8. Cale
8
CALE
A s I roll my wedding ring around on my finger, I’m trying to pay attention as Gino Brisetti curses his way through a bawdy story about a set of supermodel twins, an inflatable raft and a New Orleans hotel room.
He’s a chronic bullshit artist but he’s also entertaining to listen to. Even if he wasn’t, I’d still be required to act interested out of respect. Brisetti has been a capo for Richie for nearly twenty years. There may have been a time when he had designs on inheriting the boss title but he lost a few steps after a boating accident off Montauk Point left him with serious burn scars and a bum hip.
Brisetti completes his punchline and erupts into wheezing laughter.
Patch Franco, another capo, swirls spaghetti around a fork. “You’ve been peddling that same tall tale for fifteen fucking years.” He shoves a mound of spaghetti into his mouth.
“Up yours, one-eyed little man,” Brisetti grumbles and cuts into a thick sausage.
The two of them might bicker like schoolyard boys but they’re pretty tight. Decades ago, Franco got busted back when he ran a numbers racket in Brooklyn as part of Brisetti’s crew. He served thirty months and never squealed no matter how many threats and incentives the feds battered him with. He lost his right eye in a prison fight with two gang members. That’s the kind of allegiance money can’t buy and it’s the reason Franco gets a seat at this table next to Brisetti and across from the boss.
“You didn’t eat your veal.” Richie ignores his two deputies and points to my plate with his sauce-covered fork.
“Not that hungry,” I say.
The meal was waiting for me when I walked in thirty minutes ago. Greasy Vito’s, which looks like nothing special from the outside, has been serving the best Italian food in the state for eighty years and is something of a historical monument in this Queens neighborhood. It’s Richie’s favorite spot.
I glance at the puddle of rich marinara sauce and parmesan covering a slab of meat. This used to be my dish of choice here, although I’ve always preferred a basic juicy steak to even the best Italian food. I blame Sadie and her vegetarian principles for the fact that ever since our Vegas ‘honeymoon’ a few weeks ago I feel too guilty to enjoy a flawlessly grilled ribeye.
The three days we circled each other warily in that penthouse suite felt like three months. It wasn’t until that kiss at the end of the ceremony that I realized I had a problem.
Sure, I had noticed that Sadie is adorable with epic tits and curves worth jerking off to, but I’m a master of self-control. I’m proud of that quality. If I didn’t have it then I’d never be able to pull off this act as Richie’s obedient apprentice.
That kiss was supposed to be for show. Just a camera shot. Something to feed the audience of witnesses whose opinion would reach Richie’s ears. I didn’t count on what happened next.
That girl fucking melted in my arms. Kissing her was like getting zapped with a porn surge. I almost lost it when she softly moaned and pressed into me like she was aching for hard use. My cock was so stiff it’s a wonder I could even walk straight on the way to the elevator.
Sex and all of its complications wasn’t part of the deal. I promised Sadie a business arrangement and I’ll keep that promise. I can’t claim that I’m not liar because I lie all the time. Even sitting here at this table and faking allegiance to this empire of clowns is a big fat fucking lie.
But Sadie is different.
I got her into this and she agreed to be my wife on certain terms. In a moment of weakness, I was far too tempted to break those terms.
In the end I did her a favor. I kept my distance until it was time to send her back to Colorado where she belongs.
My phone announces a new message with a telltale bell. I’m expecting to be bawled out by Richie, who has very strict rules for silencing electronic devices in his presence.
Instead, Richie sets down his wine glass and belches before saying, “Go ahead, check it. I know how those newlywed days are.”
When I came home with news of my sudden marriage, Richie was elated. He forgot all about his plans for marrying me to one of the Barone daughters and became giddy over the connection to the powerful Wingate family. Asher Wingate is at the center of the most elite circles and it’s Richie’s ambition to be the king of New York.
As for the long distance barriers in my new marriage, Richie is unconcerned. He’s confident that I’ll be able to entice Sadie to move back to New York in no time. He’s even offered to build us a new house on a shoreline property less than a mile from his.
With Richie’s blessing and everyone staring, I pull my phone from my pocket. The text isn’t from Sadie. It’s from a newly bribed employee of the Wingate family, responding with the information I requested. I make a mental note to revise my next destination as soon as Richie calls an end to this meeting.
