“Not as bizarre as our past, Dar,” I whispered back, smiling.
With moist eyes, my mother and father took turns congratulating me. “We’re very happy today, honey,” my mother said. “Now maybe we can have some peace.”
If she only knew the half of it.
“I wish Sharon could have been here, Mom. That would’ve made my day complete.”
“You know your sister wouldn’t get on a plane if her life depended on it,” replied my dad.
“I know. She misses out on so much of life.”
“Georgia! Your sister’s on the phone!” my new mother-in-law shouted crudely from across the room. Richard had a decidedly odd relationship with his domineering mother, and I was hoping I’d be able to handle this eccentric in-law without getting steamrolled.
“Speak of the devil,” I said as I crossed the room, shrinking with embarrassment.
“Congratulations, sister.”
“Thanks, Sharon. We miss you here.”
“I miss being there. I hope this one works, sis. You deserve to be happy. Is Toni excited?”
Standing beside me, Toni looked like a little princess. She was beaming. I bent down to kiss her as the photographer snapped a picture of the candid affection.
“Do I call Richie ‘Daddy’ now, Mom?”
“If you want to, honey. I think he’d like that.”
I could hear Richard’s mother from the other side of the room. She was ordering the hired help around with her loud, crass voice. If this was the worst of my problems, I’d learn to tolerate it. The champagne started to flow and the piano began to play. My new life was beginning.
I was standing at the bar and chatting with our guests when the door of the suite opened. All eyes followed the two men who entered. Everyone knew they were no ordinary men—one being so huge he had to duck to get through the doorway. I followed the stares to see Joey Tiraborelli and his bodyguard, Tommy Taylor, walking toward me. Joey donned an arrogant grin as he swaggered over. Tommy looked like “Mr. Clean” with his completely bald head and 250-pound, buffed-out body.
Joey Tiraborelli was Sammy G’s sidekick, and also the guy who had brutally beaten Joe while I watched in horror on that long-ago night in an after-hours club in Rochester. Tommy Taylor was one of the bodyguards who was with Sammy the night he was murdered.
“Joey!” I gasped. I couldn’t imagine what he and Tommy were doing here. I’d heard from friends in Rochester that since Sammy’s death, Joey had lost power and was on the run. I’d also heard that he’d gotten heavily into cocaine and owed money to everyone in town.
With outstretched arms, he approached me; we embraced, and he kissed me on each cheek. I caught sight of Darlene as she watched from a corner of the room. She wasn’t fond of Joey, and it showed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing the music had stopped playing.
Curiosity filled the room. Richard stood at the other end of the bar, his expression a cross between suspicion and fear.
“Have some champagne!” I said gaily to ease the tension in the suite. I looked at the piano player and said, “Play on.” The music flowed, but the guests still looked uneasy, especially Darlene.
“I heard you were gettin’ married and I happened to be in town, so I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Well, you did. Who told you?”
“I ran into your sister last week,” Joey answered.
“You make a beautiful bride, Georgia,” Tommy said.
“Thanks, Tommy. I guess I must think so too, since I’ve been the bride three times now.” We all laughed.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Joey asked as he searched the room for a likely candidate.
I motioned to Richard. He walked over apprehensively. Tommy Taylor had a powerful presence. His thick bull neck and bald head continued to rivet the guests’ attention. Taylor lit a cigarette as he watched Richard approach. His paunchy eyes became slits as the smoke billowed around his face. He gave Richard the once-over. He wasn’t impressed.
“Richard, this is Joey Tiraborelli and Tommy Taylor. They’re old friends of mine from Rochester.”
“Nice to meet you,” Richard said, his eyes flicking nervously around the room.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then, without a hint of a smile, Joey seized Richard’s eyes with his own. Holding him hostage with a steely gaze, he said gruffly, “You better be good to this girl.”
The delivery of his words sent a chill up my spine. Richard got the message. The tension thickened. Tommy broke the ice by putting his arm around me and saying, “She’s a very special lady, Richard. You’re a lucky guy.”
