant and starts to melt into the shadows. The dark building carved into the valley doesn’t have the height of a medieval castle but it’s no less imposing.

Years ago, I heard my uncle brag that Storm’s Eye Ranch is one of the largest in the state. Technically, it’s still a working cattle ranch, but only because my uncle likes to be able to point to the fact and boast. The collection of buildings and facilities laid out around the main house are substantial enough to look like a small village.

In comparison, Bright Hearts Ranch where Sadie and Cale live is toy-sized, although their place has ten times the heart of this cold giant with its armed guards roaming around while the Tempestas play at being rugged ranchers instead of mafia thugs.

I remember back in high school we learned about that French queen who was sentenced to the guillotine during the revolution. Before she lost her head, she had a whole fake town created just so she could hang out there and pretend to be one of the commoners. This reminds me of my uncle in a weird way, although no revolution is on the horizon to remove him from his perch.

Getty bumps into me for the fourth time and my horse recoils. I don’t even bother glaring at him. A reaction is what he’s hoping for. All I do is tighten my hands on the reins and pretend he’s invisible.

My left hand looks weirdly bare without my wedding ring. I took it off when I arrived, when I was still idling in the circular driveway in front of the house. With a heavy heart, I placed it deep in the glove compartment.

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