Thumbing away the text, I pause at the sight of the screen wallpaper. It’s a photo taken moments before the wedding ceremony. I’m looking down at Sadie and she’s looking up. We appear to be gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes and it’s entirely believable that this is a shot of two people in love. That’s why it’s here, just in case Richie or some other nosy asshole looks over my shoulder.
Brisetti chuckles and talks with his mouth full of ravioli because he has the manners of a goblin. “Didn’t have you picked as the kind of sucker who would put a ring on the first little piece that charms your cock. That girl must have a magic pussy.”
Without hesitation, I knock his plate to the floor. “Shut your fucking mouth or you’ll be swallowing what’s left of your rancid teeth.”
Brisetti stares at me slack-jawed for a few seconds, then reddens and attempts to heave his thick body out of the chair. If he thinks he can lunge in my direction and keep breathing then he’s going to learn a tough lesson.
Richie smacks the table. He throws me a glare but the bulk of his anger is reserved for Brisetti. “Sit yourself down, Gino. Wives are off limits and you know it.”
Brisetti sinks back into his seat with a grunt. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Damn fucking right you’re sorry.” I’m still ready to hurl him into another zip code.
Richie snaps his fingers at the nearest aproned waiter. “Just a little accident. My friend is gonna need a new plate.”
“Yes, sir,” says the waiter and runs to the kitchen. A few seconds later he returns with a broom and dustpan.
“And you.” Richie pokes a finger into my chest. “Settle down, you hear?”
“Yup.” I cross my arms and watch Brisetti squirm as he waits to be served a new lunch.
Usually I don’t fly off the handle over petty insults. There’s no shortage of thoughtless hotheads in this macho mob universe. My standard position is to sit back and let them claw each other’s throats to shreds. If I need to make a point, I take my time and wait for a moment they won’t see it coming.
This time I wasn’t the one insulted. The human turd across the table is having filthy ideas about Sadie. Anybody who trash talks my wife in my presence will learn a quick and bitter lesson.
MY WIFE.
Listen to me. This whole performance has really sunk into my head. I’m ready to throttle the fat neck of Richie’s oldest capo for mouthing off. It was a cheap shot and not even a creative one.
At least Gino Brisetti knows how to take a scolding from the boss. He hardly pipes up for the next half hour and sticks to diligently adding to his thick waistline by scarfing down a new plate of ravioli.
Richie is the first one to stand and call an end to lunch, as is the custom. Brisetti practically sprints for the door after giving me a lame, “Sorry about the confusion earlier.”
I’m not confused in the slightest. “Forget about it.”
Franco murmurs a few words to Richie, who nods before the two men part ways. A pair of Richie’s regular soldiers wait by the door. I don’t think bodyguards are necessary for lunch at Greasy Vito’s but my uncle sure likes having an entourage.
“Where are you off to?” Richie asks now.
“Meeting with the new in-laws,” I say.
Not exactly a lie. Baylor is running his campaign from the Dukes executive office. And thanks to the text from my source, I know he’ll be there this afternoon.
My uncle rubs his jaw and grins. “Donna’s been talking about hosting a party to celebrate your wedding. It would be a good opportunity to get together with all the Wingates and discuss our common interests. When will Sadie be in town?”
“Not sure,” I say, very truthfully. To my knowledge, Sadie has no plans to visit New York again in the near future. “She’s got a big project she’s working on and she needs to see it through. I’ll let you know.”
Richie raises an eyebrow. “It’s not a bad thing to have goals but she’s part of the family now.”
“We’ll work it out.”
“You do that. And whenever she does make it out here again we’ll fly Luca up for the occasion too.”
“Sounds good,” I say and manage not to grit my teeth.
There’s no way to explain that the plan doesn’t sound good at all. Nothing matters more to me than keeping Luca out of Richie’s clutches.
My brother was quiet when I told him about my marriage. If there’s anyone on earth with the ability to see through my lies then it would be him. I was halfway hoping he would guess the truth, even without ever speaking it. Finally, he murmured a few words of congratulations and then he needed to end the call because he had a class.
Richie tells me to check in later. Then he takes off with his bodyguards and I set out for my next errand.
My ex best friend and I are overdue for a little chat.