“Thank you, I know that,” Richard answered, still not relaxed.
“Is there a place we can talk privately, Georgia?” Joey asked, ignoring Richard.
Richard pulled me aside and whispered into my ear, “Who are these guys?”
“Isn’t it, like, obvious?”
“Yeah, and it is to everyone else, too. Get rid of them.”
I excused myself from Richard, leaving him to entertain our guests. I led Joey up the winding staircase to the elegant bedroom, Tommy in tow.
“So what’s up?”
“It’s getting bad in Rochester, Georgia. Since Sammy G’s been gone, there’s been practically a murder a week.”
“I know, I’ve been hearing.”
“It’s a freakin’ power struggle, and I’m afraid we’re not winning.” Tommy nodded to every word.
“It’s not my world anymore, Joey.”
“It’ll always be your world, honey. You can take the girl outta New York, but you can’t take New York outta the girl.”
“You wanna bet? I’ve never seen you turn down a bet before, Joey. You want to lay a little down on that one?”
“George, I gotta go on the lam for a while,” he said, changing his voice to a lighter tone. “I need five grand.”
“Jesus Christ, Joey, this is my wedding day.”
His upper lip curled, stretching tight across his teeth. “You think because you’re married to a millionaire now y’can forget your old friends? I’ll bet y’got more than that in that box down there.”
“He’s a millionaire, Joey; I’m not.”
“I can think of a way to make you one real fast.”
“Come on, Joey, don’t kid like that.”
“I’m not,” he answered with a cold, penetrating smirk.
“What is this, a fucking shakedown, Joey?” I snapped.
His face relaxed. “Of course not, honey. We’re friends. Friends helping friends. I’m desperate, George, or I wouldn’t be askin’. If you want to see your old buddy alive five years from now, you’ll help me. If ya don’t, you’re givin’ me my death sentence.”
“Don’t lay that shit on me, Joey. I’m not giving you a death sentence. You did that yourself a long time ago.”
“How many times did I save your ass from that piece of shit you were married to?” he pointed out.
Vivid pictures of Joey Tiraborelli making the sign of the cross on Joe’s forehead with his own blood flashed through my mind.
“You didn’t save my ass, Joey—Sammy did. And I never asked for the favor. Besides, you guys had your own agenda. Don’t try to tell me that was all on my behalf. Now who’s forgetting the girl’s from New York?”
“If Sammy hadn’t become ‘the Man,’ Georgia, you might not even be here to wear that pretty white dress right now—and you goddamn well know it. Who’s kidding who here?”
Tommy stood silently by, watching our confrontation. His facial expressions stayed consistent. He neither smiled nor frowned.
“So what does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything! You owe me, honey.” He snorted derisively.
“I don’t owe you shit,” I insisted, getting more agitated by the minute. How dared he speak to me like this, and on my wedding day! It was bad enough that these wiseguys had made an uninvited public display of themselves at my wedding, but to demand
that I owe them? And to make thinly veiled threats toward my new husband—that was too much. Here was my old life literally and violently intruding on the new.
Joey sat next to me on the bed. “George, come on, honey,” he pleaded, snaking his arm around my waist. “For old times’ sake—give me the money. I’ll pay you back.”
Unmoved by his show of affection, I answered without empathy. “First of all, Joey, I heard you’re into coke pretty heavy now. This money isn’t going to take you to some far-off place for a while until things cool off. If you can manage to get past the tables on your way out, you know damn well it’s going up your nose.”
“Since you brought it up . . .” He pulled a vial from his pocket, spooned out some of the white powder, and gestured in my direction.
“No, Joey, I don’t touch that crap. If you keep that up, you won’t have to worry about the Mob. If Sammy were still alive, he’d kill you himself,” I said, as I watched him snort the cocaine. “I have to get back to my guests, Joey,” I added disgustedly as I stood up. “After all, this is a wedding.”
“What about the money?” he pressed.
The only way to get rid of him without ruining the entire wedding was to give him some money.
“Joey,” I said, “gangsters walk around with $5,000 in their pockets. This is the real world. I’ll get you a thousand, but that’s as far as I go. For your information, this is coming out of my pocket. I’ll have to pay Richard back. I expect you to pay me back someday . . . one way or another.”
They followed as I descended the winding staircase. I found Richard and pulled him aside, telling him I needed a thousand dollars. He wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t question it. I discreetly gave Joey the money.
“By the way,” Joey said, “we heard Jimmy Lamendola’s name being paged in the casino. Does Joe know you got married today?”
Darlene was within earshot. Sucking in air, she froze. Almost instantly, her face turned the color of her dress—pale green.
“No, he doesn’t. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” I answered, more for Darlene’s benefit than mine. “Needless to say, you haven’t seen me.”
They finished their champagne and left.
Fine beginning to my new life.
Shit! Jimmy was somewhere in the hotel. If it was that easy for Joey Tiraborelli to know where I was, then maybe Jimmy’s being around was not such a coincidence. I tried to enjoy what was left of the day, but every time the door opened my heart rate increased.
Finally the last guest left. Richard’s father, Andy, still lingered at the bar. Not wanting to be impolite, I walked behind the bar, poured myself a drink, and joined him.
The open staircase curled up to a wide, railed landing that overlooked the entire lower floor of the suite. Occasionally Richard looked down, clearing his throat, a signal to his father that he had overstayed his welcome. Andy didn’t take the hint. He continued to pour more vodka into his frequently empty glass.
Andy peered up at me with clouded, dark eyes. He resembled a Mafia kind of guy himself, with his angry-looking face, big nose, and dark complexion, but he was too short to intimidate anyone. Even I had three inches on him.
“Well, young lady,” he said, slurring his words. “You do realize you just married a mama’s boy, don’t you?” he asked.
In his drunken state, he didn’t realize how loudly he was speaking. Richard could hear every word. I listened without comment.
He had a wicked glint in his eyes as he continued. “You haven’t just married my son; you married his mother too. That ain’t gonna be easy. But if you give me a grandchild, I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be set for life—whether you stay married to Richard or not.”
What? Was this the way the rich lived out their lives? Everything done as a business—sign on the dotted line? I had already signed a prenuptial agreement, giving up my rights to everything I otherwise would have been entitled to. I really didn’t care about signing those papers. What bothered me was that I felt as if I were entering a business arrangement, not a marriage.
I didn’t marry Richard for his money. I married him for the promise of the storybook kind of life I never had. I married him to give my daughter the kind of childhood that I did have. I married him because I thought it was the sanest thing I had ever done—at least up to that point in my life. He was the light in the dark world to which I had become accustomed. This man couldn’t play with people’s lives as if he were playing Monopoly!
“Andy, Richard and I will have children if and when we decide to. I’m not an instrument to bear you a grandchild. The problem with people like you is that money is your god. You think you can buy anything with it, including people. Well, I’ve got a surprise for you: I can’t be bought!”
The silence was broken by the sound of drawers slamming from the upstairs bedroom. Richard charged down the staircase, shooting us both a hateful look—an expression I had never seen before.
“I don’t have to listen to any more of this bullshit,” he barked. He stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.
I glared at my new father-in-law. The awkward moment stretched on. Finally, he rose from the bar stool.
“Well, I guess I stayed too long,” he mumbled as he staggered toward the exit. The door was closing behind him when he popped his head back in and said, “Think about it.”
The door closed at the same time my glass smashed against it, shattering into a hundred little pieces.
Time to switch to Scotch. I poured a glass, leaving out the water, and sat for another two hours waiting for Richard to return. He never did. I carefully took off my wedding dress, thinking I might have yet another opportunity to wear it someday. I threw on jeans and a heavy wool sweater and headed for the coffee shop. As I passed the guard stationed at the front door, I recognized a hint of sympathy in his face and looked away. I tried paging Richard again—still no answer.
After a while I headed back to the honeymoon suite, avoiding eye contact with the guard. When I got to the door, I realized I had forgotten to take the key. The guard must have one. He did. We walked down the hall toward the room in silence. As he inserted the key and opened the door, he openly expressed his concern. Trying to be friendly, he commented, “Not working out, huh?”
“Obviously,” I answered as I closed the door.
After staring at the ceiling for a while, I finally fell asleep. The sound of a door slamming awakened me. Getting up, I looked down from the landing into the living room below. Richard noticed me watching him and began to curse me for losing his $40,000. I guess that was his way of venting.
“I didn’t tell you to gamble. What are you blaming me for?”
“You better not side with my father against my mother!”
“Richard, what are you talking about? I didn’t say anything against your mother!”
After fifteen minutes of senseless arguing, he went to sleep—on the couch.
I slept alone on my wedding night.
Miraculously, I became pregnant on my honeymoon. After the wedding-day confrontation with Richard’s father, I wasn’t as ecstatic as Richard was when I learned of the miracle inside me, but as my stomach grew, so did my feelings for Richard. Other than the problem of my mother-in-law, I couldn’t remember ever being happier. I didn’t quite trust the feeling, however, as though if I got too comfortable with it, it would be snatched away. There was hope, however, that such a promise of light could be permanent. I was actually living the family life I’d always dreamed about, and Richard’s wealth only made it that much better. I slowly began to trust. Because I saw Richard as a deserving man, I opened my heart and began to give freely of myself.
I loved Richard when we first got married, but I wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t all the things I had hoped for in a man; he was neither good-looking nor educated. But I didn’t think anyone existed who could possess all these qualities and still give me that one treasured entity—an Ozzie and Harriet family. I settled, trading a portion of
my personal desires for a real family existence, something I didn’t want my daughter to grow up never having known. To my surprise, however, Richard wheedled his way into my heavily guarded heart.
Toni had an endless stream of friends coming to the house. She no longer had to worry about playing quietly or cautiously so as not to upset her stepfather. Even my family was welcomed without malice. Richard was altruistic to a fault with all who touched my life.
Richard had Toni tutored and bought her all the latest designer clothes. He was very good to her. She was receiving the love of which she’d been deprived, and giving it back in return. Toni now had all the advantages of going through life never having to feel inferior, as I had felt while growing up.
Richard sold his business two weeks before we got married. It was a very successful wholesale appliance store called Adray’s. That store grossed in the millions of dollars—monthly. The enterprise was the first of its kind; Good Guys and Best Buy have now taken over that market, but Richard was the pioneer. Volume was the key to the store’s success. The profit on the merchandise sold was only six percent, but six percent of that kind of volume made him a very wealthy man. At thirty-six, he had all the money he could ever want or need, and, more important, the time to enjoy it. But time would turn out to be a curse.
I wasn’t accustomed to Richard’s culture. I had spent my life around fervent Italians, and the absence of physical affection within Richard’s family bothered me. Richard’s background was Lebanese and Romanian. Although he was born in this country, he had been brought up in the traditions of the Middle East, all foreign to me. I didn’t understand the Muslim religion and didn’t have any desire to learn. Toni and I turned up our noses at the dishes his mother prepared.
His mother practically lived with us in the beginning, and eventually did move in. He and his mother had joint checking accounts. I had my own separate account, into which Richard made monthly deposits. She accompanied us on every single vacation with our friends. She made everyone uncomfortable with her loud, dominant behavior, but Richard refused to see that. Because he was so good about including my parents in our activities, I tried to refrain from complaining.After a while, though, my nerves became frayed. He acted as if he were married to his mother. I voiced my criticism of the unnatural relationship, but he cut me short by saying that he didn’t deprive me of anything and refused to discuss it.
The Company She Keeps Page 33